Since getting my motorcycle license and starting to ride, driving my truck has been a secondary choice in my transportation needs. The only time I drive is when I need to transport people or things; Athena is not feeling well; or I am not feeling well. For the last two years I have not traveled out of the Las Vegas Valley on four wheels for recreation.
As circumstances would have it last Monday, I drove my pickup to work. The plans were for a buddy and myself to drive to St. George. We would have ridden but we both decided that caging it would be better.
About 3:30 in the afternoon he calls. Something important came up and he can't make it. No problem at all. I thought, 'It will be an enjoyable, peaceful, thoughtful drive. This is going to be fun.'
Apparently, motorcycle riding has spoiled me. Driving the 130 some odd miles to St. George was more mechanics than anything. For one reason or another my brain would simply not enter into a shallow, let alone anything that could be considered a deep philosophical mode. Retrospection and introspection were not operable either.
I drove. Changed radio stations. Changed lanes. Drank water and a Red Bull. It was not calm, the drive was actually somewhat unsettling.
The gorge from Mesquite to St. George was honestly boring and dull. Riding through there has always been an experience. Driving? Simply motion.
Interesting change of perspective from not even two years ago. Caging is dull? For some, yes.
“I’ve already passed my written.”
13 hours ago