It certainly was a shithouse weekend that one. I've noticed that I'm not attending as many funerals of riders any more, thank goodness. Did we all grow up or is it just not spending so much time on KB any more? I'd like to think that time changed my riding for the better, but maybe growing up and seeing my children on motorcycles did more than attending funerals.
I still think about UncleB, Bruce and Daryl from time to time and wonder what might have been, especially this time of year, when my Facebook feed crops up with pics.
And I to my motorcycle parked like the soul of the junkyard. Restored, a bicycle fleshed with power, and tore off. Up Highway 106 continually drunk on the wind in my mouth. Wringing the handlebar for speed, wild to be wreckage forever.
- James Dickey, Cherrylog Road.
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