I had a dream the other day in which some really cool stuff happened. First, everybody got along–not only different races of people, but countries and religions, too. It trickled all the way down to the dirt bikers and environmentalists: Our riding by and having them wave or our pulling over and watching happy horses and their riders pass were common sights. There were more trails, better trails, and it rained every Friday night–all was right with the world.In my dream, bikes were way different from those in real life. See, the bikes made less noise than a car does by using wild electronic sound canceling and trick mufflers. And since a lot of riders liked the sounds their bikes used to make, helmets now had communication devices in them that could replicate motorcycle sounds as in the old days, with tons of choices–your personal sound track as it were. I was running the Stone Age sounds, switching between an open-piped BSA and a YZ490, on this particular day, with the volume set perfectly to get the feel without blowing out my ears. And it wasn’t fake like the Honda XR100 in Terminator 2; it sounded real, with backfires and even detonation.It was finally proven in my dream that motorcycles weren’t responsible for the pollution problem; and we could therefore ride two-strokes, four-strokes or these new hybrid bikes–one of those funky combo “three-stroke” bikes that were made for a while–without regret. Yep, the three-stroke was a compact triple: a single four-stroke sandwiched with a couple of two-stroke cylinders for the “ultimate power delivery.” At least at the time.One of the best things about this dream world was all the new safety equipment and advances in medicine. Saturday motocross was wild, and I can only tell you that after being run over in the first turn and hurting like hell, all crumpled up inside my air-bag protector, it was a relief that ambulances had the latest molecule-resequencing device (just like in Star Trek) to repair my broken leg right at the track. I didn’t even miss my second moto. It took more time to change the handlebar on my bike.Speaking of bikes, there was the new Thought Reaction software, which adjusted my suspension and power characteristics based on what my mind was thinking and how my body was reacting. The reaction time was so quick in this brand-new MKII version that when I overjumped the big tabletop (some things never change), I knew I was going to land hard, but the bike was magically plush.The best thing–and you’re never going to believe this one–was that everything was free. Somehow everyone figured out there was enough of everything for everyone, and money became obsolete. Everyone was able to find their niche. While I like to ride, some folks like to wrench. Everything was covered, from the guy who likes to change your tires to the guy you left your bike with after the second moto, who then brought it to a practice track on Tuesday, fully prepped–and so on. It was as if all riders were essentially factory riders, or magazine guys at least. That’s what I told my driver.Then my alarm buzzed, and I woke up. If only one of those things had been real! Later I went trail riding, only to realize I’m still sore from my crash five weeks ago. Some hikers gave me the stink eye while they were walking on a motorcycle trail that was built by and for dirt bikers. I tipped over and hurt my thumb again. My XR400R sounded like an XR400R, and that is bad enough. In addition, the suspension needs to be rebuilt. Then I had to drive home in a mess of thousands of cars, yet I couldn’t ride my two-stroke today ’cause it will pollute the air too much?! My motocross bike needs to be washed and needs tires, an air filterI’m going to go back to sleep! And I’m going riding again in my dream.