Pyromaniac

Not a very simple pleasure, but..

The whole motorcycle experience. Squeezing into my leather suit, smelling that awesome leather smell, stringing up my boots, grabbing my helmet and gloves, and heading outside. Sliding the key into the ignition, clicking her into neutral, and thumbing the start button. Sliding my gloves and helmet on, and the smell of the still new helmet. After a minute of warming up, taking off and leaving my driveway, leaning over a bit and going down the street at 15 mph even though the limit is 20, just to build up the anticipation. Running through the neighborhood at 15 mph... waiting for it. Here it comes, the 40 mph highway outside my neighborhood. Stop at the stop sign. Look both ways. Nothing to the left. A cluster of cars to the right. Look to the left again, I shut the helmet visor.. "thunk". Here we go. Rolling the throttle open, hearing the high strung japanese engine screaming, screaming with delight, leaned over at a steep angle, accelerating to 50 mph in 2 seconds. Imagining what that guy in the car behind me driving to another boring day of work is thinking.

Stopping at a red light behind a school bus full of kids, watching one of them look back and notice me in full black racing leathers, black helmet, black tinted face shield, black gloves, black boots. Then about 10 more kids are plastered to the back of the school bus staring. Revving it to 14,000 rpms, watching them go nuts. Remembering how extremely cool sportbikes were when I was a kid.

Pulling up next to a car with a mom and her young son, and seeing them both get the biggest smiles on their faces. Matching my speed to the car so the kid gets to watch me, as long as I can until we hit traffic.

Coming up on a curve. It's marked 20 MPH. Rolling on the throttle to 50, leaning it over and railing through the corner. My hands lighten up on the grips. Rolling on the throttle more, leaning harder. Accelerating out of the corner and then slowing down, breathing deeply taking it all in.

I'm gonna go ride.