How times have changed. When I moved to Bisbee, AZ in 1976, I hadn't ridden a motorcycle since 1969, in California. I bought a Triumph 500cc Trophy in San Francisco in 1964 and rode it until I left in 1969 to go teach in the midwest. As far as I can recall, there was no such thing as a motorcycle endorsement in California at that time.
After buying a house in Bisbee and moving in, I bought a 1976 Honda 550 supersport and drove it to the motor vehicle registration department to register it in my name. An Old man came out with a clipboard. "Start her up," he said. I did. We then went through all the turn signals, stop lights, bright/dim stuff. He OK'd the bike, then told me I had to pay extra for a motorcycle endorsement on my driver's license (On the back it says "M" if you've got it).
"How long you been riding motorcycles?" he asked. "I'm not sure," I said, "Maybe a total of ten years?"
"Well, you're still alive, must be doin' sumthin' right," he said, with a cackle at his own humor, and signed off on my application.
For some stupid reason, I quit riding again, from 1987 to 1994. Time had changed. It mattered naught that I once had a previous MC endorsement. I would have to take the test again. I had an XT350 Yamaha Enduro.
I got 100 on the written, then was told to follow the examining officer (he had a pickup truck) to the "course" location. We drove a few miles out in the country to an abandoned agricultural check station. He removed from the pickup bed a number of orange rubber cones and set them up in a row about fifty yards long. Spacing between the cones was about 20 feet. "OK," he said, "You got to drive between these cones. You hit one, you fail the test. You put a foot down, you fail the test. Got it?"
I got it. Having done some trials riding, I simply stood up on the pegs and negotiated the cones. I returned and stopped in front of the examining officer, thinking that was it.
"What? You some kind of wise ass? Standing up on them pegs? What the hell was that all about? Now listen, boy, you got one more chance. You sit your butt down on that seat and you go through them cones again like a regular motorcycle rider and keep that show-off crap for your friends. You understand me?"
I sure did. I sat down on the seat and negotiated the cones once again.
I certainly learned my lesson.