WIMA Victoria: It's Never Too Late!

It's Never Too Late!

After reading Trompy's Tribulations in the July/August newsletter, I began to reflect on my own motorcycling past and how things have changed in recent years with regards to training and so on.

Most of my teenage years were spent on the rear end of number one partner's favourite Harley; no back rests or hand grips back then, and I can't recall ever wearing a helmet! We did everything on that bike (and I mean, everything), including going to the drive-in (while it was uncomfortable, at least there were no windows to fog up)!

I purchased my first bike in 1969, a brand new straight-off-the-showroom-floor gold Kawasaki 125 Road/Trail, at a cost of $ 1,100 on road; not bad considering wages averaged about $30 per week at the time. 1 dropped said bike on the way to my license test in Carlton (there were no training centres then-you got on the bike and hoped like hell you remembered which lever was which). Luckily my partner was following and able to fix the broken indicator lights and clutch lever before test time. I also discovered that day that it wasn't much easier to pick up a 125 than a bloody great cruiser-it seems bikes can magically double in weight when in a horizontal position.

After the compulsory roadworthy inspection and a couple of questions, one burly motorcycle cop mumbled he had to be back at the office with vanilla slices in time for morning tea, therefore I had 10 minutes to show him what I could do. Due to nerves (I hate tests), I left him behind at the lights in Lygon Street.

He gave me my license even though he considered I rode too fast; but what could he expect when I had to keep up with a maniac partner who thought he was the world's greatest and fastest rider!

I had some great rides on that little bike, until the spring on the side stand broke on a trip along High Street Northcote, causing the stand to drop directly into the groove on the tram track-you can guess the outcome. I can still remember the whites of that tram driver's eyes. I managed to escape with a few bruises; the bike was not so lucky. And so it was back to the pillion seat for a while.

Some months later, I purchased a second hand 1968 model Honda and rode that for a few years. After a stint in Vietnam, my partner and his Harley, moved on to a peace-inspired commune life on the NSW coast, without me; after all wasn't that what all Vets did in the 70's?

I was devastated. I left the bike scene, married a non-rider, sold my Honda, had children and did not ride again for many years. But the yearning was always there-that feeling we all know too well when we hear the rumble of a bike in the distance.

I have always, believed you either love or hate motorcycle riding; there is no maybe, and reading the sign on the front of Peter Stevens Harley Heaven in Ringwood one day (it goes something like "There are some sensations science just can't explain) reminded me of what I had been longing for-to get back in the saddle.

Age was never going to be a barrier-even though my current partner considered me to be quite insane when I mentioned purchasing another bike. He was suggesting I grow old gracefully, play tennis or something-after all, what would the neighbours think of the forty-something, leather-clad, female biker next door!

In the meantime though, my license had expired and Vic Roads insisted I start from scratch again. So off I went to a Training Centre and to my horror, the instructor suggested a scooter -well, what would a male know! Then came L-plates, a 250cc, and another license test. To comply with the 250cc regulation, I purchased a second-hand XV250 Virago and still love riding her. She has taken me many miles without complaint, and that old sensation is back-the one all riders feel every time they twist that throttle, regardless of the make, model or power. My dream now is to own my very own custom cruiser and tour Australia; maybe in my fifties!

And of course this time round there is WIMA.

Annette Slavin