Born on a Mountain Top in Tennessee (well, north Alabama) – anybody old enough here to remember the D. Crockett song?
Wanted a horse or pony so bad I actually prayed about it until one day, about age 11. That fateful day, my buddy across the fields got a brand spankin’ new used Allstate moped. He let me ride it. Everything changed. What one might label a paradigm shift.
I spent the next month’s devising ways to attach any of the various old B&S and whatever other motors I could find to my bicycle, with what could generously be called only modest results. As part of the multi-pronged attack, I also began to casually leave Honda model brochures and Sears Catalogs around in places like Dad’s chair, opened to the beginner bikes.
Earnest determination has its rewards, and finally I scored my first real motorized two-wheeler, a completely worn-out and decrepit Cushman Eagle. Then came the new Allstate moped for Christmas that year, and now, literally several hundreds of motorcycles owned, and thousands ridden, here I find myself still lovin’ ‘em.
I always told my bikeless office mates when I’d arrive mornings at work, “You just do not know what you are missing.”