Storytime . . .

This guy was parked on Sturgis Main Street.  It was about 10:00pm.  He had a spark plug wrench in his hand, kneeling down near the front cylinder.  I said, "How's she runnin'?  and he replied with, "Well, right now it's not - on the front cylinder."  His gal was standing nearby, and she looked a bit concerned, but not really.  We talked for a minute, and I got my trusty flashlight to aid him with his work, trying to help, but not suggest.  He knew his bike.  They had a great ride all day through the Black Hills, and when he came into town at dusk, his shovelhead started running funny.  He replaced the front plug, put away the tools, and she fired on the first kick.  The motor had a healthy sound, and the throttle was blimped - the pipes had a sweet crack n' cackle.  They both thanked me for the assistance, he pulled his bike onto the street, she jumped on - they smiled - and away they went.  I hope I'm still goin' like they are in my years to come.  He was the genuine deal, with a sweet chopper and a sweeter gal . . . Nice folks out havin' some fun.