Spring comes around and it's time to think about the wind in your hair, so three of my six brothers just got motorcycles. One got a Ducati screamer, another got a BMW, and the third got a Honda Goldwing. Two of these are in California, where they can actually ride most of the year, and the other is in southwest South Dakota, where it's balmy a lot more often than here. But still, I've got a bit of an itch, thinking about having a motorcycle again, despite my dismal record as a bike owner.
My first was a BSA, which I traded for a clunker Honda 305. I had a Honda Trail 90 for a while, and a Honda 100 that I owned for years after rebuilding it. None was much of a bike.
But my summer ride is, for now, still a 1959 VW dune buggy, purple metal flake, a little jolt of adrenaline every time you hit the gas or whip around a corner. Sure, it's still in the barn, waiting for spring, but it's ready to go. So am I.
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