ON THE PEGS

MARISA MCINTURFF

Then one day, a motorcycle magically appeared in our garage. It was an old white Honda Z50 – well- used and missing a few decals but ready for a few rowdy kids to twist its throttle for the next several years. My two brothers and I spent hours on that little bike.

We’ d take turns riding laps around the backyard until someone ran out of gas, then we’ d cool off with a swim before climbing right back on the bike. Even now, one of my favorite summer activities is still packing a motorcycle up for a ride and finding a swimming hole somewhere on a hot day.

Eventually, I graduated to a Yamaha TTR125 that was mine alone. I was barely tall enough to touch the ground, balancing on one tippy toe while trying to learn how to work a clutch. I also learned another valuable riding skill that summer: how to fall off.

We built jumps out of whatever dirt we could pile together. We carved trails through the woods behind our house. We practiced wheelies, probably longer than our parents would’ ve preferred, and rode until we were completely exhausted. We would ride all summer, every weekend, and many days after school. I’ m proud to say that most of my childhood was spent outside, and a large percentage of that was on a motorcycle. If every kid’ s childhood had been that good, the world would be a much better place.

Soon all three of us had our own motorcycles, and weekends became camping trips with the Middle Tennessee Dirt Riders club. New trails, campfires, and dozens of other kids who loved riding just as much as we did. At the time it felt normal, but looking back now it feels special.

A while back I heard someone say,“ If you want to rediscover joy, do what you loved to do when you were 13.” I don’ t think I ever stopped doing that, but the unfortunate truth is that it’ s not as frequent as I’ d like.

As adults, we spend so much of our lives chasing the next milestone – another promotion, another project, another responsibility – that we forget how simple happiness used to be. For me, it wasn’ t complicated. It was camping. It was dirt bikes. It was spending all day outside with my brothers and friends and coming home tired, dirty, and already thinking about the next day’ s ride.

Somehow, without really planning it, I’ ve built a life around those same things. I still camp. I still spend my weekends exploring on two wheels. If you’ ve been reading these last few issues then you know I’ ve even found myself trials riding, which proves you’ re never really too old to become a beginner again.

Maybe that’ s the secret. Maybe we don’ t have to search very hard to find what makes us happy. Maybe we already figured it out decades ago. Motorcycle or not, you know deep down what that happiness truly is.

I recently asked our readers to tell us about their first motorcycle. The responses reminded me that while our stories are all different, they often begin the same way – with a machine that sparked a lifetime of adventures. On the next page, you’ ll see a few Rider readers’“ first bikes.”

Some riders started as kids. Others didn’ t discover motorcycles until middle age or retirement. Some began on dirtbikes, others on cruisers, sportbikes, or scooters. There isn’ t a right way to become a motorcyclist. There is only the moment when a motorcycle becomes part of your story.

Mine started with a beat- up little Honda Z50 in the backyard. All these years later, I’ m still chasing that feeling every time I throw a leg over a bike. I hope I never stop.

6 / SEPTEMBER 2026 / RIDERMAGAZINE. COM