“If you can’t take the heat, don’t tickle the dragon.”
It was one-hundred degrees when I got off work yesterday. An infrared thermometer read 135 degrees off the concrete pavement.
I love the heat…I often get weird looks when I say this, but I really do. Oh, maybe not working on a project or something…heat simply makes that more difficult…and I DO love air-conditioning too…but this Texas-bred boy loves the heat.
Stuck in humid, dank, cold, dim, and depressing cube-whore-land all day, I took off into the setting sun and hot winds with a smile. What a contrast! Instead of quiet controlled conditions the intense sun, heat, and wind simply screamed fire and chaos!
Fire and chaos are the perfect domain for The Dragon.
Light traffic further spurred my mood. I twisted the throttle…hard…and listened to The Dragon scream, the echoes of her engine reverberating off the freeway canyon walls.
Move left. Right. Brake hard. Left again. MORE throttle!
The tiniest fractional movements of the controls produce critical, precision results. The difference between life and a fiery death is literally tied to minute movements of the throttle and the bars. The brakes I can be a little less subtle with.
The power at my command is almost overwhelming…until it begins to merge with my soul…man and machine…blood, bone, and steel. When they are finally in tune nothing can stop them.
The passion rises. The pure joy. The sheer relief. The intense and overwhelming lust.
I briefly wonder if it’s even possible to accurately describe the sensations to somebody that’s never experienced them, and then all thoughts flee my mind while the experience…the now…takes over.
I was 60 miles past my exit and into another state before I got a handle on my emotions. Or, at least, came close to getting a handle on my emotions. Resolved to head home, I pulled out of a gas stop and found a thunderstorm in my path. I smiled a dangerous smile and twisted the throttle yet again. The impact of the cold down-drafts and intense rain took my breath away. Blustery and strong…these summer pop-ups are always intense…feeding off and consuming the very heat that helps to spawn their existence.
This Texas-bred boy LOVES thunderstorms and I made 20 high-speed and very wet miles before I blew out of this one into the balmy Texas night. I looked about in confusion at the sudden change in conditions and the slightly familiar roadsigns and wondered exactly when I’d crossed the border again.
Didn’t matter really. These balmy nights, with the mixed hot and cool breezes and buttery smoothness of the atmosphere are just plain magic, and this Texas-bred boy loves them too (starting to see a pattern here?). I set a more sedate pace and wandered through the night knowing eventually I would find my way home.
I arrived home totally spent…the relief palatable. A flurry of emotions and energy…or perhaps madness…burned as fuel for the soul, purged from the rational man…for the moment at least.
Already she calls to me. Already I feel the need to ride.
I’ll see you on the road.