How kind you are, Mr. Boggs. Bless you as well. Nancy and Faye both make me feel not worthy. (But I enjoy reading about the stuff they do.)
Regardless, we-all have a place at the feed trawl and equal standing. What we do depends on the personality and how we feel. Unworthy has no place or identity , except as illness might bring it own.
My families visit to Wisconsin Motorcycle with side car. My families‘s visit to Wisconsin where Mr Harley has monuments and attributes to his genius and ability reminded-me of my first motor bike. It was a 1945 Harley Davidson, I bought in 1947. From that beginning over on the wrong site of the tracts, I have owned. several bikes. I owned another Harley before going in the service in 1951. Over the years I have owned several bikes. The last one seen below is one I liked the best. I was a small bike I rode about town.
My brothers had bikes, Bill. One had a Harley. I believe it was an 1100 XLCH, but I could be wrong about that. Another had a Triumph Bonneville 650. That was in the 60s. The third had a Honda of some kind, and had a friend with a Harley with the knuckle head and suicide shift, if I recall my terms correctly. I've never owned a bike. I know my limitations.
My first husband was a biker; he owned several Japanese bikes and finally graduated to a Sportster. He's had the Harley for many years and it's still pristine. (And I actually had a motorcycle driver's license back in the day. ) I spent most of the time hanging off the back sissy bar, though.
I was going to remove the second photo of my bike sinceI posted that thing twice. Didn’t notice till later and today, was unable to do so. But, I won’t tell if you won’t.
I had another post but accidentally deleted it. It was a wrap up on the motorcycle posts and not important. I’ll wrap up by saying I sold my bike to a police officer. He was a motor cycle cop I often rode with. He bought it for his son. Most accidents, deaths were happening to older riders due to to miscalculations. Younger riders due to speed and loss of control. When I hung up my cycle boots, I thought it was time. Thanks for your tolerance.
@Nancy Hart, have you heard Adam Gussow play, The Crossroads? Ï went down to the crossroads roads For to catch a ride, went down to the cross roads, for to catch a ride. Nobody wouldn't help me, they just pass me by. Went down, went down.....etc. He plays a mean blues harp.
Lord, come a day, come a day, help me somebody. I wonder about the guy who said those words so often as memories kick in. I remember him saying, "We done got us a squad leader."and me thinking íf he only knew that I didn't have a clue about what I was doing and I haven't ever had a clue what he thought of me, but we got a long and together we made things better for third squad, third platoon, third battalion, 35th Infantry, 25th infantry Division of *8th Army's I Corp, where boys became men and was not sure they wanted to. He said he wanted to kill them, finding them both in bed togather. Instead he walked a way, spent few weeks drinking and bumming around, then reenlisted, said he married the Army, for good or bad. Often wondered what happened to him. He shipped out stateside before I did. I've tried to find him on the internet a few times, but what would I say if I did? Come a day, come a day, Jasper White. You sure look good to these tired old eyes, but that come a day, come a day has rung in the back of my mind now for sixty-eight years. And where has these years taken you? He was one of two men I would and almost did fully trust. He was from Kentucky and as far as I was concerned, one of the best. I remember his his last words before he mounted a jeep and was driven away. “Sarge if we don’t meet again on this planet, maybe we’ll meet in the Great Beyond.” One of an old man's memories. We all have them.