On a short, early-morning ride today aboard the VFR, a few bugs hit me - both physically and psychologically.
The first few as I traveled my self-described "Mountain Course" were physical bugs, which spotted the Arai's visor with cream-colored splats, followed by some greens and reds.
With June halfway over, my plans for purchasing a 2011 Ducati 848EVO by summer have suddenly vanished. Well, unless I hit the lottery by the Summer Solstice this Tuesday. But since I no longer play the lottery, this is 100-percent doubtful thinking.
If there's one race event that I anticipate more than anything throughout the year, it's the Isle of Man TT. To put this in perspective: if John McGuinness and Valentino Rossi were together, I'd shake the throttle hand of the 16-time TT winner first.
If I can attribute one trip that changed my entire outlook on life, and fueled my endless (and sometimes mad) need for traveling American roads, it was the 2002 Honda Hoot.
For the past seven days it did nothing but rain here in Northeastern Pennsylvania. There were peaks of sun on certain days, but dark clouds quickly swallowed this brightness, spitting endless streams to the ground.
At the unofficial start of riding season here in Northeastern Pennsylvania, two men were killed in separate motorcycle crashes. The early May incidents - one a single bike crash, the other involving a car - happened within a few days of each other.
The best lessons hurt, especially in the world of motorcycle racing. And yes, this was an accident, but one that hurt the pocket book, not necessarily the body.
I'll be honest. I'm sick of some blogs in the motorcycle industry, and hearing a bunch of garbage from people who have no passion for two wheels. Actually, I'm sick of blogs in general; most of them give weak minds a venue to vent.
One word throttles into mind: boring.