This is a creative story about my life on two wheels. If you love bikes and motorcycles you will understand if you don't, then you might as well stop reading because you will not get it.
The grass stretched out ahead for what seemed like a mile. My heart was racing and my hands had never gripped anything so tightly. “It looked easy enough.”, I thought to myself. “I mean, how hard could it be anyway?” I felt freedom’s first call.
My aunt Lettia was right beside me. She leaned over my shoulder and said, “You can do this. Just go with the flow.” I nodded, squinted my eyes and gritted my teeth. The force of her hand against the small of my back was an Island of comfort in the midst of a raging torrent of exhilaration.
The wind blew my hair back and my feet moved like a live, downed, power-line. I will never forget the moment when I first heard freedom call. It was the split second before I got my first real taste of grass and dirt. “Again! Again!” I shouted. If it hurt I don’t remember. If it hurt, it would not be as painful as missing out on that feeling. I was hooked.
A few more tries and, I had it. Around and around, out and back, I did not want to ever stop. “We need to go home now. It is getting late.” announced Lettia. That was the end of the beginning. The sounds lingered on in my mind through the long night and beyond. From that day forward, freedom beckons me.
Who knew that there could be more. The jump from pedals to pegs is as wide as the royal gorge and just as thrilling. Apparently it doesn’t affect everyone this way. Nothing standing between you and the elements. The sting of raindrops in direct proportion of the twist of a wrist reminds you that you are still alive and still free.
To lean into whatever curves life brings you, and maneuver the unforeseen challenges along the way, is to face life with courage and excitement and hope. The rumblee of power feeds your confidence and becomes an addiction. It’s just that easy. Get on and get going. Freedom screams. Can you hear it? Did you hear it? Will you hear it?
Some days call for pedals and others call for pegs, both roll on, over and over again. Pedals welcome the cool breeze and deep breaths of life. The crumble of soil and the brush of leaves pass by with an echo reminding you of freedom’s call. Other days need pegs, with fiery power and peripheral blurs. When you look through that clear shield in front of you, freedom is truly a possibility.
Grass, gravel, pavement or paths, the sound of freedom still calls my name. The only question I have to answer is, “Will it be pedals or pegs today?” Don’t let another day pass you by. Go! Ride!
