I think I forgot my spark plug wrench... .

... And the next thing you know, you're seizing to a halt. "I swore I turned the petcock on... Maybe I didn't let it warm up enough.". Hardcore motorcyclists never really come too prepared, just to an acceptable amount. Most likely you'll find in their 1970's Sears made tool bag: A couple of 8mm and 10mm sockets that are so worn out, they barely grasp onto the ratchet itself. A few metric wrenches that are severely bent. A screwdriver, most likely stolen from the wife (hell, she only used it once to put the drawer handle on). Chrome cleaner (who cares if you own a rusty '72 Honda SL125 that's never been restored... If you're going to roll into cruise night, the only way you're going to impress the ladies is with some blinging chrome. Sure the gas tank's paint has faded out the same year disco did, but look at that chrome! Ignore the rust spots... I haven't got to that yet), and a usually some kind of oddities. A fossilized energy bar that obviously never got ate, some change, a few small parts that came off the bike, but isn't a big deal (generally a British Leyland made bike) and of course, the oh so essential to the tough guy persona, the opened condom package you used on that strange one night.
I'm one of a few idiots who decided to take on riding a vintage motorcycle... A 40 year, 2 stroke 1973 Yamaha RD350 at that... Fitted with GYTR expansion chambers, 34mm Mikuni carburetors, electronic ignition and questionably aged tires. My childhood memories were filled with images and sounds of old relics, like the Kawasaki two stroke triples, Laverda twins, Triumph triples, and of course, the Yamaha two stroke twins. I mean, after all, the Yamaha RD series were giant killers, taking down bikes twice it's displacement. Bikes like that have heart, and I like personality.. Just wish more ladies would follow suit.
Every so often, you do find a lady that actually makes your heart sing... Sure, they're gone now, but so is my beloved YZ125. It's hard to let go, that's for sure. You could always find a new love, but your best memories always seem to go back to your first love... Or at least the one that matters.
I'm getting sidetracked here... Did I forget to turn the choke off? I swear, my life is constantly fucking with me. One day, everything's grand and going good, then the next thing you know I'm stranded on the side of the highway, and my date expects me to be there in thirty, but because I can't afford a crankcase splitter, I have an oil leak thanks to 30 cent part. I wish my life made more sense, but hey, you live and learn...Sometimes, I kick myself in the ass for owning a piece of history on wheels, but of course with age, comes a cantankerous attitude... This bike is really start rub off on me. But as the bike sits there, lifeless, mocking you of your mechanical comprehension, hurting your feelings like the time you got turned down by a nice lady at the bar, you do what you can to make the magic happen and bring it on home. Except, I'm done with bar rats. They always empty my wallet and find their way to another man... Kinda like this bike. Enough of the bickering, it's time to improvise and make this proverbial girlfriend of mine help me get to where I want to go.. Just always remember the four horsemen of the internal engine : Fuel, air, compression, spark; this bitch has got to start!