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My uncle was a dyed in the wool old school "biker". Viking beard, long hair, mean disposition, friends of questionable employ who always seemed to be relating a story of pointless violence... I lived with him at ages 5-8. He rode all year round, regardless of the weather, and often with me on the back. I've had an obsession with motorcycles ever since. I suppose being able to jump off the back of his Harley out in front of my elementary school while my first grade buddies looked on in open-mouthed envy might have helped. ;-)
 
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