"In Fort Stockton, Texas, a town where half the stories are true and the other half are too good to fact-check, a rusty old British motorcycle turned up like a desert mirage. Word spread fast: a 1924 AJS Model B, dug out of some collapsed shed where it had sat longer than most marriages in Pecos County. The thing looked like it had been assembled out of rebar and stubbornness—flat tires peeling like onions, tank half-rotted, chains welded together with rust. Even in that state, it had an…"
No comments:
Post a Comment