My motorcycling family

A common thread through at least four generations of my family is motorcycles. Being known as a convenient and efficient form of transport, motorcycles can also offer a sense of freedom, exploration and adventure.

Here’s a look at my motorcycling family tree through photos of some of the motorcycles owned and ridden by my relatives.

Photograph of a Harley-Davidson motorcycle

My brother owns a Harley-Davidson, which he’s taken on both short and long-distance journeys in Australia. Both he and my Dad have also ridden Royal Enfield motorcycles overseas, enjoying a motorcycling tour from Lhasa to Kathmandu.

Photograph of a Jawa motorcycle

Dad still has his first bike, a Jawa, which was bought when he was eighteen and cost just $495. If you zoom in on the photo above you can see a university motorcycle club sticker below the seat which adds some provenance. This bike was the start of a lifelong love of motorcycles. Dad now has a shed full of them! You can have a look at them online.

My grandfather, Dad’s dad, was apparently issued a Harley-Davidson when he was a soldier during World War Two. However, the experience was short-lived. He’d only ever ridden a bicycle before, and quickly demolished a hut with the Harley-Davidson. He never tried riding a motorcycle again.

Photograph of a motorcycle and sidecar in the 1920s

My great-grandfather owned a motorcycle and sidecar, and my grandmother said this photo was taken in North Sydney in the 1920s. Look at how narrow the tyres are, and the state of the road!

Photograph of a woman sitting on a Harley-Davidson motorcycle with a sidecar in the 1930s

My great-grandaunt was an avid motorcyclist who worked as a motorcycle courier, took part in motorcycle competitions, and belonged to Sydney’s Harley-Davidson Motorcycle Club.

And in case you’re wondering, I’ve never owned a motorcycle myself, but I have ridden on them – both as a pillion passenger on Dad’s bike, and solo on a mini motorcycle!

One comment

  1. My father and uncles all had motorcycles, but when Dad’s oldest brother was skittled on the Hume Highway, my grandmother said to Dad, “Enough. You will sell your bike to buy a little car to drive me to visit your brother in hospital.” Dad always enjoyed looking at motorcycles but never owned one after that.

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