On a recent solo excursion I spent most of the time inside my head ruminating about why we, riders, ride.
I passed through rural communities and small towns…
…and I rode by the ocean.
In traffic, my body felt hot and dewey inside my black riding jacket. At 60 mph, the wind cooled and refreshed my skin, and I felt light and alive. Sometimes, the air felt warm-cool-warm in just seconds.
I rode over bridges.
On back roads.
On major throughways.
Past flea markets, lobster pounds, inns, and tourist shops.
I was unreachable.
Eyes on the road.
Inside my head.
With nothing but my thoughts.
There are lots of reasons why we ride, but I think it has little to do with transportation.
Or getting “there,” the final destination.
Wherever “there” is.