From life expereinces,
Riding is truly like an elixir of sorts… but like any “fix”… you need more and more of it to keep you straight.
Why don’t 700 mile days cut it anymore?
I look at my bike sitting on it’s kickstand I truly admire it… I walk around it drinking in all of it’s custom components… I observe all of it’s scratches and bruises… and the memories and smiles that they jog… I see her as the perfect unity of form and function… she is… … she is … perfect.
Why don’t I look at those closest to me that way?
Every pulse of the motor has my attention… I can immediately distinguish a lean or rich condition… I quickly note the throttle position… the rpm… the gear… I extrapolate engine and air temperature… I return home… I draw upon these poignant and well remembered moments as I tune the fuel injection to near perfection.
Why don’t I care as much for my family?
On the road it is simple… and linear… next gas stop… next food break… fix the next mechanical situation… I have maps… I have tools… I have a plan, or not… but in the end I am moving forward. If I am empty I push… If I break I fix… If I am tired… I pick a patch of earth and sleep, or not… but in the end I am moving forward… on the road… i am unstoppable.
Why don’t I take this approach to other aspects of life?
Pull on my jacket… fly my colors… grab my lid as I walk out the door… … push the compression releases… thumb the starter… observe the idle… hear the clack of the open primary… leave the driveway, sideways… one hand on the throttle… no clutch as I roll through the gears… I am empowered… I am alive!
Why don’t I believe in a higher power?
Split lanes in 6th gear… feet kicked up on the pegs… clutch hand rests on my thigh… thumb and forefinger twist the end of the throttle… ’til it stops… I have disdain for everything and everyone I pass. How the hell can they be satisfied with their life’s decisions that brought them down this highway beside me… now behind me. I need more wind… the roar of the motor… the rev limiter kicks in.
Why don’t…
Why don’t I just shut the fuck up and ride!
F*&k this melancholy bullshit… If the Springer could suck a dick I am pretty sure we would be married tomorrow… I think that shit is legal in California… right?
~ THE END ~
