My Trusty Street Bike

I loved to find good deals. Like the time I got wind of a sweet Honda CB350 for sale; I think it was a vintage 1970s model.

Somehow I scrapped together the $300 to buy it. There it was - a street legal bike and I was old enough to legally drive it.

The interesting thing about this bike was it's hidden GPS self-destruction system. I could drive this bike fifty miles with no problems. Yet the moment I was just on the outskirts of Barnwell, it would die.

One day, I riding home and hit a pothole which sent a bolt on the top of one of the forks straight up. A gusher of oil temporarily showered me until the shock was dry. It didn't really change it's performance though. It kept it's same sweet ride.

Driving a little bike like this down the highway in the brisk Southern Alberta winds was even more exciting. I would be leaning into the wind and then a semi trailer would roar up to my back end and the airflow would get all funky. I could feel they drivers ire as I tried to coax just a few more miles per hour out that little death trap. All the while I would be thinking about if the driver would notice if I suddenly wipped out and bounced under his truck.

I really don't remember what happened to that bike. I got tired of pushing it down the shoulder of the road to the nearest house, I think. It could have been the fourth battery I bought it or the many pants I had to replace due to oil splattering all over the leg from ... I'm not sure what.

It entered my life in great fanfare and then whimper out in a way that escapes me now.

But it sure was a good deal.