It started innocently enough, probably before I can even remember. No, now that I have had some time to think about it (I spent a few hours looking at old pictures… You will soon find that I have a bit of a problem focusing) I remember the exact moment, and have the picture to back it up. This picture was taken at a time in my life that holds very few but fond memories. I was four after all. I am fairly certain that this one event, documented in living color by my mom and one of those 110mm cameras with those bizarre tall flashes that you can flip over so you can use the other side 31 years ago is the first self promise I made to uhhhh…. myself.
I have long since forgotten what my voice sounded like back then, but I distinctly remember telling my mom that someday I was going to get my very own motorcycle. Granted I still had a bit of a journey.
Like training wheels for example. And Women. A short list of estrogen filled roadblocks. It started with my mom denying my repeated nagging for a mini dirt bike, not to mention the bigger dirt bike that she would not allow, or finally once I turned 16 the “ninja”(it might have been a Honda, my bike recognition ability was pretty bad back then too) that I wanted. I thought I had her once. I was 18. An adult. I still lived with my mom, but I was paying rent, and she no longer could keep me from my destiny. I even lived above a motorcycle dealership in Kenosha Wisconsin. Destiny. So why didn’t I get my first bike until I was over 30? I will spare you the details, but the 15 years that separated my living with my mother and my living with an SV650 in the garage were filled with financial hardships and estrogen roadblocks two and three… I now have an awesomely supportive wife, two bikes and two jobs (Technically all three if you count working turn 11 at Moto GP) that would not exist if it was not for motorbikes. My point? Not sure if I had one, but it is the off season for racing, I needed something to write about, and the holiday season usually brings back childhood memories. This year I was reminded that staying true to yourself pays off, it just sometimes takes 15 years.