There is always next year.

I remember when I was growing up and looking at motorcycles, wishing I could have one. I bought my first bike for a whopping $100 from a friend. An endoro type bike called a Hadaka, 125cc's and wow, it was fast! So I thought! It smoked, leaked and sounded rough, tough and EPA would have shot me for riding it! As the years and bikes went by, I remember drag racing friends and others on the boulevards of cities on both coast, west coast riding was on a borrowed bike I could use anytime. East coast, I bought my first rode bike, 550cc on this one. I remember racing the newer bikes, the bigger bikes, and the crazies that rode them. I sat at one light, looking tough in my Hawaiian T-shirt, shorts and sandals, open face helmet and a gang, yes, a gang rode up and started harassing me, the blaring of the horns, the laughter, the roaring engines and when it was all done, as I watched them all ride away, I thought, ouch, those girls on the rented moped really didn't like my shirt! As for the memories they will return and I look forward to new ones. As the season closes here in the Northeast, I look at the bike in its' garage and think, There is always next year.