I've been getting my rather-sizable photo archive together (slowly), and also just finished rebuilding.cleaning one of my scanners for making quick, medium-res scans for appraisal. And i happened to come across a few boxes of slides from my initial moto-escapades in the summer of 1976 in upstate New York. Lots of pics of my friends in action, but none of my aboard my ride - story of my life. But I did come across one photo of my ride, and a rueful reminder of my love/hate relationship with it. It's said that "you never forget your first", but I think the degree of clarity in memory is highly dependent on certain things...
The First Bike, 1976. And its frequent disposition.
This guy? It looks pretty nifty. It makes me wish I would've had more time with motorcycles in my early years.
Holy sheep-dip, that's it.
I'll just say that when it ran, the thing was a blast...and nearly everything I've learned about motorcycling - good, bad, funny and terrifying - started with that bike.
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