We seek an injection of pure epinephrine from two wheels attached to a symphony of explosions.
Our soul intermingles with the machine, we are one.
The smell of pristine air, fresh pine and roadkill flood my senses;
But for what, the risk of collision, injury and death;
For the risk that this sport will engrave a passion so deep, that delivers solace on an open road free of cars, debris, and all earthly worries.
For some this passion lay deeper.
Hanging inches from the ground after tip-in. Pushing brake markers farther with each lap.
Braking after the last second. Clutchless upshifts seeking flawless acceleration.
Twisting the throttle on corner exit, ignoring our subconscious prayers for the rear tire to hold grip.
This makes us feel alive – No – Invincible.
I’ve faced pure unadulterated adrenaline, and reaped the benefits of optimal cortisol protecting my spinal cord from severance.
I’ve led my battle amidst the fight or flight response.
My unbroken reminders of shattered dreams haunt my existence but I will prevail.
I will feel the epinephrine pulse through my veins as I ride inches from another upon tip-in.
I’ll feed my cravings for triple digits and subconscious prayers once again but until then–
My victimless injuries feed a drive for improvement and greatness.
Cool wind, fresh scents, and tears of freedom welcome me home. I am not broken but blossomed, with cultivated dreams and the unfound inner courage I’ve always struggle to conjure.
Two wheels attached to a symphony of explosions move my soul.