I really learned how to ride motorcycles in the high desert of Idaho
where we would crank up dirt bikes year 'round.
I remember one January I couldn't resist the urge to take a quick ride.
My gloves were unlined cowhide.
It got so cold I stopped and wrapped my hands around the hot exhaust pipe to warm them.
It dried the cowhide up so much I had to discard the gloves afterward.
I bought my first Harley when daughter Samanth was just around 9 years old.
When I arrived home with it, Sam ran out to look.
She was so taken by the paint and chrome she walked right up to it and accidently touched her leg against the hot exhaust pipe.
It healed fine but it wasn't a good experience.
From that point, I always knew to warn little kids as they approached the bike to look.
With my second Harley, I got to the point where on hot days,
I would take rides wearing shorts.
I knew there were certain positions that could cause me to touch the inside of my calf against the hot pipes but I rode that way anyway.
Every once in a while I would forget and get burned.
That didn't stop me.
(Note: Brain Surgeons, Rocket Scientists and Joe the Professional... do not dwell on this site)