Ducati 1098S on Creston Road
There’s a beat… A second that goes by… A moment where what lies forward enters the ‘here & the now’… A smirk, A smile, A sense of life…
But then it’s gone…
A flash. A bulb going off.. A brilliant beat that’s continuing to move past…
That’s behind…
The strip of paint on the tarmac that you see coming and then see going…
Twisting the throttle back makes the bike jump.
It’s hurries itself up. Faster and faster… More compact, more alert, more alive. I hear it. I feel it. I am it. And I want more of it… Much more… So much more… Ah… this is what I love… This is what I am… This is more me than I’ve known…
Somehow what’s good gets better and what’s best becomes more… I don’t know how, I don’t know why, I don’t know what is happening… But I like it…
All day the never-ending serpentine asphalt has been bending and brushing its way around the land but not any more…
Now it’s living in a sequence of continuity, where the long winding path has rolled itself out, unfurled its wares and become one, long, nasty and beautiful — and lengthy — bit of straightness.
So straight. So strong. So much grip… And I feel myself slide back in the saddle.
Get as low as I can. Under the windscreen. Beneath the air. Below the bike.
And then the ‘10 rips… The engine forcefully pushing… Pulling… Biting… Hitting the limit and then with one click, starting all over once more time… And again… And again… And again…
When the corner finally approaches, I let the throttle down, softly increase the pressure on the brake lever and sit up like a sail… And as the wind blasts away and I mentally prep for the corner ahead, I find myself thinking, we all live in some kind of box, something that surrounds our lives and gives it definition — Perhaps for too long I’ve spent too much time searching for bigger and better boxes when instead perhaps the goal should have been pushing the life inside the box to the edge… Or as far as the tach will go…
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