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|10th May 2017, 15:11||#31|
Join Date: Dec 2011
Location: Mumbai / Pune
Thanked: 19 Times
Re: Why motorcycling moves you?
For the moment of serenity which only a bike can give. For the de-stressing effect it has on me after a hard day at work. And ofcourse, it is the best place to introspect
|22nd August 2017, 12:05||#32|
Join Date: Aug 2017
Thanked: 70 Times
A rider's letter - Why do I bike.
This thread is to celebrate the joy of 'riding', no matter on what.
Why is that we enjoy riding so much?
What is the biker psyche in general and what is it for you, in person?
Your type of biking?
Momentary memories past and recent which defined biking for you?
Somebody's description of his friend's RD350 calling onto him to ride her as if in a hallucination, or, a Classic bikes lover questioning the dignity of a questionably odd bottoms up position a sports biker takes up, intrigues me, humours me, sticks in my mind. The human mind is as beautiful as complicated it is.
I know if there is one place where there are no judgemental cramming, it is this place. So feel free to express.
If I had to choose one wish only, I would choose 'parakaya pravesha'. All the joys have already been had and I just need to be in the right memory lane to relive those, right? Let me start off with my thoughts.
Medically speaking, I presume, a different part of our brain takes over the proceedings when we drive. Not all, but we, the motorheads. We function at a different platform, the conscious is not driven by the everyday drama of life. It is driven by the etiquettes of a good driver, driving to a happy place.
May be driven by our pleasure centres, which were modelled in our psyche when we drove our cycles home from school on a half day Saturday?! Unclogged roads, friends driving alongside, may be a small detour around to a street wit tamarind trees, may be a glance sneaked from the corner of the eyes of someone special as you drove by and your ride swayed as you rode a happy wave?!
Or am I just romanticising it? May be it is just plain chemical effect on our proprioceptive system, when the effect of gravity is meddled with and we feel the rush of the chemicals released to compensate the seemingly 'loss of balance'?!
Can't put a finger on it but I am sure we got modelled to be riders somewhere then.
I remember learning cycling on rented cycles and went round and round the same set of roads around my house for hours on end. My friends would get bored of seeing my stupidly happy smiling face showing off my newly acquired skill over and over, everytime I came a circle!
I get transformed into a better myself when I drive, to a better me. A fitter stronger sharper taller me! I am a doctor, expected to hire a driver and sit passenger but here I am, feeling like I was born to be a transporter!
I traverse a more vivid, different world as I drive along.
I enjoy following the correct driver etiquettes climbing up a twisty mountain road.
A beautiful radium lit night time mountain highway makes me feel like i am a pilot and I manoeuvre my ride right along the markings.
Morning dew hanging down the trees on insect webs makes me forget all my worries and I float along, in unison with Mother Nature.
A ride on my 35 yr old 2 stroke bike convinces me that I should plan a trip around the world! (With a lawyer and an engineer, so that I could start telling a joke to my grandkid - 3 Indians, a doctor a lawyer and an engineer went on a bike trip. The doctor said..)
|22nd August 2017, 12:32||#33|
Senior - BHPian
Join Date: Jul 2007
Thanked: 917 Times
Re: A rider's letter - Why do I bike.
http://www.team-bhp.com/forum/motorb...moves-you.html (Why motorcycling moves you?)
|The following BHPian Thanks comfortablynumb for this useful post:|
|24th August 2017, 16:41||#34|
Join Date: Mar 2009
Thanked: 458 Times
I wrote this piece many years ago ...but it's relevant even when I ride today!
I am alone.Nothing but a patch of light ahead to follow.Nothing around,except crickets clinking and clattering.I chase the light, keep up with it.My only companion.The beat of my engine,my second heartbeat. I admit, I have revved it up many times in the past few hours.Just to beat solitude.To fake an entity,riding along with me,roaring,talking,just being there.
Look up and I find purple.Stealing the night away from black.It's there all around me.I cut through the ink, so fast, as if afraid, it were to devour me in its hue.
First Light kisses chrome. The sky wakes up,to another day.Stretching its arms lazily,slowly,out into sunshine.Reclaiming its rightful territory, from darkness.The Master's first stroke, a splash of blue on his canvas. I 'hear' the world wake up.In the lady with the water pot.In the cattle rhythmically chewing gut.In the smiles of kids, joyously waving at anything that passes by.In those eager faces, with hay strewn on the ground, looking for vehicles, praying for heavier ones. In those young men, arrogantly striding with a twig carelessly clenched between their teeth.In the radio, blaring a vaguely familiar tune, from a faraway teashop.
Another stroke on the Master's canvas.This time a bright splash of yellow.The cool breeze that rode all night with me, reluctantly brushing away, fading. The second heartbeat drowns, amidst the din of familiar sounds. More companions join me on my ride.More real (or are they?). Shadows shorten under me. The sun creeps up overhead.The yellow brightens. Faces, I see a lot of them.Everywhere, all around me. Riding with me.Each a different colour in itself.Colour, of a different kind,The kind you cannot see, just feel.Some colours intrigue me.There are others that enchant me, still others I detest, a few I cant stand. The few that I really love. Faces, join the ride and disappear along the trail. They all join and leave.But leave,they do, they must. I remember some faces, more clearly than others.They leave, as randomly as the serpentine trail ahead, no reason, no order in its sweeps and curves.
The trail, its curves,yes,it draws my attention to it.Puts me in a trance, hypnotic.As I lose myself to it, it reveals the rhythm in its randomness.
I look up to find myself, for a moment,still.The world and all its splendid landscape moving in a screen past me.I watch, merely a mute spectator, as the scene changes past me so fast.I see the trail change into a narrow path.Even quicker it morphs into a jungle, primitive and untouched. Im as afraid of it as much as I love it. I shut my eyes, open throttle and deafen myself to all the cacaphony around. Until, I hear only my heartbeat again.Both of them.
I open my eyes.The Master's been busy.Im swept into a crimson tide.The road ahead is straight.And long, really long.Seemingly flowing into the cleft between two mountains.And in this melange, I witness the Master's masterpiece. The sun is a majestic, soothing amber.Splendid, as I ride into it.I am alone.I am... the last cowboy.
|The following BHPian Thanks vigneshkumar31 for this useful post:|
|24th August 2017, 22:04||#35|
Join Date: Nov 2016
Thanked: 374 Times
Gets the adrenaline flowing.
And by riding I don't mean a short sprint, you ain't living the lifestyle unless you walk funny after getting off the saddle swearing to never do it again but end up back there a lot sooner than expected gunning at your own personal record, for absolutely no logical reason at all.
The way I see it, it's a man's life, but then of course the lack of extended social interaction ensures that I'll die lonely.
But hey! At least I'll only die once.
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