Our posse of ten in ages ranging from 40-something to 60-something met up in Indianapolis this weekend for the motorcycle races down there. Our group had to have won the cleanest bike award as the prep boys were hard at it during the rain Friday night (see picture below). Other than the Friday downpour though, the weather was dry, crisp, and enjoyable through the weekend. Thankfully Hurricane Ike didn't rear his ugly head like last year's race. The race itself was like the majority of Super Bowls; a blowout. The two riders that were favored (I would quote names but don't know diddly in this arena) wiped out so the winner, Jorge Lorenzo (the Spani
ard!) had a huge lead after they went down about mid way through. The whole scene is fun though, regardless of the race outcome. We got to park our motorcycles on the Indy racetrack again this year; no charge and rock star treatment coming and going. The booths had a little of everything. Yamaha had a band in theirs. They were all playing Yamaha instruments and playing them quite well. The Speed Channel had leather couches in theirs. You could see some serious slugs plopped down on the ten or so they had out. Those folks weren't going anywhere soon. It also seemed a requirement to have a poser at each booth. "So, what do you do for a living?" "I pose." It's a job though, eh? Their cheeks must hurt from putting on the fake smile all day. Lastly, I tried real hard not to add to my 200+ t-shirt collection but succumbed during a weak moment. My support group is going to give me the business tomorrow. "Hi, my name is Tim and I have too many t-shirts." "Hi, Tim."
ard!) had a huge lead after they went down about mid way through. The whole scene is fun though, regardless of the race outcome. We got to park our motorcycles on the Indy racetrack again this year; no charge and rock star treatment coming and going. The booths had a little of everything. Yamaha had a band in theirs. They were all playing Yamaha instruments and playing them quite well. The Speed Channel had leather couches in theirs. You could see some serious slugs plopped down on the ten or so they had out. Those folks weren't going anywhere soon. It also seemed a requirement to have a poser at each booth. "So, what do you do for a living?" "I pose." It's a job though, eh? Their cheeks must hurt from putting on the fake smile all day. Lastly, I tried real hard not to add to my 200+ t-shirt collection but succumbed during a weak moment. My support group is going to give me the business tomorrow. "Hi, my name is Tim and I have too many t-shirts." "Hi, Tim." Trail Head
