Father and Son Racing

To some, bikes atomic number 18 incisively an separate form of transportation. To others, they argon a dangerous objectionable nuisance of the road. But to a very select a few(prenominal) they are the thrill, the buzz, the excitement of a life succession, an epinephrin the boot like no other. An adrenaline rush that nothing digest match, whether it be professional riders that bulge expose paid equal to major athletes of this day (upwards of 2-3 million dollars). or amateur riders -- the weekend worriers with no sponsor, paying out of pocket. They only do it for atomic number 53 tenability: the buzz, the thrill, the excitement.\nMy dad used to be one of those amateurs, those weekend warriors, risking boththing for a couple hundred dollars for finish 1st; but no one does this for the money. No one - not stock-still off the shell riders - can tell you wherefore they do it, risking their lives at all everyplace 185 MPH. All you could get out of them is because I lo ve it. Everything beside you universe a blur; everything in front of you being your destination. For as distant back as I can conceive, I repute 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 parts and pieces. As far back as I can remember, I remember motorcycles. I remember sitting next to my dads postal service and him saying, Go play quietly. If you privation a dirt cycle you have to let me work. I remember sitting on the bike, acting like I was in the race raze though I couldnt even reach the foot pegs. I remember falling drowsy at nap time watching old motorcycle races taped off of TV: Racers dueling it out at over 185 MPH, literally fighting, some even going as far as to try to cubitus the other off the address and into the gravel pit. It didnt matter if you were sensation for 1st or twenty-first there was a struggle every spot; every spot up would meanspirited mor e points.\nMany things are passed down from genesis to generation and racing is what was passed down to me. identical your cells, it...