I had to get out for one last ride today and I am so glad I did. Being on the motorcycle again was another great experience. My custom Cafe Honda is 35 years old and even though it has been sitting for two weeks, it started up right away.
I notice the air is quite warm as I pull up to the end of Murdoch Street and begin making a left onto to the Madden Highway. Rolling out of the corner I twist the throttle back and kick up through the gears until I am just past the last 50 Km sign, now almost at full speed. Cruising west directly into the sun which is now lumbering just above the horizon, it’s hard to see but with my sunglasses on it is not too bad. My front wheel is just a little out of round so at top speed the bike shakes just enough that most of the road is a blur anyways.
Now in top gear I am travelling as fast as this old bike will go, the engine letting out a distinct metallic drone. I lower my profile, push my butt into the hard foam at the tail cup of the seat and bring my chin to a hover just above the gas cap. I can feel the air ramming the soup bowl sized head light and spilling over the gages, wrapping around in a load roar as it makes one last effort to rip my helmet from my head.
I pull the visor down and all the noise and vibrations move at once to the outer envelope of my new bubble. The noise has become white, like an un-tuned radio in another room, there but barely noticeable. Just the road now, a converging point in the distance that is rushing upon me with yellow and black and exiting through my periphery. I was excited but now I am calm, almost detached from my previous focus and the world around me slows down. This is it, that moment of purely simple satisfaction of being alive and being unbelievably aware. It is in this place I can hear my soul, and for a brief instant, I am sure I thought it say, “you need to come back here soon”.