Senses become heightened, and anticipation grows great in the waning hours before leaving. I try not to plan or strategize, only to stay in tune with what my spirit calls for.
Finally free, the clutch engages, the rubber bites down, and I'm catapulted into escape!
Temperatures drop the higher the road ascends up mountain passes. Road signs and trees are but a blur across my peripheral vision, leaving me focused at the lines on the road.
The crisp mountain air, the scent of pines, cleanses my mind and washes away the sins influencing my thought processes. I can breathe now, I can listen to my heart, I can feel myself once again.
I spot another rider headed the opposite direction. Is he looking to cleanse his mind as well? Is he seeking the same salvation? I hold my hand out, and he holds out his, and we pass each other by in a mere second.
And for just that second, we made a connection. That we're here at this same place and time, on the same quest, with the same understanding. Hands need not be shaken, and business cards need not be traded, only an acknowledgment is necessary to have made a friend.
Yet each of us remains alone to reconnect with ourselves and to reset our minds to that simple essence inside of us.
"It's all a matter of perspective" the old saying goes. But who's perspective? Who influences me? Am I really in control of myself?
I don't really know where I'm headed. The destination isn't the point. The journey itself need be the only quest.
A vagabond who hauls a motorcycle around the country in a toy hauler, earning a living as a website developer. Can often be found where there's free Wi-Fi, craft beer, and/or public nudity. 
Bridgeport, TX - TT
6 days ago
Well siad Steve, yo have captured the passion of biking well.
ReplyDeleteHave a good one. Roger
So true. Riding is a true passion.
ReplyDeleteThis post made me say... ahhhh. You captured a moment like a camera does... only better!
ReplyDeleteLike all the other said, you captured the moment, that is riding.
ReplyDeleteAsphalt or bitumen can sometimes be confused with tar, which is a similar black thermo-plastic material produced by the destructive distillation of coal. During the early- and mid-20th century when town gas was produced, tar was a readily available product and extensively used as the binder for road aggregates.
ReplyDelete