Eternity Plus Two Laps

Listen everybody, Im almost 45 years old. I know I am slow...and getting slower and I do not care.
I suppose I have reached that point that we all feared when we were 16. I have become that guy that I swore I would never become. I am a good 20 pounds overweight ( I mean a GOOD 20 pounds). I putt around the track a full gear lower than I should. When I know people are watching me, trying to figure out if I am really that slow, I look down at my bike like there is something wrong with it. Yep, you know the guy, that is me!
Still, I do not care. I simply love being on the bike. I guess I have outlived (in moto terms) the desire to be the fastest, farthest jumping, shit hottest dude at the track. There is no shame in this at all. None. Due to the fact that I am only that slow to you, the observer.
In my mind, I am just as fast as I always was or always wanted to be. That is what counts man! The stoke. Can motocross still get you stoked? That is the issue.
When I was a young kid, before I even had a bike, I would ride my BMX bike around my house like I was at Unadilla or Carlsbad. I remember being the sports announcer for myself and how I would dream of beating Marty Smith (my big brother's all time hero). In my mind I was the fastest dude on the planet. Back then, that was all I needed.
Now we have come full circle. That is all I need now. The never ending moto in my mind. I am still banging bars with my heroes. Still blasting the berms and bombing into the flats full throttle.
Marty Smith will never catch me. It never ends. Moto #1-Eternity plus 2 laps.

The Stoke of Getting Stoked

You never know when it might hit you. That beautiful feeling of "The Stoke". Is it "getting stoked"? The verb or is it the noun? To me is is both. The verb leads me to the noun. Actions lead me to the state of being.
Maybe its looking at bike pics on the internet or hearing the whine of a bike on a nearby expressway. Sometimes it is seeing the Triumph jacket my wife bought me for Christmas hanging in my closet. Heck, maybe even seeing a cover of VMX magagzine or one of my helmets on the garage work bench. It starts the process of getting stoked.
Before too long, the jacket is on, the gloves and helmet are on, the bike is rumbling and your rolling down the driveway.
Now the verb becomes the noun. You are STOKED. The state of being. The joy of riding. The joy of being on a bike. The joy of being seen on a bike. The good life. Being Stoked.

First Post for Expanded Blog Page

Moto Mania is more than a passing interest of frame of mind. It is a state of being. An infection of sorts. As the profile of this site mentions, it started for me when the garage door of my childhood buddy, Pete Mahoney, raised to reveal an orange tanked Indian mini bike and a silver and red Honda XR75. I was sick. I was stunned. I was infected. The memory of standing in his driveway and watching him and his sister ride laps around his yard is still vivid and vibrant.
It took me many years after that fateful day to get a bike of my own. I started with a rolling basket case of a Honda SL100. I'm not sure what modifications my brother and his buddy made to that bike, but it would drain a battery in minutes. It wasn't long before that machine was retired to a spot in my dad's shack. It was replaced with a drool producing 1976 Suzuki RM100. Sweet. Metal tank, low pipe, 2 stroke beast. I remember doing the pre-mix in one of my mother's Mason jars because it had small quantity measurements on the side of it. This was a total necessity because the only gas I could get was the small amounts I could steal from my dad's mower or edger. I don't recall him ever asking me if I knew why his mower was always empty. I suppose he just figured it out. I rode the shit out of that bike. After school I was no longer a Tom Browne middle school student. I was Roger DeCoster or Bob Hannah or Broc Glover or Marty Smith or any other Sunday afternoon hero. That's how we did it back then. We scratched up whatever we could to put two wheels under our dreams.
What next? A 1981 Yamaha YZ125. Off the showroom floor. I paid for it by working day labor on my dad's construction sites one summer. That was the first bike I ever raced and I raced the wheels off of it.
Then came more YZs of various years, then the Kawasaki years, then another YZ. I borrowed and traded to keep my habit alive. What a life.
Now I love the Triumphs and the Ducatis and the vintage Japanese machines. Really, I love them all. I bet you do too. That's why your here.
I'm glad you stopped in today to check us out. Come back soon and often. We will always have alot to talk about. Bring a friend next time. The cold beer is on the house.