My very first bike was a Honda-Matic 400. I learned how to ride on this bike. I remember my friend had a bike and before I knew nut to butt wasn't cool, I rode behind him. I had to get one. I talked about riding like there was nothing else in the world. But I didn't even know how to even shop for a motorcycle. Well one when I got home, my dad was standing in the driveway standing next to a shinny red motorcycle. Oh, I was in envy.. Asking 20k questions. He pointed out all the functionality of the bike and told me to sit on it. I couldn't contain myself. He finally gave me the keys and say "Don't wreck, because your mom will never let you ride again." Well guess what.. I wrecked. I was coming home from football practice. Rush hour had died down. So almost no one on the street with me. So I gun it and wanted to try and take the corner as if I wanted to drag a knee. Well needless to say, that bike wasn't built like that. Not to mention that as I got all the way over, I went through a pile of gravel. As I slide on to the street I was trying to turn on, I had crossed over two lanes of what would have been my lanes in to the two lanes of on coming traffic And as I was trying to gain control of the bike, what did I see... ONE.. THE ONLY ONE car on the road that happened to be coming towards me. Not knowing any better I decided to lay the bike over. I came of the bike on my feet. As the bike slid I ran, trying to keep my feet under me. The bike stopped WAY before I was able to. By this time I realized that the oncoming car was easily a quarter mile down the road, she was able to stop her vehicle WAY before her or I would have been of any danger to each other. As I was finally able to get my feet beneath me under control, I turned around and walked back to the bike. As I approached it, she drove up to my side and rolled down her window. She said "I saw you when you lost it. Are you ok?". Not trying to show my embarrassment I kicked the tank of the helpless bike as if it were a dog that had did something wrong after I walked in the house from a bad day. I replied, "Stupid bike! Yes ma'am, I am fine thank you" as I preceded to attempt to lift for the first time, a bike that was on its side. I wish I had known there was an actual method for it. As she drove off I struggled to get this bike back on its rubber. Finally with some success I got her up. After a few minutes of settling gas, I was even able to get her started. After a short celebration, I quickly heard my dad's voice in my head. "Don't wreck, or you mom will never let you ride again"..... Oh chit.. How am I going to hide this? I ended up ridding to every shop I could find to find parts for the handlebar damage which was so easy, that even today, i don't recall what was broken other than the front brake lever. There was a crash bar, so there was no damage to the paint. What was killing me was the replacement mirror. To get an exact mirror, it was WAY out of a high school student's pocket money from part time job's range. I ended up getting a glass shop to cut a FLAT piece of glass mirror to fit in the mount. On a side note, I will NEVER recommend doing this as you'll never see anything out of that mirror unless you make it a vanity mirror. I got home late that evening after installing parts in the parking lots of the places where there items were purchased and having the glass shop glue the mirror in to it's mount. I pulled the bike in my parent's garage very close to the wall so no one would notice the damage and acted like nothing happened. Years later after my mom passed, I brought this bike up to my dad and asked him if he remembers what he instructed me. Before I could tell him that I DID in fact wreck that bike, he stated he knew I wrecked it but he never told my mom and he saw my poor attempt at fixing everything to hide the fact and just let it all slide.