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06-06-08, 10:04 AM
My '89 Haro Master (with all parts from my old '87 Team Master) was stolen. This bike was the holy grail form my childhood, bought new with money earned mowing lawns. I was 14 when I got that frame and merged it with my '87, and I rode in small town Ortonville, Michigan from sun-up to sun-down on Summer breaks.
I remember building my quarter pipe at 13 years old with my Dad, and the look on his face when he realized what exactly I was going to do with it.
I remember flatlanding at the fire station on Sashabaw Rd.- some of the only flat concrete within several miles from my house.
I remember riding down to the Cracker Barrel and getting a Snickers and a glass-bottle Gatorade.
I remember cutting half the height off that same quarter pipe and trailering it out to my friends grandma's house and lake jumping into the Holloway Lake reserve, the most beautiful lake in the woods I have ever seen to this day. I vividly recall the smell of the lake water and the pine trees being so intoxicating.
I remember riding the invisible half-pipe (rope slung over a tree branch tied to a motorcycle tire) in my best friend's driveway.
I remember riding in Union Lake with Taj and Ron one day and realizing these guys were gonna be pro some day.
I remember riding home in the pitch dark from friend's houses on cool Summer nights, being frightened by the sound of the rustling corn stalks just off the side of the road, yet invisible in the ink black darkness.
I remember riding home from my girlfriends house in that same inky darkness one night with a smile on my face after becoming a man.
Now, at 34 years old with 3 young boys, I was looking forward to passing this bike on to my oldest son when he was big enough to ride it.
Knowing that I'll never see my Haro again and that my son will never get to ride it breaks my heart worse than any girl ever has.
Goodbye Haro. Thank you for the best times of my life. I pray that God one day gives me the strength to forgive the one who stole you from me. I hope in the end you end up in one piece, with a child somewhere making memories the way I did with you. :thumb:
I remember building my quarter pipe at 13 years old with my Dad, and the look on his face when he realized what exactly I was going to do with it.
I remember flatlanding at the fire station on Sashabaw Rd.- some of the only flat concrete within several miles from my house.
I remember riding down to the Cracker Barrel and getting a Snickers and a glass-bottle Gatorade.
I remember cutting half the height off that same quarter pipe and trailering it out to my friends grandma's house and lake jumping into the Holloway Lake reserve, the most beautiful lake in the woods I have ever seen to this day. I vividly recall the smell of the lake water and the pine trees being so intoxicating.
I remember riding the invisible half-pipe (rope slung over a tree branch tied to a motorcycle tire) in my best friend's driveway.
I remember riding in Union Lake with Taj and Ron one day and realizing these guys were gonna be pro some day.
I remember riding home in the pitch dark from friend's houses on cool Summer nights, being frightened by the sound of the rustling corn stalks just off the side of the road, yet invisible in the ink black darkness.
I remember riding home from my girlfriends house in that same inky darkness one night with a smile on my face after becoming a man.
Now, at 34 years old with 3 young boys, I was looking forward to passing this bike on to my oldest son when he was big enough to ride it.
Knowing that I'll never see my Haro again and that my son will never get to ride it breaks my heart worse than any girl ever has.
Goodbye Haro. Thank you for the best times of my life. I pray that God one day gives me the strength to forgive the one who stole you from me. I hope in the end you end up in one piece, with a child somewhere making memories the way I did with you. :thumb: