Welcome, Grump.
At 17 I wanted a motorcycle so badly that I could taste it. I had to settle for my Dad's 1968 Fiat 600D for transport. A pregnant roller skate of a four wheel abomination, but it got 45 M.P.G and was as simple to work on as a lawn mower.
The M.P.G. was no real factor back then when a Gallon of "push-water" only cost about thirty-five cents, It did allow me to save up my meager earnings from the University Library where I worked after school for sixty-eight cents per hour. Shortly after I turned eighteen I bought a Harley-Davidson M-50.
Brand New It only cost one hundred seventy-five bucks back then.
After owning the M-50 for a couple of weeks, my Dad found out about it. (after I wiped out in the gravel while turning into our driveway and ruined my good jacket) I had to sell the bike for a seveny-five dollar loss.
My Dad Hated motorcycles. His brother in Chattanooga had been a Harley rider since the mid-ninteen thirties. Dad had to see to my uncle getting patched up after several crashes. Fortunately most of my "bike blunders" were covered by "Workman's Comp"
Well, I am a confirmed and unapologetic Motorcycle addict who remembers the pain and rides carefully.
Topic: the good life (Read 4106 times)