As humans, as persons, as individuals, we’ve all passed through different phases in our lives.
I was just in my mom’s womb when dad started his Bultaco and mom sat on the saddle. All vibrations came through her body to me. The noise, the speed, the sensation, and there you are… a few months after the doctor congratulated my mother ‘you just had a biker’.
The very first phase in every motorcycle rider is riding a bicycle, of course. I perfectly remember my first one, a yellow motoretta with a long chopper like saddle. I got on it and pedalled it as hard as I could, but the thrill of speed didn’t come until I went downhill and I could first feel the air on my face. I was lucky enough to find one of those bikes not long ago in a retro exposition in Malaga.
Daddy sold his Bultaco soon after I was born and changed it for an old school Vespa. I’ve always disliked scooters, but it was the only thing available. Dad wouldn’t let me ride when I was in early childhood, but he would ride with me standing at its floor. I could barely see above the speedometer so imagine how short I was back then!
I insisted so much in having my own motorcycle that dad talked to a motorcycle collector who was missing one Vespa in his collection and exchanged it for a restored Peugeot 103 moped which was the first motorcycle I ever rode.
I do not have any pictures of that but I guess we were not much about taking pictures back then. Here’s an example of that magnificent ride I hated back then as it was way older than me.
I was eight years old when dad started it and gave it to me to ride. He only wanted to see if I could manage a straight line with it without falling down. I rode it as if I had been riding for all my short life, clumsy but well enough so he would let me ride it from the farm house to the rubbish containers on the main road and back.
I obviously had my first crash on that bike but that was a bit afterwards when I learned that you cannot drift front wheel without taking some consequences.
The motorcycle collector nearly cried when he saw I had completely destroyed his little moped, with scratches and bumps everywhere, but still working out decently well after all. That would be the story of my life with motorbikes, dirty and greasy machines with perfectly tuned engines.
The next phase was a Mobylette, what a bike! I neither have any real pictures of it but you can imagine myself riding it as this is the model.
It was originally red, but I stripped it as much as I could and painted it in smurf blue with a spray can, even tyres and seat! It was horrible but unique! My very first chopper. Then a whole new phase started for me, vandalism on mopeds. By that time I was fourteen and I am not going to say that I’m proud of that… but that was just the way it went.