As a motorcycle enthusiast I’ve noticed there are certain times of the year when the mundane idiosyncrasies of life, and less than agreeable weather, culminate in an all encompassing, and overwhelming force seemingly driven by the sheer task of stagnating creativity, and attempting to diminish the strength of passion for the open road that can only be found in a bikers heart.
The dull, drab, grey skies of winter, the torrents of cold, bitter downpours, and the harshest cutting winds slicing to the depths of ones soul, compounded with the wet, icy conditions found over the beloved country route I have grown familiar with encroach, and stifle the promising relief that I’ve found in riding. The all too familiar sting of winter seemingly freezes any attempts for reconciling thoughtful planning around the hopes of personalizing my motorcycle, mocking my future enjoyment for those far too distant springtime rides. My endurance, tested for months on end, is slowly growing weary of the repetitiously clouded skies, and ever looming silent highways. Then, from out of the darkest of days, the lackluster ambiance of winter is ripped through, shredded with the raw precision, and sharpness of a worn, dull, rusty razor. The unyielding first blast of warm springtime air thaws the slumbering life that old man winter held deep in a hypnotic trance. The shackles that once restrained an abundance of life have been broken, landing with a resounding crash, echoing with a loud ring of freedom. The arms of the open road are stretched forth wide, beckoning, and eager to embrace me as its long lost friend. Serenity, having waited patiently through out the long cold winter is now drawing aim with the stillness of a hunter, easily finding its mark as I appear an all too willing target. With the deathly blow of my winter’s memory, I am once again at peace, engulfed, and warmed by the essence of all that surrounds me.
Dreaming and planning can once again percolate amid those dusty neurons, awakening and sending a renewed electricity charging through the artistic synapses that have hibernated far too long, birthing forth some grand new idea. My collective thoughts so far lead me down a road that is not, “one less traveled”, as Robert Frost would suggest, but that is unique to me, familiar and comforting, one wherein I simply strive to incorporate any idea that comes to mind, and I have yet to personally see. I am not an extremist, nor do I possess or exhibit television worthy talent with an incredulous bike build. I simply like to create something I can admire, seeing my individual ideas come to fruition, all while knowing that as simplistic as they may be, some dreams do come true. It’s this reassuring freedom of mind; a creation of what once was not that drives my overwhelming enjoyment of Motorcycling.
I guess you can say I am a true example of the seemingly spiritualist nature a biker derives from their chosen life style. Regardless of back ground, I’ve yet to meet another rider that did not appreciate the same sense of calm found while enhancing their life through Motorcycling. Finding a oneness with nature, and an affirmation that we are a part of something that is of a far greater magnitude than our cognitive perceptions can stretch, are indubitably related as integral characteristics within the shared community of bikers. It is this camaraderie, and an exuberant understanding for what compels that innate and seemingly instinctual urge for freedom of mind, body, and soul surging within every biker I know that is truly the reason why I ride.