Live to Ride, Ride to Live. What’s so special about riding a Harley versus driving your car (or truck or Jeep (apparently Jeep owners are super anal about people not calling their precious vehicles trucks))? Or whatever crappy non-Harley motorcycle you’re riding? There are a few things I catalogued in my brain this weekend on my ride.
Smell. Instead of smelling your friend’s putrid body odor or the spoiling McDonald’s secret sauce leftover on the wrapper you threw on the floor a week ago, you smell the pine trees, you smell the alfalfa fields, you smell the sage brush, you smell the freshly cut hay.
Feel. Instead of whining that the air conditioning is too cold or not cold enough or isn’t working, you cowgirl up and embrace all the shifting temperatures and winds. One minute you’re in the sun and you’re smiling and the next minute you’re in the shade and the temperature drops 20 degrees and you’re shivering and the next minute you’re stopping for a break and you’re roasting because it’s 90 degrees and you’re wearing boots and jeans. And it’s not just sun versus shade. A lot of times it’s the shape of your environment, you know, like hills and valleys, dales and glens, ridges and ravines, gullys and knolls, lakes and mountains, supple curves and soft hair, smooth skin and soft lines, wait hold on………Ok back on track, one other thing, instead of feeling the lumps of mutilated bug chunks under the windshield cleaner at the gas station, you feel the bugs smash into your hand and explode into tiny pieces of guts and juice all over your arms and face.
Taste. Instead of, ok yeah the guacamole burger aftertaste is the same either way.
Sound. Instead of half-istening to your mother reminisce about her fond and super exciting childhood memories, you hear flapping wind and engine drone. So…
See. Instead of joining the rage with all the kids and watching How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days in the back seat of your Yukon Hybrid road trip warrior, you see the asphalt in all its glory, you see the fields swaying in the wind, you see the Ents herding the trees, you see the clouds rowing by like war-torn viking ships, you see the crepuscular rays shining through the trees, you see the gravel lurking in the shadows telling you it’s your phalt, you see the deer wearing a black cloak and carrying a scythe, you see the biker riding by with his hand extended in acknowledgment that they too are riding a motorcycle (WOW), you see the 2/3-naked honey with her thumb out whom you pass up because your helmet is strapped to your back seat and you figure at least your helmet has a use, you see the real hottie stirring up farm dust in a combine, you see the mountains in shades of forest green and khaki, then blue, then purple, then gray, then nothing, you see your mother leave her blinker on for 10 miles, you see the Malibus and Sea Rays clipping through the water under the sunset headed back to shore after a drunken day of pulling wakeboarders, skiiers, and tubers, you see the horizon tucking in the sun for nighty-night. You see yourself riding forever into the sunset.