Here I am, at home in front a crackling fire, enjoying a quiet evening with a glass of "stinkin'" Merlot, thinking of what I would like to accomplish in my life. O course, this, I will limit to the sport of motorcycling.

First on "The List" is: Become a racer! I have been watching on and off all sorts of motor racing since I was a young lad. From the day I was dreaming of becoming the next Ross Peterson, but without even trying to line up on the grid of a motocross race. I have contemplated go-kart racing . . . yet, it never stemed into something concrete. The closest I ever been to racing was on a dirt track my dad's cousin made with a bulldozer. Oh, I also woke up at 4:30 every second Sunday to watch Jacques Villeneuve on his way to become a world champion.

Now at age 38, I am realising that I am letting slip through my fingers something that has passioned me for my entire life. Fear! Fear of not being up to the task. Fear of being slow. Fear of crashing. Fear of failure. Not to mention I had good reasons not to make the move: too expensive, I don't have the time, it's quite risky, reconstructive surgery scares me a little.

Last year, I was talking to a local racer, listening to his advice on tire compound and air pressure. Then, leaning against the fence under a blazing sun, I was spotting my "counscellor" scorching the tarmac . . . dead last. My first reaction was "I'm taking advice from a loser?" Of course, two seconds later it downed on me that even in last place on the racetrack, this guy was way ahead of me. I began to realised that no tires, nor tricky rear shock could bring me close to that level of riding unless I get in there. The best way to improve my VFR's performance was to replace the bulky lump between the handle bars and seat with a race tuned leaner entity.

While I am still working on the leaning part with some degrees of success, I registered to a race course starting next summer. Now, tinkering on the bike is for my pleasure only, not to increase performance. . . at least for now.