The Motorcycle Theory:
I was driving down Saint Mary St. through the university when I pulled up behind an emerald green Jeep Cherokee. It was fiercely hot out that day, and I opened my visor to cool off just a bit. It wasn't until I looked up that I saw him. There he was, his tiny face pressed to the back window of his moms Jeep. He smiled enormously and cautiously motioned me to rev the bikes engine. I gave a slight grin before matching the stroke of my wrist with his own. The bike roared to life and yelled out with a magnificent cry. Glancing over into the rearview mirror I saw his mother eyeing me with an expected stare of disapproval. I looked back to the boy who smiled one last time and gave me a thumbs up before turning around. I know I saw myself in him that day, and I've always wondered if maybe he saw himself in me. It's one of those brief moments you remember your entire life.
For me it wasn't about racing, or competition, it was about mastering the machine. Turning riding into what appeared to be one dynamic and fluid motion. Like running has long been for me, it was about being free. It was about accelerating out of a curve and hitting 120MPH in 3 seconds. It was about clearing my head at 2AM. It was about polishing it tirelessly every free second I had. It was about every morning when I took its cover off and thought "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"
The great risks that come with riding are simply part of the lifestyle all riders endure. I wrecked years ago, I survived, the bike wasn't so lucky. I keep a picture of the bike in an aluminum finish frame on my desk. But its not there to simply remind me of the motorcycle, its there to remind me of an important goal that I achieved in my life. I developed a bond with my first motorcycle. Not the sort of bond you have with a sibling, but the sort of bond where you might consider the bike to actually be part of yourself. And if you think I'm crazy, get a bike, ride it, and you'll instantly understand.