Surfacing
The bike is ready, idling away to a steady beat with a full tank of fuel and its time to go. Earplugs in, helmet on (check its done up good and tight) and then gloves on. A few deep breaths, allows you to focus mentally, to get ready for the job at hand. Shake hands with your mate. Hop on, quick blip of the throttle and its kick up the stand and off.
250 miles to go, no mystery about the route, just want to get home.
City traffic for a few miles and its an edgy annoying experience, as it always is for this rider. Out onto the motorway and now the speed picks up.
Slipping into the mode where there is just the miles to go, the fuel warning light and the beat of the engine. Not really travelling much faster than a lot of cars today, too much on your mind and its too slippery. Now the rider is in an interior world of their own imaginings, cars are threats, uneven surface is threat, the sights and sounds of the countryside are reduced to shades of grey. And only serve to count the miles down. Like a diver, sounds are distorted and need interpretation. Like a diver, the rider is dressed in appropriate clothing not much use for anything else, whereas those in cars and trucks are in everyday clothes. But the rider is NOT in the everyday world - he’s in a world of his own creation.
The fuel light comes on and the rider stops for a snack, a call of nature and some petrol. The people in the cafe look up when he comes in and some of them might be thinking - “poor bugger; its wet out there”. Others may be thinking “bloody bikers - one like that came past me on the M25 when we were stopped - why shouldn’t they have to wait too?”. The rider, well he doesn’t think of them, or really even notice them at all. A hot drink and a small fry up are all that’s needed for him..though in some ways he’d like to linger just a bit longer for a break from the wind noise, dodging trucks and dozy drivers. Got to get home though.
Back on the road with a full tank (and the tiny smile of satisfaction that brings (but shit the price now!) and he dives back under the surface of the world and into his own world. Swimming underwater at 80mph. Miles pass, without much enjoyment. Showers pass, without much real venom. Been lucky with the rain really. Outbreak of yawning - must be very tired now, but a few minutes later feel better. Yippee - only 50 miles from home now, on the last stretch, all going well. Must get the tyres changed though - totally shagged they are. The rider makes the decision to forgo the nice route for the last 15 miles and just stick to the easy one, boring though it is. He’s not really in the mood for fun. Maybe another day?
Skirting the city, now back in the country on the way to the house in the village by the sea, 5 miles to go. Now the feeling is of a submarine getting closer and closer to the surface, periscope depth now at least! Turn the 90 degree bend into the old village street and then finally up the street the house is in. On the surface of the ocean of the world now, bobbing about with a smile on my face. Onto the driveway, park up and take my helmet off and go inside, letters on the table.
Home. Its nice to be home.
250 miles to go, no mystery about the route, just want to get home.
City traffic for a few miles and its an edgy annoying experience, as it always is for this rider. Out onto the motorway and now the speed picks up.
Slipping into the mode where there is just the miles to go, the fuel warning light and the beat of the engine. Not really travelling much faster than a lot of cars today, too much on your mind and its too slippery. Now the rider is in an interior world of their own imaginings, cars are threats, uneven surface is threat, the sights and sounds of the countryside are reduced to shades of grey. And only serve to count the miles down. Like a diver, sounds are distorted and need interpretation. Like a diver, the rider is dressed in appropriate clothing not much use for anything else, whereas those in cars and trucks are in everyday clothes. But the rider is NOT in the everyday world - he’s in a world of his own creation.
The fuel light comes on and the rider stops for a snack, a call of nature and some petrol. The people in the cafe look up when he comes in and some of them might be thinking - “poor bugger; its wet out there”. Others may be thinking “bloody bikers - one like that came past me on the M25 when we were stopped - why shouldn’t they have to wait too?”. The rider, well he doesn’t think of them, or really even notice them at all. A hot drink and a small fry up are all that’s needed for him..though in some ways he’d like to linger just a bit longer for a break from the wind noise, dodging trucks and dozy drivers. Got to get home though.
Back on the road with a full tank (and the tiny smile of satisfaction that brings (but shit the price now!) and he dives back under the surface of the world and into his own world. Swimming underwater at 80mph. Miles pass, without much enjoyment. Showers pass, without much real venom. Been lucky with the rain really. Outbreak of yawning - must be very tired now, but a few minutes later feel better. Yippee - only 50 miles from home now, on the last stretch, all going well. Must get the tyres changed though - totally shagged they are. The rider makes the decision to forgo the nice route for the last 15 miles and just stick to the easy one, boring though it is. He’s not really in the mood for fun. Maybe another day?
Skirting the city, now back in the country on the way to the house in the village by the sea, 5 miles to go. Now the feeling is of a submarine getting closer and closer to the surface, periscope depth now at least! Turn the 90 degree bend into the old village street and then finally up the street the house is in. On the surface of the ocean of the world now, bobbing about with a smile on my face. Onto the driveway, park up and take my helmet off and go inside, letters on the table.
Home. Its nice to be home.
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