I finally made the step towards her and took her for a ride. She felt mine again, safe and familiar.


Isn’t it strange to behave like that? Treating a machine like a partner you haven’t seen for some time. The first encounter after a long time is often awkward and full of insecurity. What if…? You lose trust with absence and the lack of trust intensifies your insecurity.

It was but a short moment of hesitation. Back in the saddle everything was as it should be the minute I heard the two pistons hammering away, as if we were united if by nothing else by the mere magic of sound.

How much I had missed that and how little I had been willing to admit that to myself. The brutal wave of happiness and power was rolling over me.

On the road I felt we were gleaming like a wild star. Heads turned. Jaws dropped. I rode with a grin that wasn’t going away but was safely hidden behind the scarf round my mouth.

Smiles need to be internal here.

I passed a lot of bikers on that day, as you do in summer. Seeing, greeting, passing, it takes not more than seconds. But still I was very sure that only very few felt like me.

You own a touring bike, that is very reliable or a racer, that is very fast, a vintage bike, that takes up most of your time. BUT… you do not have a but. You do not have this thing that feels like a proper relationship. Or do you? I don’t think so.  

Unless you own a Harley.






I think I am going crazy, nuts, demented. This is surely a weird state of mind I am in just now. I am postponing. Procrastinating.

After having been away for a few weeks you should think the first thing I do on my return is check on my Harley. Take her out for a ride. At least start the engine and enjoy the sound.


I didn’t. I couldn’t.

The door to the garage remained closed for two days. Grey plastic separates me from my bike, an unmoved obstacle,  that and a hitherto unknown hesitation to face her.  Why don’t I?

For so many days I had missed her, thought about her, wanted her. Now she is within my reach and I do not dare to reach out. Maybe I want to prolong the pleasure, to extend the happiness that soon ….

A touch of fear might be part of it, too. Having a dream is easy. Living with it is a challenge I am not prepared to face, yet. I can feel her waiting for me. At least I think I can.

And still I procrastinate.

After two days I have finally managed to open the garage today. I had to take the car out. There she was, sitting under three crisp white bed sheets. Hidden away. Clean. Waiting.

I never looked. I took the car out and drove away. Parked it again tonight right next to her and never looked. I shirked the encounter. I am not ready, yet.

I will be on Sunday. I think.