Last year with the motorcycle I always felt that I had to be driving flat out to get somewhere. Several times I had it running close to one hundred miles an hour. No real destination, just motion.
There was no running or escaping from anything, just a driving urge to be . . . somewhere. I put about ten thousand meaningless meandering miles on the motorcycle during that season. Road noise was my soundtrack.
I truly enjoyed it. What part of it I am not quite sure. When winter hit I sold the bike. I thought I had done it and got it out of my system. Then I bought another one.
So far I enjoy it more, the experience is the same and yet different. I am more relaxed when I ride. I have any one of several destinations in mind and I have taken a slower pace. None of this really means anything other than I have slightly changed. I am a little more comfortable with myself. I will see where it takes me.