Chrome and loud pipes.

....... so many motorcycles and they were so loud. They traveled up and down the main street in front of me for quite some time and every bike was unique and the chrome really shone, especially in the dark and under the street lights. The neatest machine of all was a trike built out of an old Volkswagen car and they had a piece if steel sticking out of the rear so that when ever the driver would crack the throttle it would almost instantly pull into a great cat walk, the piece of steel out the back kept him from flipping that thing over on to his head and as that steel wheelie bar hit the ground the sparks would fly and what a sight that was. As I watched not a car would drive onto main street and anyone walking on the sidewalks just stepped back and watched the bike gang have their way. Eventually all the bikers would park their bikes in front of the local bar and head on in to the bar for more fun. When I was sure that they were all inside I got up the nerve to walk across the street and down to where the bikes were parked. The noise from inside the bar was very familiar to me as many times I went to the door marked beverage room asking for my dad to come home for supper or if he had some spare change which quite often he would give me. As I walked by the bikes the smell of burnt oil and hot pipes was everywhere and I didn't mind it a bit. The paint jobs on some of the bikes was great and yet on others there was only scratched up fenders and tanks and different old colors left. I wandered back to my step in front of the old brick office building and as I sat there I knew that some day I wanted the same freedom and power that these bikers had and obviously enjoyed to the max but boy each and every one of them put a real fear into a boy. As I continued in my state of dreamland I almost jumped out of my skin when ..........