Every year gets more and more difficult.

Man. Every year gets harder for me. I remember when I first got into riding I was so enthusiastic. Then we lost Chris. I kept riding, it was hard. I remember at work I would talk to him in passing. He was the nicest guy on the planet and was new to riding. I was excited to teach him the ropes and go for a ride. He was excited too.

One day I get to work and it's just silent. Our president sent out a memorial email for him. His family made a website. Flyers went out. He died in a motorcycle crash. It was hard. At first, I was left with no emotion about it. I didn't know the guy to great extremes, I think it was a callous instinct kicking in.

I kept riding. I lost more friends. Over the years the tally adds up. I remember one kid in specific, Allen. He would be 18 a few days ago. He was 15 when he died in a motorcycle crash.

I remember the kid being so enthusiastic. He was so eager to learn. You could tell he was going to be a great rider. So much self preservation. A safe rider. Great kid and not a bitter bone in his body. Then out of nowhere.

I remember when my friend went down on the auferderheide. Right in front of me. I couldn't believe my eyes. I remember saying "FUCK" as he went off the road. So many things went through my mind - "Oh my god what if he's dead." "What will I do? We're in no where, with no cell service, what if he needs an ambulance." "This was a bad idea." "Shit!" and more "FUCK! NOT GOOD." Out of God's good grace... he got up. Shook himself off as I ran off my bike freaking out. He was okay. Bike banged up, but he was 100% fine. I was blown away. I thought I was going to lose another friend.

Every year more people die. I'm so sick of losing friends. Tonight, I was browsing through group rides on the 250 club and saw Allen's memorial day ride and his birthday was 2 days ago. I had forgot. I felt so bad. I couldn't handle it. For the first time in a very long time I broke down and cried over the whole ordeal. I suddenly remember all my friends who have died. People I've crossed paths with who aren't here. I cried. Even my wife was surprised, she came to talk to me.

Sometimes I don't know. I love riding. But what if next time it's me? What if some dumb bitch turns left in front of me and takes my life and my life affects others like these people affected mine.

Someday I will die. I understand this. Every time I get on my bike I realize I am amplifying that risk 100 fold. I sometimes wonder if it's selfish to do so. I love riding and it is addicting, but I realize it could take me from the ones I love in the blink of an eye. Sometimes I ask myself if it's really worth it. Yet I keep doing it.

I see my friends who have been riding since my age, they are great people. They love meeting riders. They are so selective of who they ride with. So callous to a degree. One day it sunk in. They've been riding that long? They are probably tired of dealing with death. It's hard. And you never know what will happen, there are no guarantees. I can't go on a ride and PROMISE myself or my wife I'll be back. Yet we both accept it. But every year I lose someone, it's that much harder.

I've slowed down so much. I ride like a grandpa. Justifiably so perhaps. Sometimes I wonder if I should put on the brakes and hang up the keys and just go enjoy my Porsches instead.

RIP to all my riding friends. Never forgotten. Always missed. Every year without you is another year I miss you. Those rides will never be the same.