7 days....
7 days I had to spend in a car, rather than on my bike, all because of a tendinitis on my right wrist.

My bike, is the one and only thing that help me to cope with my "other" life.
When the morale is low: I ride; when I'm angry: I ride; when I need to see friends: I ride.

I'm a pretty fresh biker, having my license since end of may only. But I remember wanting to ride since 8 or 9 years old. I forgot about it, being caught in school, jobs and all those little annoyances.
But the day I bought my bike, the day I sat on it, then I remembered how much I wanted this. How much I anticipated this, how much I needed this...

Being a computer guy, I spend my days (and nights) sitting at my desk, watching numbers and letters that sometime don't have much of a meaning.

This "machine", this bike, this friend, is the best thing that happened to me in the last 2 years. It's more than a mean of transportation, but that, you already know.
This freedom, is an emotion you can only get by riding. Everything other people tells you about it cannot account for what it is.

When at 15, a friend of my sister came home telling me
That day was my first lesson: do not brake and turn at the same time when you are on gravels.
I went back home sorry, having a part of the clutch lever in my pocket, but knowing that riding was something I'll do.

Too bad it took me almost 20 years to remember....

 

When I was 13 I spent the summer with an uncle in West Virginia. One evening he took me to a gravel parking lot and showed me how the throttle, gear shifter and brakes worked on his CT90. The next day we went to an abandoned strip mine where he turned me lose. The rest of that summer was one that most kids can only dream of.
The next year my family moved to an area in northern Virginia that was out in the boondocks, on a private lake surrounded by woods. The closest town was 12 miles away. My folks bought me a CT70 that I spent all my free time on, & I do mean all my time. Rain or shine, hot or cold. In the winter, snow everywhere, I even rode on the frozen lake! Busted my *** a few times but a small price to pay for all that fun.
I outgrew my little 70 and it was followed by several other, progressively bigger bikes until February of '82 when I bought my first brand new motorcycle, an '82 Suzuki GS1100E.
I rode that bike, much the same as my 70, in all weather conditions, including snow storms that had people pulling off the interstate to sip coffee in truck stop diners. Never said I was the brightest rider out there, but you couldn't doubt my commitment to the way of life.
Considering the 5 or 6 times I wrecked that bike, it was actually in pretty decent shape when I sold it to a friend in '86. Other than a year or two with a Yamaha Tri-Z250 I didn't own another bike until early 2002 when I bought my first f4i, a 2001 w/6000 miles.
I've driven my wife's car to work maybe 3 times since I got that '01, and every time I've hated it. Nothing wrong with her car, but it isn't my bike.
I know this was a long post but even at that, I haven't begun to touch on how deeply motorcycles have seeped into my soul, how big a part of me, of what I am, they have been.
I'm not a highly social person, I don't go visit with friends, nor do I hang out in bars(anymore, lol) or go to the local bike nite gatherings. I'm grateful for having found this forum where I know there are others who feel the same things for their bikes that I feel for mine.

 

So I was just thinking about this and it's still really hard to believe this when we drew our definition of Jules from threads like this....

 

I agree....but this thread will probably be locked now.

 

life goes on

 

I wanted to ride as long as i can remember.I begged my parents to let me have a bike and they finally succumbed to the pressure when I was 8. I was pushing hard for a dirt bike, but what I got was an enduro bike complete with lights and signals...and I couldn't touch the ground.
My first lesson was in clearing on the side of Victor Mountain. I learned to operate the clutch and launch the bike in the length of the log I used to get on with. I had to use the log... when I tried to stop anywhere else the bike would tip on me. I didn't enjoy being pinned under it.
I rode the hell out of that bike...I rode it till I was 16. I learned to keep it running. And learned how to ride. I crashed countless times and still kept going.
I outgrew that machine. I got a bigger one and I got my liscense. My parents took me to a motorcycle safety course. I passed and they asked me to come back in two years and join them as an instructor.
I did. I instructed for nine years. Taught more than 500 people how to ride.
I guess I was lucky. I was earning enough money to keep myself in tires and insurance and teaching others to do someting I love.
I got greedy with my time and have been doing less teaching and more riding lately. My love of riding has never waned.