I was captivated and figured motorcycles (albeit this one being a scooter) were pretty cool.
We would have been revving along at about 40km/h but it felt like we were going about 100km/h.
From that time I was smitten by motorcycles and used to watch them closely as they went by.
And I started buying motorcycle magazines and it was inevitable that after I took on my first job after leaving school at 16 I would save a fiver or so a week (my wage was not spectacular) and eventually put down a deposit on a little 100cc motorcycle.
After I got the hang of the clutch and gearshifting I was away, and as it is with all those who keenly embrace the world of two wheels within a year I was on the climb... in terms of engine size.
I traded up to a 350, and then a 500 and eventually a 750 and travelled far and wide and enjoyed a few interesting runs across challenging roads.
And yep, there was the occasional warning from the traffic crews, although I only ever collected one speeding ticket in 45-odd years... I left the fast outings to closed race circuits.
It's a strange pursuit, motorcycling.
Some take to it but many do not... preferring to travel aboard something with double that number of wheels.
To me it just felt natural but a couple of the blokes I used to work with said I was mad, and determined that motorcycles were dangerous and that I was "asking for trouble".
Well, yeah, on a couple of occasions I did find out for myself how the health system works but I was not swayed from climbing back on... once the healing process had been carried out.
I think my early years of motorcycling were responsible for mum and dad both going grey earlier than they anticipated.
I'd head off to watch the racing at Pukekohe, spending four and a bit hours going up there and at the end of the day another four and a bit hours coming back.
Then the following weekend tank up and head for Manfeild.
But it was simply the way it was, although I was quietly thankful in my own dad years that my son never took up two wheels... although he beat me well and truly to the punch in his first ride outing... aboard a little two-stroke "PeeWee" 50 in a paddock up Tutira way somewhere when he was only about six or seven.
He blasted about on it with frightening aplomb.
It has transpired that the little "Pee Wee" is now parked up in my garage... having been sent my way in the wake of my eldest brother's passing.
He got it about 30 years ago and it became an annual fixture at the family Christmas gatherings up at the old homestead by the beach.
So it came to pass last Saturday there was a small family gathering at our place, and I brought the "Pee Wee" out, and fired it up.
To the delight of our granddaughter Saffy who at the age of 10 got her own first taste of riding a motorcycle.
I ran her through the throttle and brakes stuff and off she gingerly went.
Grinning wildly and cautiously circling on the grass around the clothesline and along the pathway.
Then my son got on (although with legs outstretched) and blasted tracks across the lawn, like I did... sigh.
And Saffy simply wanted to have another go, and when they later shot through she simply said she was looking forward to coming back and riding it again.
Oh what have I done.
But as her mum said, there's always been two wheels in the family, and looks like that's set to continue.
