November: Seasonal visits to Taiwan are de rigueur in the bike game, but their frequency and redundancy wreak havoc on normal living stateside. To minimize its impact on my regular work week, I take my fall excursion to the epicenter of the ROC industrial complex over Thanksgiving weekend. Excellent strategy. Vendors have seldom moved faster, and preproduction samples have never looked better. No one seemed to miss me in their triptothan haze. I can't wait for St. Paddy's Day…
October: For years I have kicked off fall with a visit to the Sunshine State to celebrate the birthdays of my mom, my grandma, two uncles and a cousin. Not this year. With one uncle dead, one uncle preoccupied, grandma in hospice and mom not giving a shit, what's the point?
September: I stopped counting the bike-industry trade shows I've attended around the turn of last century, but I'm sure Interbike 2008 is in the low 30's. This year's Vegas dog and pony show was special because I spent the evening with old friends in the VIP lounge at an otherwise forgettable bro' down.
August: Cruised the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean for eight days with mom. By the second port-of-call we were having a blast.
July: Drove cross-country to Charlotte, NC, non-stop with friends and co-workers for a three-day motorcycle event in the heart of NASCAR country. Gas tab: $4,700. Dinner at Chappy's in Memphis: $250. Grassroots street cred in the underground chopper scene: priceless.
June: Said good-bye to a terrible old client and hello to a wonderful new one.
May: First stench of a rotting economy wafts by in 150-dollar barrels of crude. Big Oil rejoices, blue-collar bikers and working stiffs bawl. I gird for battle by renting my Elsinore home to a friend and moving to a 900-square-foot apartment one mile from work.
April: The third and final El Diablo Run sets records for attendance and debauchery. 250 lovers of hand-built Harleys, hopped-up Hondas and temperamental Triumphs descend on Baja for one last hurrah.
March: After months of research and years of internal debate, I finally take the plunge into pet ownership by adopting a three-year-old Welsh Corgi named Willis. His playful nature and dog breath touch my heart.
February: The third custom motorcycle I have built in as many years sells for $500 less than total receipts. With no outlaw chopper to ride into Mexico in April, I buy a BMW G650 XC dualsport bike for some off-road fun.
January: The 2008 Supercross season begins. I celebrate it and my 46th birthday by going solo to San Francisco for a weekend of post-holiday R&R. Torrential downpours put a damper on my plans to ride road bikes with Grant Petersen at Rivendell Bike Works, but nothing can stop me from watching the SF SX from VIP seats in the Edison Field bar. Good-bye and good luck, Ricky Carmichael.
Redux: I just reserved a double room at the Triton Hotel on Union Square for next month's San Francisco Supercross. My friend Andy Jenkins is joining me next year, but everything else will be exactly the same. Pray this ain't deja vu all over again—I don't think I can endure another year like the last one…
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