His bikes running strong, better than itís best.
The surface is flat and warm smelling of salt.
With sounds in the air of compressors and engines blasting in every stall.
Men wrestle with steel for power and time, all in the jest of doing their best to set the goal for all the rest.
The sun is right and the clock is reset for the last run this day shall yield.
Time fuels the hunger inside a manís heart that thirsts for speed, as tomorrow may not come its today that he needs.
On the wind and a prayer he flies through the air, faster it seems than sound.
His father recalls the days of the past and smiles at last at the shadow he cast on the ground.
All has led up to this moment in time, the melding of souls and blood sweats the reaping.
In an explosion of passion to rival life in itself the throttle has been twisted, unspoken pride no one could hide builds memories forever worth keeping.
So much of today is the rest of our lives and tomorrow waits for our presents to be delivered.
No closer bond can there ever be built than that of a father son team, laying down the stakes that always it takes to prove to themselves that they were no fools to be takin.