3 years ago, a tough call had been made.
Little had prepared me though for the endless barbs from those around & the mountain of self-doubt, as the ones around zipped past on the career highway. Homes, cars, & the trappings of a lavish life. They flaunted it all, a few even rubbed it in the face. Those were the dark days & things soon went pitch black. Flying blind became second nature, as did a life filled with sacrifices. But between all this, came hope.
Motorcycling became the catharsis, the cure for those many aches.
Had a tough day at work, ride. Someone fleeced you yet again on bike parts, ride. Feeling low, ride. Feeling high, ride. Hit with a bout of writers block, ride. And then something changed. Riding or thoughts of riding began to take over, one tiny dark pixel at a time. Met a ton of new folks, stood open mouthed, as I got to know of their exploits, their experiences. Unabashedly bowed down to their choices & the life they’d made for themselves. Heck, I even managed to renew & strengthen the bonds with a few of the older ones as well.
And then, as i sat there across the table today, watching the troika who’d supported me through it all, with two of them being the very ones who brought me into this world & nurtured me all the way, there was a certain kind of satisfaction that spread through me. I knew right then, no matter how much money we earn, or how successful we get, if we aren’t there for these irreplaceable ones when they need us the most in their golden years, everything else is worthless.
And so, while i may be still some time away from the break even point, with nary a clue of what it’s gonna be like of the things that come my way, but i am here, elbows bent, chin up & facing the horizon, ever ready to throttle away.