In 1985 I got my first street bike. It was an MZ 250 two stroke that I bought from a co-worker because he had just bought a new Yamaha. I rode the crap out of it for a year and bought my own new Yamaha. The same co-worker and I became very good friends riding our bikes through the canyons every weekend leaving our worries and families behind. A few years passed and I took a different job and he got some new friends with Suzukis that were just a little too psycho for me(passing on the double yellow between cars going both ways). I moved to the North side of town and didn't see him anymore. A few nights ago I had a dream about him and decided to look him up. I stopped by his house and visited for a while. He had a falling out with the Suzuki boys(one of them crashed right in front of him)and gave up on riding altogether, got himself a 4x4 and started going to Moab. Seems strange to me that the person that really got me interested in riding lost interest himself. He sold the Yamaha and hasn't owned another bike since. Now he's had twelve surgeries including three to his back and probably couldn't ride if he wanted to. It made me a little sad to think maybe if I had stuck around he might have kept riding but I just couldn't deal with the other guys behavior. Oh well.....