

How cool is the first paragraph of Cycle World's story?
The phone rings at Mean Marshall’s Motorcycles, a dealership in Oakland, California. It’s Bud Ekins calling from North Hollywood, where he has several hundred motorcycles stashed in a couple of dirt-floor Quonset huts. “Marshall,” he barks, “go empty your bank account.” “Why?” fires back Marshall, standing behind his grease-stained parts counter. “Because you’re coming down here and buying my bikes,” Ekins roars.
I'd WAY rather own that this say the Dukes of Hazard Charger every guy my age seems to dream of owning.
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