This is my Great Grandfather and Great Grandmother, Quince and Myra Rice. According to my Grandmother, this photo was taken in she thinks about 1912 in Farmington, Utah where Grandma was born in 1915. Grandma doesn't remember the motorcycle at all, so it must have been long gone by the time she was old enough to remember such things. We don't even know if it is a motorcycle at all, since Great Grandma is blocking the engine and tank, but the frame has all the appearance of a turn of the century motorcycle, and I'm gonna believe it is one. Grandma she said she thinks the bike might be a Harley, but she doesn't know. I asked her why she said that and she told me that when she was younger she remembered her youngest brother Larry coming home on his motorcycle to visit. The motorcycle stalled in the yard and Great-Grandmother came out on the porch in Clifton, Idaho and yelled to him "Get a Harley!". Grandma says that it was a common thing to say to your friends if they had motorcycle trouble back in those days.
Even back a hundred years ago there were two kinds of riders I suppose -- those who rode a Harley and those who wished they did. I guess this is where I got it from as well. Its a nice rare sunny Saturday -- I think I'll head out and ride a bit, and silently thank my Great Grandmother and Grandfather for somehow giving me this desire to hit the road on two wheels nearly 100 years later.