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So...this is my first blog post. I've been kicking around ideas as to what subject I wanted to write about and after some mental to and fro I decided to start at the least for me.

I'm sure there will be others with stories that they might want to share and if so, please do...mine is going to be an ode as well as an explanation(hopefully it'll make sense here soon!)

My personal reason that I wanted to ride can be summed up in 2 words: Uncle John.

I was about 9 or 10 when he stopped by my house in upstate NY riding some ugly orange 2-wheeled thing...not sure what Japanese company made it but I remember it was orange as the day is long. He talked to my mom for a few minutes then came over and asked me if I'd like to go for a ride with him! I was stoked and jumped at the chance. He coached me for a minute about what should and shouldn't happen while riding with him and then cranked her up and let me climb on board. Wow! This was gonna be we went. Around the block once, a trip that lasted all of 5 or 6 minutes and I clung to him for dear life the whole way. I loved that fact, every time I told the story we had gone a bit further and faster than the time before.

A couple of years went by and Uncle John went through some "changes" as far as bikes are concerned. The next thing I knew I was sitting outside one summer afternoon and this loud, rumbling mass of bike comes around the corner with a heavily tatooed bearded biker on board. It was HIM...riding a Harley(FXE or FXR) and smiling from one ear to the other. I talked to him about the bike as I was getting old enough to want to know about bikes and cars and things and decided that I, too, one day would be a rider.

Well, as happens in life, I never got my first bike until much later. Uncle John divorced my aunt and moved to SC. He still had his bikes and every once in a while I'd get a letter from him about this and that. I started thinking that there would still be time for him and I to get together and go riding. I ended up getting stationed in Florida(I was in the Army) and thought maybe this would be a good move since he was in SC. But, again, as happens in life....I would never get a chance to go ride with him.

I got a call from my mother one day about 4 years ago that Uncle John(not officially my uncle anymore but that didn't matter) had taken his own life. I'll never know the pain that he must have been in to do that, I just know I miss him. I had a Sportster and then bought my Victory early in 2008. We never got to ride together while he was here, but I can't help but feel like he rides with me every time I throw my leg over the Hammer. I can almost hear him, "Com' on Mikey, let's get rollin' man!" "That damn bike ain't gonna ride itself!"

I sure hope there's highway in heaven!!!!

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