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Last Sunday I took the Frankenscout on a long run. It was a tour around Narragansett Bay. It was about a hundred miles the way I went. The main stop was Riverside Rhode Island to the old Peckham Indian shop where I bought the remnants of many old Indians just before the shop was torn down and the property sold. It started around 1920 and finally closed in the sixties when Howard Peckham died. They were into racing primarily, so the remainding inventory was hammered scouts and OHV Princes, as all the Chief inventory had long since been sold.
I hadn't been to the site for about three years and things had changed. The shop was gone and the dingy house on the property had been replaced by a new vinyl sided house with a Chem Lawn yard.
I shut the bike down on the street and went to the door of the house. I explained to the man that answered the door that there used to be an old motorcycle shop by the tree on his beautiful lawn, and that the bike I was riding came from that shop. He looked unimpressed. I asked if I could ride my bike up to where the shop used to be. He said,"Whatever turns you on", and shut the door.
I rode the bike up and sat for a few seconds where the front door used to be and rode off. For some reason the bike seemed happier.
I hadn't been to the site for about three years and things had changed. The shop was gone and the dingy house on the property had been replaced by a new vinyl sided house with a Chem Lawn yard.
I shut the bike down on the street and went to the door of the house. I explained to the man that answered the door that there used to be an old motorcycle shop by the tree on his beautiful lawn, and that the bike I was riding came from that shop. He looked unimpressed. I asked if I could ride my bike up to where the shop used to be. He said,"Whatever turns you on", and shut the door.
I rode the bike up and sat for a few seconds where the front door used to be and rode off. For some reason the bike seemed happier.
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