VaD3r0n!c3

I’m really loving this motorcycling stuff. It’s especially fun riding with other people. This past Sunday, I had a great ride all the way up to Ft. Lauderdale along the beach. We went through the tunnel over by Las Olas, and it felt like a roller coaster even though we were only going like 40 mph. Today, we rode into Springs for a lil bit, then out to the airport, down into Hammocks, out to the Grove, over to Key Biscayne, then back home on 95. The wind died down a good amount on the way back and I could actually turn my head to look at the skyline Downtown without feeling like I’d put the bike into another lane.

When I drive a car, I’m multitasking. I’m looking in all the mirrors, I’m listening to music, I’m trying to move around and ahead in traffic as efficiently as possible. It’s all go, go, go, go. I’m doing all that stuff I sometimes hate: many things at once because why not, I should be efficient, I should get there now, not later, so I can get it done and overwith. On the motorcycle, I’m worried I might fall off the thing and die at any minute. Well, that’s not entirely true. However, because I’m on an unfamiliar journey, I’m not trying to do a million things. Or rather, I can’t do a million things well yet. I’m not on my phone. I’m not reading email or text messaging. I’m not changing radio or satellite stations. I’m not thinking about which porno I’m going to download when I get home. There’s my hands. There’s the blinker in case I need to change lanes. I can never find the fucking horn button, just in case, you know? I’m looking in the mirrors to see if giant trucks are about to roll past me and blow wind into my lane. I’m feeling the bike between my legs. Is it time to change gears? Up? Down? Am I in someone’s blind spot? This is all stuff I do in my car, obviously. However, in my car, I perform these assessments at lightning speed. I make decisions in blinks. I’m a super confident driver.

With the bike, it’s like it’s all new. It’s like kissing a new girl. What’s she tongue like? Is she a teeth licker? Is she a burrower, trying to get to China? Is she a presser? Maybe she’s a pecker. A smoocher. Somehow, while I try to process all this, at some point after I’ve been riding for twenty minutes, I sorta stop doing it consistently. I just ride and I listen to the wind whining in my helmet if I’ve left the face open. I enjoy hitting the bumps. I love coming to a stop, pedaling to a standstill sometimes. I know this sounds wacky, but it feels like a spacewalk when you start going at a fresh green light and you let off the clutch just a lil’ and the bike kicks ahead a tiny bit and you use your feet to keep you up and rolling. Dude, the road is roaring by about 4 inches under my feet at 70 mph. What is that, but Death gasping just below, flashing cleavage in the dashed line, sounding the horn, asking if I want to go faster?