n my sixteenth birthday, in June of 1975, I passed my motorcycle license. I had already bought my first street-legal bike — my brother’s very tired 1970 Honda 350. My high-school buddy, Al, who’d gotten on the road before me, had a brand-new 1975 Yamaha RS100B. It was a little 100 cc single-cylinder two-stroke that smoked quite a bit but was very fast and sounded amazing. My bike smoked a lot too, but it was because its four-stroke engine was worn out.
