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Vancouver Off-Topic / Current EventsThe off-topic forum for Vancouver, funnies, non-auto centered discussions, WORK SAFE. While the rules are more relaxed here, there are still rules. Please refer to sticky thread in this forum.
info:This is a photo story of my father's 1958 BMW R50:
Boy meets girl, gets married, buys motorcycle. Rides it for 60,000 miles and has accident when wife is pregnant with 3rd child. (me) Wife orders motorcycle to be taken off road until all her children are grown and on their own. One day when bike is moved to a different storage location, son sits on bike and dreams of being a Jedi Master like his father. Couple grows old together and bike is not ridden for 40 years. Husband is now a grandfather of 7 and married for 50 years, when he dies of a stroke at age 71.
Son looks over the old rotting machine and finds note attached to it from his father to him. Son decides to restore the old 1958 BMW R-50 as a tribute to his father. With the help of many friends, especially Peter Nettesheim, world renowned BMW collector, bike is restored to look even better than it did when it was built in Germany.
The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It's a very mean and nasty place... and I donīt care how tough you are, it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently, if you let it. You, me or nobody, is gonna hit as hard as life. But ain't about how hard you hit... It's about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward... how much you can take, and keep moving forward. Thatīs how winning is done. Now, if you know what you worth, go out and get what you worth. - Rocky Balboa
"sure. I am pasting a saved summary of the story for anyone who is interested: My dad had an old 1958 BMW motorcycle that he rode like crazy in his 20s and 30s (and so did my mom, on the back). Motorbiking was a huge part of his life. He rode everywhere. He rode to college when he was young, and he rode to work when he was older. in about 10 years he put 60,000 miles on that motorcycle. In 1969 when my mother was still pregnant with me, he had a terrible crash off the Grand Central Parkway in Queens, hitting some wet leaves on a curve of an exit. He broke 9 bones- arms, legs, ribs, and more. My mom forbid him to ride it ever again once he recovered. The old BMW sat in my garage in Queens when I was young. Then it was moved upstate NY to live in my grandfather's barn, and he started it just once in 1980 and rode me around in the fields. That was the only time I ever rode on it. Then when my grandfather died, my dad moved the bike to his new house on Long Island, into a single-horse stable at the end of the garage. There the old steed sat until my dad died at the age of 71. Although my father owned that bike for most of his life, it hadn't been on the road for 40 years. Yup, I am now 40. I always said to my dad I wanted to help him get that bike running again, but he always blew it off. I never knew why but I thought maybe he just felt too old to ride. He had bought some parts to fix it up again, but he never would work on it no matter how often I asked, which was really strange because my father is an engineer and a mechanic and he loves machines. And that BMW was the nicest machine he ever owned.
So, now that my dad is gone, my mother said she finally wanted to sell that old bike. I told her I guess it was worth at least $3000. Maybe 4. Only, I really never wanted to sell that bike. I wanted to fix it up and my biker freinds of mine said they would help me fix it up. So one day not to long after my father died, I am showing the bike to my wife who never really saw it in the past, when she asks me what the papers were clipped to the handle bars. I had always seen them there for years and years, but I never unclipped them and read them. I unclipped the papers, and find a folded piece of paper, and inside is this old note written by my dad:
Spare parts are tucked away inside the headlamp and tail lamp. Extra tools are in the toolkit. I want the bike fixed as well as I know you can do it. -R. Costello
I burst into tears as I realized my dad always knew I would not read this until he died and I looked over the bike. He never intended to fix the bike up! He was saving it there for me to fix up, after he died. By the color of the paper I could tell he must have written this when I was a teenager– Probably around the time that he started helping me work on my first hot rod car, a 1970 chevelle that he helped me fix up over a course of years.
So, I showed the note to my mother and she said, "Well, I guess I'll never get the $3000 for that bike."
Even before I read that note I had already made up my mind after my dad died that I would not be selling that old bike. After I read it though, I decided that when I am done with this 58 BMW it is going to be good enough to take to bike shows.
sounds like a hallmark channel movie doesn't it."
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