I felt so good riding my motorcycle today that I couldn’t keep the laughter in. The morning was foggy and very cold – I had to cook the engine with a space heater for ten minutes before it would start – but there’s something about piloting the fastest, nimblest vehicle on the road that makes me feel like a superhero. I’m just flying, out in space, wind and air and rain all around me; the cars and trucks are just obstacles, not really part of my world at all. Everything else fades, it’s just me and the bike and the world around me, all right there, nothing else to worry about.

I feel a little silly sometimes to get such a kick out of this. Riding fast and beating traffic makes me feel special and awesome, larger than life, but it’s just the bike: anyone else on any other motorcycle could do the same. So where are they? Why are all these people poking along in their cars, feet shifting on the pedals as traffic waves ebb and flow? Why don’t they ditch those cages and come join me out here where life is great and commuting is fun? It’s not that hard! You just have to take the course and buy a bike and wear a bunch of safety gear and then ride a lot so you get comfortable on the highway and then just not care about the weather or the risk…