I got my Cushman Super Eagle up to about 60 mph on San Fernando road Saturday, I was intoxicated.
With the chain humming, the pipe blaring out a flathead crescendo, the valves going ka-pokita pokita pokita, I could imagine myself free, unleashed from the surly bonds of Earth, much like a dirigible pilot.
Then, in my mirror, I saw another rider on a step-thru Honda 90 inching up on me.
Grabbing the "loud handle", I gave the mighty Eagle all the fury that it's 3/4 inch Tillotston could dish out.
Tucked in and on the boil, man and machine became one.
With the 90 hot on my tail, I weaved, lurched, slid and skipped through the midday Glendale traffic, willy-nilly, unmolested by time or thought. The mighty flathead mill churning out 8 thunderous horsepower under me, the valves going ka-pokita, pokita, pokita...gears meshing, gasses combusting.
A red light at the intersection of Los Feliz brought all this to a quick end. The 90 pilot slid up next to me, and we gave each other that "nod of respect", reserved for test pilots, S.E.A.L. team members, and automatic transmission mechanics.
I know how you feel, man.