Look at what we've done to ourselves. One way or another we've all ended up on this planet for some indeterminate amount of time. But, instead of doing something real with that time, we spend it all chasing fucking money. The evil green dookie of Satan. Money turns good men into bastards and bastards into black hearted fucks. The irony, of course, being that the concept itself is totally man made. Animals don't spend their lives trying to increase some number on a piece of paper. They don't waste time yearning to live in an upscale, gated community. The joke is on us, we've fucked it all up.
This fact is never more evident to me than when I get off of my bike after a ride. It could be a 500 mile ride, it could be a 5 mile trip down the street. While I'm on those two wheels, nothing fucking matters but that ride. Feeling the engine roar, the air rush over me and the bike. That's the world I want to be in. Then I get off the bike, and all the bullshit rushes back like a crackhead begging for a dollar. Everybody's got their hand out. All I want is to be on those two wheels. Fast, slow, in the rain, sweating, freezing, splitting lanes, chasing the horizon like the road won't ever end. Camping on the road, crashing in ratty motels, eating twinkies and drinking coffee at midnight in a gas station in the middle of nowhere. And money doesn't mean shit except another tank of gas to keep gettin it. And all the money grubbing whores can't touch me. They line the road and stand staring as I smoke past in a blur of what they can't catch. They can't see the life they were meant to have a long time ago. They gave it all away to be the punchline in a blackhole joke. But not me, not fuckin me.
If I'm lucky enough to have any say in how I check out, I only want to pull to the side after the best days ride of my life, lie down next to my bike and have one last dream of the two wheels that made this whole ridiculous life worth it. I can only hope to be that lucky.
Thanks to W.F.C. for the photo.
