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Mind you, I don't actually ride. Thought I would someday, but now that I'm older the ol' self-preservation instinct is kicking in. (You real bikers out there know how many idiots there are out there on the roads in cages, I'm sure.) But I do look like I ride one. Must be the beard. Or the hair. Or the leather. Or the boots. I dunno.
Anyway, in 1995 I had the fortune to park my butt on three different bikes and get photographed. Here are the best of the results.
A year or so ago, I decided that I was going to try to put away the dream of owning a motorcycle and riding off into the sunset on the iron beast. Along with the idiots-in-cages issue, there's also all the other dreams and interests I still have (along with all those "adult" obligations), all of which would get in the way of me properly enjoying a motorcycle. Even so, I can't say I don't look up nearly every time I hear one go by.
Feb. 29, 2004
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