Little Red - Old and Improved
There sits Little Red, born 1975, in human years she is 48 years old. In motorcycle years she, a Honda CB360T, is a youngster.
In the intervening 48 years, she sat neglected at least 15 years, possibly 36 years and:
Rust gathered on her fenders and shocks as arthritis gathered in my knees and elbows.
Parts of her have fallen off or gone missing like the hair on my head.
Her tires became worn and smelled rotten like my feet.
Her seat became worn and gone flat just like mine.
Her battery went dead, fortunately mine is still pumping.
But her engine still had spark, and thankfully as does mine
Why do we love old bikes? Because we see them as we saw ourselves (in 1975) – as equals in the land of hope and dreams(1). And, unlike ourselves, the bike can be restored.
Oh, my knees, hips, and maybe even my heart can be replaced. But still, I am worn, my engine cannot be restored. My brain cells are in full retreat and like Lee’s retreat from Gettysburg(2), I am witnessing the beginning of the end(3).
We are no longer equal – Little Red is restored! I look at Little Red and smile at days gone by. Little Red did not get a full restoration - the rusted shocks remain, and the gas tank is still dented – after all, the good old days never were.
But the fenders shine, the engine purrs, and she rides like heaven on earth(4).
We restore bikes not only for nostalgia, but also because we cannot restore ourselves. We try to take the past and render it to the present. Maybe we can send the past to the future - a well-cared for bike will run forever.
Time marches on, but at my age time flies and I stumble along behind. When we leave this earth, our restored bikes march on projecting our hopes and dreams to the future.
How about you. What do you project to the future? Share a story?
2nd Helping
