united

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

United.

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.

 

 

 

 

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