from the depths…

A very, very dear friend of mine asks me to teach her how to ride again.  She knows how, I trust her – we have talked. I know she know knows how to ride – it’s just been a while.
I adore her husband, but as wonderful as he is, he doesn’t know motorcycles. I think. Maye he he is just one of the rare few…

I do know motorcycles. I know the danger. I thrived on it – and will, hopefully, again.

In our email exchange I promised her I would be one hell of a heartfull chase car, and not be kind at all.

then I remembered all of the people I have known, who have died riding.

There is nothing that can keep me from getting back on a bike, and eventually I will – but she brought up all of the tears that I didn’t cry before, in fear for another loss…

There is nothing as sacred as a good ride. All the friends I have known have died like they wanted to – on their bike, loving every second until the last.

I don’t want any of my friends to die before me – but they have, and most of them have been happy in that final second…

Funny thing is that I got her bike running. Fuck it – perpetual chase car.

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