These are some images of my uncle Tom in his younger motorcycle riding days. Evidently, as you might gather from the huge smile on his face, he really loved the open road.

Every year, he and several of his motorcycle riding buddies would take off for parts unknown. It was an annual ritual. They would tie down their napsacks and brave the weather, whatever it might be. One season they might ride out West to the canyonlands. The next season might find them in Florida. It was always a toss of the dice.