When I got married, my bride to be gave me one stipulation: no motorcycles. I reluctantly agreed with the worst moping hangdog footdragging resignation that I could muster.
Now, some of you may groan and I can understand that. But there are a couple things that you should be aware of: cars were a given. Track car? Sure. Lotus 7 replica: yuppers. Porsche: if the money is there, naturally. Of course, I haven't availed myself of all of the options yet, but I do have a nice track rat E30 M3 in the garage, just waiting for fairer weather.
The other part of this concession: I've never own a bike. I realized early on that it was not good for my health. I live in a seaside town of 25,000 people packed into 4 square miles on the north shore of Boston. All around this town the population and car density is equally abyssmal. Worse, it's filled with Masshole drivers. Add to this my penchant for spirted driving and all I could see in a future with a bike was organ donations.
So I gave up nothing.
At least that's how I rationalize it.
