High on the Hog

by: Thomas M. Rickers

I’ll never forget my first time. It started out a little rough: herky-jerky stops and starts, flailing legs, panicky sweating and thoughts of God, I hope no one is watching this. But once I had nailed down the basics, once I was finally out there with the throttle open, leaning into the curves, it hit me: I was riding a motorcycle, my motorcycle. It was pure, childlike joy.

Read more.