About 5 years ago while browsing through craigslist I came across and bought a 1971 CL175 Honda from and Orthodox Minister a couple miles from where I lived. I wasn’t much of a bike, something about it just said “plucky”. I had caught the bug some time before that for cafe racer style bikes. There was something about the aesthetic and subculture of them that I identified with. I think I paid $225 for it and about $50 bucks for a plate and title transfer. I told my then pregnant wife not to worry it doesn’t even run, it will probably take me all summer to get it going. Surprised by my own mechanical aptitude and pure drive I had it running in less than 2 weeks. New coil, a carb bowl and battery was about all it took. I removed the tank and tins, put a pretty nice rattle can finish on it and coated the grungy aluminum surfaces with some black. A new seat cover, cafe bars, and some grips and it looked pretty good didn’t run half bad either. I road that bike every chance I got through the summer and well into the cold weather. I could wax nostalgic about how riding makes you feel free but everyone who writes about motorcycles does that. I’m gonna just leave it at, its just a whole damn lotta fun to be on one. The Next summer came around and the weight of being a new father pressed on me and I did what is all to common and sold it so I could have some spending money to take my family to the beach on vacation that year. I got a whooping 850 bucks, some kid came up from about 2 1/2 hours south west of me to buy it. He didn’t know how to ride at all. Actually had him get on the back and road him a round a bit to show him it was in fair running order. I got worried he as going to break his neck so I threw in my helmet and gloves on the deal. I still regret selling that but I’m glad it went to that kid. I hope he had or still has fun on it and that he didn’t break his neck. That bike wasn’t the bike in the shed. That regret sat in me till it built up into drive to build and ride a bike I would never have the heart to get rid of. After about another year I found myself looking for it.