I was just getting back from a 2 month trip on my bike around the USA. Two months and 20,000 miles in the saddle. Little did I know that the 10 years that followed that trip would take me from Florida to New York. From Montana to Arizona and all points in between. All of it done on a motorcycle. I can't count the number of motorcycle shops, events, bike nights, rallys, races, and motorcycle gatherings I've been to, or how many bikes I have worked on in 10 years?
I have earned a group of friends that I call my family. Thanks to motorcycles. I have had photos, letters, and articles published in local and national motorcycle magazines.
I have been a member of motorcycle racing associations, motorcycle rights organizations, and motorcycle clubs ( no back patch needed in those clubs).
I have owned quite a few bikes in that time. Some have come and gone quickly. Some have stuck around to stand the test of time (unlike the women I meet).
It is safe to say that without motorcycles, I might have gotten married, had kids, gone to PTA meetings, cocktail parties, purchased a house in the burbs, gotten a 9 to 5 job, drove a subcompact, and all the other shit people are expected to do in their lives. FUCK am I glad my life went the way it did.
As I approach 40 in the next few years, I refuse to look at it as something to fear. I say pop the clutch, pin the throttle, hang on, and don't look back with regret. You can't do anything about it anyway, so why worry about the past. I can't wait to see where I go on two wheels in the next 10 years. Spain, Germany, Russia, Sweden, England, and many other places are on the to-ride list. I have some shit to get straightened out first, then the to-ride list will become the rode-there list.
Life is good and getting better, but life always rocks on a bike.