Hi From Outer Montana

I'm, in more ways than one, the odd Duc out. I live in the nether depths of Outer Montana and ride a Ducati. Which means that my nearest dealer is in another state. The dealer I bought my bike from is also in another state, but that one's about 2000 miles from me. OTOH, I have great roads to ride, many deer to dodge, and only a relative few anal-retentive types driving light-infested cages to deal with.

Let's see, what other relavent factoids can I put forth? For one, I'm an old phart, late 60's as a matter of fact. Both parents were serving WWII Marines, and childhood was different than most of my contemporaries. I, OTOH, joined the Army and there was "spirited" conversation at home about that. But, I digress from the subject of motorcycles. Let's see, I started riding in the early 60's, but due to parental disapproval didn't own a bike. The first bike was a group effort. Four of us were prowling a German junkyard looking for VW parts when we came across a 1952 BSA 250cc single, which became ours for the grand sum of 100 Deutschmarks, or $25.00 U.S. at the time. It wasn't all that old at the time & Merrie Olde wasn't all that far away & it became a runner in fairly short order. However, it did have a sprung hub rear suspension. That and wet German cobblestones developed my adreneline glands to the size of cantelopes. Hair-trigger reflexes didn't hurt either. I left it in Germany and came home to student protests, endless angst, and an attempt to ride a Hodaka Ace 100. Which had the shift lever on the wrong side, a little factoid that created a broken collerbone. When you go for the rear brake & shift instead, nasty things can occur. And did. Interval of many bikes from a KE125 to a '75 Bonneville. More latere

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