Hopped on my ’67 Schwinn Continental–taxicab yellow from the factory–and rode to the grocery store. We’ve made this trip for years now, almost daily, bringing back cargo in cloth bags hanging from the handlebars. Erifnus sits at the curb with a brand new radiator cap, and she smiles at us, glad she doesn’t have to make these short hops. She respects the Continental–older than her by 30 years, cooler, too, and more agile in the short game. But the Schwinn can’t scare a Harley. That’s okay. Not as loud. Good workout. Unpack the beer. Cheers!
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