It's one of those things that you'd just have to experience to understand.
Arriving Wednesday to stake our claim to the entire top of Fox Hill with crime scene tape.
Watching the fog roll in.
Having Fox Hill to ourselves the first night.
Not having to pay for camping until Friday.
Sharing Fox Hill with 57 of our favorite Hayabusa buddies Friday and Saturday night.
Laughing at a buddy that brought a tent big enough to park his bike inside, right next to his sleeping bag.
Mixing Margaritas and Long Islands in 5-gallon coolers.
Firing up the barbeque and throwing on steaks as we watch the massive traffic jam of cars leaving every night as cage-driving fans go back to their hotel rooms.
Throwing chunks of a VW engine block into the camp fire, and then not being able to put it out.
Being struck speechless by the beauty of my umbrella wife wearing nothing but four ounces of lycra and a pair of 6" clear plastic stilletos to the VIP party with me.
Waking up in the mornings to the sounds of 250GP bikes warming up.
Running into Pauly and Joleen from the Las Vegas Extremes for the first time since Seattle.
Bringing a Ducati key (I don't own a Ducati) to get us into the hospitality area on Ducati Island.
Watching the Police tow cars to make room for more motorcycle parking on Cannery Row as we grab a bite at the Blue Fin with friends.
The Icon (ahem) "fashion" show.
Oh, I think that there may have been motorcycle races that weekend too.