My first bike
I don't know much about motorcycles, I just like them. I learned to ride on the side of a mountain summers in Vermont during college at my uncle Arthur who had raced in the 50s, then a few years later in New Mexico my buddies put me on a Yamaha XS650. One Sunday afternoon back in Albuquerque a year later, at a softball game, a reformed Harley varmint named Mike the Mouth filled me in on his life story, and some quips ("Women -- ain't worth the cost of the powder it'd take to blow'em away") and my patience was rewarded with by a turn on his dark cherry Yamaha Maxim XJ650 around the block. So when in 1990 I paid a friend of a friend $500 for his black '83 Maxim when the guy was stuck -- well, that was fate, although Dave, if it makes you feel better, it was all I had at the time.