A few weeks ago my Uncle John died and left a pile of great pictures for me knowing i loved that kinda shit. Uncle John was a bachelor his whole life but said every weekend he would propose to get married. By monday he was gone. He would start off his day with a rum and coke, and a big black cigar. He just started to go down about three months ago then went to sleep and didn`t wake up. Not a bad life but a life of amazing stories and adventures. He liked to take pictures of everything. 
These are pics of my dad`s bike. I think John said it was a `37 or `38. My dad hated talking about his cycle days and the last thing he wanted was for me to ever get a motorcycle. John asked my dad if he could ride it and since he was famous for fucking everything up my dad said that he could kiss his ass. But enough bugging got him on the bike and my dad explained everything, so John jumped on the bike, jumped a curb in an empty lot and ran head-on into the only tree on the whole dirt lot......... John said that when my dad and his buddies drove into the city from Jersey, like brooklyn or the bronx, the puerto rican chicks would fall like rain on their dicks to be seen on the back of their bikes. (I don`t have a scanner and the pics are pics of originals) He said the more lights and mirrors on your bike the better...... This is Port Elizabeth, down at the docks 1951-1953?
When John retired in Florida, he was known in the local strip bars as the `Captian`. I`d tease him about all his chicks and he would say, "They`re after my money" and just give me the best smile. Stay outta trouble Uncle John, I miss you....
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