OK, so we don't ride Harleys or Kawasakis or any other big motorcycles, but at one time we each did. Well, mine wasn't really so big. It was a Honda 50 which I had in Japan. I lived in Nishinomiya and had to climb a very huge hill/small mountain to get to my work, so the mission bought me this great motor bike to make the trip easier. Most little Japanese mamas putted slowly from home to the market or to their kids' schools, but I drove my motorbike like someone late for work! A woman to be reckoned with was I.
One beautiful, sunny January afternoon I decided to go for a bike ride. I drove and drove, soon losing track of the number of turns I'd taken, and ended up at a train station way up in the hills far from home. I followed the train tracks back to familiar surroundings, but by the time I got home the January sun had been down for a couple of hours and I was bitter cold.
Tom had his motorcycle while he was a student in Europe during his junior year of college. He was studying Art History in Avignon, France, with a group from the University of Washington. One evening he and a young woman from his class were returning from a picnic (both on his bike), and the engine kept dying. The only way to avoid that was to drive with the headlight turned off. So they'd drive along in the dark for a while, turn the engine on again, and go as far as they could before it began to die again! Eventually it gave out completely. He had to push it to a repair shop in a nearby town and walk back home. A simple coil would have been enough to fix the problem, but they had to order one from Germany and never got around to it. So he left it with the repair shop to sell it for him and he bought a cute little C