Saturday, December 1, 2012

Do Motorcylces Call Loudly to You... Or... Do They Whisper?

I wrote on goin' RV Boondocking just the other day; Listen to the Whispers. My bike, Sonja, sits outside my rig... and whispers to me. Her voice floats to me on the morning breeze... sometimes in the dark of night from her place in our camp.


*My Raider waits for the road under another Arizona Sunset*

I've been guarding that bike like a treasured friend for many miles... She's rode the truck from camp to camp, and carried me on rides across so many fine roads this past three years that to name them all would name nearly every state west of St Louis! ;)

The memories of so many glorious moments fill my eyes when I stop and call them up.

Her whispers come to me so soft on the wind that the actual words are indistinct. The sweet sound leaves only an uneasy hunger as they fade away...

But, Like a treasured friend? Sonja is to me far more than a LIKE... That machine has grown to be a part of me, as sure as the bionic hand Ol' Luke Skywalker spliced onto his arm so many years ago. ;)

That Scooter is spliced onto my Soul.

When she rumbles across the land with me hanging to her back... metal and man, melded into one, the unease washes away. The uplifting feeling of Freedom spreads a smile across my face. On that bike... somewhere on a road... anywhere on a road, I am whole.

Those that hear such things said and then look on, rolling their eyes and spinning their finger in a circle around an ear; as they ridicule it all as a jaded cliche'; are the source of the old saying; If I have to explain it, you'll never understand.

To tell the truth, I couldn't care less. It makes no difference. The only person in MY life who I need to "get it" is me. That's the key. Rather than trying to explain to everyone what cannot be explained... we need to make sure WE ourselves are seeing clear.

My only regret is that it took so long for the fog, that's been used to conceal the truth from us all, to be blown clear of my eyes.

That fog is gone... never to return.

The truth is to follow your heart not the manipulations of others. Honor your dreams and your passions. Live with the courage to BE what makes you whole.

A simple task to know... often, a terribly difficult job to perform.


Grab Your Handles and Ride
Brian


3 comments:

Trobairitz said...

Well said.

I think to each of us motorcycles mean different things. To some they are more important than others. More than just a mode of transportation, but a part of who they are.

I don't know if I feel motorcycling all the way down to the depth of my toes, but I do know I miss if it is don't get to ride due to weather and other plans. There is just something about it.

Arizona Harley Dude said...

My Bike calls to me loudly....the open road working like a megaphone to make sure I hear the call....retirement is looming and I envision a life of homelessness and miles and miles of road therapy to see if I outgrow this 42 year affliction known as motorcycling.

Brian said...

Trobairitz; there is no one definition for everyone. It's a whisper in the dark or a shout in the sunlight. :) That you "hear" at all is enough. ;)

AHD; Sometimes she whispers to me... sometimes, she whispers... and whacks me on the side of my head as she asks; "Are you listening?" :)