Old bikes are great – until you ride them.
The only exception among those I have was a 1942 Harley WLA, a sweet and gentle ride which was a gem compared to a scary 1948 Panhead with a suicide clutch, a 1978 Electra Glide which was like trying to control a 345kg blancmange, and a Ural which was, er, agricultural.
Still, always open for new experiences, I rolled up undaunted to Evolution Motor Works, the custom shop which had supplied the aforementioned Harleys, to meet Barry Cooper.
