I miss the hot night air blowing in my face as the wheels go faster and faster. I miss looking down and seeing the world as a blur. Nothing else matters, this is sacred. The melody of my favorite song echoing within the corridors of my mind. This is what you live for. The moments when you're completely free from all thought except for what lays ahead. One wrong move and you're done for. The thought of that one mistake makes my heart pound harder in my excited chest. Rev that engine up and wave your middle finger high in the air for Death to see, "Not today you bastard, not today." The wind makes it impossible to hear anything except your own thoughts as you guide your machine through the endless desert. Swerving at the last possible second to avoid a joshua tree, now a bush, maybe even a jack rabbit running full speed after barely missing the deadly strike of the desert's mighty hunter, the rattlesnake.
The sun finally goes down, but you ride on. Nothing can break you from this adrenaline trance. Nothing except for the sputtering sound of an engine without fuel... but lucky for you the tank is full and the night is young. Ahhh, breathe in that air! The smell of gasoline and dirt combine to make an intoxicationg scent full of adventure. So distinct and clear you can taste it. It runs its course through your veins, only hightening that desperate urge to ride as fast as you can, leaving only a dusty trail of what once was. The night air gets colder, but you welcome the cold as it keeps you alert. Eyes always searching the vast landscape. This is home.
From my Dad after reading this... "Well you certainly capture the lore of riding and the "freedom" it brings, that rush that replenishes the soul. There is only one fix, one cure... you need to fire up that engine, cinch up that helmet strap, click her into gear and let her fly." - Kenneth "Bud" Lucas
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