Hi Guys!

My name is Patrick (P.J.) Huffman. I am now 35 years old and currently own a 2008 Yamaha WR250R. This is an awesome bike and have no complaints other than the common “rattle” associated with Yamahas.

I began riding bicycles when I was around eight and remember my brothers making fun of me because I would push it around everywhere I went. It wasn’t long and I figured out how to ride and from that moment on, I have always been riding.

I got into BMX around 11 years of age and raced for a couple of years. My very first race I came in 2nd overall and unaware it was the summer championships. Humph, not bad! BMX led to MX and the race was really on!

I started out on a 1978 Honda Mini-Trail, or as some of you may remember it as just a Honda 50. Man, did I ride the snot out of that little thing. What was awesome was that no matter what I did, it kept asking for more. I went from that to a XR 80 and the same again, ride hard and keeps on tickin'!

It didn’t take long for me to outgrow and by this time I had several guys riding with me and I needed not only a bigger machine, I needed power! Enter the 125! Mom, Dad and I went to Main Street Powersports in Findlay, OH and out front, on a grassy knoll, sat a 1987 Honda CR125. If memory serves, a ray of light from the heavens beamed down upon it as I stood there in awe. The seat was up to my chest and I could just smell the Klotz smoking in my mind…

For my parents, it wasn’t the cost; I believe it was the size comparison. We left and went to Bob Evans and this is where I realized that bike was never going to be in our garage. My parents were concerned that it was just too big. I can remember saying,” it’s not, it’s just all suspension, it will sag, just let me sit on it and you will see”! Never happened. I cried to myself as we drove past my bike.

I sold my XR80 to a friend for $600 and found one on my own, a Cagiva WMX125. It wasn’t my CR, but it was a 125. I took the bike for a test ride, handed the guy my cash and my brother helped me load it up. When I got it home and unloaded it didn’t take long until, whoops! Yeah, I was on my ass. I hit a jump I had for my BMX and whipped that bike right out from under me, cracked my head on the bars and ripped off the rear fender. I stood up and could hear my brother clapping and calling me “Grace.”

I finally graduated to a friend’s 1998 CR250R with a full blown Pro-Circuit engine and exhaust. I was the king of kings on that bike. I also believe I was one of the few that would jump and kick my legs behind as I flew, now that I think about it, I was doing FMX 20 years ago! Eat your heart out Metz!

As the years passed, bikes gave way to trucks and life took hold. Three years ago I bought a Kawasaki Ninja and loved the power, speed and agility of a sport bike but soon realized that I am the type to use every ounce of that speed and power. That bike was going to cost me my wallet if not my life, thus my current ride.

I have ridden that bike all over hell’s half-acre and back. Within the first three months I logged over 2000 miles. Most on-road but one-third I would say was dirt. I have had several people say that dual sports are dogs and worthless because of gearing. I respond by handing them the key. The response is always the same, “wow, that thing hauls ass.” Yup! Sure does! I wish Yamaha produced a street version of its 450. If and when, I will have my next bike, but until then, no other dual sport (with the exception of the Italians) comes close to the WR.

My most recent “adventure” came after a meeting I attended. I was on my way home and my daily commute places me in the heart of my riding memories when I said, “screw it,” and hit the old trails. I made a U-turn in the middle of SR53 and took off. Keep in mind, Ohio is finally thawing out from record snowfalls and the ground was softening, see where this is going?

I was winding out of third gear when the mud decided I needed to go into the row of trees and brush. The muck sucked my front tire up like it was a sponge and my wheel was water. I was heading into the trees in a blink of the eye and thought “this isn’t cool,” but my instincts kicked in and with a squeeze of the tank and a pivot of the hips, that Yamaha barked back at the mud and I re-discovered what makes our sport so special. I had a rooster-tail about 20-feet-high when I looked back and the bike was on the pipe all the way.

I could feel the water seeping through my boots and jeans and it felt like heaven. I could smell the dirt and see the trees whipping by. I could watch the trail disappearing behind as I kept the throttle wide open all the way, shifting gears, feathering the clutch… all of it. You guys know what I mean, it was a lifetime of riding all coming back in the blink of an eye, instinctively taking control once again.

Once I found the road again you could see the chunks of mud flying off the tires and could only smile. I cruised the rest of the way home, recalling the lifetime of experience all coming back in a brief half-hour jaunt. I can’t imagine not doing this for the rest of my life; we all need this type of experience once in a while as it keeps us going.

As I pulled into the driveway I had one last burst of adventure and cracked the throttle, pulled a wheelie, locked the rear tire and did a 180 into the garage.

God, I love this!
P. Huffman