TWC rode bikes for years and then one day Californicate decided that I needed a special license to ride my pocket rocket. I sighed but I went to the trouble. Good Lord, I already knew how to ride. Then I sold my bike, the endorsement lapsed, and I became strictly a Class C kind of guy, surrounded by steel and glass. Yes, there's a point to this and I'm getting there.
That's TWC version 1.17 in the brown coat (Chuck's walking away).
Photo credit goes to Paige.
That shiny thing in the picture is a genuine article 14.1 second quarter-mile (I still have the OCIR time slips somewhere) Suzuki 500 that would wrap your tummy around your spine when you hammered it. It once tried real hard to kill me--Not kidding, I'm a believer in helmets (but not helmet laws). Mine was an early factory prototype with a serial number around 00075 and what sold me was this and this. This bike was also cool because it was thought to be technologically impossible to build.
I swear, I'm getting to the point.
Years and years later a guy owed me money and brought me a Suzuki 750 in lieu of a thin stack of Benjamins. Six speed gearbox and 106 horseposwer but it was covered with thick dust and cobwebs until a warm Sunday in spring. I tinkered and swore but I finally coaxed the four Mikuni carbs into synch and the beast came to life. Just to put a little fire in the pipes, I putted down through the back streets behind the Little Blue House By The Lake and as I rolled up to a four-way, one of Lake Elsinore's finest lit me up.
Elsinore's Finest: (Hands me back my license.....) you know I *could* impound this bike, and really, I ought to.
TWC: Aw come on man, er sir, it's a residential street, I just got the bike, somebody owed me money, lookit the cobwebs behind the air cleaners, this bike has been on blocks for a while, it's just a test drive, I just got it running five minutes ago.
Elsinore's Finest: you know, I really *could* impound this thing, cost you a bundle to get it out, at least a hundred for towing, plus all that hassle. But I need to get to a call so I'm going to cut you some slack. Don't have time to sit and wait for the tow truck. Sign here. You'll probably get a bill from the court and then you can just mail in the fine.
And then he followed me home, waited out front until I parked the bike and went into the house.
The Fine: Upwards of a buck fifty (as I recall).
Guber Schwarzengroper didn't sign anywhere and he didn't have to bail the Harley out of the impound yard out in East LA neither. Somebody said that he was technically clean because the attached sidecar meant it wasn't a bike anymore. And I'll buy off that it'd be CS to send the guv a ticket in the mail. But the whole dang licensing thing is CS anyway. There is very little connection between the ability to drive anything and the ability to get licensed.
Think I'm wrong? Spend a couple of hours in Santa Ana Canyon during rush hour and get back to me on that.
The bike? I've got a picture somewhere but can't find it. Didn't have it long, sold it to the sketcher next door for cash money. Within days he abandoned it downtown when it ran out of gas. It was impounded and I never saw it again.
And one of the things I liked about Wayne is that I could tell him that story 50 times and he never let on he'd ever heard it before.