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Hello, my name's Greg and this is my story. On November 25, 1975 I walked into Young's Goodtimes Kawasaki in Alcoa, TN with $1500 in my pocket.I was 18 years old, weighed 160 pounds, and had never owned a motorcycle before. I said "I want the biggest bike I can buy for $1500, please." The kind salesman pointed to a Candy Yellow H1 500 and it looked fine to me, so very soon F32861/ E102884 was loaded into the back of the truck. For a grand total of $1452.19, I got the bike, a Bell full face helmet, a crash bar, and a shop manual. And the most amazing possession of my short life.
A few days later, I drove to the THP on Kingston Pike for my driver's test. No appointment needed in 1975. Across the street was an Exxon station. I unloaded the bike at the little hill on the corner of their property which was the base for their sign. LIned up nicely with the tailgate. Pushed the bike across the street and managed to ride it around the THP parking lot for the examiner without crashing. Passed the written test. Wasn't blind. Got my license.
The bike was prone to foul the spark plugs often. Eventually figured out that petroleum based oil was not the way to go, and switched to synthetic, which was a huge improvement. Tried removing the baffles for more performance and just got more noise. Saw an advertisement for Wirges expansion chambers and really liked the look of them. I bought a set in flat black. Oh, that sound!
Riding the bike in traffic was like having a magic wand. If there was something about the situation I was in that I didn't like, I'd just leave it behind. Way behind. Really quickly. That bike fed my ego with a shovel. Corners were not so good. It would develop a wobble that kept getting worse if I didn't change speed or line. I didn't have the guts see how bad it could get.
I still remember the hollow sound from the airbox when I would ask too much of the engine in the wrong gear. It had nothing for me when I did that.
Now I hear the bike is called the WidowMaker. I get that. I think I had just enough luck and sense of self-preservation to survive it, but that salesman should have been charged with a crime!
On April 9, 1978, my 500 was stolen. I never forgot how much fun that bike was. I recently bought a 1982 Honda CB750F, and it's a good bike, but it's not the bike that Kawasaki was.
Thanks for reading.
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