Motorcycles and Me

I think the year was 1971. I was at a party. I was not drunk or high. I was probably not doing much of anything. Terry Squires arrived. Terry Squires was cool. He was a young man who loved taking risks. While the ‘Fonz’ would need to snap his fingers to get the attention of women, when Terry entered the room the first thing you noticed was that the woman beside you was beside him now. Terry had a motorcycle and a leather jacket. My jacket was polyester, and I drove a used car. Even though Terry was cool he was nice. He would talk to me. Everyone wanted to see his motorcycle, so I followed the crowd. As we all looked at it he asked me if I wanted a ride. I am sure I said no. I do not remember exactly what happened next. Whether from peer pressure or something else I do remember getting on the motorcycle with him and heading for the street. This will be okay I thought. He will just go around the block and we will be back. That was not Terry’s plan. He went up Victory Boulevard and headed east on the I-405. We went from 0-80 in no time. My thoughts? Never again, I am a fool, I am going to die. We went up to Granada Hills, got off the freeway, and went over to the westbound side and back to Victory. I am still a fool at times, and eventually, I will die, but I never rode a motorcycle again. The closest I come to a motorcycle now is when I have a camera in my hand.

Nikon F4 with Voigtlander 40mm F2 Lens. Fomopan 400 developed in HC-110 for 7 minutes @20C.