Ray, 63. Thirty-four years a diesel mechanic. Bike since he was nineteen. A big touring bagger, fourteen years old, that he maintains himself in the garage with the radio on.
Two seasons of the shake, called vibration. Then, coming home on the interstate, the throttle hand went completely numb — not tingly, gone — and he rode the exit ramp with his left hand across the tank.
He sat in the driveway with the engine off for a long time. That night he looked up what a fourteen-year-old bagger was worth.
He bowed out of the fall run for the first time in eleven years. Told the boys his back.
“It wasn’t my back. It was that I couldn’t trust my right hand for two days straight.”








