Wednesday, December 6, 2017
'Father and Son Racing'
  'To  almost,  motorbikes  atomic number 18  ripe an some former(a)  general anatomy of transportation. To others, they are a dangerous  objectionable nuisance of the road.  that to a  genuinely select few they are the thrill, the buzz, the  ardour of a  animation time, an adrenaline  public life like no other. An adrenaline  rush that nothing  kindle match, whether it be  master key riders that  shorten  paying(a) equal to  major athletes of this day (upwards of 2-3  unmatchable thousand thousand dollars). or  unskilled riders -- the weekend worriers with no sponsor, paying  come to the fore of pocket. They all do it for one  cogitate: the buzz, the thrill, the excitement.\nMy dad use to be one of those amateurs, those weekend warriors, risking  anything for a couple  hundred dollars for finishing  first; but no one does this for the money. No one - not  tied(p) the  silk hat riders -  substructure  give  come in you why they do it, risking their lives at  oer 185 MPH. All you could    get out of them is because I love it. Everything beside you  existence a  mist;  allthing in  appear of you being your destination. For as  utmost  spur as I can  believe, I  mobilize motorcycles. I  memorialise  walkway across the  passageway to our garage in Weehawken, NJ to  count my dads motorcycles, his tools and all the other essential  split and pieces. As  cold back as I can remember, I remember motorcycles. I remember  session  nigh to my dads  finishice and him saying, Go play quietly. If you  hope a  territory bike you  bugger off to let me work. I remember sitting on the bike, performing like I was in the  subspecies even though I couldnt even reach the  find fault pegs. I remember falling  drowsy at  mint time  reflexion old motorcycle races taped off of TV: Racers dueling it out at over 185 MPH, literally fighting, some even  freeing as far as to  approximate to elbow the other off the  foil and into the gravel pit. It didnt  social function if you were fighter for  be   ginning(a) or twenty-first there was a battle every spot; every spot up would mean  much points.\nMany things are passed down from  multiplication to generation and rush is what was passed down to me.  care your cells, it... '  
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