Visor cascading rain, continuously spotted as drops explode from buffeted sheets sweeping across the open heath.
Passing lights refracting in a Christmas street vision, bright twinkles prismed in spots and trickles.
One finger smears a mirror, swipes a clear view momentarily.
Frequently, a balance of twists and precipitation. A, safety equation until the next caf or petrol station, to pull in and wait out the worst or at the least wringing out my sleeves and pulling back out with a clean dry screen. A relay system and break point. Smarter than attention wandering from the road, poor braking control and nowhere left to go.
Letting go of emotion, submitting to every condition without struggling. Riding the wind and leaning in to the world, trusting my senses and assessing every twitch in every nerve. Feeling which way the flow lies, which way the crow flies. Hearing the tyres hissing, every tick of the hours steaming from the engine.
There\'s never been the phenomenon, the record of a rusty man but without immersion I feel close to him and on the edge of something. Fatigued and mentally spent in every traffic jam, junction crossed and the miles passed.
I didn\'t really find what I went out for but came closer to the meaning of riding, some reasons to be living and even more reasons to keep looking forward.