Lost Dreams of an Old Man

Los sueños perdido de uno viejito.

The Day of the Dreamy Bike:

50 years ago I survived 2 years with my 250cc Ducati.  A youth, I wanted more bike, more power, more macho image.  I had my heart set on either a used Triumph (like this more modern version) or a big, black Norton Atlas.  The family united to persuade me toward a nice, “safe” car to replace my wrecked MGA.  I gave in & missed the chance to love a big bike between my legs (or to die as road kill).

Now, a cardiac cripple, there was a half-hour to photograph the memories at a Mexican “moto” dealer.  Even then only a few shots due to the debilitating heat of Merida, my brittle inflexibility (notice not even hunkering down for the low shots nor sitting in the street for fear of needing help to get up) and the ever-present weakness of a severely damaged heart-muscle.

Even my vision is failing.  But the dream-muscle still works.

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