My love for Harley Davidsons began when I was a teenager. My best friend, Tami, and I would dream about hitting the open road on our hogs some day. We bought Harley t-shirts, stickers, anything Harley. I even bought a pack of Harley Davison cigarettes just for the logo (My mom wasn’t nearly as impressed and eventually threw them away.) Tami named her show pig Harley. As soon as I started driving (way back in 1994), I put a big fat Harley sticker on the rear window of my black 1976 RS Camaro. It looked pretty bad-ass (at least until the cheap Maaco paint job started to flake off).
Anyway, I dreamed of owning a real Harley.
Well, last weekend, I found a miniature version when my mom, Tice, and I were junkin’ in Round Top at the antique festival. And, of course, it’s not for me; it’s for our little T-bird.