Rides, ramblings and rants on a motorcycle.
- We are scientists, too!
3.14.2008,10:31 PM
Night Spring
The Whee and I had some quality time together; we went for a night ride. A week ago there was eight inches of snow on the ground; today temperatures climbed up to 90 degrees Fahrenheit. Texas: land of extremes, times of changes. We celebrated the warmth by going for a night ride on county roads with a half-moon following overhead.
I love night rides. Fewer vehicles, less people, no congestion, no noise. Night sounds accompany that of the engine and mix with the wind. Riding over creeks brings you down to their level, embraced with damp cool air and deep earthy odors wafting into your nostrils.
Darkness confines you to the moment, now, here, then there. Like a slithering snake along a trail in the brush with two bright gleaming eyes as they light the path rolling before you. Cloaked in darkness, you blend in as if in a moving airbrushed painting. Two beaming round eyes riding towards you on the ribbon of black is the only evidence of other humans present besides yourself. You can't see them inside, and they can't see you. They only see two bright pointed eyes of the Whee.
It's quiet; you are alone. Just the night sounds and the voices in your head. There's a solace in the solitude of the night, humming down hard tarmac that splits through pastures and forests. Like a magic carpet ride under the stars and a big half-moon. Sometimes I don't want to stop; but keep going into the night until I can't ride anymore.
I love night rides. Fewer vehicles, less people, no congestion, no noise. Night sounds accompany that of the engine and mix with the wind. Riding over creeks brings you down to their level, embraced with damp cool air and deep earthy odors wafting into your nostrils.
Darkness confines you to the moment, now, here, then there. Like a slithering snake along a trail in the brush with two bright gleaming eyes as they light the path rolling before you. Cloaked in darkness, you blend in as if in a moving airbrushed painting. Two beaming round eyes riding towards you on the ribbon of black is the only evidence of other humans present besides yourself. You can't see them inside, and they can't see you. They only see two bright pointed eyes of the Whee.
It's quiet; you are alone. Just the night sounds and the voices in your head. There's a solace in the solitude of the night, humming down hard tarmac that splits through pastures and forests. Like a magic carpet ride under the stars and a big half-moon. Sometimes I don't want to stop; but keep going into the night until I can't ride anymore.
Night
You are free from the limits
of the day.
Free to be yourself.
Ride
Labels: musings
