...and just my style.
I'll be real honest here for a second...it's been a little dark lately. I haven't been the typical cherry jam in the middle of everyone's donut as of late. I have needed something, and I have NOT been able to pin my finger on exactly what that thing was that I have needed.
Then it hit me today, when after 2 months of working on her, my bike finally came to life with the growl that only a hacked up, 42-year-old smoker could muster after years of hibernation.
She came to me as a 1968 BSA Thunderbolt, chopped down and slammed, gutted and bruised, and all kinds of wore out. She's now a 1969 BSA Lightning, chopped down, and slammed, and still under repair. But she is nasty, loud, fast and dangerous, and she makes me so much happier than I was yesterday. I still need to register her, and make some serious repairs, maybe throw on a rear-view mirror, and keep remembering that there is no front brake and the rear one is on the left.
It's good to get my head focused on the more immediate things that are necessary...vital to survival, in fact. Like the brake. And the speed. And the wind. And nothing else in that particular moment.
Fuck I needed this.