GoPoet
by: GoPack

Because I had not been able to ride I think the good Lord took pity on me. I went down a road I had not taken before and was rewarded with about 30 minutes of pure joy. It was a good rural road through farm and pasture land with sweeping curves. They were all just right, not to sharp, not to gentle, the kind you just keep the throttle on steady and carve right in and out of. The weather was cool, the sun was setting and the sky was cloudless.

As I rode on I realized that here was a profound peace in riding. A peace that cannot be sold nor bought or bargained for, and sadly, a peace that only those of us who ride are able to know. These are the moments that we live for, when our troubles are put behind us like the pavement in our mirrors, the wind surrounds us and the sun sits warmly on our faces. The smallness and pettiness of our everyday lives gives way to the divinity of the world as it stretches out before us, beckons us, and even if only for a short while, we are truly and wonderfully free. And this motorcycle? It is the steed of our dreams, the instrument of our deliverance, and the wings of our freedom. That is why it is more than machine, it is the catalyst for our wanderlust, our companion on the quest, our friend of the road. All of this is why we are never alone, for we are a tribe, a band of believers, we are a brotherhood of bikers. How do you explain such things to the outsider, how can he know, how could he ever understand? Some would own the machine but deny it's soul, they are the infidels, they are the heretics, they can only pretend to be our brothers and sisters. I will not wallow in righteousness at the sight of their transgressions, nor be pretentious when presented with their ignorance, rather I will hear the notes of the ride become the music of the journey, I will take solace from it's tune and consider myself blessed that I understand the song.

GoPack