I would hardly ever dream of being in my garage so I would hardly ever conceive any latent memories of me already owning a bike or two.
In some dreams the bike would be my mom's or my dad's, who would nevere use it hence jeopardizing any positive recollection of the poor thing.
The poor thing usually being a black Sportser or a cherry red California.
Just lying there in the garage collecting dust.
How unfair is that?
Very.
Back to reality, how far is the world out there from the world within?
Well, it so happens in my parents' garage there lays a dusty 50cc fully functioning some fifteen year old Liberty scooter they are not using and have forgotten about.
Not the same as a Harley or Guzzi, and not the same as the contents of my garage, which fortunately for me, I have not forgotten about.
But I could.
Distractons come aplenty nowadays, plus add on the odd kid or two and youre done.
And this is precisely the reason no wife or kid will ever highjack my desktop.
I'm saving that space to remind me I don't need to dream of a motorcycle and I should visit my garage more often.
So there.
