05-17-2024, 02:08 AM
Thanks, guys. I do feel much better for it. My job has become more physically demanding in the past few years as we add multiple elements to our events, and I'm working harder in my 50s than I did in my 30s. One or two weeks on the road, dozens of hours a day, unloading equipment, setting up, tearing down, reloading... it's basically a travelling circus. I ended last season in a back brace, elbow braces, and half-dead. Mrs. G and even my Mom were asking me how long I thought I could keep it up.
But, giving it some thought, I do have a pretty sweet gig. When I'm not on the road, I run my shop prepping and packing equipment and materials for our next events. As long as it gets done I can come and go as I please, park and store my motorcycles inside, work on them if I like, and take a five mile hike at lunch. I could probably find an easier job, but who would let me do all of that? Plus, the boss says the place would fall apart if I ever left.
And hard work, heavy family demands, and a glut of California traffic mean that motorycles are the one thing that bring me true joy. It's solitary time on a device that lets me circumvent traffic at will. And if things go to plan, Mrs. G and I will retire to a nice house in the San Diego area with my own little motorycle shop and some great riding roads just a short jaunt away. So, I need to be like some of you guys, riding into my 70s and 80s.
Lately, as I've come home from a week on the road, Mrs. G says I'm still as beat up and bruised as ever, but I'm not as exhausted. My bikes don't squat and graunch under me as much when I sit on them. And they can get up to speed easier, especially the little 48 hp Interceptor. I can maneuver through tight traffic and toss the bikes around more easily.
And, possibly most importantly, I'm catching more ladies glancing my way. I think a lot of that is the mustache, but you never know. Remember, you can look at the menu, but you gotta eat at home.
But, giving it some thought, I do have a pretty sweet gig. When I'm not on the road, I run my shop prepping and packing equipment and materials for our next events. As long as it gets done I can come and go as I please, park and store my motorcycles inside, work on them if I like, and take a five mile hike at lunch. I could probably find an easier job, but who would let me do all of that? Plus, the boss says the place would fall apart if I ever left.
And hard work, heavy family demands, and a glut of California traffic mean that motorycles are the one thing that bring me true joy. It's solitary time on a device that lets me circumvent traffic at will. And if things go to plan, Mrs. G and I will retire to a nice house in the San Diego area with my own little motorycle shop and some great riding roads just a short jaunt away. So, I need to be like some of you guys, riding into my 70s and 80s.
Lately, as I've come home from a week on the road, Mrs. G says I'm still as beat up and bruised as ever, but I'm not as exhausted. My bikes don't squat and graunch under me as much when I sit on them. And they can get up to speed easier, especially the little 48 hp Interceptor. I can maneuver through tight traffic and toss the bikes around more easily.
And, possibly most importantly, I'm catching more ladies glancing my way. I think a lot of that is the mustache, but you never know. Remember, you can look at the menu, but you gotta eat at home.