Dad / Uncle / other Adult be it significant family member or neighbor -memories

My dad was a doctor (in fact a laryncologyst) but in spite of this education and professional background he loved - not just to ride but repair-  his motorcycles, outboard boat engines and American cars....things not often seen and owned in the 1960s and 1970s in Eastern block Hungary.

As a child I often saw him hiding waist deep under the hood of his 1958 Chevy Impala and later a Ford Maverick that he both bought preowned from Hungarians emigrating to the US then later in the 60s and 70s coming home visiting Hungary as US citizens and leaving their fancy American cars here.

He also loved riding motorboats with 50HP outboard black Mercury and white Johnson engines on lake Balaton in Hungary that he loved and where he towed  me and my sister waterskying...we inherited our parents' summer house at Balaton where I still spend hot summer vacation days.

I often helped him when  repairing the severed rope on the ratchet starter of these -of course - preowned beautiful American outboard  engines and apart from dropping many CroVa wrenches into the lake  while getting to know how such an outboard engine works, I also had my early encounter with American technology and English language while trying to decipher the Mercury manual with a heavy English-Hungarian dictionary on my lap. Then came my ~1974 encounter with the Stuka COX engine and my eternal  attraction towards engines had its road paved. (I graduated later as Msc mechanical engineer and wrote my thesis on the diagnostics of internal combustion engines)

I am sure he would be happy to know that I got such an inspiration from him that still drives me at my age of 58 to play with COX engines and ride on a 125ccm beautiful lil Honda MSX Grom motorcycle when going to Balaton. Too bad I have not inspired my son - an IT guru- the same way...

My son is 11. Due to my absence caused by my job he gravitated towards gaming. It's a constant struggle with him. Fortunately I was around enough to get him involved in hunting, fishing and riding motorcycles. Also Farming and gardening. He enjoys those things as well so I press those as much as I can.

The Bible says to teach a child in the way he should go and when he is an adult he will not stray far from it.

I used to work for my Uncle remodeling old houses, I would see him take these little old delapidated houses and turn them into really nice houses.It tought me hard work and that you can do anything you put your mind to. He was also the one who got me into model airplanes. My two brothers and I are going to surprise him for his 80th birthday and take him to the airforce museum this summer.

As promised: Remember I was born in '55 so 2 to 4 years old at the time and have some vey vivid memories of a trip on Open House Day to Red Canyon Range Camp (RCRC) to observe a Nike Launch

Dad was a young Lieutenant in the ARMY after getting his college degrees paid for by the US Army Reserve Officer Training Corps (ROTC). This program requires graduates to spend 2 to 4 years in the Army

from 1957 to 1959 he was a Range Officer at Red Canyon Range Camp, a place on White Sands Missile Range, New Mexico. Where they trained Nike Missile Crews before they we dispatched to set up air defense sites around the nation


The missile that got Dad interested in Model rocketry with me helping


"RCAT" (Radio Controlled Aircraft Target)  These got my dad jazzed to build and fly model airplanes
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I always brake for Fred, he weaves a tale worthy of Hemingway. In fact, the only picture he has ever posted here of himself sitting at a bar graying pony tail POV reminded me of the author.

My parents were to busy to pay much attention to me. Dad a small business owner always looking to succeed, my Mom a school teacher correcting papers to all hours, it wasn't a nurturing home. For the most part I brought myself up.

I tried to correct that with my own children. Which brings me to the point of Fred's memo. Uncle Justin and his step through Honda 90.

My first motorcycle was a Honda 90, bought new in 1963 as an economical way to commute back and forth to the Naval base at Oceana Virginia. Fast forward to about a month ago when Mark sent me a crags list ad for a Honda S (super) 90. A dangerous thing to do given my proclivity for lost causes automotive/model engine wise.

I tried to ignore his frequent urging to no avail so I called the owner. Turns out he had two Honda motorcycles for sale, the S-90 and a CA-160 Honda "Baby Dream." The Dream was the first MC that I ever fell in love with. A friend of my wife's BIL had one and I was impressed with the electric start that only required a touch of the button to bring the engine to life.

I was hooked. Offered half of what he was asking for both. He delivered them the next day, the day before father's day. I told my son the Dream was his and I signed the title over to him. I'm keeping the S-90. Both need rebuilding. The MG is on hold and I have the S-90 fully disassembled and mostly cleaned up but the wiring harness is a mouse eaten mess. Got a replacement coming from Singapore.

Pictures are of Mark and daughter Terri on my original and a few years later Mark and the seller. The S-90 is in the back ground.

An old friend of mine had a 305. I'm not sure what year it was.. just that it was white. Remember them Bob?

Aw crap... my old age is deceptive

Can not understand how in the world I forgot my Dad's White motor cycle on Taiwan...looked exactly like the one in Bob's photos above....for some reason I thought it was a 225 or 305 maybe.... would have been early 1960s

Now I wonder if mom has any photos of it

As a kid my dad (78 now) and friends flew airplanes in a cow pasture , they built their planes from plywood flew with big engines of the time CL of coarse . He talked of shoveling cow pies from the runway every time they flew , seemed they like the smell of the runway ?! I was born in 57 my mom had taken me from my dad because all he did was work to keep things in sink and wasn't working out for them , well when i was 2yr young my dad took me from my mother for neglect . Later in life when i was coming up and we had moved to suburbs in town i guess dad wanted to rekindle the spirit and fly got me into it with the PT19 and then we built some of the Blackhawk series to fly O i had the Stuntman 23 . I cleaned engines and was the pit man for dog fights with one of the neighbors up the road that was a pilot for an airlines . LOL I never got to fly against my dad but we had a lot of FUN ! Then i moved own and have carried planes and stuff with me for years now , My dad hears me running engines and fling when i and son do (still gets a smile )

Brother Bob

you have no idea how badly I want to meet you

This quote from you: "I always brake for Fred, he weaves a tale worthy of Hemingway. In fact, the only picture he has ever posted here of himself sitting at a bar graying pony tail POV reminded me of the author. "

That put a grand smile on my mug...as writing is very hard for my GED educated butt

I always tend to assume many folks do not know the life outside the USA and Military life so I trend towards a lot of back ground info to try and weave the story

Example as a young 6th~7th grade student in rural Illinois, or Minnesota...I had class mates that had not yet been out of their county. And my teachers all assumed that living overseas made me smarter...well it did--- language, religion, and geography wise, but not in science, history, English or math...

So as the teacher prompted me to tell tales of my early adventures, a LOT of kids looked puzzled and lost...so I learned to fill in the blanks.... but that make for overly long stories...for some well read (or been there done that) folks

Any way thanks for the encouraging words...

Living all sorts of different places as a Army family we did NOT enjoy being considered "natives" to what ever neighborhood we lived in....even on Army post housing

BUT ----I do distinctly remember the 60 and 70s as being a time when Neighborhoods still had a character and mostly real good folk.

Of course every one of us can relate the crotchety old guy who you dared NOT walk on HIS yard.

My roots, family wise, are Pacific north west, but Dad married a Oakland Ca gal ----and most of his assignments were to Asia... Korea, Viet Nam, Taiwan----departing from Oakland Army terminal (ON BOATS)

Made sense for the "family" to stay with Mom's family in Oakland-- and we did, two times, where I went to 1st grade and later 8th through 11th grades... thus a tad too much San Fran/ Oakland/ Berkeley Ca Liberal education..(Note, I later fixed that insanity) grin

Back to neighborhoods...

Ours, in the foot hills of Oakland, had that proverbial crotchety old guy who ALL kids were scared of... and his home bordered on two of the back yards WE played in---- with the requisite ball over the fence events

Exactly like the movie, I was the sad sack that got VOLUNTEERED to go ask for a ball or apologize for the broken window

I know he is long dead now (that was 1969~72 and he was easily 75 at the time) but I OFTEN lament how I never got to go back and let him know how much HE influenced MY life

I remember my first ever approach to his door, and my intense fear that he might eat me or some other dire demise.

And, he was extremely mean and crotchety to be disturbed by our youthful playing.

But he did listen to my plea to search his back yard for several balls. As he escorted me through the front room to the back porch, I saw several electronic kits on his dinning room table he was soldering on--- and I commented:

"Are those Heath Kits?"

He looked at me puzzled that an 13~14 year old would even know what a electronic kit was. I went on to say..."I helped my dad build several Heath Kits on Taiwan a few years ago."

That man morphed into the neatest old guy I ever met...I am so ashamed right now that I can NOT remember his name.

He asked me if I knew what HAM radio was..."NO'
He asked me if overseas we had ever talked to home on MARS* and I said "Yes!"
"when?" I said, "probably 1961~62"
He looked in his log book and found where he had phone patched a call to Seattle and Oakland and asked if I recognized either number, and I DID!

So here was a Oakland CA HAM radio operator who had, years before, helped me (and the rest of our big family) briefly talk to BOTH my/our Grandma's over MARS and phone in the 60s...how coincidental was that!??


* (MARS) Military Amateur Radio Service... a bunch of GIs OR Civilian HAM radio guys and gals who would phone patch calls from long distances over Short Wave radio into the USA phone network to let GIs and families all over the world talk to family long before cell phones

For the next three years of my life I spent a lot of time in his basement and eventually got my first Amateur radio license

I let it lapse in the 80s---- but in 2010 I took the test again and was granted FCC license KD5NCO.... how coincidental I had retired from the Army as an senior Non-Commissioned Officer (NCO)

I will never give up this call sign for a vanity call... and I still get a bad gut trying so desperately to remember that back yard neighbor's name or HIS call...

Earlier I had mentioned the many MC stories. Some few may know of my accident... so currently for first adult life without a MC
On Taiwan my dad bought a White Honda dream ( I swear it was a 225) mentioned above

In Bob's great MC rebuild thread is a photo or three of the beautiful white MC that took me back 40 years

I had deliberately decided after my bad accident to NOT replace the bike... The love of my life Renie for last 33 would always be worried terribly every time I went for a ride

BUT all you guys with photos and collections has me seriously Jone'sing for a new bike

Just to see if anyone is listening

One of many dream bikes

Pat Kennedy stretch custom with Harley 55 Pan head power

To sit next to my Foose 59 Caddy

Note to self.... call agent and get wife's Ins policy upped to a full million

Hey get offa my back Virginia...thats a joke

Your way too young to give up on a dream Fred.  I'll be 80 in a couple of months and I'm dragging these tired old bones on that S90 and going for a ride God, inguinal hernia, and arthritis willing.  

It doesn't need to be the latest thing Fred, something slow and comfortable.  Puts a smile on your face.  You should have seen the smile on Marks when we finally got it running.  We had removed the carburetor for a dunk in Chem clean and a rebuild and I had put the throttle cable on wrong.  Couldn't get it started.  Finally we referred to a picture of the MC taken during the disassembly phase, got it on right and it still wouldn't start.  Discouraged after hours of trying Mark was about to give up.  

I'm having none of that so we fooled around with some wires in the headlight housing, got an indicator light to come on and hit the starter, took right off and settled to a nice idle.  BIG smiles.  From the outhouse to the penthouse in an instant.  I can't wait to tear into it, but it's Marks bike and he calls the shots.  Now, it starts every time at just a touch of the starter.  Just like the Honda Dream did of my youth.  I guessed at the mileage before, it's actually 01916.0/1 miles.  I think Mark put a tenth or two on it running it around the yard.  

Three Honda's and a smile in this picture.



Go for it Fred.  Just be careful, no need for long dangerous trips, just looking at one is worth the price of admission.  I love the idea of a Fooze tall tail 1959 Cadillac.

Bob