notes on riding…

By tdf, September 27, 2007

A man’s transport is an extension of his character, a special set of clothes that the world sees him wearing as he moves at speed from place to place. Riders are a different breed to drivers. Of course there are the usual crop of posers and lightweights who refuse to take their machines into battle without gloves, sunny weather and two fully functioning brakes. But within the riders group as a whole, there is a faction to which I belong. Those who ride not to escape nor to enhance or carefully mould their image, but to feel more alive than when on two feet. These fuckers care little for presentation, they are after only The Edge. An area where vitality shoots up off the scale and all the bullshit superficialities of day to day boredom are forgotten and all that is left is The Ride and Your Self… the most vital thoughts and feelings become vibrant and clear. For me this Edge appears after I hit 80mph. The faster I move after 80, the more the mist clears inside me, up until a point at around 120ish when Adrenalin starts to flood my body with the ‘slow down, psycho OR keep going, you mad bastard, I am loving this’ routine