One Motorcycle Ride

I must have been about 15 years of age when I heard the distinctive sound of a huge motorcycle come roaring up to the side of our house in El Dorado, Arkansas.  The driver stopped his big machine facing the closed entrance to a large corrugated tin garage next door. The driver was an older friend of ours who wanted to show off his new motorcycle.

After saying hello, I followed him out to examine the big machine more closely. It was a brand new Harley-Davidson, huge and shiny. The more I admired the enormous motorcycle the more I wanted take a ride on it. Finally I talked my friend into allowing me to just sit on it. Naturally I wanted to start it just hear it go "VAROOOOM, VAROOOOM."

Sure enough my friend offered me the key and said, "OK, go ahead and start it." He stood way back from me. I turned the switch on and gave it a big kick with my right leg to start it. In a split second it sounded like a cannon had exploded as this huge projectile sailed completely through the closed door of this garage at full-speed with an enormous crash with me holding on for dear life!

In the blink of an eye I discovered that I had landed upside down underneath a big truck that was parked inside the garage. The motor was still running full-speed with the back wheel going faster and faster all the time.

Somehow I was able to find the ignition switch to turn it off and amazingly I lived to tell the tale, without so much as a scratch. The garage had a huge hole where the motorcycle and I had gone completely through it.

That was the last time I ever got on any motorcycle.