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A buddy, Jimmy Gates, passed this on:
A man sits astride a beautiful machine. No show bike, but a racer, with dirt and oil on it, but only contributing to its all business appearance, the man and machine are one.
One kick and the engine throbs to life, and a broad grin builds across his features. His eyes focus a thousand yards away, the throttle turns, the revs go up and the big twin leaps forward as he drops the clutch...
As the machine roars away, I want to say wait! I wanna talk some more, wait..., but he's moving, faster, headed for the horizon, out on the desert...The sound is perfect, the machine in tune, the rider balanced expertly, till only a distant roar and a small smudge of dust in the far distance fades and someone next to me says, there...he's gone....
The machine is still running, the man still rides. He is the same ...He is only gone from my sight, out of my world...
Because at that instant he disappeared over the horizon, another man, far away, standing with many others, looking, waiting for him, says "LOOK!, There he comes! It's Bud!"... and he is home at last.
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