Rides, ramblings and rants on a motorcycle.
- We are scientists, too!
5.06.2007,9:20 PM
Once upon a time......
...there were two bikes. They looked very different from each other, but they had the same motor, the same wiring, the same wheels that made them both hum. Despite their differences, they rode the same roads, leaned into the same corners, weathered the same rains and winds, and even had the same flat tires. Despite that they were miles and miles apart.
In essence, they were very similar to each other: they had the same heart.
A point in time and opportunity arose that they met, these two bikes. Yes, they did. And found they had the same purring engine, the same revs, and the same patches on their once-flat tires. Even though the bikes were from different manufacturers and different years, and didn't look the same, nor did they have the same design, they shared the same love of the road, the ride, the joy, even over those sometimes unbearable bumpy roads.
There was a connection these two bikes shared. Even over the distance, between the spaces and their solitary rides alone on the road. That connection was always there. One always guided the other, waited for the other at the end of the turns, and kept an eye out for the other's welfare. Even over the distance. Because they cared. They were the best of friends.
With profound sadness, one bike was overwhelmed with sorrow when the other disappeared. That echo of its purring engine, its sometimes cranky revs, the corners and rides they shared, its coughing shifts that made the other laugh, the trust of leaning more and more, faster and faster, together; followed by the steady straight ride on their own roads, but sharing that connection....
The other bike left without saying goodbye, or why. And the little bike wept, feeling a great loss. A loss of a friend, a loss of heart. As if its spark plugs were ripped out of each cylinder, the air filter choked with sadness, and air swiftly leaking out from its rims.
Now the little bike rides alone. Remembering, longing, and treasuring what it had.
When the two bikes rode together, but apart. The connection almost tangible, but only visible once. When the two bikes really rode together. As One.
Ride on, little bike; ride on.
In essence, they were very similar to each other: they had the same heart.
A point in time and opportunity arose that they met, these two bikes. Yes, they did. And found they had the same purring engine, the same revs, and the same patches on their once-flat tires. Even though the bikes were from different manufacturers and different years, and didn't look the same, nor did they have the same design, they shared the same love of the road, the ride, the joy, even over those sometimes unbearable bumpy roads.
There was a connection these two bikes shared. Even over the distance, between the spaces and their solitary rides alone on the road. That connection was always there. One always guided the other, waited for the other at the end of the turns, and kept an eye out for the other's welfare. Even over the distance. Because they cared. They were the best of friends.
With profound sadness, one bike was overwhelmed with sorrow when the other disappeared. That echo of its purring engine, its sometimes cranky revs, the corners and rides they shared, its coughing shifts that made the other laugh, the trust of leaning more and more, faster and faster, together; followed by the steady straight ride on their own roads, but sharing that connection....
The other bike left without saying goodbye, or why. And the little bike wept, feeling a great loss. A loss of a friend, a loss of heart. As if its spark plugs were ripped out of each cylinder, the air filter choked with sadness, and air swiftly leaking out from its rims.
Now the little bike rides alone. Remembering, longing, and treasuring what it had.
When the two bikes rode together, but apart. The connection almost tangible, but only visible once. When the two bikes really rode together. As One.
Ride on, little bike; ride on.
Labels: musings
