Drop the Hammer.
Jump on it.
Haul Ass.
It doesn’t matter what you use or say. They all mean the same thing. Take all that energy inside you and transfer it to your machine. Causing you and it to eat up asphalt like a drug crazed addict popping pills like Pez. Speed freaks know what I’m talking about. The battle to keep it between the lines. The redline on the far right of your tach and the ever stretching line to your left running down the road. Outside those lines all your cares and worries blur with the world around you and everything rushes past and is left behind. Inside those lines you slow down, your focus becomes crystal clear. It’s aimed directly in front of you, seeing everything coming your way and passing it, putting it behind you. It’s one place in your crazy life that you can escape all the things around you.
In that place away from the cares and worries of the world it should be said that you are not actually alone. You have fear with you. And in between those lines it’s a stand off between you and it. Who will blink first? You know it won’t be you. If you blink while you’re between those lines it’s over. It’s the gas in your soul fueling you as if it were the octane in your tank. Then there’s the rush, that boost of nitrous oxide to your system, the adrenaline. It kicks in and it kicks in hard. It’s a continuous 150 shot to your core with an endless bottle. Fear and adrenaline, better than caffeine and nicotine. When your body courses and rages with that inside, all you can do is scream for more, more, more. Hell, your probably shivering in withdrawal from it as you read this.
It’s that twitch. That urge that drives us to put our lives and machines on the line for that short blind rush of madness. I’m not talking about racing through traffic on the freeway or city streets, that’s café racing, street fighting, a whole different breed of exhilaration. I’m talking about some back road twisties, 2A.M. or 5P.M., doesn’t matter. What matters is hitting those curves with a leaned over haymaker sending sparks into the eyes of anyone watching. Pulling out of that turn and landing the knock out punch with a fistful of throttle that lays down the road in front of you like an asphalt carpet.
You stare into the horizon of your life, destiny, whatever you see over that hill, with a take it as it comes, fuck you if you can’t handle it attitude. Now stop reading this shit like it’s going to define who you are, who fucking cares. Get out there and RIDE!!!!!!
