I am too stupid to own a motorcycle. Really. I have been on one bike or another since I was 5 , when i first sat on a 50cc Honda dirt bike and my last one was a beautiful 900cc rocket. I have all sorts of stories about crashes and near misses, a few scars, a broken wrist and foot from my early riding years. I decided that most of my injuries and near-death experiences on a bike were completely my fault and that unless I wanted to be an early organ donor I had to give them up, so after the birth of my daughter, I sold my last bike and other than a dalliance with rebuilding a duel-sport on my balcony in 2004, I have been able to resist the pull of two wheels. Then, minding my own business, I walk into something like the pair shown below:

Went to local pizza shop for dinner last week and what is sitting outside? Two vintage bikes, both old single cylinder French Motobecanes – the single-seater with the white helmet is a 1950 and the double-seater with the gas can on front is a 1952. Talked to the two guys riding them and the bikes are barn finds bike that they pulled out and got running this morning. Super jealous!!!! There were cobwebs and barn dust still on them. Take gander at the old plates! These babies make me want an old bike to tinker with, ride, rebuild, ride, cuss, work on, ride, love, ect… Now, I need another project/hobby like I need a hole in my head, but the pull of the Dark Side is SO strong!