There is a reason it rhymes with crack . . .

I mean really. I have an addiction. Most of you reading this share my addiction. The track… I am not a racer. I don’t get to shoot as many track days as I would like, and I get to ride even fewer. I record all forms of motorbike racing to watch through the off season, and I have exhausted my supply on the DVR. I am going through withdrawl.

I got a quick fix at Supercross a couple weeks ago. The smell of race gas wafting through the paddock was enough to make me forget most of my troubles, but that has since faded. It has gotten so bad, that I have a 10 minute video of me at Thunderhill playing on repeat in the background. I need to find a solution. Something to distract me every few minutes.

I need an off season goldfish memory.

Goldfish have an exceptionally short memory, probably evolved from centurys of living in a bowl with nothing to do but wait for food. Every three seconds, the world is new to them.

“Hey look, it’s my reflection!”
Three seconds later…
“Hey look, it’s my reflection!”

I was skeptical about this until I observed my wife’s fish, Mr. Wendell (yes, named after the Arrested Development song. You are very observant!) mistake his poop for food, eat it, spit it out, and eat it again…

Over…

And over…….

And over…………

Where am I going with this? I really don’t know. I just want the AFM season to start (can they just skip round one though?) so I can take pictures of that, and not write blog entries that have the featured picture be a fish.

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