I grew up in an enduro-friendly area, where you could easily ride on large empty lots, even finding some places will hills to fly off of. The absolute best place to ride was where the state was in the process of building a big three-tier interstate exchange. Today, it’s I-44 at the Airport Road interchange…but back in the mid-70’s, on any summer day there might be 30 different dirt and enduro type bikes there. What great fun. My dad had a Honda street bike around that time, and we actually had the classic “someone made a left turn in front of us” accident as he was taking me to softball practice one day. The two things I remember most about that wreck was (a) the really quick realization that we’re going down, and (b) how my helmet sounded as it scraped along the pavement for it seemed a long ways. I learned a valuable lesson in wearing the right gear, since I only had on jean shorts and a t-shirt with my helmet…this was probably 1975. Ha ha, my mom said no more bikes around after that! Had another enduro around 1983 that I kept about a year. Fast forward past getting married, having two kids, and getting them both raised and into college…and my hubby and I decide to buy a couple of street bikes. It is hard to pinpoint what the appeal is. Just being out in the fresh air, hearing the motor and feeling the wind against you is pretty cool. I guess the feeling of speed as you accelerate from a stop is sort of addictive, as well. As a female rider, it’s amusing to get the occasional “you ride your own bike??” Yeah, I do!