| 
        OGRE AUTOMOTIVE 
       - 
       Drive 
       it like you stole it!
       
        
       
       Motorcycles
        
       
       A few 
       of my favorite motorcycles.   
       
       When 
       I was a young man my Father gave me a lot of rules... All mainly about 
       behavioral issues save one.  Under no circumstances whatsoever was I to 
       ever ride a Motorcycle let alone have one.  Bikes were strictly 
       verboten.  This is perhaps why I loved them so much.  I secretly read not 
       just Playboy, but Cycle World.  Playboys might have been hidden under the 
       bed... But the bike mags were hidden under the bottom dresser drawer.  
       This was serious contraband!  I would ride them at high school around the 
       parking lot and even down the street.  Once I was sitting on a bike when 
       my father pulled up next to me in his car.  I flipped the Visor down and 
       hung a right praying he didn't recognize me.   
       
       Red 
       White and Blue Honda Interceptor 750.  
       This was the first bike I every owned.  Mine.  Registered to me.   Big, 
       bad, brutal.  Deathly afraid to tell my parents.  Set up to race, this 
       machine was all about top speed.  I had it up to 140 MPH once, scared the 
       crap out of me and I never got it that fast again.  It was geared tall, 
       so it wasn’t the quickest off the line, but once I got into 3rd 
       gear it was all over.  I would reel back in and pass anything and 
       everything.  I discovered a great many things about bikes, but what I 
       learned the most was that it really really really sucks to ride them in 
       the rain.  This bike had nothing of a wind screen to speak off.  Rain, 
       bugs, little bits of gravel from the vehicle in front of me would smack 
       me right in the face.  It was both pleasure and punishment.  I learned 
       the joys of dragging your knee with this machine.  Taking the curves so 
       fast and hard I would have to pull the bike down… hanging off it with my 
       ass off the seat and my knee skimming the ground.  It was the most 
       thrilling thing I had ever done and to be quit frank, it was better than 
       sex.  One day when I was thus engaged in knee dragging pleasures, the 
       bike went out from under me. These things happen.  It was during hard 
       acceleration just past the apex of a curve.  Last time I had glanced at 
       the dial the needle was sweeping past 65MPH.  I shifted without lifting 
       the gas, so when the let the clutch back in there was a lot of energy 
       going.  There was some drive line lash there… and all of the sudden something 
       happened in the chain and the back tire I don’t know if the backlash spun 
       the tire out from under me or the chain snapped and locked up the wheel.  
        I’ll never know because the resulting crash tore the rear wheel right 
       out of the frame.  I remember this happening in slow motion.  I hit the 
       pavement and slide while the bike started doing summersaults and throwing 
       parts all over the place.  It came to rest wrapped up around a tree with 
       the engine someplace else.  Believe it or not I was unhurt.  I slide 
       across wet ground and onto soft wet grass.  The sting of my bruises were 
       nothing compared to the sting of my pride and loss.  The bike was a total 
       write off.  Gone.  I had a wrecker take it straight to the junkyard.  
       Dad would have been pleased.   
       
       
       Midnight blue Honda Magna 750.  
       Such a dark blue, it looked black.  This bike had the same engine as the 
       Interceptor, but in the cruiser bike style... Smooth engine with a wide 
       powerband.  Best bike engine ever made.  V-4 config looking like a fat 
       V-Twin.  I used to eat Ninjas with it.  This was my "coming out" bike.  I 
       decided to stop living this hypocrisy and let my folks know... So one day 
       I drove up and showed it to my Mom.  I was scared... But relieved that my 
       Momma still loved me.  She thought it was cool.  This was the bike I 
       would ride my girlfriend around on... She would become my wife a year 
       later.  I had to get rid of for fiscal reasons.  I still remember 
       cruising on that Magna with her on the back.  I'll never forget those 
       days... She was a Dancer at BYU and I'd go pick her up wearing my Army 
       Fatigues and black helmet and all her friends would cry and pull at her 
       arms begging her not to come with me!  I was the devil!  One Sunday we 
       decided to go visit my Uncle.  It was a beautiful day so the Magna was 
       the choice.  I wore black sunglasses, black slacks, with a black t-shirt 
       under my black suit coat.  I looked sinister. Felt sinister too... I had 
       my black CZ-75 strapped to my ankle.  She wore a short, sleek and deadly 
       LBD. Little Black Dress. Of course, black sunglasses as well.  She could 
       make a Priest kick in a stained glass window.  We pulled up in front and 
       my uncle came out "Oh look, it's Satan and Elvira!"  One time she had 
       gone out of town and was due back in while there was a huge rain storm at 
       night. I was worried about her when she didn't show.  So off I went 
       searching on the Magna, in the dark and rain. That bike was my all time 
       favorite.  We'll never forget that bike.  My heart always skips a beat 
       when I see a Magna. 
       
       Red 
       and black Yamaha RD-400 Daytona Special.  
       This was a race bike... AMA champion racer converted to street by 
       installing the lights back on and tacking on a plate bracket with two 
       spot welds.  Presto - insane, rip-snorting moto-evil.  This bike was pure 
       hatred to common sense.  I called it "Mortis" after Death's pale steed.  
       You had to lean forward when shifting to keep the front tire down.  This 
       400CC 2-stroke could out run even the big 900CC street bikes I would 
       encounter.   It was so rude... It was F-15 Eagle on Full Afterburners 
       loud.  It breathed fire a blue smoke from it's custom twin pipes.  I gave 
       my 1st born son rides on it and he would scream the whole time.  He hated 
       the bike.  My father  hated it about as much.  One night I had to stay 
       over with the Mortis and I worried the whole time my Dad would cut the 
       wires on it or something.  This bike could handle too.  You just THINK 
       about turning and it would turn.  It was like the  bike interfaced with a 
       neuronet-link.  Fiscal issues again are what killed Mortis.   
       
       As 
       much fun as the dark satanic thrills Mortis gave me... 
       I enjoyed the go do anything confidence and comfort that the cruiser gave 
       me.  I felt like I could just climb on and cruise to all over the world.  
       It was a comfortable bike.  It suited me.  When I get another bike it 
       will be a cruiser of some sort, maybe a chopper.   I don’t need to go 
       warp speed, but it isn’t about that.  It’s about this freedom of the open 
       road, and a tank full of gas.  With that, you could go anywhere! 
       
          |