Yeah it took a certain kind of wackjob straddle a 200pound 100hp near unsteerable rocket that....oh yeah...about those brakes......there ain't none Buck! I've got the soup bowl "helmet" that he wore somewhere too. Boiled fucking leather! Back then men were really men. I don't mean that as the cliche that people throw around...I mean for real. Grampa Bud was the shite. If I could model myself after anyone in my family it'd be him. He flew in WW1, raced board track when he was done with the war because he was bored. Became a merchant marine in WW2 because they wouldn't let him enlist in the "regular" navy 'cuz he was too old. Had a ship torpedoed out from under him and spent 4 days and nights bobbing around the south pacific on a drum of fuel oil. After that he owned a dry dock, liqueur stores, a strip joint, a logging company and built 8g. shotguns for giggles. He died at 101 years old, stood straight and tall, had long silver hair almost to his belt and 5 days before they took him to the hostel to actually pass he kicked my ass playing poker, then Risk and finally cribbage. I miss that old buy.....
thanks for bringing the memories back up.