The Road to Hell

Motorcycles were never intended to sit idle for lengths at a time, nor to be ridden around town to run errands.

At least not a sport tourer like the Honda ST.

It waits patiently in the garage, thinking of the next long ride. I open the door and look at it, and it looks back. Its spirit awakens, like a resting dog lifting its head up off the floor, analyzing my every move.

Some people prefer to dig their roots down deep, build a home and settle into their community. Others are just transitory, looking and waiting for the right moment to start their lives. And then some of us just keep moving on.

We build a dam to hold back the water to create something that will sustain ourselves for a lifetime. It's a continuous job of checking for cracks, patching holes, upgrading equipment, and managing people. And even when you've done your best, the water level rises and you just can't hold it back any longer.

And then, I just want to ride away.

I don my jacket, pick up my helmet, and I can feel that motorcycle connecting with me already. The engine fires up with a sense of resolution that I'll solve these problems once more.

Ah! A freeway never felt so good.

Weaving in and out of traffic, as fast as I can, with no particular direction other than to get out, I can feel the pressure lifting.

Phoenix? Too hot.

Las Vegas? Too much trouble.

Santa Barbara? Too expensive.

Big cities are good for blending into the background. Small towns seem pretty, but everyone knows you. I'm not sure where, just listen to my heart and see what the road brings.

I never intended to cause trouble or pain for anyone. I only wanted to live, love, and laugh. But each of us have dirty laundry, sharing our lives with others always seems to end up hurting someone.

I've heard it said that, "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions", yet I can always jump on my motorcycle and find another road.

7 comments | Post a Comment

---