On Friday I rode my motorcycle

On Friday I Called In and Rode My Motorcycle

    I want to feel my head strapped into the helmet, and the front brake squeezed in my gloved right hand as I swing my leg over and take the bike off the kickstand. The sun's beating down and warming up my body as I sit in leather on the saddle. Holding the bike between my legs with the key on I reach down to turn the gas on and pull the choke out.  My fingers find both easily they’ve done this before without even thinking. I’m in neutral, the kill switch is off so I push the button to engage the engine and it comes to life. 

Photo Credit: A.Haugen

    Daisy, her name is Daisy she’s a 1999 Yamaha V Star 650, and she’s all mine. Holding her I let the engine warm up a bit till the rpm’s increase automatically. Pushing the choke back in and revving it once or twice starts my heart break-dancing. Not being a young man I don’t have a young man’s need to show off by revving the hell out of the engine. No, I just need to ride. This engine is quick to respond to my touch and I can feel her as she vibrates through the saddle. I can feel it clear into my prostate vibrating, purring, we are one together we channel the spirit of movement. Clutch, step into first, release and accelerate into the street and on to the road. 

Photo Credit: T.A.Marty

    The road is a metaphor for the future. It’s a transport, a means to rebirthing oneself, and a spiritual tool for movement and growth. It’s rebirth, and evolution all in the same moment to be on a bike with the road moving underneath you is to be happy. The wind blowing across your body as the bike vibrates and the lines skip by underneath. It’s the holding of the bars, and sitting in the saddle. It’s a kind of transcendental moment when we are reminded that the whole of everything, or if you prefer, of creation is right here in this and every moment every second of living, of riding.  

    
     The first longish ride I drove was with my sister in law and mother in law outside of town and into the country. They were long windy roads with the sun dancing on the hard black pavement. My sister in law is a well seasoned motorcyclist, and her mother knows the passenger seat on her daughter's bike very well. The two of them have traveled all over together. They’ve been in large groups of cyclists and driven miles and miles.  With our two bikes we went up and down hills, around curves and through construction zones. They looked very relaxed in front of me taking the turns and accelerating. I’m pretty sure I didn’t look anything like that. I’m pretty sure I looked slightly relaxed mostly tense. The seconds, minutes, and hours slid by like the yellow lines on the road and by the end of the day it was different. I was mostly relaxed and riding well, but the sun was hanging lower on the horizon and the permit I carried in my wallet was telling me, "Time to go home".

     On the way, as I was reflecting on the day, a Bald Eagle flew low across our path. He tilted his wings like a WWII fighter pilot, then checked us out and was gone.  It was a glorious day. I hope to make more just like it.