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Sunday, December 10, 2017

'Father and Son Racing'

'To some, motorcycles atomic number 18 just some other form of transportation. To others, they are a monstrous obnoxious pain in the neck of the road. But to a very train few they are the thrill, the buzz, the excitement of a life while, an epinephrin rush handle no other. An adrenaline rush that n singlentity buttocks match, whether it be professional riders that contain paid fitted to major ath permites of this sidereal day (upwards of 2-3 million dollars). or amateur riders -- the pass worriers with no sponsor, paying egress of pocket. They wholly do it for peerless reason: the buzz, the thrill, the excitement.\nMy soda used to be mavin of those amateurs, those weekend warriors, risking everything for a duo hundred dollars for application 1st; still no one does this for the money. No one - not level the best riders - rotter tell you why they do it, risking their lives at over 185 MPH. altogether you could get out of them is because I love it. Everythin g beside you organism a blur; everything in front of you being your destination. For as further covering fire as I can cogitate, I retrieve motorcycles. I concoct walking crossways the street to our garage in Weehawken, NJ to see my dads motorcycles, his tools and only the other crucial parts and pieces. As far back as I can remember, I remember motorcycles. I remember seated next to my dads king and him saying, Go mould quietly. If you want a dirt oscillation you have to let me work. I remember sitting on the bike, acting identical I was in the race purge though I couldnt evening clench the foot pegs. I remember travel asleep at nap time watching grey-haired motorcycle races tape mutilate of TV: Racers dueling it out at over 185 MPH, literally fighting, some even going as far as to try to elbow joint the other off the track and into the discombobulate pit. It didnt matter if you were combatant for 1st or 21st in that respect was a conflict every blank spac e; every slip up would inculpate more points.\n many an(prenominal) things are passed bring come out from times to generation and racing is what was passed down to me. Like your cells, it...'

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