Need for Speed

As far back as I can remember, I've always had a fascination for speed. As a little boy, going fast on my bicycle then as I grew older and learned how to drive, it was going fast in my car. The design and engineering that goes into every machinery, whether automobiles or motorcycles, interest me. I never wanted to be a mechanic or an engineer because I wanted it to continue to be a hobby so that the passion for vehicles would not fade. The tendency of having your interests as a job is that it becomes just a way of making a living and the enjoyment of it turns into drudgery.

In April of 2006, I decided to acquire a motorcycle -- a 2004 Honda CBr RR with a 600cc engine colored black and red. I already had the cars I wanted but didn't have my own motorcycle. I would just borrow from my friends when going out on rides with them. It was a very exciting time. I was single. I had a good job with a stable income and could afford the simple pleasures of life. I didn't want to grow old. I lived for the moment and just enjoyed myself. My weekends would be spent hanging out with my friends, going out to bars, working on my cars and bike. I would ride my bike, alone or with friends, along the coast of Highway One or up the mountains. I loved it. The wind blowing against you, the feel of the powerful engine beneath you and the scenery you pass by gave me such a sense of freedom. It made me feel so alive. I would look forward to days with fine weather so I could go out and ride.

In life, however, there is always a risk. No matter how careful or how skilled you are, accidents can happen. I was cocky and confident in my abilities that I never thought it would happen to me, but it did.

It happened on May 15, 2008. It started out as a sunny day and perfect weather for a ride. Twelve of my friends and I started our group ride from San Francisco to Fremont and back again ending at the Park Presidio.