The WR-250FY, AKA Fire Breather, sitting in the front yard after being unloaded from my trusty ol' clam of a Ford Ranger.
The title of this post is from an old Mother Goose nursery rhyme, by the way, one that my grandmother, who was born in 1917, would sing to us when we were kids.
Interesting bit of trivia, huh? :)
Just unloaded the bike and my gear after another good Sunday afternoon-into-evening ride on the WR-250FY.
No crashes and no close calls, the bike performed flawlessly, and I did a good job of putting the bike where I wanted it.
To me, that's what riding is all about:
Doing what you feel is a very good job of riding the bike.
You know, sitting on the tailgate of my truck drinking some water after it get back from the ride is a great feeling, reflecting on what had just taken place.
Gives me the same feeling I had when I first started doing this stuff, back in the days when I wanted to ride so badly, I could taste it.
It's very good to know I still have that inside of me.
Time to watch some World Superbike racing I taped while out in the Pachaug forest.
Did anybody see any of the USGP of the FIM World MX1 championship from Glen Helen this weekend, by the way?
I saw the first moto, and it was some good action. :)
-John
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