Well here it is, just as promised. A love story---now try really hard to keep your mind focused on the fact that this is about the motorcycles.
A Love Story, Part 1
It was like any other summer night for a boy and his BSA, or so I thought. I had just gotten off work pumping gas at Wayne’s full service Esso where I made 75 cents an hour. Doesn’t sound like much, but gas was 31 cents a gallon and a burger and malt were 40 cents. You could get a brand new BSA Lightning at Carlton’s BSA for $1500. The sun had just gone down as I entered the parking lot of Connie’s Uptown Drive-in. This was the spot where all the kids cruise in and out all night, or sit and drink Cherry Cokes served by the carhops under the car canopy. As so many times in the past, I would rev the engine of my Lightning and the sound of the megaphones would echo through the night. This was a siren call to some teenage girl to come running up and ask for a ride – worked every time.
But, just before I revved it up, my eye caught the sight of something different tonight. Sitting under the canopy was a beautiful, totally black 1963 Harley-Davidson Sportster with the neon lights of Connie’s reflecting off the well-polished steed. OH, NO – unexpected competition. As I pulled in next to the Sportster on my candy apple red BSA, I noticed that the rider was a beautiful woman wearing black Bates leather pants and jacket, and her shoulder-length black hair was hanging out the back of her black half-shell Buco helmet. This was a sight – just like an ad out of Cycle Magazine. Trying to be cool, I looked her bike over from front to rear, then looked her in the eyes and said, “Nice bike – what brings you here to Connie’s tonight?” She said, “Just looking for someone to ride with. My name is Raven, what’s yours?” Trying hard to cover up the fact that I couldn’t remember my name, I blurted out, “I’m called The General.” She said, “Alright, are you up for a good ride tonight?"
It was like any other summer night for a boy and his BSA, or so I thought. I had just gotten off work pumping gas at Wayne’s full service Esso where I made 75 cents an hour. Doesn’t sound like much, but gas was 31 cents a gallon and a burger and malt were 40 cents. You could get a brand new BSA Lightning at Carlton’s BSA for $1500. The sun had just gone down as I entered the parking lot of Connie’s Uptown Drive-in. This was the spot where all the kids cruise in and out all night, or sit and drink Cherry Cokes served by the carhops under the car canopy. As so many times in the past, I would rev the engine of my Lightning and the sound of the megaphones would echo through the night. This was a siren call to some teenage girl to come running up and ask for a ride – worked every time.
But, just before I revved it up, my eye caught the sight of something different tonight. Sitting under the canopy was a beautiful, totally black 1963 Harley-Davidson Sportster with the neon lights of Connie’s reflecting off the well-polished steed. OH, NO – unexpected competition. As I pulled in next to the Sportster on my candy apple red BSA, I noticed that the rider was a beautiful woman wearing black Bates leather pants and jacket, and her shoulder-length black hair was hanging out the back of her black half-shell Buco helmet. This was a sight – just like an ad out of Cycle Magazine. Trying to be cool, I looked her bike over from front to rear, then looked her in the eyes and said, “Nice bike – what brings you here to Connie’s tonight?” She said, “Just looking for someone to ride with. My name is Raven, what’s yours?” Trying hard to cover up the fact that I couldn’t remember my name, I blurted out, “I’m called The General.” She said, “Alright, are you up for a good ride tonight?"
With all the strength and composure that I could muster and with a shaky voice I said “OK”. Raven said “Good, how about we ride out to Grapevine Lake?” Unlike today, it was way out in the country back then. So, off to the lake we go, leaning in and out of every corner I was captivated by the beauty and ease in which Raven took the corners and accelerated out of each, with the sound of the HD’s pipes exciting every motorcycle sense that I had. As we crossed the dam, I could feel the cool breeze coming off the lake. I motioned for her to pull over as we exited the dam, and asked her if she had ever ridden up to the top of the spillway. “No, but I’m game for anything tonight,” she replied.
Come back tomorrow for...the rest of the story....
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