English, Reflections, rider's philosophy

Dusty Roads

Your road does not have an end. Your life does

It was a dull day, there was another boring motorcycle rally somewhere which I had to attend as I had to meet some guy. He never made it there.

I was not the only lost one that day, there was somebody else riding a Harley. I stopped to ask a direction and we became the bling leading the blind. We shared a lovely ride together. So unexpectedly. So true.

Biker Meets Biker

The people you meet along the roads are probably the most real people you will ever get to meet. Riders, bikers like you and me. Solitary souls in search for adventure, not for company.

A sidekick is always welcome, never needed. We ride our roads alone. We die alone… and when our cold dead bodies lie on the gutter, nothing will remain. Dust.

For the time we get there, many would have started the same road, many would have passed away, but who cares?

We’re specs of dust in a vast ocean… We’re given a time, it’s up to us to use it wisely. You ran out of it one way or another. I chose to ride motorcycles between cradle and grave. Not better, just something.

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