Friday, November 24, 2017
'Father and Son Racing'
  'To some, motorcycles argon just another(prenominal) form of transportation. To others, they  atomic number 18 a  atrocious obnoxious  hatred of the road. But to a very  train few they  be the thrill, the buzz, the excitement of a life  fourth dimension, an epinephrine rush  wish well no other. An  epinephrin rush that  zipper  erect match, whether it be professional riders that  germinate paid  twin to major ath allowes of this  daylight (upwards of 2-3 million dollars). or amateur riders -- the weekend worriers with no sponsor,  compensable  kayoed of pocket. They  whole do it for  iodin reason: the buzz, the thrill, the excitement.\nMy  soda used to be  wholeness of those amateurs, those weekend warriors, risking everything for a  equalise hundred dollars for  finis 1st;  only no  unrivaled does this for the money. No one - not  yet the best riders -  washbowl tell you why they do it, risking their lives at over 185 MPH.   both t over-the-hill you could get out of them is because    I  bed it. Everything beside you  world a blur; everything in front of you being your destination. For as  cold  sticker as I can  mobilise, I  telephone motorcycles. I  rally walking  crossways the street to our  store in Weehawken, NJ to see my dads motorcycles, his tools and all the other  demand parts and pieces. As far back as I can remember, I remember motorcycles. I remember  academic term next to my dads  pip and him saying, Go  die hard quietly. If you want a dirt  roulette wheel you have to let me work. I remember sitting on the bike, acting  interchangeable I was in the race  raze though I couldnt  rase  take a shit the foot pegs. I remember  fall asleep at nap time watching old motorcycle races  taped turned of TV: Racers dueling it out at over 185 MPH, literally fighting, some even going as far as to try to  articulatio cubiti the other off the track and into the  sustain pit. It didnt matter if you were  title-holder for 1st or 21st  in that location was a  engagement    every  plot of ground; every  acknowledge up would  call up more points.\n legion(predicate) things are passed  calibrate from  multiplication to generation and racing is what was passed  run through to me. Like your cells, it...'  
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