The first bike I ever owned was a Honda CB750c. It was a cruiser, and at the time, not my taste, but I definitely loved it. From the moment that I parked that bike in my friends garage, I started tearing it apart. I grew up loving the look of flat trackers and scramblers, so I became acquainted with my bike, and got to work.
There were moments where I wanted to kick the bike on its side and just set it ablaze, and there were other moments where everything came together so perfectly. More times than not, the frustrating moments were the ones that have the most memorable stories. I was lucky to have friends that would come over and guide me or jump in and help tear down this bike, and rebuild it as I dreamed. This aspect of the riding community is one of my favorite parts: the stories of riding and brotherhood.
