Chapter 5: Ukus and Girls

[Pictured: My dirt bike and I... ]

As they do in men’s magazines, today, let me describe my apparel.

Foot ware: “Hot Shoe” custom built for flat track racing using a surplus Army leather combat boot purchased at Sand Island surplus - Joe Pacific Shoe Repair, Ala Moana shopping center, reconstructed the boots to custom design as I watched. Cost: Twenty bucks. Pants: Honestly distressed Sears and Roebuck denim T Shirt: Don’t know, probably cotton with some advertising on it.

Racing was something I could ill afford, but did, and most notably got run over by a nationally known famous racer. Dislocated my shoulder, broken collar bone, good fun times repaired by Kaiser Health Insurance - $8.00 per month.

Meanwhile at college where we were required to wear dress shoes and slacks, a decent shirt, the dress code didn’t allow for any shorts, flip flops, beach wear, Levis, T shirts, even sockless Florida style was frowned on. There was a cross section of Catholic types and mostly wealthy kids who attended the private college with an ungodly semester registration fee of $320.00 USD. My books I was required to cover on my own, about 50 bucks, and my dad helped me with tuition which allowed me enough money to buy a motorcycle, yes, the two wheeled convenience that nearly got me killed. I didn’t tell my parents about that but you also have to remember college in California at that time was tuition free.

Motorcycles still carried a bit of the stigma of the past, Hells Angels, greaser gangs, low life types considered unsuitable for private college mid century and I was leaning toward the motorcycle margin of society versus where I was probably supposed to be headed. I was doing one of the dirty jobs usually held by the less educated. For a time nobody at school knew what I did for a living since most of the students didn’t work. But I found I somehow really fit better into the lower income sect of working class while I raised my grade point average to tip the scale.

My brother in law was once, as a younger guy, sponsored to race by the largest of the local motorcycle shops. He lived with a famous racer after he ran away from home, he being considered the black sheep of the family. He was five years older than I, the brother I never had before and he was my hero in every aspect.

One of the first things he did, seemed like moments after my arrival, was put me on a bike he was working on for a friend. It was a Honda 305cc too tall beast with packing pegs but a short seat. He took off up Aleva Heights which is a cork screw road clinging to an outcropping ridge overlooking Honolulu, some beautiful vantage. I hung on behind him and leaned the wrong way on curves, gripped with fright white knuckles all the way remembering my crash in the mainland. He was a little upset for my not helping balance the gyro of cornering but I was nerves shot after that fast ride.

I never had considered ever-ever riding a motorcycle again. But he was persistent.

He swung me over to the dark side of two wheeling it. I learned to lean with that. I eventually got a deal on a Triumph Cub that made a great flat track bike. Yes, I went from no motorcycle skills or knowledge to fully immersed in a rather short time after he hauled me out to Red Hill to spend days doing figure 8’s in the dirt, what his famous racer surrogate dad had taught him to do when he was really young.

Motorcycles became my girl friend replacement. I was in love and I didn’t know what girls were used for other than as sisters. Then, apparent interest building, I was somewhat reluctantly involved with two girls, Siza and another girl at school.

Siza was my buddy whose brothers I got to know better.

The girl at school was frankly just beautiful. Linda was a “Whadda You” haole but far too nice and good looking to let me believe she could be even remotely interested in me. I really struggled with that. For the average guy it would have been simple but frankly I was pretty brain washed through years of teaching. But her auburn red hair and vivid blue eyes were absolutely mesmerizing.