I personally love seeing the Jackass Flats, Dayton bar, bike nights. It's hundreds of bikes. Nothing says fun like tossing a leg over the bike, riding two miles. Drinking copious amounts of alcohol and talking about how bad ass your bike is. Only to toss a leg over again, with or without assistance, to ride back those two miles. Then be like, "Damn, I'm a Boss" and "I bet I looked ultra hot to those 55 year old, fake tan, worn out old hags". Nothing says satisfaction like when you finally make it home and are hanging up your vest with all those SoA patches and unlacing those brand new orange and black boots, to slip on those Sperrys and bust back out the Tommy H polo. Straight up hardcore. This is what I dream for kids. This right here.