Cutting my teeth while tickling semi-reliable British bikes, racing on mostly European bikes and rounding it all out on Japanese dual sports, those indescribable days are over for me too. I could say 4-wheel drivers with cell phones have left me running scared but it is largely the once quick eyes and even slower reflexes calling the last tune for me.
As a sopping wet, seventeen year old outside of Kingman, Arizona listening to his Royal Enfield snap, crackle and pop from a passing afternoon rain storm - to a strong, fit young man chasing points at any number of nameless tracks in Colorado, Kansas and Idaho - to a shambling senior wondering just what to do with the last motorcycle he will own, I only have regrets that another 50 years to do it all over again aren't available.
Your first few words capture the essence, flotsam: "A two lane blacktop and the feeling of carving a curve just right. How life was perfect when the sun was hot and I rode into the shadow of tall pines and the temperature drop cooled me."
Whether by oneself, with a friend or two, or a group, it's been a great ride while "carving a curve just right". I'll share your farewell and thanks for the poignant post.
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