Riding and Reading, Part Two

We breathe every day of our lives and every minute. But when do we actually think about it? When we go underwater to swim perhaps or when a voice says "Make one move and I'll slit your throat. Open the cash register." Or when someone in a white coat says "Try to relax. Take a deep breath." Breathing can slow. But what about your head? The whir of thoughts continues, or did, until now.

On a motorbike, you are part of the air. It breathes you. And your head clears with the first turn of the throttle. You breathe yourself calm as some yoga master on a mat. You carry on your way like a Buddhist priest unfazed by the giggling schoolgirls in sailor tops and herds of grey faced office workers in Japan. You turn the throttle. A roar comes out. People on foot, or in cars, move for you. 

For years, I sought calm. I tried everything to relax. Massages gave me cramp. Swimming in pools got me pissed off when kids splashed. TV made me attention deficit. Alcohol just made me want more. Food added pounds. But riding, like reading, works. There is something meditative about speed. Whether you are weaving between double decker buses in London or blasting down a four lane highway with miles to go or you're on a country road with nothing ahead or behind you just curves and the sweet smell of pines, whatever the conditions, whatever the miles per hour (when you are astride an engine hitting the wind, it all feels fast) a ride beats anything but sex to get your heart pumping before it lulls you into its calm.

Riding is not about tomorrows or to do lists or shoulds. It's the here and now. All consuming as a good book.

Photo: Peter Verdon