Thanks to "Old Coot" for sending in this great story!

My First Bike:

   Back in the old days when you didn't have to have a motorcycle license, and half the people didn't have driver's licenses, is when I started riding.  We lived out in the sticks on a dusty old farm in West Texas where if you drove anything it was either an old Ford tractor or an old Ford Pickup.  Folks back then were practical.  The vehicles they drove had to be too. If it couldn't plow or couldn't haul supplies, hay or other farm implements, you didn't need it and darn sure couldn't afford it. We were just coming out of the depression and life was hard.
   Well, the day I drug home a beat up Harley Davidson that I found rusting in an abandoned farm field, I thought me and Pa were gonna have a go. All he said was, "Whatcha gonna do with that boy? Kill yerself?"  He must have been a prophet.
   It took me nearly a year of scraping, saving and digging in salvage yards to find parts to get that old, rusted up bike to run.  And looks?  I just told myself that "rust" was the going thing.  The original red paint was still visible here and there so I found a can of leftover red barn paint and after much sanding, mostly my fingers, I got a couple of good coats slapped on.
   The chain was rusted up pretty bad but by soaking it in drip gas and scrubbing with a wire brush (there went my fingers again), I had it in pretty good shape. I also managed to clean out the tank fairly well.  At least I couldn't hear any rust rattling around in it any more.
   During the summer I worked the fields and did chores from before sun up till dark. After supper I'd head for the old tool shed that I had converted to a makeshift "garage" and would tinker, fiddle and work on that old bike till Pa would order me into the house about 10:00 PM.  We didn't have TV so everyone else would be cleaning up and listening to the radio or the old Victrola.
   One day I managed to get gas through the old carb and kickstarted on that old clunker till my leg almost fell off but by golly, on the last try the old gal kicked over.   The resulting belch and backfire caused the chickens not to lay eggs for a week.   Boy, Ma was sore at me but I had a real, running motorcycle!  Pa just shook his head and repeated the "killing myself" part...
   The tires were all cracked, the tubes were plum shot and wouldn't hold air enough for me to ride so I found an old mechanic in town who said he could fix me up with some tires, even though he said I had me a 1919 Harley, and did I have a headlight for my motorcycle.  I hadn't thought about a headlight.  Heck, I just wanted to get it up and running so I could ride it.  I'd seen a couple of guys in town on motorcycles.  One even showed me how to shift the gears, work the brake and oil the chain.  Skip the headlight. I just wanted some tires.
   I don't know where that old mechanic came up with those fat bicycle tires. The whole bike looked like a bicycle with a motor, which is basically what it was.  I brought the rims in and the two of us managed finally to mount the tires after we patched a couple of holes. The tubes looked like hell but they held air. That all cost me $2.00.  Those were some high priced tires!
   Next day and a Sunday afternoon.  We'd come home from church, had lunch and as luck would have it, Pa let me go work on the bike.  I put the wheels back on the way I'd taken them off.  The bike sat on an old wooden milk crate and I had ropes slung over the rafters of the shed to hold the bike steady. I figured that out since the stand had rusted so bad it broke and fell off.  I had just took to leaning it upside the shed.
   I won't bore you with the process.  Lets just say I got the bike back on 2 wheels but that took most of the afternoon and it would soon be dark.  I had to stop a couple of times and help Pa with this chore or that chore so that ate up a lot of my bike fixing time.
   Since I knew how to work on tractor and truck engines, I sort of figured my way through the workings of that old bike.  I musta done good because after about a dozen kicks she roared to life and I was in heaven!  My God was that thing loud!   What the heck.  The bike was alive!
   I pushed the bike out of the garage just as the sun was about to set and Pa came out and just stood on the porch shaking his head.  I don't think my Ma wanted anything to do with it.
   The seat had rusted up so I had wrapped a rag around it.  She surely wasn't pretty in anyone else's eyes but she was a beauty to me!  I threw my leg over and stradled the bike. I just sat there listening to that old engine rumble and putter and I felt like a king.  Next step was to put her in gear and see what she'd do.
  I  slipped it into gear.  Suddenly the bike lurched forward and in my surprise, all I could do was hang on!   Thank goodness Ma had already got the clothes off the line because I just barely missed the clothesline.  How in the hell do you steer this thing I thought!   It was good I wasn't going too fast and I managed somehow to get control enough to steer the bike into the road.
   Damn ruts!  I was almost thrown off when I hit old tire ruts but managed by sheer dumb luck to hang on and end up in between.  Down the road I went.  I managed not to weave too much and I was tearing up the road in a cloud of dust as the last bit of sunlight died.
   I guess I had gone maybe 2 miles down the road when it happened. I've ridden bikes for years since that evening and nothing like this ever happened again. It's kinda hard to see a black cow in the twilight let alone the dark and sure as the world, old Mr. McCaffrey's old black cow was smack dab in the middle of the road.  I know she had to hear me coming but she must have just stood there and stared.  I found out about headlights and what they are good for.  We'll just leave it at that.

Editor's Note:  I know he wishes he still had that bike now, especially knowing how much they are selling for!