Today’s ride home reminded me why I brave the cold in the mornings.
It wasn’t the long way home, it wasn’t anything special… except that every ride on a motorcycle is special.
It was just me, miles of asphalt, brain dead car drivers and my motorcycle.
The weather continues to be nice and that always helps. It was perfect out.
Nothing going on in my head, but my speed, proximity to the other cars on the road, and where I wanted to be on the road.
Anyone who rides gets this. It’s nearly impossible to explain to someone who never has ridden.
I got home and I sat there.
Not wanting it to be over, still reveling in the now.
The tick of my engine as it cooled.
Sometimes the hardest thing I do for a day is not get back on the bike and ride off.