1963 CA95. Bought it for 100. in 1974, still in HS, dad said I could not have my own
car (borrow mine, he said...). Right.
Well, I needed wheels. One of my buddies from the group of us that hung around on
CB (remember that?) had it sitting in his garage...basket case.
Brought it home. Dad asked "What's that?" (duh...). "It's a motorcycle, dad..." says I.
"Well, why did you buy it?" he asked a bit omniously...
"Because you said I couldn't have a car...". The logic was ironclad, I thought...it was...I think
at that point, dad figured out that at 17, I was able to start working out my own path and
make some decisions without his input...as long as I was the one paying...
Spent the next month putting it back together. Spent a week trying to reconcile the
japanglish translation of the service manual (this was back in the day when you could
still get parts from the honda stealer...) and reconcile it to the photo diagram of how to
time the cam chain. I'll never forget the sound of the engine starting for the first time when
I ignored the cryptic translated text and set it up like the photo in the book showed.
Got a ticket 10 minutes later when riding it on the street in front of the house (unregistered
vehicle) when the a**hole cop 3 houses up saw me riding it (I just wanted to make sure it
DID run...) back and forth in front of my house and called the local cruiser in. He was good for
doing that to all the neighbors...real impressed with his authority. IIRC, his wife had to get a
restraining order on him a few years later...seems he was abusive besides...
Rode the thing for 3 years--all over the state of NJ, to work in the summer, out on dates, in
snow up to my knees (I put dirt tires on it...); son of a gun never let me down, and started on
the first kick every time.
Needed some bucks to stay in college...so I sold it for 200.
I've now got 3 of them stored in a hangar at the airport. One apart and in a very slow restoration
process (Had to pend it when I sold my townhouse for a job move...but have all the parts bagged and
packed away...) in my dad's basement.
Some day...