Before I met my wife I was renting a big house from my employees. The rent was low and my salary was good, so the house was filled up with motorcycles and spares……
A long story short……I lost my driving license for speeding and had some time for womanizing … I met my wife (I think my wife, somehow, has another view of the story….)
And then she moved in……
I kept my Ducati F1 in one of the toilets (!); out of way if I was tempted to ride ….It was the first of my things to go out….
After a while I noticed that some of my stuff had disappeared….first one carb then an empty WW2 grenade. A week later, all the cool things where gone….
They were all relocated in a closet named (by my wife) “the horror closet”…..Did I mention that she is an interior decorator?
Many years later in another house, are there still some traces of a motorcycle man? Well empty bottles, dirty laundry and magazines do not count…..
The doorbell gives you a clue of the nature of the residents…
Souvenirs from the Ducati factory and Speedway VM.
Toys R us….
Norton Manx photo and a Miller lamp converted to halogen work light.
My birthday gift: a Goldie/Matchless…..eh…” fish tray”
Indian ampermeter behind the “fine china”
Not mine…..but I bought it, antique silver motorcycle charm.
She is fighting a losing battle….