So in 1979 when I bought my first motorcycle, a Yamaha XS750, my Dad began the sh1tstorm, and it raged for decades.
See, he used to ride in the late '50's and early '60's - had a '49 Harley that he chopped the crap out, then got a '52 Indian. When he couldn't keep that running reliably while raising four kids he got a Honda Scrambler - my first ride. But after working his way through college and getting a "respectable" job as a teacher he gave up riding, leaving it to "the less fortunate".
So when his sons
enlisted in the military and one had the further lack of propriety to buy a motorcycle, he frothed and spewed about it constantly. Not what the children of a native San Franciscan educator should be stooping to. Should have gone to college, become lawyers, and tranced ourselves to bliss on the top of Mt. Tam. While driving BMWs.
But time tempers every storm. I became a commissioned officer and my brother rose through the enlisted ranks, and our father saw that not only was military service a respectable profession, but it allowed for a respectable life. In our latter years in the service, Dad actually involved himself in some of the functions that the services have. He took a Tiger Cruise with my brother (rode a Navy warship from Hawaii to San Diego) and came to my change of command ceremony, amongst others. And even though the crap about bikes continued, when I got Ol' Red in '99 he actually talked to me about riding, the first time he'd done that since about '67.
By 2004 my brother & I both retired to Nevada, after about 55 years of combined service (and 7 surgeries) and I continued sporadic visits to the SF bay area, riding Ol Red over the Sierra. Each time I visited Dad it seemed he lingered out by my bike a bit more, and there were visits where he said NOTHING bad about the "donor cycle" or even my long hair and muttonchops. Then gas went to about $3.00 a gallon and he decided to break down and buy a bike - to save money. Purely a financial move. Just common sense.
He winced when telling me about the new bike, a Honda Rebel 250. I know he was waiting for the gut-shot, as he kept going on & on & on about the wise financial decision he'd made. I said nothing about the decades of BS, and simply and honestly admired his new ride. It really is a pretty bike, and he even let me ride it. My only comment was that though it could handle the CA-NV runs, it was on the low power side of things to do it often or with any comfort.
He completed his MSF course and put a wine country run under his belt, as well as some around town putts. He learned that the freeways of today are nothing like the highways of the 60's. But we'd no chance to ride together, as I was recovering from my latest knife appointments when I last was in the Bay Area.
He visited here on the 4th of July, as my other brother was in town, and we all went out to the vast desert on the dirt bikes and ATV. We were not saving gas. We were not avoiding parking problems or taking advantage of HOV lanes. We were riding for the fun of riding.
The mask was off. The fog had lifted. For his 72nd birthday, he got himself a BMW850R
. And now we can ride together, anywhere. Finally.
) and couldn't (wouldn't) see what the consequences could be. I know I though I was bullet proof back then. I just got back into riding a few years ago so old dogs can learn. I'm really glad your Dad is getting back with it. Some of the best times I had with my sons growing up was on a dirt bike tearing up powerline right-of-ways. I'd like to try it again. I'm sure it would be just as much fun at this age but I may be a little more careful now days. I don't heal as quick as I once did 
.
