Damn, but we loved these things. Never mind that old fuddies called Doodle Bug a gateway drug, leading to Whizzers* and, for gawdsakes, even to tearing around on big Harleys in leather jackets and greasy short-bill caps with impure women grasping at your chest.**
Wish I'd been there yesterday.
The bug in the picture is an exception. Most of them looked more utilitarian, and a fair number of the ones in my village bore unmistakable marks of home craftsmanship using scrap-yard parts.
---
* What? You wonder what a Whizzer is?
** Guilty, Your Honor, but I plan to start repenting quite soon.
1 comment:
Oh, how I lusted after a Whizzer. Then a friend of mine got a Cushman. My lust grew, until I finally got a Harley 74. Big, red mother. JAGSC
Post a Comment