The Ravages Of Time, Two
October 13, 2015
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A rich yesteryear is constructed of neat stories. Listen to whatever long fourth dimension motorcyclist, live they racer, long distance pavement hauler or dirt enthusiast together with they've got tales to tell. It's a lifestyle that is bright amongst harrowing moments, triumphant successes, camaraderie, solitude, joy together with pain. As long equally the wheels are turning, novel narratives are beingness written. Motorcycles are particular vehicles. They possess the ability to carry non solely trunk together with mind, but also spirit.
I ran into someone from my non equally good ancient yesteryear recently. After exchanging semi-awkward pleasantries together with the socially mandated questions, the other individual asked me, 'You used to race motorcycles, right?'.
When I answered, "Still do.", my measure reply, I got the measure reaction, which is a minute of disbelief mixed amongst anger, daze together with possibly simply a hint of realization. More brazen people volition brand a comment well-nigh killing myself or needing to grow up, piece others simply utterly neglect to understand. They assume, that similar them, nosotros all settle down, procreate, become into debt together with larn fatty on liberty fries. They expect, feebly demand even, that nosotros select a mass from the shelf already written, instead of crafting our ain story.
As this quondam acquaintance together with I parted ways for in all likelihood the lastly time, I realized I was looking at someone for whom the wheels had stopped turning, whose narrative was finished except for the concluding punctuation, a individual who, yesteryear choosing to jeopardy nil had taken the biggest adventure of all. It made me sad. It also scared me.
It made me desire to become for a ride. So I did.
I ran into someone from my non equally good ancient yesteryear recently. After exchanging semi-awkward pleasantries together with the socially mandated questions, the other individual asked me, 'You used to race motorcycles, right?'.
When I answered, "Still do.", my measure reply, I got the measure reaction, which is a minute of disbelief mixed amongst anger, daze together with possibly simply a hint of realization. More brazen people volition brand a comment well-nigh killing myself or needing to grow up, piece others simply utterly neglect to understand. They assume, that similar them, nosotros all settle down, procreate, become into debt together with larn fatty on liberty fries. They expect, feebly demand even, that nosotros select a mass from the shelf already written, instead of crafting our ain story.
As this quondam acquaintance together with I parted ways for in all likelihood the lastly time, I realized I was looking at someone for whom the wheels had stopped turning, whose narrative was finished except for the concluding punctuation, a individual who, yesteryear choosing to jeopardy nil had taken the biggest adventure of all. It made me sad. It also scared me.
It made me desire to become for a ride. So I did.
