I remember an old Easy Rider mag that had a story about a time when motorcycles and bikers were no more. How an old man dug up his old Harley that he had buried before all motorcycles had been outlawed. How he had been forward thinking enough to make sure he had every thing he would need to get the old girl running for one last ride. As he was wrenching he remembered his brothers who were all gone now. The story climaxed as he raced down a street, shifting through the gears being chased by the cops, his last ride, beard and hair flying through the wind, the ancient sound of a V twin throbbing, speaking life. His last ride.
Some things you just remember.