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Here's a 98 year old Harley Davidson.

I love it.

Interestingly, old bikes can be easier to fix and keep running than the new ones. I knew a chap with a fresh, off the showroom floor Honda. He did something silly and required a part. It took three weeks to get the part, yet a mutual friend ordered some parst for his Indian Chief and had them in a week. No shortage of old bikes to delight and amuse and no shortage of parts in many cases. Reproduction or NOS.

I am considering one of these:

1949_Condor.webp
Not to mention, a head exam and some learning. I just hate to be on things otrhers ride, so I love the odd ball stuff.

Here is a different year, but just as beautifully "ugly" as the little pic above.

 
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A lucky find--basket case Vincent:


Please email me $240,000.00 (USD only) or so. I crave one of these:

 
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When I was 12, we built a salvaged one and I only weighed about 65 lbs. I had to jump in the air and come down with all my weight THEN kick through to start it up and even then it kicked back often enough to make me wince every time starting it.

Kickstarting is always fun. Especially those made gun shy by a bike that kicks back. Some old bikes are a real problem. You quickly learn about retarded sparks and compression releases.

Pay attention to the lessons or a broken bone you will have.
 
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Here is one I like, but it is for Bob, you may find this interesting.


I have seen several of those over the years. Bob Bishline makes some very nice instruments to be sure.

Lots of oddballs in the banjo world to be sure.

Like this 12-string:


Or . . .

clown Banjer.webpdobro_1.webpodd_1.webp

And a bunch of electric models, some with MIDI. Which is cool because I do so love to get down and shred, standing in front of a nice Marshall Stack. Like this picture of me when I played the guitar:

marchall_amps_01.webp

Personally, I do so love the clown banjo. Oddly enough, clowns scare me, go figure.

Trust me gang . . . the world of banjos is scary, infinite and not for the faint hearted. We rule!!! And mothers? Do not let your daughters near a banjo player. We will steal their hearts and into the night we will scamper.

And don't even get me started on the bagpipes. You think banjo players are a dangerous group, well, you will not believe what I know about pipers. I'll tell you what.

"An old man was on his death bed and called his whole family together so that he could bid them farewell and make his peace with the world. After he said what he wanted to each in turn and he knew he was coming very close to death he called for all to gather together. "I have one thing I would like to confess before I go," he said. They all drew closer. "It was me," cough, wheeze, "I was the one," he said as they leaned down as close as they could to hear what he could barely get out in a whisper. Gasp, cough, "I was the one," cough, wheeze, "in the kitchen with Dinah…"
 
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A friend of mine once introduced her husband with, "Look out! He has a banjo and knows how to use it!" Even more sinister, he also has a dobro. A very dangerous man.

This post handcrafted from 100 percent post-consumer recycled electrons.
 

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