It's hasn't even been 9 months since I got my Vmax and I am a full fledged addict to "the ride." The winter was a mean one but it didn't stop me from riding. I just added another layer of clothes.
I day dream all the time about riding with no specific destination. About taking roads less traveled to see where they may lead. With nothing but a duffle bag strapped to the back of the bike as my passenger. I dream of giving up the corporate IT life for an occupation of dirty hands and busted knuckles. I've never had these dreams before I bought the bike, but now I can't escape them.
Yet it will always be just that -- a dream. I have too may people who depend on me now. I provide their shelter and food and transportation. I provide encouragement and strategies to them for navigating life. It's so odd how I can be so incredibly optimistic and encouraging about their future while at the same time being so remarkably pessimistic and discouraging about mine. It's easier to help others than it is to help yourself I suppose. At least it is for me.
But why these dreams now? Is because of the bike? Or is it just coincidence that my motorcycle purchase has crossed a timeline with some age I've ticked on my odometer of life? Is this a philosophical check engine light that's come on now that I've hit 40(100k miles)? Or did I bury my dreams of individual freedom long ago for the sake of spouse and parental duty and the motorcycle has dug them up like a rear wheel spinning aggressively in the sand?
When I'm on the bike it feels like a blessing... when I'm off it it feels like a curse. I just want to ride.
I day dream all the time about riding with no specific destination. About taking roads less traveled to see where they may lead. With nothing but a duffle bag strapped to the back of the bike as my passenger. I dream of giving up the corporate IT life for an occupation of dirty hands and busted knuckles. I've never had these dreams before I bought the bike, but now I can't escape them.
Yet it will always be just that -- a dream. I have too may people who depend on me now. I provide their shelter and food and transportation. I provide encouragement and strategies to them for navigating life. It's so odd how I can be so incredibly optimistic and encouraging about their future while at the same time being so remarkably pessimistic and discouraging about mine. It's easier to help others than it is to help yourself I suppose. At least it is for me.
But why these dreams now? Is because of the bike? Or is it just coincidence that my motorcycle purchase has crossed a timeline with some age I've ticked on my odometer of life? Is this a philosophical check engine light that's come on now that I've hit 40(100k miles)? Or did I bury my dreams of individual freedom long ago for the sake of spouse and parental duty and the motorcycle has dug them up like a rear wheel spinning aggressively in the sand?
When I'm on the bike it feels like a blessing... when I'm off it it feels like a curse. I just want to ride.