Writing dump

[learnteach]

Works in Progress



I choose to ride a motorcyle, on the freeways, in California. I know that this is where friends of mine have died, horribly, sadly, messily. I know that every day I turn on the engine is a day riding into greater danger than being in the car.

I choose to ride, because I chose to live. I choose to use as much of my body as possible to steer and start and stop and occasionally push the bike. I love the sensation of being part of the world rather than just seeing the scenery go by from the cage. Every danger overcome energizes me, and I am more awake and alive because of it.

I am in the company of other motorcyclists, and I acknowledge them and our bond by waving when I see them. I will assist any motorcyclist who needs help. I will improve my skills so that I am better able to render help.

Whatever the type, I will aid and assist them, and be pleasant and respectful. They, too, chose to ride, knowing the risks. They have come to my aid.

I am a motorcyclist, and this helps me feel alive.

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Just looked at some of the pictures floating around in the mess on my desk, looking for some shots of absent friends. It's somewhat amazing to me. Most of the pictures are from events or groups I have helped forment, from SCA Crosston to The Geoffrey War to Matt and Xtal's wedding (best man) to trips to Dicken's to the Pony Express ride to Dress to Excess to good parties to little ceremonies.

I need to do more of these events.

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Perhaps I will take up Morris dancing. I've always wanted to.

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