Most adults I know don't like mud. Or think they don't. Maybe it's because when they were kids their parents always said "Stay out of the mud!" And if you came home muddy it was a crime against the universe. That's how it was with me. Just like the next guy I learned that mud is bad and nice people stay clean unless they're grubbing around the garden or something. Then I bought a motorcycle. A Kawasaki enduro. What I had in mind was to have a little fun riding around the boondocks. And for the first couple of weekends I stayed on the hard and narrow path. The bike was peppy, easy to handle, and I felt good riding it. But my third time out, it had rained the night before. and there it was confronting me. Lots and lots of mud. At first I kind of crept through it and got a little splattered, and then I thought, "What the hell," and opened up the throttle and, man, did I go. I roared through every mudhole I could find. And before long I was a flying mudball, Mr. Muddy. But instead of feeling dirty, I felt absolutely clean. My bike must have felt clean to, because it zipped along without one sputtering complaint. Washing off the mud at home was like washing off the best time I had had in years. I hope next Friday it rains again. Really hard.
1975 Kawasaki Enduro ''Lots and lots of mud'' 2-Page Ad available at www.DadsVintageAds.com
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