Man, this like group therapy. I had a Triumph Thunderbird bobber with a peapod tank, Bates seat, pipes, etc. that my kid brother and I had flogged for a couple of years until both of were shredded, me with stitches in my hands and a suit of road rash, and him with a broken arm, and we were still jumping 5 strand barbed wire fences with after seeing Bud Ekins stunting for Steve McQueen in The Great Escape . In a moment of pure insanity I traded it for a '53 Chevy two-door with an el sicko motor that I then exchanged for a rebuilt one in an all nighter and went out and rolled it over in a long curve three times because one of the crappy tires on it blew out. The doors wouldn't even open, and I ended up slamming it into the brick wall of a burned out building playing stunt man. Some stuff you get just turns to crap, and the only thing you can do is try and keep on keeping on. I still trade and have manged to amaze myself with my own gullibility but that one is a bonafide boner. I cringe when I think of it. Part of it comes from fatigue. You get bored and want something else. Sometimes you eat the bear, like they say, and sometimes the bear eats you.