When I ride, I ride hard. On the highway – an open throttle. In the corners – on rails as pavement is left searing from the sparks of aggression.
The wind tears at the far corners of my eyes and numbs my skin. I am at home in the left while others move aside as I pull on. My days, they’re measured in 100 mile increments. And under moonlight I keep focus as darkness tries to drain my will.
On the open road I’m at peace; a healthy solitude. Other times, a rebel without a cause ripping up the road with a grimace on my face. Life events are examined here.
I carry only necessities, but with room for more. And always fine cigars and American whiskey for the down times.
I keep the dirty side down, but know inevitably I’ll do otherwise in time. I accept that. I know also, physical limitations are on their way. And the day I fail to find a bright spot in a ride is my last ride.
Whether familiar or not if you ride with me, you are my brother. When I ride with my brothers we are a force. Thriving in the heat off fumes of freedom – this is a life worth living.