It was around 1976 in Newfoundland (think 1876 anywhere else in the western world). I was 13. A wave of hysteria swept thru my town and all my friends suddenly were bombing round on Japanese bikes. Half of them had 100cc Kawasaki street bikes which was odd. I mean you should have seen the roads in this place.
I got a 100cc Yamaha Enduro. Brightest yellow with black lines. It was great for on and off road. We drove without helmets most of the time. Regional cops had a hell of a time. They'd flash the lights and we'd fly off thru some field spattering dung evereywhere.
This bike was passed on to my younger brother and then onto another brother and later to a cousin. I last saw it about 10 yrs ago. None of the electrical worked and it looked like shit but was still going and making some kid laugh.
The bike that wouldn't die.
