Warm heat, a familiar face, building excitement and... Oswald woke up with a start—minutes before his alarm sounded. He couldn't remember the specifics of his dream, but its effect was all too evident judging from the sticky residue in his boxers. With a groan, he grabbed a tissue from his bedside to wipe himself off. His morning routine of sneaking off to the bathroom to rinse out his stained underwear before his family rose for the morning was normal at this point.
The nineteen-year-old got up, got cleaned up, got dressed and went into the garage to continue working on his 1960s BMW R60 he ran through his head as he got to work the info about the bike:
These bikes were made between 1956 and 1969. It featured a 600 cc boxer twin. They were made to pull a sidecar with built-in mounting points and duplex tubular steel frames. They were rugged and built for a companion rider, with the exception of the models that were made specifically for the United States market. The R60/2 and R60US variants were built from 1960 through 1969 and featured an engine with 30 hp as opposed to the R60 with its offering of 28 hp. The top speed of the variant models was clocked at 90 mph. The total weight was 430 pounds with a fule capacity of 17 litres they averaged 47 miles per gallon for fuel economy. This is one of the most valuable vintage bikes from the 60s with a value of $25,000 placed on bikes in excellent condition.
Too bad the guy at the junkyard didn't know that or else he would've charged more than seventy dollars for it.
Soon it'd be ready to ride he'd look at getting a sidecar so Mickey could come along too he didn't want the mouse sitting behind him there was too much risk of him falling off and getting hurt.
Hearing his mother call him for breakfast he sighed before trudging upstairs to eat.
Oswald looked grimly down at the eggs and bacon his mom had arranged into a smiley face. With his fork, Oswald nudged the strip of bacon into a frown. There. Now he could eat.
Truth be told, he couldn't quite place the source of his bad mood this specific morning. Then again It's not like he needed a reason for his bad mood—he was, after all, Oswald The Moody Rabbit as his friends jokingly referred to him as—but he felt more off than usual even for him.
Maybe, he mused, it had something to do with the content of the dream that still troubled him. All well and good, he supposed, except for the fact he couldn't recall the dream in full. A touch, warm heat, then... a voice? A familiar one, too. But crossing the thin veil between sleep and waking life had scrambled the substance until only a vestige was left in its place. He thought he had it within his grasp for a moment but, as soon as he thought he had it, it slipped from his fingers again.
"Mornin' Oswald!" There was no mistaking that high-pitched squeak of delight thought Oswald.
"Hey, little—" His eyes settled on Mickey's face, beaming at him and a sickening click sounded in Oswald's head as the residue of his dream finally settled. He knew now who he'd been dreaming about.