39 years old
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- 1969 Honda PC50
I just turn 30, my father died last fall and I’m at the beginning of a blind corner on a career changed.
I often accompanied my father to farm auctions throughout my childhood (by force) and young adulthood (by choice). Two years ago at one of these auctions dad purchase a “topper” boat, trolling motor and a moped.
This little Honda had been sitting in a barn for more years then I have fingers and toes. It looked as if its best years were awhile back. Dad and another fellow bid the bike up to 700 dollars with dad winning the bike. I congratulated him in the same manner you would console a friend who just was diagnosed with a terminal disease.
I’m sure 700 dollars for non-running moped has to be close to the record. The only thing I have to explain my father’s purchase is that he had one at home; seized, missing the back tire but of the same vintage. That and he had 1400 dollars burning a hole in his pocket from a car he had just fixed up and sold.
Although, knowing I am a lot like my father, it could be that someone had one in the neighbourhood growing up and he always wanted one. It was an artefact from his youth that he hadn’t had the means to experience. As this is innate in me I might someday own a Power Wheel Jeep and a Lego pirate ship.
To make a long story, longer and more dragged out; I now have the moped. I have it running and have used some of the parts of its wounded brother to help complete the bike. I still need the hardware for the rear light, the steering lock and some little things. It’s insured and registered and, as of an hour ago I have driven it while listening to the Hondell’s – Little Honda. I like the little bike, I like riding it and I have enjoyed working on it. I want to do more – it’s burning a little oil and I’d like to fix that.
The little bike reminds me of my dad.