Two Wheels Move the Soul

Forced myself out on the bike today. A few hours, no real plan. Ended up bumping into a good friend of mine out on his.

We bullshitted for a bit, caught up, then hit the back roads for some much needed throttle and wind therapy. Food, then back roads home.

There’s something about the wind rushing past while the exhaust rings out. Screaming everything I can’t.

Whoever invented the motorcycle had to have had a death wish. Think about it.

Let’s put a few gallons of explosive liquid on top of a hot engine. Put it on two wheels so it can’t balance itself. Oh, and you put all of this between your legs.

Still interested?

Hit a bump, there’s nothing holding you on. Rain feels like being sprayed with rocks.

Still interested?

Look up speed wobble. Death wobble.

But there’s something about it. That feeling you get riding. Forced to be 100% present, ripping through the gears. Outrunning your demons, leaving them drowned out by the exhaust in a cloud of dust.

It’s not even close to the same in a car. It’s different.

Knowing everything is stacked against you is freeing. Therapeutic even.

The random conversations with the most random people, in the most random places. Some fleeting. Some deeper, longer, the kind that stick.

Then back to outrunning the demons you let out.

Stay Here. Keep Going.