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When I was last in Baton Rouge, my uncle mentioned that he has a motorcycle now, and so do his children. He is 64, and his kids are in their late thirties. The youngest girl is rather slim and wirey, and when she dropped her motorcycle in her garage, she had to call her father to help her pick it up because she couldn't manage it herself. Which reminded me, a long time ago a boyfriend and I who lived together had a bike, some little rice-burner, Yamaha I think, not too big. He never let me drive it, and I quit riding on it after he slid in some mud and it fell and my leg got burned on the tail pipe. He must have been hurt worse than I was, because I do remember having trouble picking it up by myself. |
