This evening I rode my brick to town to gas up at the nearest Chevron. Okay, that's a lame "What Did You Did To Your Motobrick Today?", but it leads into the rest of my story.
I had to go inside to get a receipt, and the kid behind the counter (19 or 20 maybe) looks out at my 1988 K75S and he says, "Nice bike! Is that a Harley?"
I said, "No, it's a 25-year old BMW." That kinda killed his interest in my bike. He then continued on with his redneck, anti-Obama rant with the customer beside me.