It’d be hard to disassociate our passion for the two wheels from the old skull riders we’ve all known.

And I’m not just talking about the TV stars of the motorcycle world. I’m talking about the role models we found in our neighbourhoods when we were young.

My first referents were in my own family. I belong to a saga of bikers, something that makes me very proud. However, my dad didn’t use to ride very impressive bikes by the time I was born, and my grandad had stopped riding long ago.

Bikers going around in their impressive rides we could only dream or emulate with a toy model when we were kids. I won’t forget that old Montesa Impala and somebody going to his farm wearing horse-riding boots and a flannel shirt with the top three buttons undone.

You also have your memory, a Ducati maybe, a BMW or a noisy Harley Davidson you used to look in admiration. And something deep inside you was changed forever. You knew you’d be a rider as soon as you can.

Some would say we are luckier and we mostly ride for pleasure, while back in the old day it was a transportation to work. One way or another we share the same feelings, roads and philosophy.

We inherited their way of life and bring it to the new generations.