Today, completely by accident, I became part of a kick-ass racing motorcycle gang for about a half hour. I was driving along on Route 84, minding my own business, when a group of about 10 racing bikes (at least 3 were driving the same machine I was) merged onto the highway from Route 9 and surrounded me in the left lane. We all rode together all the way up to Route 91, and then rode together heading north for a few miles until they exited at the border of Hartford. It was the coolest moment of my life, hearing all of those engines reving at different times, moving closer and then further apart from each other, some of them popping wheelies for a few hundred feet while their engine raced - very cool stuff.
There's something about the motorcycle brotherhood that is so inherently tight in general, but it's something altogether different when a group of riders picks you up and integrates you into their group without saying a word, without discussing it, just accepting you because you are like them - period.
Today was a great day, that was the icing on the cake.
Thank you my brothers, stay vertical, keep the rubber on the road, and we will meet again...
