Old Motorcycles

I am a man. I miss my father. I miss my mother. I miss my wife and all the dogs and cats I ever had. I miss my kids, I miss the house I grew up in. I miss that old oak I used to climb. I miss the people who raised me, the people who taught me, all the people who ever stopped to talk with me and all the women I ever chased when skirts were longer and music was slower. I miss all those long rides on old motorcycles, I miss the guys I rode with and I miss the guys I turned wrenches with. I miss the guys that I dreamed about the future with, the guys who were so certain they'd be the first ones to live forever, and I miss the guys who lived longer than they thought they would, though death still caught them in the end.