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Found this on another forum that's I'm on and thought it was a nice read hope y'all like it

The other night I was sitting on my bike under an overpass on the highway. Even though I was wearing good rain gear, the rain coming down buckets, made riding literally impossible, and unsafe. With spray form passing cars coming at me from all directions I felt as if I was inside a car wash. It was time. When I saw the overpass up ahead I pulled off beside the highway and found a relatively dry spot pout of the rain under the bridge. Sitting there, on the bike, rivulets of water dripping down inside of my rain jacket and inside the visor of my helmet I probably looked as miserable as I felt. I asked myself the question that I have been asked by so many others, Why am I riding a motorcycle?

When you let a motorcycle into your life you’re changed forever. The letters “MC” are stamped on your driver’s license right next to your sex and weight as if “motorcycle” was just another of your physical characteristics, or maybe a mental condition.

A motorcycle is not just a two-wheeled car; the difference between driving a car and climbing onto a motorcycle is the difference between watching TV and actually living your life. We spend all our time sealed in boxes’ and cars are just the rolling boxes that shuffle us from home-box to work-box to store-box and back, the whole time, entombed in stale air, temperature regulated, sound insulated, and smelling of carpets.
On a motorcycle I know I’m alive. When I ride, even the familiar seems strange and glorious. The air has weight and substance as I push through it and its touch is as intimate as water to a swimmer. I feel the cool wells of air that pool under trees and the warm spokes of sun that fall through them. I can see everything in a sweeping 360 degrees, up, down and around, wider than Pana-Vision and IMAX and unrestricted by ceiling or dashboard. Sometimes I even hear music. It’s like hearing phantom telephones in the shower or false doorbells when vacuuming; the pattern-loving brain, seeking signals in the noise, raises acoustic ghosts out of the wind’s roar. But on a motorcycle I hear whole songs: rock ‘n roll, dark orchestras, women’s voices, all hidden in the air and released by speed. At 30 miles per hour and up, smells become uncannily vivid. All the individual tree- smells and flower- smells and grass-smells flit by like chemical notes in a great plant symphony. Sometimes the smells evoke memories so strongly that it’s as though the past hangs invisible in the air around me, wanting only the most casual of rumbling time machines to unlock it. A ride on a summer afternoon can border on the rapturous. The sheer volume and variety of stimuli is like a bath for my nervous system, an electrical massage for my brain, a systems check for my soul. It tears smiles out of me: a minute ago I was dour, depressed, apathetic, numb, but now, on two wheels, big, ragged, windy smiles flap against the side of my face, billowing out of me like air from a decompressing plane.
Transportation is only a secondary function. A motorcycle is a joy machine. It’s a machine of wonders, a metal bird, a motorized prosthetic. It’s light and dark and shiny and dirty and warm and cold lapping over each other; it’s a conduit of grace, it’s a catalyst for bonding the gritty and the holy. It’s flying three feet off the ground.
 

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Simple ; If i go somewhere in my car/truck my wife wants to come with me... When i take my bike/trike she wants nothing to do with them..
So i ride alone .. Serenity... Serenity...cheers:laugh
 

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Thats great rainman, loved it!
I want to fly...
 

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I flew to work today .....:laugh
 

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There is just something about the mental awareness while riding which is nothing like when you are driving a car/truck. You are more aware of your surroundings and that forces everything out of your mind that hasd been bothering you all day/week. This, in turn, reduces stress levels. The older I get, and the more that gets piled on my plate, the more I enjoy riding.
 

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I saw you post the same thing on ******. The essence of my answer is the same. You can never explain to anyone else why you ride. If they must ask they will never understand your answer. I ride because it is a part of me. It is what I do and is an integral part of my being. You might as well ask why I breathe. If that does not make sense to you, I really feel for you. You are riding and cannot define for yourself why you do that any more than I can, but you are not willing to admit it. No non-rider will ever understand no matter how well you try to explain it.
 

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Sure am missing my riding...hasnt even been a week...glad Im not over there where you get snowed in....since buying my Vegas 19 moths ago Ive covered 64,000 kms so now I got withdrawal symptoms!:crying
 

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Id settle for my Vegas repaired right now.
only snow I see in in my freezer compartment of my fridge, and thats fine
 

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In the 90’s I was riding a mountain bike several times a week for exercise. I would often imagine putting a small motor on my bike and then riding as far as I wanted then letting the motor get me back home. I also began dreaming of owning a motorcycle. In fact, I’d put myself asleep at night imagining that I was riding on perfect day and not a care in the world.

My dream has come true many times over. Riding is the perfect medicine for so many of my ailments.
 
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