You know there are just some things you'll never forget - as if it were yesterday. Sailing across the Queensboro Bridge to Long Island, weaving in
and out of traffic, as if I were invincible.
I paid $90 down on the dark blue Indian Pony Scout on Manhattan's east side. 1938, I was 20. Was taught how to ride it on a three-wheeler by the motorcycle dealer. We rode on the Henry Hudson Parkway over to the City trash truck parking area. Can't remember the price of the pony, think it was $300 something. I agreed to pay $9 a month. No special driver's license required. (My father said, in a thunderous, booming voice, if you buy that motorcycle, don't you ever come home.)

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