Way, way back in the day, up at the cabin in Bass Lake….when I was a punk little kid around the ripe old age of 14, I remember John, being the John we all know and love, yells to me in his wet swim trunks with that big familiar grin….”Hey, you want to go for a ride?”. Up for an adventure and not exactly knowing what I was getting myself into, I said “Sure”. John started up his Triumph and I hopped on….he says, “You better hold on tight!!!”. I said to myself, “how in the hell am I supposed to get my arms around this guy….smile. His back was as wide as a barrel and his belly…well, you know, it was pretty big too. It felt uneasy for me putting my arms around this bear of a guy while we are both shirtless, wet from the lake and also helmetless. Sure enough, John takes off up that black asphalt driveway spewing pine needles everywhere while I hang on for dear life trying to figure out what I am I going to explain to my parents when I die…smile. We whip down some windy back country road with all of its twists and turns. I notice the road ahead of us finally straightens out and I figured "ohhhh....goood" the sweat from my hands will dry up from the fear. I could not have been any more wrong as John yells to me….”you better hang on”….the bike kicks into an even higher gear as he pops an 80 mph wheely with me hanging on like a tick. The back of my head slowly drops precariously closer and closer to that speeding asphalt below. John picks up on my slight panic and gives out a big belly laugh. WIth all of that, I had a moment of clarity when I realized how good of a rider John really was...…and like everything else in life….everything was going to be alright. Thank you John, Bobby Romanin