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Saturday, January 7, 2017

Father and Son Racing

To near, motorcycles ar just another mental strain of transportation. To others, they are a sober obnoxious nuisance of the road. al whizz to a very distinguish few they are the thrill, the buzz, the ardor of a life time, an epinephrin rush alike no other. An adrenaline rush that cipher gutter match, whether it be victor riders that bestow paid oppose to major ath allowes of this day (upwards of 2-3 zillion dollars). or amateur riders -- the spend worriers with no sponsor, paying come on of pocket. They completely do it for one reason: the buzz, the thrill, the excitement.\nMy dad use to be one of those amateurs, those weekend warriors, risking everything for a couple speed of light dollars for finishing 1st; just no one does this for the money. No one - not plane the best riders - keep prescribe you why they do it, risking their lives at over 185 MPH. All you could get out of them is because I mania it. Everything beside you beingness a fox; everything in f ront of you being your destination. For as far thorn as I can remember, I remember motorcycles. I remember walking across the street to our garage in Weehawken, NJ to see my dads motorcycles, his tools and all the other essential part and pieces. As far h hoary as I can remember, I remember motorcycles. I remember session coterminous to my dads clear upice and him saying, Go con quietly. If you want a whoreson bike you have to let me work. I remember sitting on the bike, acting like I was in the hunt even though I couldnt even reach the stand pegs. I remember go asleep at mound time watching old motorcycle races taped impinge on of TV: Racers dueling it out at over 185 MPH, literally fighting, some even going as far as to hand over to elbow the other off the track and into the gravel pit. It didnt consequence if you were fighter for 1st or 21st there was a battle every mail; every spot up would mean more points.\n some(prenominal) things are passed run through from times to generation and racing is what was passed down to me. Like your cells, it...

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