WarChild
Just got it firing!
Just been given my father's '16 V7 2 Stone. He bought it at 82 and finally gave up at 88. He had a nice, long run. I'm making a 4k round trip to pick it up, and I'll never sell it.
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Hello from Hastings Mn
- Thread starter WarChild
- Start date
Welcome to the forum. Nice to have a machine with family ties. I've got a Model T Ford from my Dad.
Love it.. that's a hell of a run. Good on him. Keepsake indeed!
Hope you'll add his and your info to our Registry below. See you in that section. Enjoy the site and the bike!
V7 Registry & Picture thread -- ADD YOUR BIKE
Below is an on-going database of all V7 worldwide. Why? Just for the fun of it. If your bike isn't listed below, post a reply to this thread, and I'll add you along with a link to your post with a picture (hopefully of you and your bike, as they all look the same otherwise). If you've sold your...
www.guzzitech.com
Congratulations and Welcome!
I hear you! I wish I had a motorcycle of my Dad’s.
The closest I did have was in 2007, I bought a new HD Street Glide that I rode from Ohio to Texas, to visit my Dad as cancer was finally killing him. He had beaten it 3x before but this time it was not going to happen.
My Dad could barely walk as bone cancer had literally broken his leg from the cancer. He was in constant agonizing pain but he insisted I help him go outside to go out to the garage so he could see my motorcycle. His wife Betty was none too happy about him doing this.
I remember him looking at that big black Harley Davidson, and the look in his eye. He had owned many HD’s and other marques, and had ridden over 500,000 miles in his lifetime.
He asked if he could sit on it and I told him of course.
He could not swing his leg over it but rather sat sidesaddle on the seat as he reached up to hold the grips. I saw him close his eyes and for a brief moment, the constant pain and anguish in his face, melted away and I swear that he was in another place and time in his mind. I was awestruck by this.
When he opened his eyes he smiled and stood up off of the motorcycle. Almost immediately, all of the agony returned to his face. I was able to snap a photo of him as he came out of the garage. He wasn’t happy about it but I’m glad I got it. I will never forget that day.
Because of my parent’s brutal divorce and my going with my mother, my Dad and I were estranged almost all of my life.
At the end, our mutual love of motorcycles connected us as father and son. For that, I am truly grateful.
My Dad was a powerhouse of a man and also a man of few words, who could literally do absolutely anything but sadly, bone and lymphatic cancer reduced him to nothing. It stripped him entirely of his dignity one ounce at a time. It was gut wrenching for me to see him go through that.
I sold that bike 5 years later and I was very sad and reflected upon that it was the last motorcycle he had ever sat on. I struggled with that. Had it actually been one of his that he had ridden, I would not have been able to part with it.
You have a treasure worth more than any money. Good on you!
I hear you! I wish I had a motorcycle of my Dad’s.
The closest I did have was in 2007, I bought a new HD Street Glide that I rode from Ohio to Texas, to visit my Dad as cancer was finally killing him. He had beaten it 3x before but this time it was not going to happen.
My Dad could barely walk as bone cancer had literally broken his leg from the cancer. He was in constant agonizing pain but he insisted I help him go outside to go out to the garage so he could see my motorcycle. His wife Betty was none too happy about him doing this.
I remember him looking at that big black Harley Davidson, and the look in his eye. He had owned many HD’s and other marques, and had ridden over 500,000 miles in his lifetime.
He asked if he could sit on it and I told him of course.
He could not swing his leg over it but rather sat sidesaddle on the seat as he reached up to hold the grips. I saw him close his eyes and for a brief moment, the constant pain and anguish in his face, melted away and I swear that he was in another place and time in his mind. I was awestruck by this.
When he opened his eyes he smiled and stood up off of the motorcycle. Almost immediately, all of the agony returned to his face. I was able to snap a photo of him as he came out of the garage. He wasn’t happy about it but I’m glad I got it. I will never forget that day.
Because of my parent’s brutal divorce and my going with my mother, my Dad and I were estranged almost all of my life.
At the end, our mutual love of motorcycles connected us as father and son. For that, I am truly grateful.
My Dad was a powerhouse of a man and also a man of few words, who could literally do absolutely anything but sadly, bone and lymphatic cancer reduced him to nothing. It stripped him entirely of his dignity one ounce at a time. It was gut wrenching for me to see him go through that.
I sold that bike 5 years later and I was very sad and reflected upon that it was the last motorcycle he had ever sat on. I struggled with that. Had it actually been one of his that he had ridden, I would not have been able to part with it.
You have a treasure worth more than any money. Good on you!
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That, Scott, was a powerful and poetic paean to your father. What a great story.
That sort of vivid telling only comes with experiencing "real life" in ways that are not always pleasant.
Father-son relationships are sometimes -- and mostly in fiction -- idyllic. Mine was certainly not; my role in that pains me to this day. As you relate here, yours was also troubled.
Yet your post made that partially painful reverie -- prompted by WarChild's intro here -- into a reminiscence that likely helped you, even if imperceptibly, with closure.
Bill
P.S. Just reread that, thus this apology for the "over-alliteration," that looks more forced than it was as I wrote it!
Thank you Bill. I appreciate that immensely.
As you are acutely aware of, the chasm between my Dad and I was the size of the Grand Canyon.
I wish it were not so but truly, that one moment in time, with that black HD motorcycle, was the one thing and only moment I can honestly say, that my Dad and I, actually connected together with.
It was the most poignant and bittersweet moment, if only for an instant.
Motorcycles are remarkable things indeed.
As you are acutely aware of, the chasm between my Dad and I was the size of the Grand Canyon.
I wish it were not so but truly, that one moment in time, with that black HD motorcycle, was the one thing and only moment I can honestly say, that my Dad and I, actually connected together with.
It was the most poignant and bittersweet moment, if only for an instant.
Motorcycles are remarkable things indeed.
WarChild
Just got it firing!
Scott
Thank you for sharing. Bittersweet, and beautiful at the same time. In the end, all we have are the memories.
I am somewhat lucky in that I met my father when I was 28. So we do not have all the baggage that a normal father and son might gather. When my first born came along in '85 my wife convinced me to make a phone call. I did and learned that he was on a motorcycle trip to Alaska with some buddies. I hung up the phone and told my wife about his MC trip and said, "There's a chromosome for it!", as I had always ridden dirt bikes up to that point.
My step father raised me and whooee, at about 14 years of age we were done with each other, so I've still got that baggage
Thank you for a warm, unique welcome. I leave Friday with my trusty cattle dog to traverse half the country. I'd rather do it on a bike!
Jeff
Thank you for sharing. Bittersweet, and beautiful at the same time. In the end, all we have are the memories.
I am somewhat lucky in that I met my father when I was 28. So we do not have all the baggage that a normal father and son might gather. When my first born came along in '85 my wife convinced me to make a phone call. I did and learned that he was on a motorcycle trip to Alaska with some buddies. I hung up the phone and told my wife about his MC trip and said, "There's a chromosome for it!", as I had always ridden dirt bikes up to that point.
My step father raised me and whooee, at about 14 years of age we were done with each other, so I've still got that baggage
Thank you for a warm, unique welcome. I leave Friday with my trusty cattle dog to traverse half the country. I'd rather do it on a bike!
Jeff