Bikes that made me: A Honda Grom gives father and son something in common

I’ve owned a bundle of motorcycles that left an indelible mark on me. What motorcyclist doesn’t have those stories? A really special machine, though, makes one not just a better motorcyclist or wrench, but a better person. My boy’s humble Honda Grom is one of those.

Like Lance, I had no one to get me started motorcycling. I was determined to make my son’s entry into two-wheel transit easier than mine, come hell or high water. Since he was small, Stink has featured in my motorcycling life, often against his will, but as he got older his attraction grew steadily.

Stink: When I was a kid, Old Fat Dad would always say I would want a motorcycle one day. I always denied it. I went for so many rides on the back of so many bikes and I loved them, but I never wanted a motorcycle of my own. He said once that I would go to my high school prom on a bike. While I did have my Grom by then, I did not go to said dance on the bike. So I was right there.

After he showed some prowess behind the handlebar, I bought him a little Grom. He resisted and I insisted, and by the time spring rolled around during his junior year of high school, he was eagerly traveling to homeroom on two wheels.

That Grom began requiring mechanical attention, which Stink gave begrudgingly, at first, but he’s slowly become more conscientious about lavishing care upon his motorcycle. A few seasons in he lost his key to the bike, and we spent more than a few hours rectifying that error. I remember feeling frustrated and inadequate as a father and a teacher, a few times.

Stink: Like most, if not all, motorcyclists, I love riding my bike but hate working on it. [OFD: Nope, you’re just lazy, kid.] Just a few weeks ago, OFD helped me replace the chain, sprockets, and tires. He asked me to change the tires years ago when I got the bike. I did not have the gumption to get that done, even though I took the bike to school quite often, even during winter sometimes. My mindset was to not fix what wasn’t broken. However, I also knew that I needed to maintain what was working so it wouldn’t break. I finally have new street tires on the Grom now, and I hated doing that job, but I felt surprisingly accomplished after the work was done. Furthermore, when I look at the Grom now, I can see the work that was put into it, and I know it is ready for spring.

Stink is coming into his fourth season in the saddle. That Grom has turned him into a mechanic and a motorcyclist. I watched him plow that bike into the fender of one of my old Harleys during his first year out. I’ve followed that Grom into turns he has taken hotter than a cheap pistol, wondering if he was stupid or brave. I’ve watched him respectfully ride behind his mom while she’s puttered at a maddeningly slow pace, and I watched him decide to hop back on the horse the first time he lowsided it at speed.

That Grom gave me some precious hours with my kid doing a thing we both love. The Grom is one of the items in the narrow area in the Venn diagram of our lives where the circles overlap.

Stink: "Plow" is definitely an exaggeration. I braked a little too late and bumped him.

It would help if the readers knew I was completely stationary, son.

Stink: It is nice to have a similar interest with OFD. No doubt. Looking at the two of us side by side, a lot of people probably wouldn’t be able to tell we are related. We look and act differently, but OFD and I both love motorcycles for sure, though. Motorcycles and chess. And OFD is only better at one of those than I.

The Grom has served as a conduit for lessons I wanted him to absorb as a man, but the motorcycle has taught me, too. I’ve learned about patience and failure — and success. The Grom taught me that strained relations between parent and child are normal. The Grom taught Stink that Old Fat Dad really hates dirty, dry motorcycle chains.

Stink: I can definitely speak to the patience part. He does often ride me about working on it (no pun intended). When I went up to my girlfriend’s every weekend on the bike, I cleaned and waxed the chain. Then, for maybe a month, I didn't. And keep in mind, it was probably more than 100 miles for a round trip. I didn’t realize I had to maintain the chain that often since I “just did it.” As you might have guessed, this is why I needed to replace the chain and sprockets. It would have been beyond easy to just take care of it every weekend, but at least I feel accomplished having replaced the old ones.

I ride Stink’s bike occasionally when he is away. It usually serves as a reminder of how much I miss his presence. It’s just a silly bucket of bolts, but even when it’s in the shed in the way of the mower or the bike table, I can’t help but feel a little pang of something when I move it out of the way. Inevitably, that bike winds up moving me, and isn’t that what this series is about?

Someone really oughta grease this damn chain.