|Off subject..Page 3 of 3 (1, 2, 3)|
|I loved my Harley (recently sold). Well I loved it until I began to understand American labor, which my 1950's and 60's mindset assumed was pro-American and extremely anti-communist, was completely wrong.|
Nothing like the torque-y agriculture power of two cyclinders getting breathless at 3,000 RPM. But I liked it. Poking along low and slow on blue highways. One could easily be transported to the 1950's, even 40's. No fear a computer chip was going to inexplicably fail in nameless places in the remote mountains of Montana. Sure you had to re-tighten all kinds of bolts daily and apologize for oil puddles at every stop. In exchange you got into conversations with old timers telling about epic cycle rides chock full of breakdowns, new friends in out of the way places, and how they got that big scar on their knee. Your daughters got to tell their new boyfriends "dad rides a harley" and see them look the nearest exit.
Tell me your YamakawaHonSuz can do that.