sgallaty
Antihero
Back in the day, I used to travel all over southeastern Michigan buying up incredibly decrepit Honda CB750's. It was just my thing (tm). I had a garage full of parts, and I used to invite my buddies over and give them beers and if they could build something they had balls enough to ride, they could keep it.
That was a pretty good time, but when I got the urge again after so many years to get back on two wheels where I belong, the bike that inspired me was a fairly modestly bobbed xs650. I was going to a garage sale, and happened to glance across the street and realized that the dude's bike really looked pretty much like the bikes my friends rode back when.
Figured I should probably get to know this guy, because he was someone I was supposed to know.
He explained what the bikes were, why he liked them, and what his build was called. He also explained that he had a few extras in his backyard that he'd bought to build and steal parts off of.
I went back there and we shook hands and drank a beer and I helped him push home the bones of my new bike. I call her 'trash.'
I'd pretty much deliberately chosen the worst bike of the lot because I wanted to bring something back from the dead. I didn't want to buy a nice bike that someone might enjoy riding as-is, and then be a dick and cut it up. That just felt wrong to me, so I've taken a bike that looked like it rolled in mud, has a siezed engine and missing half the guts and I am going to make it into something else.
Not sure what yet, but something.
That was a pretty good time, but when I got the urge again after so many years to get back on two wheels where I belong, the bike that inspired me was a fairly modestly bobbed xs650. I was going to a garage sale, and happened to glance across the street and realized that the dude's bike really looked pretty much like the bikes my friends rode back when.
Figured I should probably get to know this guy, because he was someone I was supposed to know.
He explained what the bikes were, why he liked them, and what his build was called. He also explained that he had a few extras in his backyard that he'd bought to build and steal parts off of.
I went back there and we shook hands and drank a beer and I helped him push home the bones of my new bike. I call her 'trash.'
I'd pretty much deliberately chosen the worst bike of the lot because I wanted to bring something back from the dead. I didn't want to buy a nice bike that someone might enjoy riding as-is, and then be a dick and cut it up. That just felt wrong to me, so I've taken a bike that looked like it rolled in mud, has a siezed engine and missing half the guts and I am going to make it into something else.
Not sure what yet, but something.