it ain't squat.

Let the candy bottom people stay on the roads where their motors and engines belong. Near the beer and gas stations. Long live NASCAR, on the pavement, with the rednecks, and as far south as possible.

Their mascot is a hyena, who takes what he can and then pees on the rest so no one else can enjoy. And they love it!!

Don't know what it's like to enjoy critters, snow, their own thoughts!! Nope, noise, exhaust, harrumphing and gallumphing around!

Wimps, all of 'em!! (Not NASCAR drivers, the rest of 'em.) No need for ball-warmers around these "guys". And they want to go where the big boys go! If they ever got there, the big boys would move.

There's something a bit honorable about sweat, more than one can say about exhaust and spilled oil. A bit more refreshing to hear one's own heavy breathing than the growl of minimally-muffled two-strokes. It's a bit of a "trip" to look back at what my own body did, than to talk about what a great machine hauled my lazy ass somewhere.

Arf (I don't know why I bother - if they could "get it" they would have. No one wants to be so helpless they HAVE to have machines, any more than anyone really wants to be in wheelchair.)