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#Americanmotorcycle

My Motorcycle: The Missing Piece

My motorcycle is half an hour away, parked under a tarp that’s carefully fastened so that the rain we do not have in Southern California and the sun, which we do, will not trouble the leather seat, the chrome exhaust or the fenders that I last polished so many months ago.

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The Truth(s) About Motorcycles

Her hands had been on my shoulders as we rode, and when we stopped the kiss was done in one motion, quickly, as she leaned forward and climbed off the bike: a light touch of her lips upon my cheek, and then she swung her leg over the seat and walked away toward the others.

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Iconic Resurrection

Can the first American motorcycle company be restored to its former glory? We don’t know, but the new Indian motorcycles sure are pretty…

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