the zen of motorcycling

"I hope my passenger got something out of the experience too, besides the adrenaline rush."

That lifted off a friend's online journal today - a friend who took me out yesterday on his uber cool Kawasaki Somethingerother (it's yellow and it rips, that's all I remember - I know, I'm SUCH a girl!). Anyway, I found myself momentarily perplexed. "Besides the adrenaline rush??" I asked myself, out loud. "Is there anything else?" Apparently, there is. So, I thought about it. Then, I made a list. I'm calling it my "Things I Got Out of My High Speed, Supersonic, Last Ride of the Year Motorbike Mini-Road Trip (Besides the Adrenaline Rush) List: (subtitle) The Westside Road Chronicle."

And here it is, in no particular order:

* 37 great shots of scenery whizzing by (lake, trees, lake and trees, trees and lake, blur of grass, twisty road, signs warning of twisty road, me sitting on bike, me and friend looking in rear view mirror of bike, etc). They look really cool when viewed as a slide show to the soundtrack of Hampton the Hamster;

* Viewing a small brown bear (not a big dog or even a rogue calf, as I initially believed) amble bravely across the road just in front of us and up a grassy hill;

* Freedom, flying unfettered for an entire afternoon, which I really wish I could do more often (as does everyone who has the misfortune of having to work for a living). Then again, perhaps that raises the intensity of the experience. For those who haven't had the pleasure, it's like this: for a brief moment in time there is no time, no deadlines, no failures or defeats, no triumphs or successes - just you, the wind and the open road. It is, dare I say, a glimpse of eternity;

* Another excellent adventure with said friend - something I just know I'm going to miss in the not-to-distant future (cue violins);

* The totally foreign (to me) experience of putting everything you are (i.e. life itself) into the hands of another person who will drive with it at 130 klicks down a windy road on only two wheels (no roof), with an embankment to your immediate right. This is trust. This is vulnerability. This is SO lacking in control. I don't do any of these things, like, ever. Ever! Yes, I've experienced time- (and brains-) starved taxi drivers who have hurled me from one side of the cab to the other down the twisty back roads of Kwangju (me praying frantically all the way). Yes, I've driven from Calgary to Kelowna in the frightmobile piloted by my crazy Aunt Rex (who has now been diagnosed with dementia, I kid you not) and still have the nail prints in my palms to prove it. This is not trust. This is fear of imminent death for the duration of the ride. What I felt yesterday (and during the first trip, several weeks ago, chronicled at www.thejogblog.blogspot.com) was, must have been, pure, unadulterated trust. No fear. Just giving your entire destiny over to another (assumedly prudent) driver and actually loving the ride. Now that - that is a trip and a half, all on its own.

So yeah, when I really think about it, I guess I did get more from the escapade than a simple, primitive adrenaline rush. Of course - and this is the best part - I got that, too! :)

Now what I'd love to know is what that friend got from it all (besides the requisite adrenaline rush, natch). Bet he can't top mine - but I dare him.