Something reminded me of this today. When I was growing up my pops had a souped 250R. Thing was scary fast, and for obvious reasons, super dangerous. I have a soft spot in my heart for this animal. As I type this, ye old 250R still sits on the side of my parents. Pops bought all new parts for it a few years ago and the thing looks tits. I think I will try and rip it around when I am back home next week. That 2 stroke cackle is a familiar sound of my childhood.
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