The wall spoke to individuals who loved to ride. I stood silent and still as I looked at the names on the bike stop wall that went back decades. I could feel the emotions revealed in the ways the signatures, dates, and words were written. It was an honour to appreciate their dedication, love of the road, and willingness to put themselves out in the elements. As a throbbing Harley came to life in the background, it was a fitting way to let the music of the moment dominate my thinking. Rich and poor, big bikes and small, fast and slow, it was never about the speed in the ride. It was always about the ride and the way we experienced life during those moments.
Each ride will gift one with learning and wisdom. When I think of the correlation between those who rarely ride and accidents, it is clear that “A poor youngster with some wisdom is better off than an old but foolish king who doesn’t know which end is up.” (Ecclesiastes 4.13). Instruction is a great foundation. As good as it is, learning is not the same as wisdom. One needs to ride, feel the machine and road beneath them with an openness to understand what both are sharing in the moment.
Rides do not last forever. Restoration and recreation are required. One’s backside loves the cadence of the road with regular breaks for stretching and refreshment. The bike appreciates my attention to fuel and a routine of preventative maintenance and care. When one hears a call to ride, it requires preparation along with intentional care and attention. Life reminds me that the relationship I have with the bike involves times of stillness and silence as well as times when the wind and the road seem to be one with the bike and me.
The joy and wisdom from each ride can be shared with others. I experienced it with others on the wall. I found it in the smile as the owner heard his Harley come to life.
It’s time to ride.
