Born to be Mild
Our on-the-scene correspondent rode in to the Weirs atop a metal machine that throbbed with the power of two horses and 49 screaming CCs. By the time he rode out again he had made new friends, learned important lessons and lost nothing but his dignity.
“Why would someone ride a bright red moped to Laconia Motorcycle Week?” you ask. You would not be alone. In fact, many people (police officers, outlaw bikers, mental health professionals) asked me the same thing. It’s not because I had some great appreciation for Austrian motorized push-peddle transportation from the 1970s. It’s because Motorcycle Week, the one-time symbol of machismo…
