@karl pearson
easy rider that i "won" -- which is ta say, paid more for than it woulda cost down at th' local spencer gifts -- at Manisphere (google that, ya lame-os) hangin' on my bedroom wall.

no idea what the fuck ever happened to that bad boy. might be rolled up in a tube somewhere.

did i already say, i bin drinkin talisker tonight?

hell yeah. don't do nuthin about a broken fuckin heart though, i can tell ya that, no man, that woman's still on my mind. no, fuck no, not the once and future fuckin' ex-wife, nah, i'm talkin' about this mad little fuckin' elf woman that accidentally walked off with my heart one day, man, i don't know what to do about that, but whisky can't fix it, i can tell ya that.

here's a quote i read once, in a rolling stone article about willie nelson. he's backstage, and he says to the writer, he says, wavin' his hand out there at the assembled multitude, he says, ya see all those folks? ain't 10% of them's here with their first choice.

and ain't that the fuckin' truth of it, cuz i'll tell ya now, if ya ever see me anywhere with a woman of any kind, ya can be sure o' one damn thing: she ain't my first fuckin' choice. an' that's the truth o' the fuckin' thing.

I'm afraid I can't converse much about motorcycles since I've only ridden once in my life--too risky a trip for me, although we're all born to be wild.

@UntimelyRippd
"Fuck YOU, fuckin' night," and the night responds with stony silence.

10 pts for the source from which I copped a bit o' that.

Many years ago, Neil Young released an album that included a song, that included the line, "She rides a Harley Davidson." Turns out NY is a big Harley fan. (He likes trains too. Owns a big chunk o' Lionel.)

So one day, me and the then-future-ex-wife are out in Milwaukee (HQ of HD),
'cause we've got tix to see NY with BOOKER T AND THE FUCKING MGS, I mean FOR FUCKING REAL, HE'S GONNA BE ON STAGE WITH BOOKER T AND STEVE CROPPER AND DUCK FUCKING DUNN, YOU SAD FUCKING LAME-OS WHO CAN'T EVEN FUCKIN' IMAGINE SUCH A THING, and so we parked, an' we're walking along this long kinda driveway thingie to get up to the marcus amphitheatre (any o' yallz ever heard of Summerfuckingfest, ya lame-os? i didn't think so. fuck), and we're talkin' ta each other, and then we look up, there's a couple o' big ole hawgs comin' our way, and they get ta about 40 yards and we're lookin' at the riders, and then they zoom by us, an' i'm like, "HOLY FUCKIN' FUCK, THAT WAS FUCKIN' NEIL FUCKIN' YOUNG", i'm tellin' ya he had the biggest fuckin' smile on his face, rockin' that ole harley down the road.

an' that's how it was, back then in the day, i sweddugod, ya shoulda bin there, ya fuckin' lame-os.

an' yeah, fuckin eh, (canadian edition), i bin drinkin' some talisker ta night, what the fuck you wanna do about it, ya fucks?

@ovals49

My oldest brother was in a motorcycle gang in the early 70s. I remember some of the bikes his buddies rode -- Norton, Triumph, Harley Sportster -- and this one guy rode a BMW (perhaps an R69US?). The Beemer was break-down prone because of its shaft drive. I remember the guy tearing it down in the driveway a couple of times to replace seals and fix something or other.

but I do know something about riding a motorcycle across the continent. On the heels of the release of Easy Rider, in 1970 I embarked on a solo ride starting in Vermont, across Canada to Vancouver Island, British Columbia, south to LA, then the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, and Denver, culminating in a 1,600 mile sleepless dash home to Connecticut. I covered over 11,000 miles in 32 days, sleeping on the ground all but 4 nights.

I did not chose American Iron for the ride. Even if you were not riding Harley’s hard tail version, they could shake your fillings loose, numb your hands and render you, at least temporarily, deaf, while leaving a trail of oil droplets on every mile of pavement you rode. While the Harley’s were legendary cultural icons, the reality of their function at that time was harsh and unrefined.

I rode a 1969 BMW R60/US instead. It was smooth, quiet, had a comfortable saddle and had no problem logging 500 mile days at 50 mpg. My trip cost me gas, oil and a worn out rear tire. That’s it. It was made in Germany. The “US” in its model designation referred to the newly adopted telescopic front fork which was to replace the iconic Earls fork had been used on earlier models. In short, my BMW was quintessentialy not American Made