Ever since I was about twelve years old I've had a recurring dream . . I find an old Harley Davidson in somebody's garage (usually some crusty old WWII era bike) and spend a while working on it until I get it running. That first test run is always shaky but unbelievably enjoyable and exhilarating. I wake up every time wishing it were true. I even talked my parents into getting me a subscription to Chopper Magazine so I could learn how to do it. I read every issue cover to cover.

As a young adult and out on my own, I started riding motorcycles. Honda, Yamaha, Kawasaki . . all good bikes. I rode them all for more than ten years and finally gave up on them. Sure, they were all fun, but something was missing. I mean, you couldn't do much with them except RIDE them. Aside from repainting and maybe adding a new seat, there were very few customizing options available. After getting bored with each one, I sold them.

I'm middle-aged now, but the dream never stopped, just slowed down a little like everything else. I've come to realize that the excitement of motorcycle riding is not what the dream is really about. It's about the building, customizing, re-animation and rebirth of an old bike. The joy in the dream doesn't come from the ride; it's in the completion of the work it takes to get there.

So, at a point of admitted mid-life weakness, I bought a 1973 Harley Davidson Sportster XLH. It's ugly and it doesn't run. Perfect! It's fairly clean, though, and mostly stock. It's a good starting point and wasn't expensive. It has an aftermarket "Fat Bob" gas tank, an old solo seat and a reproduction 1939 tail light. Other than a somewhat loud paint job, that's it for the "custom" work. Some parts will stay, some will go. What I end up with is totally undecided. Will I make it to a successful conclusion?

Your guess is as good as mine.