Is this thing on?

Hi there.

My name is Lucky and this is my blog about two of the greatest things in the world: pizza and motorcycles. Basically, I'm going to figure out routes to pizza places, ride to them and tell you about it. I'm going to drag my wife with me, of course, so she'll tell you what she thinks too. I might bring some friends along now and then too. Yes, you'll get to hear what they think. If you're lucky you'll get to see some pictures too.

But enough about that, let's talk about me for a change.

Pizza and I have a long history. When I was barely old enough to eat solid food, my mom took me out to lunch with my grandma. That was my first taste of pizza. Naturally, I wanted another taste. And another. And another. And that's how a 2 year old ate half of a large pizza. I cried when the pizza was gone.

To be honest, I still cry when the pizza is gone.

Motorcycles and I have almost as long of a history. I believe I got my first ride on a motorcycle when I was about 3 or 4. My uncle, Big Red, had a 60's era Yamaha something-or-other that he gave me a ride on (off-road, of course). He sat me in front of him, and told me to put my feet on the engine guards. It was a terrifyingly loud bike (at least to a 3 year old). I'm sure my mom still hasn't forgiven him.

My next ride was on another uncle's (Uncle Speed Racer) honda minibike. I was about 7, and after teaching me how, he let me ride it all by myself. I puttered around the yard for a while, and then decided to let 'er rip. I rode it straight into a tree. After my folks had pulled all the pine needles out of my nose, I wanted to go back out. I'm sure my mom hasn't forgiven him either.

When I was 16, I got to learn how to ride Big Red's Yamaha (yes, the one I got my first ride on). It was the coolest thing ever (and still amazingly loud). Naturally, after a month of riding I thought I was hot stuff and crashed. I told my mom I just tipped over, but you and I both know that I was going way too fast for that. From the stories I've been told, I think that I high-sided it ("You flew off it!! Are you OK???") . I know it was a long walk back to the bike. Apart from some scrapes, I was A-OK. Some of my family started calling me "Evel." I still haven't forgiven them.

A friend recently hurt his back, so I loaned him my Rat Buick (more about that later) while he recuperated. My friend, Baldy-Beard, rides a Yamaha Vino 125 scooter. Since he had my car, I took the scooter and rode it for a month or two. No crashes. Scooters rock and anyone who says otherwise is just jealous.

Recently, I bought a '91 Suzuki VX800. I'll tell you more about it later but for now I'll just say that it rocks. And that it isn't running. It broke down the day after I brought it home. I'm waiting for a part for it. So far, I've only ridden it 4 times.

That also makes me cry.