One day my friend was showing the bike off to the neighborhood kids by playing tag. Kids would run along behind the bike, and when a kid was just about to tag him, he'd give just enough gas to keep ahead. He noticed a small child -- a baby, really -- was sitting in her driveway. Only three years old, she wasn't allowed on the residential street with the other kids, but she was obviously interested, for she watched the bike intently and laughed and clapped her hands. My friend drove the bike up her driveway, circled around her once, and went back onto the street. The little girl was thrilled. She smiled and laughed, and was obviously delighted to have been so favoured. Then the mother dashed out of the house, snatched up the child in her arms, and ran over to my friend. He stopped the bike, and she stood over him fuming and shaking mad. She shrieked: "Don't you EVER, EVER, come near my baby with that EVIL machine or I WILL call the police and have you arrested!" At that she turned and stormed into the house. We all stood in quiet amazement. The only thing you could hear was the sound of the child crying in the house.
That did it for me. I was hooked. I had to have a motorcycle!