I have been perversely proud of my ancient motorbike even though my wife was embarrassed to be seen with me on it. This antique model of Yamaha could be any where between 40 and 25 years old. You may know of it as one of those old green bikes. I have dropped it a few times in the 6 to 7 years I have been riding it so it is missing a few pieces and others are held together with duct tape. Yet I liked the way it rode, except for going up hills maybe, and it did the job for me.
Lately, however, the electrical was acting up. I could start out at night with a working head lamp but usually not make it home with one. Also more pieces were falling off due to corrosion and sun-dried plastic. I could envision hitting a pothole and having the bike dissolve to a pile of rust with me on top of it.
Then I was all set to buy a new gray colored Honda motorbike with full injection and other electronic features when the salesman made the mistake of pointing out a slightly used Kawasaki KazerR that was substantially cheaper, came with a one year guarantee and was blue.
I bought it. I will save for another story how it took three weeks of nearly daily dealing with government bureaucracy to get the title transferred. I guess I will have to get used to the idea of riding in style rather than nursing along a piece of junk that is old enough to be in a museum.