It was a warm afternoon in Flagstaff, and we were sitting on the patio of one of the best BBQ joints in Northern Arizona enjoying some of the local brew. Both of us had a little adventure travel under our belts as well as the tendency to move around a lot. We had a deep love of motorcycles. Josh grew up dirt riding in the desert near Tucson and spent most of his high school days wrenching on worn-out bikes. I got hooked on motorcycles in art school when I needed a cheap daily driver.

We had both spent quite a few years wandering, and it was complete happenstance that we met when we did. Josh was in Flagstaff working on a graduate degree in business, and I was a fulltime tattoo artist at one of the parlors in town. Like many with a hankering for the open road, staying in one place proved to be a challenge. So, over pulled pork sandwiches we began a scheme that would combine our passions for adventure and old motorcycles. One of us suggested the Mongol Rally, the other countered with riding the Pan American Highway.

One of the many "cool down" stops to ease my bucking bronco the first day.Josh had a 1972 Honda CB100 in storage that was in near original condition, and I had been recently eyeing a Honda CT90. Maybe, if we weren’t in a position to cross the continent or travel the world, we could have an epic adventure on a smaller scale. We didn’t have the time to do a multi-week trek, but we could still dream up an exciting ride— and something no one had done before.

We wanted the ride to be more than just a crazy stunt. If we were going to be doing something ambitious and eccentric, we hoped others would take notice. And if they were going to be paying attention, we might as well do something that would make the world a better place. So we hooked up with Blood:Water, an organization that drills clean water wells and sets up HIV/AIDS clinics in several African countries—funded largely by unique grassroots efforts. In the places that Blood:Water operates, as well as most of the third world, the average motorcycle engine displacement is around 125cc. This would be perfect.

We reckoned anyone can ride 400 miles in a day on a big motorcycle, but 400 miles at 30 mph on a small bike—that’s quite a different experience. A few friends wanted to tag along, but we quickly found out that 100cc street-legal bikes in good shape were probably among the most difficult motorcycles to find in the United States. Wade, Josh’s dad, managed to locate a 1968 Honda Trail 90 and invited himself along. And because of the high probability of breakdowns and a severe lack of cargo space on these bikes, we rounded up a motorhome for the support team.

Here we see the top indicated speed of a CB100 going down hill.After a visit to Overland Expo to share plans with our adventure motorcycling community friends, we were ready to go. The starting lineup: 1976 Honda CT90, 1972 Honda CB100, 1968 Honda CT90.

When we arrived in Parker, AZ, at 8:00 p.m. the evening before the ride, it was 108°F. It started to sink in that riding at 30 mph under the scorching hot Arizona sun was going to be a miserable experience. But at 7:00 the following morning it was an almost-comfortable 96 degrees. We soaked our shirts in ice water, which provided a few minutes of makeshift air conditioning until they dried. After only twenty miles it became apparent there was something very wrong with my bike; it was sputtering and stalling and required a “rest” before starting again.

There are a few maintenance items required to prep a tiny bike to ride any sort of distance. Regular oil change, lubrication, new tires and tubes, greased bearings and valve adjustments are important. But we also made a few upgrades that made the bikes more “adventure-ready.” One we did on Wade’s CT90 (but failed to do on my bike!) was a rectifier upgrade. This ended up being the source of our many problems. We also found it advisable to thread-lock every accessible bolt. The vibrations that tiny bikes make at 35 mph are horrendous and will loosen everything. We lost a speedometer cable on the first day when it vibrated itself loose.

Trying to bring the CT90 back to life before switching to the "big" XL200.By the time we arrived in Congress, AZ, it was clear that a decision had to be made. Some of the most amazing riding in Northern Arizona lay directly in our path, but pulling over to let my bike cool down every twenty minutes wasn't working out. Fortunately, we had another bike for emergencies—a 1978 Honda XL200. While not strictly a “tiny bike” it was all we could get our hands on before the ride. I traded up and kept riding.

Once we were cruising steadly it wasn't long until we were warmly welcomed in Prescott, AZ at the Overland Journal offices. They greeted us with a much-needed barbecue and cold beer. Someone calculated that the first day of our three-day ride averaged about 13 miles per hour—one of the most grueling travel days we’d ever experienced.

The next morning Prescott was refreshingly cool. We rode to Star Island Motorsports’ Annual Vintage Japanese Bike Show, walked around, looked at some beautiful bikes and spent some money on parts for the CT90. But after three hours of testing it was clear that my 90' was not going to be making the rest of the ride.

The end of the line. We had made to the New Mexico border three days after we began our journey.Despite our mechanical difficulties, the second day was filled with some awesome riding. A gorgeous stretch of dirt road led us through some of the most beautiful scenery in Arizona. We arrived in Show Low that evening as the sun set. We ate and slept well the night before the last push to the Arizona/New Mexico border. Then on early Sunday morning, at a top speed of 30 mph, we “raced” toward the border! The weather was perfect as we rolled over the New Mexico line.

Looking back, we get to ask ourselves what we accomplished. In promoting our inaugural Tiny Bikes: Big Change Ride, we raised $4,000 for charity; got to immerse ourselves in the motorcycling community, and made a change in the world. We also learned that an adventure can happen within a weekend. Most importantly any journey is about the process, the miles under your tires, the feeling you have sleeping under the stars knowing you’ve done something that nobody else has ever done. Although others have traveled further and raised more money, we did something amazing, rejuvenating, and inspiring—and we’re going to do it again!

We had a lot of help from the following people: Tepui Tents, Overland Expo, MotoSkiveez, State Bar, Historic Brewing Company, Blood:Water, Overland Journal, Red Thread Sewing, Mountain Motorrad, Good Carma Garage, John and Owen, and so many more.

TinyBikesBigChange.org | Facebook.com/tinybikesbigchange