When I was in junior high school, I wanted a motorcycle more than anything on earth. My life would not have been complete without it. I cried myself to sleep many nights because the reality of my riding my own motorcycle seemed so close, yet the reality of my parents’ purchasing one seemed light years away. I think that’s what hurt so badly back then: I knew they had waaayyy too much sense to trust a kid my age with a motorcycle. But John Earl had one, and Danny had one, and they were younger than I was.

And do you know what my otherwise fiscally responsible (off-the-charts responsible, really) parents did? They actually bought me a motorcycle! (This fiscally responsible parent questions—all these years later—why did they go and do a fool thing like that?) Back then, though, I w...

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