I was in the middle of texting SpiesLives about Glenn when the mail slot flap clacked shut.
I opened the door to see who was there.
No one. Physically. Just Orion in the sky overhead. Quiet street down here. Stone still. No wind.
Said hello to allred and let him in. Cleared off the chair and i made him a decent cup of tea.
Showed him around the place. The garage. The Bikes. Cleared off the recliner for him.
Went back to telling SpiesLives that Allred was English. Child of the '50s. Young man of the '60s. Always rode everywhere and worked as a motorcycle mechanic.
Saw the rise of the Japanese brands first hand.
Worshiped the original CB750.
Could tell you about the Isle of Man AND Mike Hailwood in detail, all first hand.
Pulled the valves out of a rotting Merlin engine a buddy and he sought out on some long tideflats.
.
Choose to Ride.
Supports splitting everywhere.