For me the itch began over 35 years ago, and it has never stopped.
Spent many of Sundays watching out the front window for the Chrysler station Wagon pulling the 4 place trailer loaded with Ski-doo's to pull in. Just so I could ask my Dad and brothers: How was the trip? Did anyone crash? When can I go? Steve, did you run into the back of the car again? (Dad told him not to go too fast the first time he was allowed to load his own sled on the trailer. He drove it right into the back end of the Chrysler)Seems like every week I would help carry those Egg shaped hoods to the basement for some fresh fiberglass repair and a fresh coat of Ski-Doo yellow paint.
Ohh when my dad brought home that new Allouette Jr. Brute for me, that was the beginning of my freedom.
Now, all summer long when riding the Harley, what are the most of my thoughts while riding??
Imagining that the road I'm on was a freshly groomed trail.