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Cars and trucks couldn’t make it up the hills but my little yellow Honda never failed me that day.
Not sure what happened to that much-maligned motorcycle from my youth. We delivered many a paper route with it. My brother sunk it once in Rucker’s Pond but was able to clean and dry the parts and put it back together before dad noticed it was turned into a pile of parts on the garage floor.
A friend who collects motorcycles — his wife is very forgiving — found me the same model on E-bay this past year. Same color. Low mileage with mirrors and a luggage rack. He even offered to buy it and bring it back to Norman for me to enjoy on winter days.
I passed on the offer then but oh what I would have given for a Trail 90 beside my tree on Christmas morning this year.