Motorcycles

VoicesInMyHead

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Jul 15, 2011
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Phx, Az
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Arwen Undomiel
So, looking around in the polls... I noticed a car vs motorcycle poll. Up untill about 3 years ago, I only had bikes for about 12 years... no car or truck at all. Well, I wrote a few "Why I Ride" stories on a motorcycle forum, here is one of the first:

Why I Rideā€¦
(Chapter 1)


Sitting outside at midnight, in just shorts, in 66 degree weather looking forward to temps ranging from 85 to 90 through Sunday, all in the 3rd quarter of March, I said to myself, "This is why I ride". Oh, but then the voices piped up ā€“ "NO! This is why you like to rideā€¦ HERE. Why to you actually ride?"

We all know what it is that drives us... two-wheels. But what is it that REALLY drives our actual desire to sit upon an engine missing the cage and two of itā€™s wheels? Some will regurgitate the standard quotes: Freedom, Wind, The winding asphalt ribbon, Itā€™s not the destination ā€“ itā€™s the journey... et al. And as true as these may be, are they the driving force, to you personally? Is this what actually convinced you to apply this style of living to your life? Hmm. I had no immediate answer to that. So, I began a discussion amongst myself.

Looking at the crystal desert sky with itā€™s unwavering diamond points of light and almost bright moon approaching half fullness, I found it hard to concentrate under the enormity of the universe we occupy. Questions with no answers crept into the corners of my mind: What would it be like to ride the craters of the moon? Would they make tires that could keep you from sinking into the gas surface of Jupiter, or would you have to settle for a JetSki?

Would our desire and fascination of this asphalt ribbon we have claimed for our steeds dressed in chrome, falter when technology brings to life the visions of jet packs and hover craft described in Science Fiction, and becomes Science Fact? I choose to believe that there will be those of us who would never give up that which breaths life into living.

I shook off the wanderings of the voices and attempted to answer this, for my voices. For us, I would have to say the answer lies in a culmination of desires and needs. Each voice craves a distinct fulfillment ā€“ motorcycling is what satisfies most, if not all of them for me.

The solitude of the wind... that envelops your mind, whether in the pack, or solo.
The camaraderie and brotherhood, into which we are adopted.
The feeling of control given by the open road to journeys yet undertaken.
The fact that few street legal cages can out accelerate us "A" type personalities...

Yup. A few of the regurgitated quotes fit into my reasoning's, and I am sure that some of them also fit into your "why" answer. However, to merge the standard and non-standard reasons I found that apply to me into one blended ideal...

Power. It creates a sense of power. Power to fulfill all your dreams, desires and expectations. Power to live outside the norm and experience life instead of existing in it. Power to leave behind the daily drumming of pressure and responsibility of clocking in... (even on the way to the office).

It keeps you from drowning in the in the labyrinth of life where time heeds no warning and crushes all the "what ifā€™s" that never became the "remember whenā€™s".

Listen to your inner voices... (even if you only have one)! You may be surprised.

VoicesInMyHead
 

Telly03

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Mar 31, 2010
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[MENTION=2793]VoicesInMyHead[/MENTION] well done putting this into words... all I know is that it changes who you are
 
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VoicesInMyHead

VoicesInMyHead

New member
Jul 15, 2011
268
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Phx, Az
Bulldog(s) Names
Arwen Undomiel
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Wow! You are very philosophical. Does your Bulldog ride with you?

Never been called philosophical before... he he he! I pick up my puppy this Saturday - can't wait! I've had several pugs, but no, never rode with any of my pooches.

@VoicesInMyHead well done putting this into words... all I know is that it changes who you are

Thx! I know it changes the vantage point on your life!

Very nice!!!!

Thanks!
:bow:
 

GatorRay

I am in total control....I think
Feb 25, 2011
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Louisville, KY
Bulldog(s) Names
Gator & Lucy Goosey, the Basset and Gigi (AKA Gypsy)
Lots of people ride with their dogs. I know there is at least one person here though for the life of me, I can't remember who. You would have to get some doggles. lol
 
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VoicesInMyHead

VoicesInMyHead

New member
Jul 15, 2011
268
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Phx, Az
Bulldog(s) Names
Arwen Undomiel
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Why I Ride...
(Chapter 2)

An Arizona Winter Rideā€¦

Waking in the pre-dawn darkness of a December desert to the digital bleeding of the very alarm that has numerous times flown across the room to impact the wall in the glow of my screen saver. I jump to the floor looking forward to a long hot shower and zipping up my leather gear.

Climbing into chaps, jacket, vest, gloves, and skullcap and finishing with a leather bandana I hit the garage to find my steel pony chomping at the bit to hit the road. Giving her a gentle wipe down to remove any dust that may have been missed in the 4 hour cleaning the night before (ok, I just wanted to touch her), I open the garage door to find a red and orange horizon promising a perfect day to hit the asphalt ribbon.

Carefully backing my black beauty onto the driveway, the brisk 40Āŗ air enveloped me and turned my breath into a visible pattern of warm silk floating on a slight Northeastern breeze. I insert the key and her pipes roar to life promising to sing the entire day if I let her. As I let the fire warm her for the coming day, I check the saddlebags for tools, rags, fuel cells, and digital camera to record any stops along the way.

I look at the route I had printed out the night before and silently toss it into the trash. Wishing for nothing but exploration, I decided to let the front wheel guide my desire for a journeyā€¦ destination to be solely a distant goal that is never attained.

Throwing my leg over the saddle I find myself sitting in the bike with adrenaline flowing into my body as I become one with my 2 wheeled life giving machine. I wonder if I have discovered the fountain of youth as I grab a bit if throttle and feel the engine vibrating through my body and the pipes echo in surround sound. Pulling up my leather bandana over my nose to the bottom of my sunglasses, I exhale in anticipation of the dayā€™s travels. My breath quickly fogs the inside of my sunglasses and I chuckle, as this will happen when I stop and knowing I donā€™t plan to. Dropping my steed into first I let out the clutch and feed her some fuel. I roll down the street beginning my rejuvenation treatment.

The morning air quickly reminds me that leather is not only safety gear if the unthinkable happens, but is almost a necessity in sub 50Āŗ temperatures! After an hour of uninterrupted back highway travel, which felt like only 20 minutes, the desert sun began warming my black leather. After another hour I was able to remove my leather bandana, chaps, and switch to fingerless gloves. Arizona offers everything but a beach to see, and even that is but a few hours over the state line. With mountains that are blanketed in snow, canyons with iced rivers, and desert venues that offer the promise of warm weather, I opted to explore the later.

Following the front circle of rubber I found myself passing through mountain mining towns, railroads winding through canyons and open desert landscapes that offered a wide variety of wildlife. By lunchtime I was able to shed the leather jacket in the 74Āŗ December sun, and was able to feel the wind on my arms for an elation of freedom that we hold dear and will defend with a passion. The afternoon passes with the same mixture of happiness, exhilaration and wonder of seeing the world from this point of view. As dusk approaches, I am bound for home as the sky once again explodes in colors that can only be seen from the deserts of the southwest. The combination of reds, oranges, yellows and wisps of clouds that dot the western horizon must be experienced as pictures and paintings fail to capture the awe of traveling this wondrous region.

Pulling my beast into her stable at the end of the day I find myself wishing for just a few more hours of light, but knowing that we both needed a rest. My mind was reeling in imagery as I wiped her down and hung up my leathers for the night. As I turned off the light to the garage so she could get some sleep, I quietly told her, ā€œDonā€™t worry girl, tomorrow is another dayā€.

VoicesInMyHead
 

anatess

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Jul 26, 2011
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Bullie (RIP) & Angus (RIP)
Very good articles [MENTION=2793]VoicesInMyHead[/MENTION]! Yeah, there is something special about a motorcycle that - for me - can't really be explained.

My teen-age boyfriend had an FZR400 and man, I love that bike! I'm too short and weak to keep it upright when it's not moving or when going through a slow turn, so I can't ride it by myself.

Why I love the bike? Main reason: Because my parents would get crazy mad at me if I go near one. LOL! I was young, it was the 80's and we were jamming to DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince - Parents Just Don't Understand. Kinda wierd how he's Will Smith now. LOL.
 
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VoicesInMyHead

VoicesInMyHead

New member
Jul 15, 2011
268
41
Phx, Az
Bulldog(s) Names
Arwen Undomiel
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  • #12
Why I Rideā€¦
(Chapter 3)

Midnight Storm

Darkness envelopes my body like the all too flimsy worn out sheet, as I lie on an extremely firm air mattress. Sleep eludes my mind even though itā€™s dark enough to pass my hand in front of my eyes and see not even the slightest outline of flesh. The rhythmic thump of the ceiling fan is amplified by the uneasiness of my mind until it might as well be a pair of straight shots at full throttle not twelve inches from my head.

The discussion among The Voices this night is almost as understandable as the floor of the New York Stock Exchange, heard from the center of the room. The weekā€™s events are pouring through the flood gates of my memories at an ever quickening pace, with all the direction of an M. C. Escher drawing.

Tossing and turning for literally two hours with sleep as elusive as an insect free mountain ride, The Voices decide to give up and give in to The Call of the road. If you have never heard, ā€œThe Callā€... Well, thatā€™s an entirely different tale to tell at a more appropriate time. It will have to suffice by saying there are times you will actually Feel a sound like cool silk, with the power to wrap itself fluidly around your innermost primal nature and pull you effortlessly to a place atop the journey of a lifetime.

As I stand in the milky night glow of a desert moon partly obscured by the Southwest haze of a receding monsoon storm, I forcefully quiet my mind and erase all conscience thought. I simply exist in a frozen split second of time, standing with the calling road at the edge of the past moment and my acceptance of the black motorcycle reflecting the night sky pulling me toward the edge of the coming moment when we become the beginning of the next ā€œremember when...ā€.

I finally remember to breath and my intake of air is a reward brought only after the ending of a cleansing storm. With the roads wet enough to reflect the moon, my journey begins at the time when the majority of people are deep in the vary sleep that eluded all our voices and brought this time of travel and reflection.

My state of being is a transfiguration from a habitual drudgery to one of a viable existence for as long as the momentum continues. My estimation of the stormā€™s course was slightly misjudged as small drops of water collide with my body. The storm remains. As the hydro-missiles begin to intensify in mass and frequency, I begin to feel the environment is attempting a session of acupuncture. Finding the next highway overpass a welcome shelter on the empty road, I pause my dreamlike ride in a world created out shades of grey for the sole purpose to cater to the two wheeled warriors.

Standing alone in a rectangle of dry road, I watch the existing world come alive in a shimmering coat of moisture. The road glistens with movement as if it is recreating itself in an attempt to satisfy each of The Voices. The clouds once again break and a single shaft of moonlight streaks down to point my new direction with the ending of the rain. Without even realizing I mounted the iron steed, the black of the bike melds with the road and I am once again raptured to motion.

In a blissful recognition of exhaustion, I find myself heading back home. The route back was thankfully absent of falling water and I pull into the all-to-full garage, ending a completely rejuvenating experience. Silently I look in on my daughter curled up in a complete dream world of comfort, defiant of the storm passing outside. Closing the door, I pass the Pug stretched out on the couch. With the look only a Pug can give with those bulging eyes, ("tryinā€™ to sleep here"), I creep back to the air mattress in my office where collapsing from late night computer work is an all too often occurrence. With an exhale of contentment, I pass into a peaceful and complete sleep only to dream about a perfect ride in the mountains of the Southwest.

-VoicesInMyHead
 

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