Replies

"You're both right. Production was from the late ‘60s to the mid ‘70s. The color schemes varied according to the year."

That'd explain the *mystery*. If anyone would know about any thing in the world of 2 wheels, It'd be you, hands-down. ;^)

"They were truly evil handling bikes. But they were hard to catch below 100 mph. Nothing could touch them until Kawasaki upped the ante with the venerable Z1."

OK, I've witnessed how you handle 4 wheel animals up close & personal, so it begs the question how'd you never break your fool neck? Huh?

"The thing is, by today's standards they're average performers at best..."

Welllllll compared to your Buell, I guess. LOL!!

Lovely shot of the Sky, Sky Boy.
Pity the weather weasels were wrong, again.
Could've taken'er out for a little spin through the city, eh?

Well, OK.
Since you started this pal, best I can do is THIS.

Of course there's always THIS, too. :o)
~Have only run across maybe 3 of these, and one '69 Boss 429 (a neighbor in Fond du Lac County) survivor car.
None wanted to play *or* anything to do with Landru's Blue Jetstream, FTM. Will say this though, one of the 500KR's flashed me a Peace sign. What'd it mean? LOL
Wouldn't mind one of those Ford cars. Styling's beautiful, first rate. Performance, very good albeit a gas guzzler regardless how it's driven. Now if one were to put one on a serious diet, they'd have a real badass in a world of badasses & probably improve mileage, to boot. :^)

And to prove the Chevrolets are the real deal?
There's THIS.
The Copperhead V10's no punk, nothing to sneeze at and while some claim it looks like a clown shoe I'd have one, anytime. LOL

Braveman, while we never did THIS when out clowning 'round?
That *sound*, manna for the ears. ;^)

Car guys, the very best humanity has to offer.
Happy motoring ya'll, C'ya.. ;^)

. . . so it begs the question how'd you never break your fool neck? Huh?

Apparently the Lord had other plans. God knows I gave Him plenty of opportunities . . .

. . . like the time I overcooked it while wheeling, taking out the taillight and the rear fender in a spectacular shower of sparks and red plastic, ultimately saving it only to drop the bike while putting down the side stand . . .

. . . like the time I forgot about the upcoming corner with Keith on the back, smacking the curb dead on at full throttle, at night. I still can recall the flight through the air like Superman, the bounce off the grassy knoll, followed by more flight, then another bounce followed by lots of tumbling . . .

. . . or the time I hit the raccoon crossing the road while standing on the seat (never did find the raccoon) . . .

. . . or the time I rear-ended Gary's Challenger while eyeballing a cute blonde walking on the sidewalk, pushing the car out of the way, the bike landing upside down in a perfect three-point handlebar-tail section stance, pinning me underneath, leaking gas running down my back while I squirmed to free myself to no avail. I think I impressed her; she was laughing awfully hard . . .

. . . or the time . . . Well, you get the point.