Buffalo. History of the creation of the custom motorcycle

I don't remember any names. I don't know who these children have become. I don't know which of them is in school today, who is already working, who is raising younger brothers and sisters, and who has long been swept away by a road that we don't even know exists. But I remember their eyes.

The other day I happened to freeze my hands. Yes, not that frostbite, and not frostbite at all, but so, slightly freeze. All right, all right-my gloved fingers froze, so I remembered a story told by a patient at the reception.