Ace Cafe Fans and Grandma’s Mystery Bike

In response to Name this motorcycle.

In regards to our letter Name this motorcycle in the September/October 2022 (above) issue of Motorcycle Classics, reader Bruce Perry called in with an answer. He has identified the old photograph of a woman on a motorcycle. He believes the bike is an early model Harley-Davidson, dating to 1911-1912. Thanks Bruce, and if any other readers have more information on this bike, please let me know at lhall@motorcycleclassics.com — Ed.

Looking for the Ace

I just wanted to thank you for the article In Search of the Ace Cafe by John Stein and Seth DeDoes. That perfectly described the enjoyment I get out of riding my old bikes to off-the-beaten-path places. The writing was very enjoyable and the photos really put the reader in the experience. They literally make me think of moving to California. I hope this pair will produce more content for your publication since the state of U.S. moto-journalism has become almost nonexistent and the importer of the British magazines stopped carrying them due to import problems brought about by COVID-19. Thank you for continuing to support our old bike community.
James Taylor (No, not THAT James Taylor)/via email

More Ace

Writer John L. Stein shares a letter with us he received after the Ace article was printed. — Ed.

Hi John, is it just a coincidence that you have recently written about the two motorcycles that marked my starving college days?

1. The Worst. I bought a used Yamaha YDS2 (Motorcycle Classics.) The carbs leaked. The mufflers were shot. Worse yet, the crankshaft on those models was undersized, so it flexed and the center crankshaft seals soon failed. Then it ran rich on one cylinder and lean on the other. With my last penny I had new seals and pistons put it. It promptly seized during break-in. Arrrrrgh! Fortunately, Gene Theissen was the Honda dealer in Eugene, and I somehow traded it in for:
2. The Best. A new Honda CL90 (AMA News). Reliable. It did everything: commuting, trails, I even put on Hawk bars and rode it on the freeway (speeds were lower in those days).

I enjoyed reading about both bikes, but the YDS2 memory still pains me.
Rick Campbell/Tigard, Oregon

Back in the Day

When I was 12 years old, in 1967, two of my neighborhood friends in North Texas got mini-bikes for Christmas. I’m sure you remember those little mini-bikes back in the ’60s, the ones with doughnut tires and lawn mower engines. They were not street-legal, and were noisy and obnoxious to your average World War II-generation neighbor.

Well, for two years, I begged, cried, and manipulated my mom and dad to buy me a mini-bike. They said, NO, you’ll get hurt! They were right, of course, but try telling that to a 12-year-old who desperately wants a two-wheel “independence vehicle.”

Two years of cajoling my parents paid off. At 14 years old, I went off to church camp for a week. When I returned home that Saturday afternoon, I walked in the front door of our house. When I dropped my bags inside the front door, I saw a shiny, metal-flake blue motorcycle helmet sitting on the piano bench in the living room. My parents were standing there in the room, grinning. I looked at the helmet, and looked at them, and asked “What’s this?”

My dad, a former World War II bomber pilot, said to me, “Well, where I grew up in West Texas, if you were in a cow pasture and saw a cow patty, if you look around, you might see a cow!” It took me a few seconds to get the message, but then I figured out what he was saying. I sprinted to the garage, and there stood a bright, shiny new $235 Honda CL70! In Texas at the time, a 14-year old could get a motorcycle license for a bike of 70cc or less. I was now almost a Hell’s Angel!

That same year, the new, revolutionary Honda CB750 was introduced to a stunned motorcycle world. Although I was thrilled to be a 14-year-old rider of a CL70, I said to myself, “Someday, I’m going to have a CB750!” It took me 5 years, but as a 19-year-old kid, my dream came true. A guy I was working with said he had a 1971 CB750 K1 that he no longer needed. He asked $895 for it, and I gladly paid him that amount for my dream bike.

I was, at the time of the purchase, engaged to my high school sweetheart. She had no affinity to motorcycles. Her attitude was “It’s either me or that motorcycle.” Well, you probably can guess what my choice turned out to be. That CB750 saved me from a very unfortunate marital eventuality.

I am now 67 years old and I have two motorcycles in my Arizona garage. One is what I call my “Beast,” a Harley Davidson Ultra Classic. My other bike is that same CB750 that I bought second-hand in 1974 as a 19-year-old kid in North Texas. The Honda still runs like a top. It’s a survivor, as all I have ever done to it is replaced tires and oil, all these years later. I love the “growl” that engine makes when you pour on the gas.

If I’m going on a long ride, the H-D is my choice. But if I’m going on a leisurely half-day ride in the foothills of Arizona, the Honda CB750 is my choice, hands-down!

Thank you for the excellent magazine.
Craig Ward/Williams, Arizona