Have you ever felt like nothin' seems to work out for you? Yeah, me too. It was like that when I paid for and picked up my 1975 Honda CL360. I happened onto the deal by chance when we were looking for a bike for my son, and he didn't want it. I just couldn't let the opportunity to get back into riding, pass me by.

It's been 29 years since I had sat on a seat like that and I was intimidated. By a little 360! So, I asked my younger brother, who owns a bigger bike, to help me out.

I arranged to meet him over at my friends house to look at the bike. The owner fired it up and I made Calvin, that's my brother, sit on it. Then I made him ride it up and down the block. Then, with a little fear and trembling, remember now, I'm 47 and haven't ridden a bike in 29 years, I had Calvin take us for a ride.

I had him take me out to our city cemetery. That is where I learned to drive a car too. I figure if I run over anyone, they are dead already. If I kill myself, well, just dig a hole and push me in. Anyway, Calvin and I got to the cemetery without incident and he put it up on the center stand.

It looked cool just sitting there. Definitely the sign of a good bike. My 75 Camero was like that. It looked like it was moving just sitting there. The bike wasn't sexy or anything like that. It had a carrier on the back, which I need to carry tools around during my workday. But it looked cool. Dare I even say it looked way cool?

Calvin reminded me how to shift and where the gears were and how to break. He said the front brake really grabbed so watch out. He was right. Then I got on by myself. Whoa. Way, Way Cool! I practiced a little and then pushed it off the stand. I took off and right away and "the feeling" from 29 years before came rushing back. That feeling of barely controlled power, (especially in my case.) That feeling that the flick of a wrist can launch this rocket. I did a slow acceleration down a long straight away and then figured, "Oh, well," and gave it gas. Yes, it "responded." And so did I with, "how do I stop this thing?"

I know you macho riders with your Harleys and your hogs are saying, "The wimp. It's only a 360." Well, a 360 is 360 times more than nothing. I'm a 47 year old beginner. Be kind to me. I rode around the cemetery for a few minutes and then "the desire" crept in. "Let's see what this thing will do."

Yeah, I can tell you're smiling. You readers know that feeling. Well, the next thing I knew I was out the gate of the cemetery and onto the highway. I spun my wrist down and we were off. I'm crazy but not stupid. As a beginner, caution is the better part of valor. I got it up to 65 plus and then backed off. It was enough to convince me that the bike could run. A few weeks later I would see how fast.

I went back and found Calvin. He was smiling. He knew where I was. He knew "the feeling." I let him ride us back to the owners house and we made the deal.

A few days later I returned, paid for the bike and took possession. I had him start it up again and run it. It still sounded mighty fine. I hopped on and with a wave left his driveway and turned toward the corner. I got stopped at the sign, just barely, before an 18 wheeler blew by and almost squashed me. I waited a very long time for traffic to clear and then shot across the street. I got about a block and then it happened. The bike didn't seem to have any power. I accelerated but the bike chugged, and coughed and sputtered.

"Man, am I the unluckiest guy in the world?" I'm not three blocks from the owners house and already the bike is acting up. Has he got this thing trained? Oh, did I mention that the bike had no tag and I was constantly looking out for the cops? So, between a bike that wouldn't run and cops that I'm sure would, I took the back streets to get to my office, chugging all the way. Was I ever discouraged.

At 5:00 pm, I jumped on the bike and went to pickup my daughter after track practice. Was she surprised. That's the emotion I will assign to her. Her actual reaction was somewhat different. But, she got on and off we went, chugging along and killing it at about half the stop signs because I failed to give it enough gas. She was less than impressed. It finally died about four blocks from home on a busy street, that police often patrol. Remember, I had no tag.

I finally got it started and sputtered home. It died coming into the driveway. Not exactly the grand entrance I wanted to make with my new purchase. My daughter went into the house, probably to tell on me, and I stayed out trying to crank the thing and get it started again. No luck. My neighbor, Pat, heard the commotion and came over to see what the problem was. Pat loves bikes, has at least one in his driveway all the time, and helps stupid neighbors fix theirs when they have trouble. Thank God for Pat.

I didn't know what was wrong and didn't know how to fix it. He just pointed toward his driveway. Pat pulled the plugs and almost go sloshed with all the gas on them. I had flooded it. Come to find out, the choke had been on full the whole time, from the owners house, to my office, to track practice, to home. I suppose that does cause the mixture to run a little rich. I, (read Pat,) replaced the plugs and it fired right up. It wasn't a lemon, I was. Pat chuckled and gave me many pointers for a first-time owner. He said he would be there for me. Then he shuffled off to supper kind of shaking his head with a big smile on his face.

I know you are thinking, "what a dope." But remember, I'm a 47 year old beginner who has not ridden a bike in... Oh, you do remember.

It's a motorcycle. It's mine. I must be the luckiest guy in the world.