BY THE TIME ALL MY FAVORITE MOTORCYCLE RACING FOR THE YEAR FINISHES UP, I AM FAIRLY WELL WORN-OUT FROM ALL THE PRAISE AND HERO WORSHIP FROM THE PRESS CORPS FOR MAYBE ONE OR TWO RIDERS. I REALLY DON'T GIVE A CRAP ABOUT MUCH OF THE RACING SEASON.
IF YOU COULD MUFFLE THE ANNOUNCERS AND LISTEN TO THE BIKES DURING A BROADCAST... THE EXCEPTION MAY BE FIM SPEEDWAY GRAND PRIX.
MY OWN WINTER RIDING USUALLY GETS SHELVED FOR THREE TO FOUR MONTHS. ONLY A FEW DAYS POP OPEN FOR A LOCAL CRUISE AROUND THE LOCAL AREA.
... AND AS THE WINTER PLODS ALONG, NOT ONLY DO YOU GET OLDER, BUT YOUR MIND HARKENS BACK TO THE GOOD OLD DAYS OF PUTTING SOMETHING REALLY EXCITING BETWEEN YOUR LEGS!
IF YOU COULD MUFFLE THE ANNOUNCERS AND LISTEN TO THE BIKES DURING A BROADCAST... THE EXCEPTION MAY BE FIM SPEEDWAY GRAND PRIX.
MY OWN WINTER RIDING USUALLY GETS SHELVED FOR THREE TO FOUR MONTHS. ONLY A FEW DAYS POP OPEN FOR A LOCAL CRUISE AROUND THE LOCAL AREA.
A FEW MILES IN THE SADDLE ON A BRISK WINTER'S DAY...
WHAT? THAT'S NOT ME? I GUESS MY MIND IS GROWING COBWEBS AND THE DREAMT UP EXCITEMENT FOGGILY EMERGES FROM THE FANTASY SIDE OF THE CRANIUM. LET'S HOPE SPRING POPS SOONER THAN LATER.
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