Daytona has come and gone.............

All good things must come to an end, and so it goes with Bike Week 2006. The weather could not have been any better, although the traffic seems to get worse with each passing year. Eighteen bikers died during this years festivities, mostly Harley-types without enough sense to wear a helmet. I like the freedom of choice, to wear, or not, a helmet. Personally, I feel naked without my Shoei.
Jodi made the ride down late in the week, and I was most impressed with her improvement as a motorcyclist. Her first trip down was probably the slowest trip to Daytona that I have ever done, but this trip was considerably faster. It would have been even faster had I not forgot our turn and took us 20 or so miles off course.
Papa Ron was in rare form. I have never seen him imbibe hard liquor at the rate he did on Thursday night. Thank God that he passed out relatively early in the evening, as the females on hand were running out of ass to grab. Bad Ron!
I bought a couple of tank-bags at the measly expo, which was probably the worst I have seen in the 15 or so years I have been attending. This year's exihibitors numbered only 25% of the number seen at previous expos. The one venue that actually expanded was the H-D/Chopper expo, with more stretched, bobbed, and fattened v-twins than should be allowed by law.
I missed attending the Daytona 200 this year. After taking off from the campground Saturday morning, I stopped at an ATM to take a withdrawl. I was shocked to see that not only was I not going to be able to buy the $45 ticket into the infield, but was $500 in the hole. Arrrggghhh! Apparently the bonus I was expecting and spending did not hit my account, and more over, would never hit my account. It seems, that by telling my "Boss" at werk, that he was an ass, cost me dearly. Damn! After recoving from that shock, I climbed on the VFR and thumbed the starter. I pulled in the clutch and attempted to snick her into first gear. The bike leaped forward and stalled. I guess I should have paid attention to that slow leak in the clutch slave cylinder as it had now turned into a rather vigorous spurt with each squeezing of the clutch. I pushed the bike out of the parking space and pointed her away from any solid objects, started the engine, and rolled on the gas....and banged her into first gear. Now, going up through the gears sans clutch is something I do on a regular basis, but down shifting was another story. I must have looked like a newby, as I did my best to avoid stopping or even slowing down for that matter. I went to the house. At least I got to watch the 200 on the TV, which, after all is said and done, is the best way to catch all the action. The race was great, but not without controversy. More on that in an upcoming post.