Oh man. This is not good. REALLY not good…
I’m starting to like speed.
We’re talking LIKE like.
That was never me.
Yeah, I have always loved the crazy, adrenaline-infused daredevil stuff, but speed was never a part of that equation. Somehow I have always equated the need for speed with an inflated ego. Why wouldn’t I? Isn’t throttle usually twisted by ego more than anything else?
I have never thought of myself as ego-driven, though. Ask anyone. I don’t take myself seriously. I’m a goofball. My work? Yes. Very serious about getting shit done and done well. But myself? Meh.
Perhaps because of my perception about the connection between speed and ego, until now I have never been into ‘the fast and the furious’ genre.
That’s starting to change. If I’m honest with myself, I have to admit that my growing love for speed is probably tied to ego somehow, but I’m not entirely sure how. I do know that at least it didn’t start with ego because I remember the exact moment this rapturous feeling hit me.
It started with pure, beautiful physics.
It started when the weather got warmer and the highway got emptier…so empty that I was tempted to give it a go. I had racked up 1500km of highway riding on my Yamaha and was starting to get very comfortable with how she handles. That, and a new set of good tires was enough to lure me to crank it.
The smooth, deep twist of my right wrist triggered an immediate, intense forward thrust. Though I’m only riding 250ccs, the sense of propulsion was so palpable, so instantaneous, so seductive. The seductive element wasn’t just the feeling of speed, but the mechanism of power in my hand. The accelerative force. A simple, slight movement of a mere seven muscles in my wrist creates such a massive linear reactive force that it’s all I need to get me and the machine (a combined 220 kilos) going over 100 km/hour in a matter of seconds.
That kind of power corrupts.
That kind of power is just a little TOO exciting.
I’m hoping it will pass.