Egocentric, loquacious, and unapologetic, I am my mother’s son. These character flaws resulted in an invitation to judge 2015’s The MEET at America’s Car Museum (ACM), motorcycling’s concours d’authenticité, presented annually by LeMay in Tacoma, Washington. The MEET at ACM attracts bikes from all over the Northwest to be judged by riders from all over the country: a distinguished panel, plus me. In straw boaters, black shirts, khakis, and clipboards, we strolled the grassy aisles, stroking our whiskers and furrowing our brows officiously. Muttering over clipboards made it necessary to ignore the Cossacks, piled five to a Panhead, and a constant barrage of inverted trials riders.