I've always wanted a motorcycle. Parents were adamant about NOT getting me a bike. I rode bicycles as a kid, as many kids do.
When I was almost 15, my family moved to Oklahoma to be closer to family. For a few months, we lived in a friend's vacant house, and in the garage of that vacant house there was a 1979 or 1980 Honda XL125. Once again, dear old dad said NO, don't ride it, even if the owner of the bike comes out and asks if you want to ride it, say NO.
Well, being 15, the next time Steve came out, and asked if I wanted to ride the old Honda, I said SURE. Never had even sat on a motorcycle before. I dropped the clutch from about half throttle and had to go pick the bike up. I let it out reeeaaalll slow after that. Rode it all over the property and had the time of my life. It was as fun as I knew it would be. For the next few years I was insufferable about wanting a dirt bike. I got a big tax return at age 19, and ran out to buy an old 1986 Honda XL250R. It was even MORE fun. I rode every trail I could find. Wiped it out countless times. I eventually sold it to purchase a car. And I regretted it. As soon as I had money saved up, I bought a 1977 Husqvarna WR 250, that I still have.
A few years later, I bought my first streetbike - a Vulcan 750. Rode it home one chilly February afternoon. I was 22 or 23 I think. When I got home, mom rushed out of the house - Asked who's motorcycle that was. It was of course, mine. She asked, nearly with tears in her eyes, where she went wrong, when she could have known that one day, her son would come home with a motorcycle. Being the sometimes not-nice person I am, I told her - "When the doctor handed me to you and said 'It's a boy'". That's when you should have known.