Motorcycles with low miles? When I moved into Ernie's life, this house, this garage from where I write,
in spring of 1983: oh boy! Oh Boy! A BRAND NEW HONDA 450 deluxe motorcycle, a 1976 model sold in '75,
and ONLY FIFTY MILES on the odo. Ernie bought it new, but has only one working eye, and because his then-lover, who urged the impulse purchase, soon died, Ernie never rode the bike again. Scott...suicide...schizophrenia, aged 23. I digress always. Back the general topic:
Never mind that my older bro had commuted on his well-used Harley Sportster (or was it, Sprint?) and gotten t-boned and nearly died, back in 1970.
At that time I was bullet and fool proof. I took lessons, read the manual, and rode like an old lady.
I got exactly five miles of solo time on the road before a driver twitched from center lane, to right lane,
where I was, forcing me to ditch the bike (it was only about 25 mph) and roll on the concrete.
That was my last motorcycle ride, but god, how I love them otherwise. Just twice warned (bro with a short leg, and a road rash I see today) made me phobic when it comes to motorcycles and myself.
Somehow I am not phobic about bicycles: I'm not often right in with the traffic, but when I am,
I'm weaving and making a sight of myself, that any approaching car definitely sees me.
I like bikes nonetheless. Years later we gave away the '76 Honda, slightly scraped, 55 miles and change on the odometer. Goodbye too, Scott Brandon, d. April 12th, 1976, Mutiny Hotel, Coconut Grove Florida, Album of return to a fatal crash of a doomed life:
where my lover was last present, in 1976, to I.D. the body.
Ernie, now an old, old man, returns to the death site. Same floor, even.
We visit world famed composer, John Corigliano.
Coconut Grove is a beautiful place, as you will see in this slideshow.
So are some memories, as beautiful as the sunlight dancing with sailboats
at Dinner Key across the street..http://s244.photobucket.com/albums/gg28/Reid_Welch/Corigliano%20Bennett/?albumview=slideshow
"Dinner Key", funny name for a tiny islet in the bay. How did it get that name? A name for which, are memories,
that eat up me, instead of me, them.
People one hundred years ago sailed or rowed to the little, palm-studded island and picnicked.
It was pristine and silent, then, and today.
_______"edited" only to grab the exact url. No changes or fixes. Learning badly how to write goodly. r.