A Pink Honda Elite
Growing up, I was never really a motorcycle guy. I had never driven one, never contemplated owning one; I had never even sat on one. I always thought they were dangerous and the likelihood of owning a motorcycle with my parent's approval was blasphemy.
Now, I have two of them... how things have changed.
In high school, I was gifted an ovary-pink Honda Elite E from my cousin for $250 bucks. It was an 88', the same year I was born. A 28mph downhill piece of shit...but it was MY piece of shit. An oil-guzzling, hernia-kicking, blue-smoking son of a bitch and I loved every kick.
One look at the two-tone seat and you knew this was a machine crafted by the gods themselves; this was my genesis. I rode it on every 25mph street, I commuted to school on 30-degree days, revved that sheeaatt at stop lights and even took it to college.
This was where I learned to ride. Discovering that nobody can see you; one mistake could spell disaster quickly and everybody smiles and laughs at a dude on a pink moped. More importantly I learned how incredible the wind and the air and the cold and the machine really felt. The idea that engineering, metal and gasoline could actually evoke emotion on a daily basis had a lasting effect. Not to mention the pure unadulterated speed...
The "Pink Panther" is long gone now. It was sold to a family acquaintance years ago. The last few months before it left my ownership the seat lock had broken. It was something that frustrated the hell out of me at the time. Something so simple, but didn't know how to fix. I think about it now and hope it's still broken; that the new owner declined the $60 repair fee from the local dealer. Thinking back, I can't remember what was left under that seat, but I can picture myself opening it again one day, reclaiming the worthless tokens that were once mine, kicking the living bejesus out of that motor, smelling the old oil in the air and ignoring all the people I don't know laughing at me while I take it out for one more spin.