OK, this is a story spanning 25 years. I was a medic in Vietnam, stationed at Can Tho Army Airfield, in the Delta, in 1971-'72. I was saving my money and was planning on buying some sort of large road motorcycle and touring the country when I got out of the Army; I'd sold my Honda 160, prior to going overseas. Part of my duties was running sick-call and seeing 80 to 120 GI's in a morning (real wham-bam-thank you ma'am healthcare). I had a few pictures of bikes cut out of magazines stuck up in my corner of the dispensary and would usually have a couple of words with "bikers" who came through, which would allow me to ask what sort of machine they recommended for a long tour. By the time I landed at Ft. Carson, Colorado (two months early on a force reducing "early out"), I had narrowed the possibilities to three choices:

• Harley-Davidson - eliminated due to concerns of reliability and the fact that 50% of the stories ended with "and then it got ripped off".
• MotoGuzzi - Soon after returning, I was hitch-hiking and got picked up by a dealer who sold both MotoGuzzi and BMWs. He stated the opinion that both were excellent machines, but, if I had the several hundred dollars difference; BMWs were a little better.
• BMW - Back then, definitely "an old man's touring Machine". But, somehow, that seemed to fit what I was looking for for a long, slow and alone trip. Non of this multicolored "S", "RS" foolishness.

So, newly arrived at Ft. Carson, cash in hand, I called the local dealer (back then, C&E Suzuki had the BMW franchise) and unfortunately, got a Suzuki salesman. Inquiring about black 750s, I was told "We have a black 600 and a blue 750, that's all" I was clear, I wanted a 750 and I wanted a black one, so, I called up to Denver and found what I wanted. (Of course, now I know that the shop staff at C&E could have traded fenders, tank and side covers in about 45 minutes and provided what I wanted.)

On April 14, 1972; I flew up to Denver and took delivery of my new R75/5. The ride of 70 miles back to Ft. Carson was my first ride on a BMW - after a year of research, I knew what I wanted. It was nice to walk up to the counter with a cashier's check and say, "I want that one, can I have the change and keys, please". As I rode back, catching a bit of rain and snow, the name I had thought of earlier certainly seemed to fit: Strider, after the Wizard Gandalf's magical horse, as told in The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings. I knew there would be adventures in the future; I had not yet grasped the reality of why hobbits thought so poorly of adventures: "Nasty things, most uncomfortable, they make you late for dinner. I don't fathom what anyone sees in them." (Bilbo Baggins to Gandalf, in The Hobbit).

That was the beginning of the 350,000 miles, although, at that point, all I was looking for was a mount that would hold up for my last 16 months in the Army and a year or so on the road afterwards. Little did I realize what a life changing part of my life it would be.....

To be continued. Matt Parkhouse