MOTORCYCLE THERAPY
It’s possible that I may need a therapist, and I am hoping someone can recommend one.
You see, I am prone to acting on impulse, most recently squandering a perfectly good $50 bill to rescue the 1964 Yamaha 125 Santa Barbara YA6 seen here, spending untold hours working on it with little guarantee of any return, and then taking it on a nearly impossible ride.
The embarrassing thing is, I had the money for a better motorcycle. I knew this castoff would be needier than a snubbed Yorkie. And I assumed the ride would be long and painful. And yet, knowing all this in advance, I did it anyway. To frame my admission, it seems fitting to quote a line from a catchy Dierks Bentley tune: “I know what I was feeling, but what was I thinking?” That about sums up this one-year saga. So please, let me get it off my chest.
Once upon a sweet ride
What I was feeling one innocent afternoon last year was that I just needed a new spark plug or fuel line or something
