Apr 15

Photo-a-Day: Number 9

Photo-a-Day, adventure, blahblahblah, motorcycle, photo Add Comment (1)

Yes, the photo is a recycle from the other day, but I haven’t used it for a Photo-A-Day, so, here we go. This post is going to be a rant, so, prepare. Click the link if you care, otherwise, look at the shiny pic and go your way.

I got in today from Albuquerque with a lot on my mind. The day was nice, so I thought I would take the bike out and see what it could do for me. I left the house somewhat depressed and upset at the same time. I decided my target would be the St Peter’s Dome camping grounds, if the road was open. Headed down State 4 towards the Jemez. As soon as the road opened up, I tore into it. Screaming at myself inside my helmet, shouting things that up until now hid under the dark places in my mind. Vocalizing them, even if only to myself and my bike, seemed to make a difference, like there was actually someone there.

A sad realization.

I started to realize a few things as I rode. First off, I don’t think I have the drive to succeed on my own. I’m just too lazy. I need a nudge to get off my ass and make things happen. A go getter? Hardly. Sometimes I do good work, but only when facing an almost impossible deadline. Secondly, there is no one to blame but me. That’s fine. And speaking of just me, I just want to pause for a moment and say to the world, I don’t care. I don’t what you think about me. I don’t care what you think about my bike. I don’t care about your bike, your life, your anything. I’m not doing this for YOU I am doing this for ME. I’m the one sitting on top of 100hp, screaming around the corners, taking stupid risks, not you. If you think I need you to define me, then, well.. I’m sorry you are delusional. My biggest fear, of not realizing my full potential, flushed to the forefront of my mind. I leaned down and grabbed more throttle.

Overcoming risks.

I passed that Durango on that corner, double yellow be damned. I flew past him, screaming at myself, telling myself to shut it down and get in line and just wait, wait the 2 miles until the passing lane. I hated myself for having done it. I bitched at myself for letting myself take such a foolish risk. But a thought popped in my head. ‘Only by hitting bottom are you free to go anywhere’. Maybe it applies. Maybe not. But something is coming to a head here, something bigger than 2 rubber wheels spinning furiously against the asphalt.

Solitude.

The gate was open. I turned in, and rode the 3 miles down the somewhat muddy dirt road, and pulled up to the camp area. Deserted. I parked the bike, turned off the ignition, and strode across the meadow. I didn’t know where I was going. I still had my helmet and gloves on. I walked for a while, and found a log under a tree, somewhat moist. I sat down on it, stared back across the meadow, and pondered nothing at all. Staring. It felt like years, but was probably only a few minutes. I could hear them coming, whoever they were. I stood up and strode back to the bike as 2 4 wheelers entered stage left and exited stage right. I got on the bike, and fired it up, and rode back down to the gate.

Regrouping.

I turned out of the dirt onto the pavement and pulled open the throttle. The bike roared. The motor makes this sound at 9000 RPM that scares small children. One could almost say that it makes your mental penis at least a foot and a half longer. I came up to the hard left, downshifted, leaned in, stormed down the grade. Tap brakes, downshift, downshift too far, take the hairpin too slow. Came out of it, throttle snapped open, up, up, up! Around the corners, to the passing lane. Shifting gears. Throttle still open. Not letting up. Not letting up. Please, let up. I look down. Triple digits, insanity. Throttle off, slow down. Yell at myself again. Proceed to clean the corners back down, in perfect harmony with the bike and the road. Came up behind a guy in a Stratus who was most likely complete unaware of me. Backed off, rode his tail for 1/2 a mile, until past the back gate, holding off for the passing zone. Zipped by him. Keeping the speed up, 65, 70…

Rebuffed.

The wind hit me on that corner, making me overcompensate for the lean. I cursed it as I slowed back, stood the bike up, and was again buffeted. I cursed it again, leaned into the throttle. I came around the corner. A mirage laid out before me, my mind transfixed on the wind, the shapes laid out before me, but I was not grasping. Suddenly, it clicked. Doe. Two of them. I stood up the bike and pulled in the brakes. They scattered to either side of the road. Burst of pain in my chest as the adrenaline rushed forth, coupled with the blissful euphoria. I laughed out loud. I screamed into my helmet, cursing nature. Nature threw me another wind gust. I stood up on my bike, 75mph, and yelled at it to bring it on.

Rebirth.

Suddenly, it all laid out before me. In the blink of an eye, a mental 180. It was going to work. It was going to be a move up. Screw what anyone says. Screw it all! I’m not taking it laying down. I’m in charge here. I kept the speed up, and thrashed the last few corners home. Really thrashed them. A smile forming, I could feel my cheeks pushed hard against the foam padding of my helmet. Fuck it all. I will transpire, I will overcome, I will find myself out there. With you or without you, world, I will make it happen, and there is nothing you can throw at me to make me stop.

Bring it on.

I left my self-doubt sitting on that log in the meadow. I left him there and got on my bike before he knew what was happening. He knows the way home, but he’s on foot, and darkness is approaching. Sorry guy, I hope it takes you a month to make it back home. In the meantime, I’m going to take advantage of not hearing your shrill voice.

I’ll see you around.