Tell us your bike stories

[KevinB]

CB900 Custom?

I've got a throw-back story involving one of those...

So it's probably Spring or early Summer of 1988. I'm 16 about to turn 17, and have had my '82 KZ750 Spectre for almost a year. One day,  I'm out enjoying a ride in northern Jefferson County,  on Arkadelphia Rd. in Warrior. As I pull up to a stop sign,  a guy an a CB900 identical to the one pic'ed above comes screaming up next to me. "Hey man...wanna race!?"

Well of course I wanted to race...that was my thing.  Back in the late 80's,  the thing to do on Friday and Saturday nights around that area was  to cruise the Hardees/Food World parking lots in Dora/Sumiton.   There would be hundreds of cars,  and a few bikes,  and when I wasn't hanging out with friends I was trolling looking for someone to drag.

And the Kawasaki was undefeated. Against all manner of Chevelles,  Camaros,  a 900 (950?) Yamaha...even a V65 Magna...the KZ never tasted the bitterness of defeat. I guess the Spectre was Kawasaki's "muscle bike" of the time. It was a shaft driven KZ with the chrome blacked out.  The engine was a KZ lower with the cams and larger carbs from the GPz. I remember on the emission sticker under the seat,  along with spark plug gap info was also listed "82HP"...not sure why,  as I've never had a bike since that listed horsepower on the info sticker.

Back to Mr. CB Custom. He said "Follow me...I need to go to the house for a minute." I was young and naive at the time...there's no way I'd follow some someone back to a potential ambush now. I follow him a short ways back to the domicile to find that it's two mobile homes adjacent to one another with a couple of vehicles parked between.  As soon as he walks in the door of the one on the left,  a dozen or so people of all ages come pouring out of both trailers,  hootin' and hollerin'. I'm still not alarmed,  but find it odd. 

He says "Follow me.", and with the family piled into the vehicles like the Clampetts in tow,  we make our way to a nice long stretch on Warrior Jasper Rd. As we sit there discussing how we're going to do this, one of the spectators comes over to me...in a drawl she says "That's my bruuther...if you get him keeled I'll keel yuuuu! " Alrighty then.

So we line up,  and I let him do the count down.  When I hear "Th..." I dump the clutch.  I pulled a healthy lead,  as I guess he was waiting for the "...ree!". I won by 10-12 bikes lengths,  but I felt bad for jumping the start.  Second run,  I waited until I heard "Three!" and saw his wheel move. He had about a hundred feet or so of glory before the Kawi chewed him up. I won that one by 6-8 bike lengths. Third race I don't even remember...by that time I felt like I was stealing lunch money from blind kid.

After the last run,  we pull over to where his clan was parked.  He asks "Man...what's that thing got in it?! ". I dunno...it's stock. At this point,  I notice the dozen or so faces all staring at me,  and he says "That sure is a nice bike..."

That's when I finally get an inkling that "This might be headed somewhere bad." and decide it's time to leave...quickly.

Edit: this topic was split to explore this topic more in depth. Kevin started us off with a thriller!

[terryrussell1]

That's a cool story.  Things we do as kids sometimes are not the wisest choices but can make for a good story. Thanks for sharing.