My leather jacket and chaps hang on a hook in my back room. Two pairs of riding boots sit on the floor. Layers of dust have gathered on them and I take a rag and wipe them off. Later I will get the saddle soap out and give them a proper cleaning. It’s been just over two years since I wore these things and hung them up more as a memory than anything else. You see I sold my last bike at age 60 something figuring it was time to sit the rest of my miles out, but I was wrong…. the road keeps calling me the wind wants to slap my face and the never-ending desire to ride is like a ticking time bomb. Sometimes just sitting on a bike is enough other times countless miles are needed to sort through the cobwebs and storm clouds of life. Freedom is a word some use to describe riding I tend to think of it as an addiction, one I can’t let go of even though I know with each mile comes the risk of that last fix. So, my time these days is spent looking at Craig’s list and other places hoping that perfect bike will appear, and I know it will because it must be that way.my hat is off to those who choose to play golf, go fishing, work around the house, or whatever they want to do once retiring. After all, they too earned it.me, well ill climb on the steel pony once more and add a few more wrinkles to my ever-aging face locked in a grin only I can feel, the grin of a happy old man riding into a sunset somewhere down that endless road….
Another excerpt from my book "Raw emotions"
www.michaeloconnorwriter.com links to purchase
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