The battery connectors are fastened with the gripping touch of the tiniest bolt. The choke is stretched wider than the breadth of the Grand Canyon. The ignition is pressed with an anxious thumb. Sooner than expected the sleeping giant yawns a breath of fire, shrugging off a long rest. Hibernation is over. A saddle is fastened as she purrs her song of jubilation. My confederate laughs and tells me he hasn’t “seen that shit-eating grin in a long time,” as I look his way before mounting the beast. I can only assume it’s quality is equal to the ear to ear smile plastered upon his mug. I’m in disbelief that our helmets fit over our gargantuan displays of teeth and gums, yet we are ready to ride. My rhythms take command as if I was crying giddyup on a molecular level. It’s been a long time coming. Lift off. I feel the neighbors’ eyeballs follow my tail lights as we set out to nowhere. I can only wonder why they aren’t already dancing their jigs between the lines of freedom the road provides. Here we are moving forward with no signs of stopping. The motion is met with a feeling of weightlessness. That’s a strange phenomenon with a quarter of a ton beneath your legs propelling you forward as fast as you want to go. It’s here that you realize there is no place for fear or hesitation. There is only joy and roads.
Despite my obnoxious amount of joy my breath is steady and relaxed, as my mind clears kinda like how you imagine the space beyond space on a starless night - void of thought, action, movement and being. A harmonious union is struck between metal, movement, and muscle. The wind crashes against my chest churning my soul. The violent grind produces electricity coursing through my veins and into the machine. Where I end and the bike begins is lost in translation. My slight movements fire with robotic precision; the shifting becoming so succinct, so slight it’s lost with a blink. My resolution for revolution hardens matching the steel I grip. May the road stretch forever, may the gas never run dry.
It’s here that I realize through my shades that the sky is bluer than I’ve ever noticed. I would be unable to gaze upon it’s beauty without the shades, the sky becomes a solar eclipse of freedom in its own right; should I gaze too long I’ll go blind. It’s then my gaze falls upon the road. The cars parked dash by as if trying desperately to get out of my way as I set out on a mission to here, there, everywhere, and nowhere. There is a grace found in that moment that can’t be contained in words, and a merciful moment every second I stay upward. It’s then that I notice not only is the sky more vibrant but the grass competes. As if to be the yin to the yang, the green shines brighter than can be captured in a photograph. In the midst of this I have arrived in a perfect moment carved for a weary traveller. The sun warms my skin to the temperature of my passion burning within. A furnace that cannot be quenched. I wonder in bliss if anyone can understand what I am experiencing in this moment. At once to my approval I remember I am sharing this moment with another. Though I cannot see his face or hear his words I know he is as happy or happier than I. This is better than any steak chewed, any whiskey sipped, any beer savored, any cherry red tobacco stewing at the bottom of a wooden bowl. Victory is loud, fast, and peaceful. It is a chaotic excitement that I find peace in today. Forever two wheels.
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