There are many, really cool things, way cool in today's vernacular, about riding a motorcycle. There is the way the 500 pound beast gives a terrific growl and springs to life at the mere touch of the starter. There is the road rushing by at 60 plus miles per hour, depending on local speed limits, mere inches from your feet. There is the power of shooting down the asphalt and causing your whole "motorized being" to glide round a corner with just the tip of your head.

But, do you know one of the coolest, (way, way cool) things about riding a motorcycle? It's when you are blasting down the road with your helmet shield down and you hum, real loud. What resonance! What a sound! Pavoratti could not produce a note that large, in the grandest of concert halls. Now, I'm not saying the tone quality is anything to write home about, but my goodness, what a sound.

I'm 47 and have just gotten back into riding. It's been, let's see, 29 years since I last rode a cycle. Well, I've been a little busy. I was a typical kid, I wanted a motorcycle. So I found a little black Honda 90. This was in about 1969 or 1970. It was used but ran pretty well. I took my test and got a license and rode it around town. It was a pretty good babe magnet, benefit number five if you are keeping track. Though, even at that age, I could tell the girls were far more interested in the bike than in me.

A 90 is a fun little bike to learn on. My friend bought a similar size bike and we tooled around town and out in the dingles a little. I remember making a 12 mile run up to the next town and thinking I would never get back. It is a straight shot from my town to that one without a single curve. I had to pry myself off the bike when I got back, I had been sitting immobile for so long.

Then I started having trouble with the gears. They had apparently been treated unkindly by a previous owner and were seeking revenge on whoever was handy. That would be me. My cash flow was low and I ended up selling the bike.

One thing led to another. Unfortunately, it never led to a motorcycle. Eventually I married and started a family and a motorcycle didn't seem like a real good idea at that stage in life. The dream never died but no real opportunity ever presented itself. Until...

...It's now 29 years later and my son is turning 16 on his birthday. An additional family car just isn't in the picture right now but I want him to have some mobility. A cycle seemed like just the thing. I searched high and low to match my dream with my wallet's reality. (Notice whose dream we are trying to match. You'll see a pattern develop here in a minute or so.) I just could not seem to get the two together, until, a casual query of a friend produced a rare find. A Honda CL360 that had been ridden very little in the last seven years.

We went to see it, my son, my wife and I. It was a great looking bike. Dual purpose, with high pipes and smooth lines. It started great and ran fine. I was in love. (So to speak, dear.)

But my son just couldn't see it. He had never ridden a motorcycle before and it seemed a little too big for a first bike at his age and experience. After all, we had been talking scooter, with him, for a month or so. He was taken back by the whole picture. But the price couldn't have been righter. I couldn't let the opportunity glide by, though I hadn't even been considering a cycle for me. I just had to have it.

A little creative, financial maneuvering, some pleading and a lot of whining and my wife agreed I "needed" a motorcycle. After all, gas is about $1.50 per gallon. The 360 only gets about 50 miles per gallon, compared to the scooter we purchased for my son, which gets about 100 miles to a gallon, but it is still a valid argument when compared to my Ford 150 pickup that has to have two gas tanks just to get from one gas station to another.

So I bought the bike, and a helmet; a full head helmet with a clear shield that it so tight, it fogs up in cold weather and I have to leave it open to the first click. The tight fit, though, is what gives the great resonance.

And, I got the feeling.

The one only other motorcycle riders know. The feeling of taming and riding a wild bronco, seemingly under control but just a breath away from potential disaster. The feeling of racing the wind and beating it out in every race. The feeling of partial control of a wild beast, roaring through the jungle over an asphalt trail. (I know, kind of dramatic. But, you get the point; way, way cool.)

We'll see how it goes. We'll see if I save more money on gas than I spend on repairs. But for now, I'm riding, and smiling, and humming. And man, what a sound.