(“…nothing left to lose.” – for the 10 people who don’t know Kris Kristofferson’s iconic song).
So, I woke up this morning with an overwhelming urge to jump on my motorcycle and blast down the road. Destination unknown. Return? Undecided. But, you see, I haven’t built it yet. It’s simply a figment of my fervent imagination. All bits of unpolished aluminum, black powdercoat, and red leather. Mere fragments of thought. Machine sex love thoughts, but thoughts nonetheless.I really hate and really love this stage of my projects. It’s when I’ve imagined plenty enough for it to feel real. That is, be real to me. But, I haven’t pulled out the welder. I haven’t bought an engine. I haven’t stripped the frame. There is no red leather seat for me to test my position in the saddle. No grease that I can’t scrub out – but must cut out – of my nails. I’m caught between wonder and action, creativity and reality, dreaming and awakening. Ugh….
It’s like porn – but in my head – and starring a 1200 V-Twin instead of Sasha Grey. As the details unfold, dissatisfaction with inaction grows in my muscle. A tipping point looms and sweat, spit, muscle and heart will pour into steel, and leather, and copper and chrome.
And then…
…Until then…
…I ride.