There are many cliché quotes about riding
motorcycles: "four wheels move the body, but two wheels move the soul,"
"we live to ride and ride to live," and many others. And they're all
true, for us at least. But for me personally it falls closer to the
realm of addiction more than anything. I remember my dad telling me
about a doctor visit he had a few years back; a routine checkup, of the
sort you have to have when you get older. Towards the end the doctor
asked if my dad was still smoking, to which he replied "Yes, and I like
it." He knew the lecture; he'd heard it before and not just from
doctors, but everybody on the other side of the fence, so to speak. And
that's how it is with riding the way I do. I know the dangers, I've paid
more than a few speeding tickets, suffered through having a suspended
license, and lost friends to accidents. Nothing can equal the feeling of
riding just beyond your ability to save yourself. I know where the
limits are, how much distance I need to stop, how fast I can move to
avoid obstacles. But riding within that range of control is boring.
I think there's a term, Habitual Suicide,
for when a person continues put themselves in scenarios that could
easily kill them. Who knows why we do it exactly, I'm sure the shrinks
have their expensive explanations. I do it for control... But you just said you weren't in control.
No I said I was beyond the limits of my control, there's a difference.
It takes great handfuls of control, and skill, and talent to ride fast
and not die. There is always so much that is within your ability to
influence; you just need to decide what ratio of in control vs. out of
control you’re OK with. When you ride beyond your ability, there is no
room for bull shit, you can't day dream or brood over shitty
circumstances. There is only focus, clear, crisp, razor sharp focus.
After coming out of that state you feel as if you've mastered something;
maybe fate, or death; for time being at least.
I imagine it is something akin to
Buddhists' enlightenment; a transcendence to a higher plane. All my
extraneous feelings fall away. There can still be anger I suppose, and
joy too. But they're much more raw. Anger becomes aggression, joy
becomes clarity and nimbleness. They mix and motivate, and drive you
forward as you dodge car mirrors or hug curves. There is no feeling like
it in all of life. And this is our drug, the adrenaline, the focus, the
dance with the bike along asphalt corridor.
We don't ride because we think it makes us
cool, or popular. We're not trying to be rebels. In fact I wish
everyone could have the experience of riding a motorcycle, but I
couldn't care less what cagers think of me. I need this in my life, when
I don't have it, it's like going through withdrawal. I'm more easily
aggravated, less focused, lacking in motivation, and over all the world
seems a less interesting place. I am a knee dragger, holding fate at bay
through force of will and a little bit of luck.
You can read my friend Rosemary's view on "The Flow" here.
You can read my friend Rosemary's view on "The Flow" here.
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