It was 38 degrees out, but the sun was peeking out. I thought, "if the hawk will start without kicking it, I'll ride." Well, below 40 degrees the Hawk really doesn't like to start using the battery. So, I kicked it, got it started and then promptly let it stall and then flooded it trying to kick it again. Jeez o weez. Old age sucks, completely winded and drenched in sweat, I ended up flipping it the bird and covering it up and going inside to cozy up to my kitty and watch 1883.
Until another day, then the Hawk will spread its wings and commence to vibrating my old bones to dust as I scurry down the road in search of my lost youth.
that last bit was kind of poetic. . .
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2022 Hawk 250
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