I had this circus train of worthy old bikes pull up in front of my house this weekend. The two bike pickers that last time we met i let my old bsa lawn ornament go to for the price of a tank of van gas. The interest in the same machines as I but with a intent for money not fun. The deal was made this time with my racing buddie's kawasaki tripple I was pasturing for him. A happy fellow my friend for he has beer money now. Happily the pickers crammed another bike into their successful harvest of my towns local pickings and back to the city they paraded. I am left with the joy of looking at the sweet old two smoker for a few weeks in my pasture, a 20 spot from my generous pal, and a empty feeling that money often leaves behind a two wheeled deal. .....i feel like i feel when i traffic sex slaves in my van.. shit1 did i say that out loud.
Long live the love of bikes not money.