What is it?
That tangible force to ride.
As I await the delivery of my clutch throw out bearing, thoughts roll through my mind as small as oak leaves, as powerful as Kenworth semi tractor.
What force embraces the rare few of us who ride? Is it the freedom? The wind in our hair and face? The thumping or buzzing of raw primal power beneath us? The thought that we enjoy something the majority of the population cannot fathom?
Perhaps it it is deeper.
Living in the moment, regrets trailing behind like so many pot-holes. Taking it all in, doing what is necessary, feeling the rush of wind, time and space go by in a continual stream of consciousness.
Perhaps it is shallower.
The primal urge of reproduction and attraction of a suitable mate directs some of us to display our chrome and steel and plastic and leather plumage. Unconsciously we seek to find an accepting social group and as each of us evolve through life simply fall into the social group known as bikers or motorcycle enthusiasts.
The later is exclusive; if it is societal or sexual, that is all there is. The former, however, is inclusive; riding is everything in time and space constricted to a single moving moment.
I like the former.
Hope my parts are delivered today. I am in desperate need for a ride.