That was the beginning of many fun and memorable travel adventures for my grandpa and me. We strapped sleeping bags and our tent to the sides of the bike and off we went. We always wore our helmets and Grandpa never drove too fast. Our adventures took us to state parks, camp grounds, and nature centers. We got where we going in one piece.



With the absence of a side car or other elaborate add-ons, Grandfather's Motorcycle was not ritzy. While the only feature for comfort was the back rest, it still provided a smooth ride with a spectacular view. Rainbows, hawks, buffalo and roadside attractions could all be seen with no doors to obstruct the view.

Everything seems more exciting on a motorcycle. Once, while driving west on I-80, heavy storm clouds appeared on the horizon. We donned our rain gear at the next rest stop, but the downpour was more than our raincoats could cope with. The flapping noise we heard was our pant legs slapping wetly at our legs! We waited out the rest of the storm under the shelter of an overpass - and decided to buy new rain gear before our next trip.

Some of our shorter trips have been across town to see the Independence Day celebration of fireworks, or the hometown carnival. Another favorite haunt was the local baseball arena. It may not have been safe or entirely legal, but sometimes darting in and out of traffic is the fastest way home, and a motorcycle can do that.

My dream of owning a motorcycle started with my grandfather. He was a free-spirited man who loved to travel. He insisted that I accompany him whenever he got the urge to explore the open road. On Saturday mornings, he and I would jump on his bike and take off wherever the road led us. Fairs and museums were some of our favorite destinations No matter where we went;