Peter

 I get asked to go riding with people a lot. It goes along with having a motorcycle shop I reckon. Thing is though, for me riding is not a social occasion. When I put on a helmet I tune into a channel of focus that usually involves speed that nibbles at the outer edge of control. I often top off the tank and do not stop at all or even let off pace until I am back to the fuel jug with a near empty tank. It may go back to my training rides when I was racing pro off road or it may be that it is just my happy place to be alone, eyes glazed, hands tightly clenched while my brain makes split second calculations.  I know my time to cherish in this behavior is limited. Someday I must slow down. Or at least get a gps tracker to let my partner know where I am at.  After all I am a dad now. I do have a couple of true old pals that I do enjoy to share my now valuable and infrequent throttle twist time with. Being a dad and aligning schedules with others is tough. So is being a serious rider though, no mater who you are. A couple of years ago an old skinny dude with a long grey Billy Gibbons beard came into my shop and like many found my shop inspiring. After inviting me to ride with him like so many others I was ready to retort my reply I keep on ready playback and then I stopped myself and said sure, why not. I think it was the way he talked about sliding 5th gear corners with a twinkle in his eye on the many gas and oil field roads he knew. Peter has spent his life working the oil and gas fields of western colorado, all the while riding dirtbikes. At 67 years old he still does just that. He has only bought two bikes brand new; A Suzuki TM400 that he rode into the ground and his current stead a 1982 Honda XR500. The first time we rode together, I was at first concerned. He proclaimed he was geared up after grabbing some old work gloves and a street bike helmet with a badly scratched visor. He took off like a raped ape and I was doing everything I could to stay above his roost. We were instantly in 5th gear as he flew over blind crests spinning his bald as a baby's ass rear tire like a speedway champ. "Crap!" I thought, I am about to have to call an ambulance to the middle of nowhere. But then he started giving me hand signals while in the middle of 5th gear corner slides... "Fuck! This dude IS for real!" Since then we have enjoyed some really good rides together. He gets paid to go out and service the oil pumps so it is free gas to him and he gladly hauls me along. He might not ride singletrack at my stupid pace though he is never far behind and he rides pace on the roads faster than any young bucks I ride with. He likes to stop every once in a while to puff one of his doobies. I however keep my recreating to only one form at a time these days. But I am learning to enjoy the ride along with the riding.