Hat and Rehat
Call Me a Cab
- Messages
- 2,444
- Location
- Denver
Yeah.That’s where their brains are, until they’re on the pavement.
A large percentage of us survive to breed though. Go figure.
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Yeah.That’s where their brains are, until they’re on the pavement.
Yeah.
A large percentage of us survive to breed though. Go figure.
Sent from my LM-X410(FG) using Tapatalk
Same here. I on occasion think I'd like to have one again but like a gas bubble, if I wait a few minutes the thing resolves itself.I maintain the motorcycle endorsement on my driver’s license. The appeal of the things is far from wasted on me. But I doubt I will ever own another.
I used to ride a 125cc enduro into Chicago from Indiana, daily, on the Dan Ryan (coming from 394). I tried to never do anything wheelielike.It’s not that anything even remotely approaching a majority of motorcyclists will succumb to injuries sustained when their two-wheeled adventures go wrong, but there’s no denying that motorcycling is a whole lot deadlier than traveling by car. Or F-150.
I’ve rubbed more than one biker the wrong way by pointing out just how much more deadly motorcycling is (28 times as deadly as covering the same number of passenger miles in a car, as it turns out).
Motorcycles were my primary mode of transport for several years. I maintain the motorcycle endorsement on my driver’s license. The appeal of the things is far from wasted on me. But I doubt I will ever own another.
I heard my grandparents music to the accompaniment of bubbles and an accent from the Alsace region of France.
"And a vun, and a tuoo...."
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And the only one thing, I miss about the old car times (90s):
>>> 1995's Kia Sephia 1.6 >>> 1.070 kilograms netto
>>> 2012's Kia Venga 1.6 >>> 1.300 kilograms netto
Good old times of natural, healthy-weighted cars!
A 1995 model? That’s practically new!
Mine I played as a child through the horn of my great-grandfather's talking machine. My poor mother got to be embarrassed by the same old records twice in her life
That one brings back memories... My mother apparently liked it and thought it was funny. She would sing small portions of it as she cooked or worked around the house.The record that drove my mother to the bughouse before it finally disappeared --
I used to ride a 125cc enduro into Chicago from Indiana, daily, on the Dan Ryan (coming from 394). I tried to never do anything wheelielike.
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2-stroke twins would do it! Triples were better yet, for changing the horizon line. I dreamed of an H1 Kawasaki in those 'tween' years when the state of Illinois was sane enough not to give me a driver's liscence (I was riding 2-stroke dirt bikes, so was no stranger to the wheelie). I never bought one, or might not be conversing with you today. I did spend time astride a Z1 900cc Kawasaki though, which made a pretty long production run as the KZ 1000. It would lift the front wheel if you asked it to, and I had a friend who could ride it that way from 2nd to 4th gear, with a passenger no less. He later drag raced bikes.The only times I ever did anything wheelielike were those few initial rides astride two-strokes — a Yamaha 350 twin and a Suzuki water buffalo come to mind. I never meant to send the front wheel off the pavement, but the power on those things came on real quick. Putt-putt-putt became scrrreeeaaammmm in a blink.
It got totaled when it and I collided with a car whose driver failed to yield right of way (she had a stop sign).
Tell me about it. My missus drives a 1998 VW Golf, no way could you call it a classic car, twenty one years, the engine is only just run in.A 1995 model? That’s practically new!
My father said he would buy me a car, if I promised not to get a motor bike, he really couldn't afford it and I didn't hold him to it. His thinking was that once I was out of my impressionable years, late teens/early twenties, the desire for motor bikes will have waned. Come my 45th year, and the born again biker emerged. Not a widow-maker like the Fireblade, but something big, beautiful and muscular. A Harley Heritage Springer. I had that for five years, sold it for more than I paid, never had a wobble, not even a near miss. It did get the itch out of my system though.We had great fun as kids and young adults riding trail bikes, but that type of incident is the reason I have only ridden a motorcycle on the road twice in my whole life. Even if you’re a capable enough rider not to kill yourself, some fool will gladly do it for you.
One word: Country-road!
That's two words.