I often wonder, what is it that draws me to riding. Why does it make me restless if I have not been behind a handlebar for an extended period of time? Why am I drawn to this experience of barreling down a highway atop a metal contraption? Why do I willingly wake up at unearthly hours? Why do I endure hours in the saddle when it is easier to take a flight? Why do I spend all my time dreaming of a motorbike that can take me anywhere?
If I really need answers, I decide, I must sift through the clutter and dig deep. What is it beyond the wind in the hair and freedom argument? Takes a bit(or a lot!) of parking the rider ego. After meandering and navigating through some fog, in a moment of clarity, I finally see it. Overcoming fear! And the pursuit of perfection! Now, before I sound like I oversimplify, it is a lot more than that, please do bear with me.
Why fear? That most basic instinct of humans, and ironically the one that ensured our survival for so long. You see it everywhere. As a species, we went through many revolutions(cognitive, agriculture, industrial) that helped us get to where we are. Our fear kept pace, in one form or the other. Fear of predators. Fear of disease. Fear of the elements and their capacity to destroy. Fear of your fellow human beings to harm, or worse, kill you. Fear of being robbed of your life’s savings. A lot of what we do to survive, deep down, are born of fear. Fear of growing old and fear of dying mean we turn to medicine. Fear of not having shelter or food mean we are ok to bond ourselves to a “job”. Fear lets us be ruled over by religion, or worse, by governments. We are ready to turn a blind eye to values in the face of fear.
Now riding on the other hand, lets you face your fear for that brief duration you are on your machine, coaxing it to do a bit more here and a bit more there. Like one famous author said, “faster faster until the thrill of speed overtakes the fear of death”. Which is our primal fear. You sit atop a man made machine, which with one wrong move could make things go downhill very quickly. With every twist of the throttle, every lean of the machine, every obstacle on the road, you overcome your fears a bit more. Fear of losing control. Fear of pain, or worse, in case you happen to have an unplanned meeting with the tarmac. Fear of the unknown. Until finally you feel that oneness with your machine and for brief moments you master your fear. It's now a drug, more powerful than any other you know.
You now notice that there is more than just wind in your hair and freedom from the usual existence. You notice that there is that very fleeting moment of clarity where you are not bogged in by tunnel vision of what comes next. You are aware. You are aware that there is more. You sense it more than see it. This is where you make a choice. You pursue this. Or you stay happy with what you had so far and live in its memory. Or better still, a shared memory with fellow riders. Where it can become a religion, replete with its rituals and traditions. Its high priests, who have earned badges of honor. Its events that are gatherings of the believers.
Or... you choose to continue the search knowing something is missing. It can’t be just this, can it? Why do you sit with your fellow riders, but still feel like something is missing? Why do the rituals not move you? What did you leave out there on the highway? What did you come close to, but felt like you lost your grasp on it? You find you think clearer when your next ride is solo, without any distractions. Without someone stopping for a break and breaking your rhythm. You realize that for any chance of getting back that feeling you are on your own. And hence starts the pursuit of perfection. The pursuit of that string of moments when everything is in tune: the body, the machine and the mind. When all three move as one cohesive unit. That string of moments that some call flow and others meditation, but that moment of clarity and feeling of oneness with the universe. The body does not need fuel and you don’t want to stop. You stop only when the machine needs fuel and then you realize how ravenous you are. How thirsty you are. How tired you are, and how magically it disappears, once you are astride your machine again. And you get astride as soon as you can, in pursuit of perfection. Yet again.
And now that you have tasted this once, it is hard to keep you away. Hard not to feel restless when your regular life deprives you of your chance at this. Hard not to keep trying to get to perfection on every ride. And rewarded you are, every now and then, more often not. When you do get rewarded though it makes all the pain and the hunger and the drudgery worth it. Again and again. For that glimpse of moments bereft of fear and filled with perfection. You ride on. And on.
