Bob owns fancy leathers, but he prefers to ride his three motorcycles in blue jeans, albeit a pair that is padded and lined with Kevlar. There is no better cruising than on the lonely roads outside Vegas, with their stunning desert scenery. He loves the freedom, the release of zooming around at high speeds, and he has the machinery to do it right. May owns a Ducati SPS V-twin, the Ferrari of motorcycles, and a Kawasaki Ninja with a custom rainbow paint job, complete with a matching helmet featuring the Tasmanian Devil brandishing a golf club. He is particularly fond of his electric blue Yamaha R1, the fastest bike on the road, 440 pounds propelled by a 160-horsepower engine. How far has May pushed the envelope? "Not very," he says nonchalantly. "Maybe 140 miles an hour. Dad's done 170 on the R1."
"Bob likes to go fast, but he's cautious," says Jerry.
That's the innate contradiction of May—he's always in a hurry, yet it has taken him so long to arrive. "Some get there sooner than others," May says, talking golf, not bikes. "The important thing is that you make it in the end."