WINGS FOR WHEELS

The Vincent Black Lightning was the world's fastest motorcycle. Only thirty were ever built, between 1949 and 1952.

Vincent, a British manufacturer, built the bikes for speed, stripping off unessentials and using lightweight alloy rims and racing tires, magnesium alloy brake backing plates, and aluminum fenders. With a 70hp engine, the Lightning remained the world's fastest bike twenty years after the last one was built.















This is 1949. Racing a Vincent Black Lightning at the Bonneville Salt Flats wearing full leathers, Rollie Free could only get up to 147 mph. At that point his leathers flapped so violently they tore. Free thought for a moment, then stripped down to helmet, shoes, and a Speedo bathing suit, and was clocked at 150.313 mph!

The Vincent Black Lightning -- A rare gem, a beautiful machine, the holy grail of high performance motorcycles, and something special to put on your Christmas list.

Guitar hero Richard Thompson, formerly of Fairport Convention, wrote this love song about James, Red Molly, and a 1952 Vincent Black Lightning.

LABOR DAY RUN!

Labor Day Weekend, and these clean-cut kids are having a ball on the beach! For us, the beach was always Rockaway, Lincoln City, or Seaside. Lincoln City had the Pixie Kitchen, but Seaside had a big cheesy arcade with bumper cars and go karts and pinball machines and lots of kids. Thousands of kids! Oh, and the ocean.

They even had a Loop-o-Plane, an amusement park ride run by an old tattooed carny that swung you upside down like a hammer and emptied your pockets of change. You walked around this carefully because there was always some kid throwing up corn dogs and salt water taffy like Spin Art.

Ski Ball was fun and cheap, and if you scored a billion points you could win a tiny green army man or a Bit-O-Honey. I won a couple in my day.

There were always big biker runs on Labor Day Weekend, when outlaw bikers descended on Seaside and terrorized the citizenry, but we only heard about it and never actually witnessed such an event. Like other terrors we only heard about -- piranhas and such, quicksand, the killer with the hook -- this was grist for our imaginations. Scenarios played out in daydreams. I'd see them someday, a band of Hell's Angel's roaring up the Turnaround, and I'd act accordingly. I'd probably rescue a girl in a bikini. Sadly, like my childhood plan to grow up and become a secret agent or photographer for Playboy, it never happened.

Check out this cool time machine produced by oldbluewebdesigns -- turn on your sound and dig this.
http://moreoldfortyfives.com/TakeMeBackToTheSixties.htm