The whole book name is The Harley in the Barn: More Great Tales of Motorcycle Archaeology. I'm not sure how this book arrived in the mail, but I suspect it wasn't aimed at me. If it was, "they don't know me very well, do they?"
I've been struggling through this tome for a couple of months. In the meantime, I've read everything written by Dan Ariely, P.M. Forni, and a couple dozen entertaining fiction and non-fiction books. I just can't find a way to care about $5,000-$50,000 "barn find" Harleys, Vincents, BSAs, and Indians.
Unlike Will Rogers, I've never met a rich guy I could like and all of these people have way more money than sense. The foreword by the Dobbie Brother's Pat Simmons didn't get me off to much of a start, either. About the only thing that pisses me off more than rich rock and roll musicians is rich athletes or inherited wealth. If you want to point the finger at where a culture begins to decline, you can't beat overpriced pop culture and idle wealth for a starting point.
I gotta give this thing away before it does serious cardiac damage.
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