It's the question often asked... Why?
I've heard them all. I've said most of 'em. I ride for the Freedom; I ride for the Meditation; I ride away from the pain; I ride for the exhilaration; I ride chased by demons; I ride to be "cool"...
It's one and it's all... Who knows what it is... in the end it's mostly just un-answered, un-answerable questions...
There are so many reasons to put it in the wind that anybody who claims they've got one single reason or even possess a clear and complete understanding of the motivation behind their hunger for two wheels on asphalt is likely either riding in denial or such a good bull shitter they've even deluded themselves.
All I know is that when that thundering cloud obscures the sun, when the demons of the past are howling and calling out for vengeance... when music fails to calm the storm, when a quiet retreat to a dark woods can not dim the screams... when my soul is hurting with the sorrows of dark history...
... something in two wheels on an open road; a fresh wind curling under the visor of my helmet; Only the rush of the wind and the rumble of the motor under me... eases the pressure in my chest that threatens to choke me and crush my heart.
The tears of a melancholy joy run down my cheeks to be lost to the wind... Nothing is healed. The wounds remain... they always will. What I seek is a respite... a joyous, restoring, respite.
Maybe for others it's floating under nylon wings high above the ground, or crawling up a rock face onto the highest point of the highest peak they can find, or feeling the ragged breath of another soul lost in passion writhing under them...
For me... that escape from the beast is most often found on a naked motorcyce... ripping through the wind on an open ribbon of asphalt.
Grab Your Handles and Ride
My dad wanted to travel, and he did so while he was in the Navy. Somehow, I inherited that travel gene, and feel more comfortable just bouncing around from town to town on my motorcycle. I used to own a house, and I used to rent apartments, but that always made me feel anchored down. Sometimes for me, riding is about freedom, but it's also about the urge to go somewhere else, and sometimes about the need to keep moving.
There's a part of me that wishes I knew why I need to ride. Most of the time I don't care, but when I sit to write, I simply can't explain it.
I love being "cool", as a old, plus-size chick who learned to ride and set out across the country. But the truth is, that only lasts about a mile or two. Then those long hours on a stretch of anonymous roadway where I must face myself set in and being "cool" is meaningless.
None of it changes my past, erases the abuse and the hurts, or cleanses my memories. But when I ride I feel such joy that I'm grateful to be me. I'm grateful for every thing that ever happened before now to bring me to this point of my life because today, I love myself and I love my life.
Maybe that's all there is to it. At least for me.
I guess to put it simply, I ride because I can. When I don't ride, I miss it. But i have no surreal feelings when I ride, nor do I feel I am escaping the world. I don't get the heightened euphoria other seems to get from riding on two wheels, I simply enjoy it.
I too prefer riding a naked bike. IMHO clean wind is better than being buffeted about from the breeze coming off the windscreen.
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