Waking on Sunday morning, I feel energetic even that I have barely slept 4 hours: I am going for a long day riding and its enough to put a huge smile on my face. I eat my cereals, drink my coffee, take a nice shower, brush my teeth, check my e-mail and that’s where my usual routine stops, I go into the garage wearing only my underwear, open the closet.Thermal base layer, thermal socks, body armour, leathers, gloves, boots and my trusty helmet are all on me.I turn on the ignition, the engine purrs into life sending chills down my spine, almost orgasmic.
I choose a random route, I just have to endure the first half hour until I get out of the city and arrive to the open road.Nothing feels better than the freedom that you feel a motorcycle: maybe its the danger, maybe its the thrill, maybe the skills required to stay upright, I don’t know but I have been obssesed about motorcycles since I was a kid. Lots of people told me not to be crazy, that they are dangerous, but thankfully I didn’t listen to them, or I would be just like every person sitting in a car right now , in their own personal bubbles, isolated from everyone else. They can’t feel the road like I do, smell it, touch it, or they can’t even perceive why would I pick the weirdest looking roads to ride on,small back roads that seem dangerous, but at the end I always end up somewhere amazing, meet lovely people which wouldn’t be possible if I am sitting in that block of metal.
Some car drivers look down at us motorcyclists, they think we are anti-social, agressive, lawless, lack descipline, and just plain dangerous.Though, from time to time, at an intersection I pull next to a driver, and I feel his sad eyes looking at my ride, scanning it, dreaming about it: an unborn biker. He probably always wanted a bike, but other car drivers kept pressuring him, his parents, his friends:”don’t be a motorcyclist, they are bad, just stay with us, just stay with who you belong with, they are different”.He might have surrendered physically, but his mind will always dream about motorcycles and how it would have been, until the day he dies.
You don’t have to ride a motorcycle to be a motorcyclist, listen only to your heart screw conformity, screw everyone else, its your life do what you want.