We need a bigger garage! What man hasn't uttered those words? I hate to sound sexist, but in my experience a man's garage, like his TV, can never be big enough. In my house, domestic bliss takes a holiday at this time of year, as the snow threatens and the many bikes are forced to move aside -- or into storage -- to make room for my car.

The bike is all checked out -- transmission, engine oil, lights and tire pressure, all of the minutiae of a pre-trip check that I learned when I pushed 18-wheelers up and down the East Coast in my 20s. My right thumb presses the starter button while adjusting the throttle with the same hand.

In the early half of the Steelers season many motorcyclists climb on their bikes and ride down to Heinz Field for the game and all of its festivities. This year I rode down the Parkway toward Heinz Field as I have for every home game since 1994, and instead of taking the Fort Duquesne Bridge to the stadium, I took the Fort Pitt. I was on my way to see the Steelers in Tampa.

I used to stoke arguments just for sport, even though I knew that I would never change my opponent's mind. This sport was forever changed when I met my Plano, Texas, brother for a trip to Deals Gap, N.C., and the marvelous roads of the Smoky Mountains. We were to meet at Meriwether Lewis' Grave on the Natchez Trace Parkway, 20 miles farther for one of us.

Rather than chance a U-turn on a narrow road, do you ride a quarter mile out of the way just to find a parking lot? Or when you approach a stoplight or stop sign, do you look like an airplane coming in with your feet out to the sides like landing gear?

Years ago, I was bitten by the motorcycle bug, and over time, it has grown into a passion. My wife has ridden her own bike in the past, but her view is far more practical. It's transportation, nothing more. She tolerates my fervent single-mindedness about the bike and the ride, instinctively understanding how fundamental it is to my enjoyment of life. I'm all about the journey.

West Hills Honda in Moon will celebrate the world premiere of the Discovery HD Theater channel TV series "Cafe Racer" with a viewing party on Wednesday from 8 to 10 p.m.

Let's have a show of hands. Who has had their fill of campaign commercials? Who's sick to death of watching those same political spots over and over again? Me, for one, and I can't imagine I'm alone here. Every two years, from mid-September through early November, my TV gets turned off like a woman in a roomful of polyester-wearing men with comb-overs.

It is sad how many times I have heard from my fellow bikers, "I put my bike away on Labor Day." These people are missing some of the best riding weather as we hit the autumnal equinox.

So maybe I'm a little spoiled. The motorcycle I ride has to have a windshield, a backrest, saddle bags, a tour pack, an upper and lower faring and, most importantly, a radio.