I'm in the process of putting together a new blog post about my love for motorcycles. I sent an email to my dad the other day and asked him if he'd please send some photos of his old bikes, my old bikes, some photos of me in my first attempts as a flat-track racer, and the one specific photo of Jay Springsteen and me at the Parkersburg 1/2-Mile when I was 1o years old.
During this past year, he has moved to his cottage at the lake full time, and he said it would take him a while to dig those things out and get them to me. He told me that, while he's looking, I better make sure to include this little story in my blog. I definitely don't remember this day, but it's one thing he says he'll never forget...
"Your first experience with motorcycles goes like this: I was in your grandmother's garage on Bluff St. changing the oil in my 64 Sportster. You came in with a brand new pair of cowboy boots on. I told you to sit on the chair next to me and the bike while I changed the oil. I left you alone for less than a minute, and when I returned you had jumped off of the chair and were standing in the pan of oil I had just drained from the bike. I guess ever since then you've had Harley oil in your veins...Love dad."
No matter what it is, you have to get it from somewhere.