My mother always knew ... we were out on our motorcycles. We were the "bad" kids, the rebels ... and my mother was a "bad" parent, because she let us! Truth be told, the worst thing we ever did was raid the fields for a few ears of sweet corn! We were respectful of people's property, closing any gates we opened so the cows wouldn't get out, and using the tractor roads around the edges of the fields so we didn't tear up crops. We had a vast network of snowmobile trails and logging roads we made use of, and nobody ever told us we weren't allowed on their property. On the contrary, we were often given permission to build obstacle courses and dirt tracks in peoples yards.
There were a dozen, or so, of us riding the woods in the area at that time. This section of my blog is dedicated to my memories of growing up with motorcycles. Memories come as they may, so the stories may be a bit out of sequence. Enjoy!
There were a dozen, or so, of us riding the woods in the area at that time. This section of my blog is dedicated to my memories of growing up with motorcycles. Memories come as they may, so the stories may be a bit out of sequence. Enjoy!