Kawasaki H2, mine. I traded an old Ford grandma car for it.
I was a bartender for a short while and them tight waitresses liked to share their stash of other 'stuff'rather than share the tip money.
Well, under the influence goin' home I came to a light one block from my apartment. Mr. Harley was next to me, 'vroom, vroom, vroom.' When the light changed my front end came up vertical and I was hugging the tank and squeezin' my thighs together like a hooker that found out you got no money. Hanging on was my ONLY thought. I got the front end down and dropped over in time to make the turn to my place like I knew what I was doin.
My girl promptly sent me to the QuikStop for some milk for her kid. When I got their Mr. Harley was inside. When I walked up he avoided eye contact like I was insane. I didn't bother to advise him it was the BIKE that was insane.
