Explaining the joy of riding a motorcycle is difficult, but Dave Karlotski does it as well as anyone in his essay Season of the Bike.
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.



Riding a motorcycle is one thing, in terms of sheer enjoyment. Riding one at it's limit around a track is quite another. The ethereal feeling of your knee puck scuffing the ground, an occasional touch of the toe, head mere inches from the ground as you flirt with that ragged edge as though it's your first girlfriend and one unwelcome advance might end it all forever... that's a feeling I've yet to match.
At Speed. Great shot!
Connection with The Moment, being present with concentration, as heavy a gig as anyone could ask for, and more. It's like surfing Mavericks but with a Jet Ski, huge power, and you'd better respect it, because danger lurks. As rewarding as any Midnight Liason, but without the hangups, just you and The Machine, and machines don't argue, as much as communicate the need for loving attention.
Gonzo and Richard Thompson said much the same, with a Vincent Black Shadow......Ribbit.
Oh, sorry folks, I got it wrong, Hunter and Richard speak of the Vincent Black Lightning, not the Vincent Black Shadow.......but it should be noted that the Vincent Black Shadow had a reputation for being the fastest production bike in the world until 1973!
I've had my knees in the breeze for many a year but these folks.....Dang. I'm just a puttering old fool.
Richard Thompson: Vincent Black Lightning 1952
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AxKTzwaEa2o