Out Of Control
I had a very long day yesterday. Woke up before 6am for a training ride, then after work, I rode my motorcycle to the Dublin/Hayward area to replace the chain and sprockets. And after I fucked up my repair, I had a nice long ride home on BART.
Taking the train late night through the East Bay is not exactly in my comfort zone. This whole week has felt out of control. And why I didn't like it, I accept it.
Now that my life has entered its fourth decade, I find interests focused on control, specifically being out of control.
I think about control after I motorcycle commute. I push it, usually at 80% of my limit. Fairly high speeds, in and out of traffic, no slowing on highway curves.
Of course, I know exactly what my limit is. It is a hard lesson to learn, because it usually involves pain. Thankfully, it has been on my bicycle, where the speeds are a lot less (but I have gone down at 35mph on my road bike).
The night I was on BART, it was a little scary. We had driven to two Radio Shacks for parts. One of them had just been robbed, and the other one was in the bad neighborhood.
Sitting on BART, dirty and tired from working all night on my motorcycle, I wish I was in my nice, safe automobile. I wish I had a nice, safe lifestyle where I was home at the same time, watched a little TV, then in bed by 10.
But being out of control is what makes my life move. I had to ride to Hayward to fix my motorcycle. I have to own a motorcycle so I don't have to sit in a cage with all the other idiots in their cages.
I have to be at the limit, where I can see out-of-control on the other side of the line.
Taking the train late night through the East Bay is not exactly in my comfort zone. This whole week has felt out of control. And why I didn't like it, I accept it.
Now that my life has entered its fourth decade, I find interests focused on control, specifically being out of control.
I think about control after I motorcycle commute. I push it, usually at 80% of my limit. Fairly high speeds, in and out of traffic, no slowing on highway curves.
Of course, I know exactly what my limit is. It is a hard lesson to learn, because it usually involves pain. Thankfully, it has been on my bicycle, where the speeds are a lot less (but I have gone down at 35mph on my road bike).
The night I was on BART, it was a little scary. We had driven to two Radio Shacks for parts. One of them had just been robbed, and the other one was in the bad neighborhood.
Sitting on BART, dirty and tired from working all night on my motorcycle, I wish I was in my nice, safe automobile. I wish I had a nice, safe lifestyle where I was home at the same time, watched a little TV, then in bed by 10.
But being out of control is what makes my life move. I had to ride to Hayward to fix my motorcycle. I have to own a motorcycle so I don't have to sit in a cage with all the other idiots in their cages.
I have to be at the limit, where I can see out-of-control on the other side of the line.
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