Recently, when I read an article about President Duterte taking a spill on his bike while riding around the grounds of Malacañang, I thought that the man really is a rider. A rider cannot go a few days without riding his steed–the urge will always be there, like an itch that must be scratched. Those with the passion, will always have it and no amount of stress can take it away. In fact, a rider rides to get rid of the stress; to clear his head; to allow the experience to usher in fresh ideas. He is addicted to the sense of freedom that riding provides–almost like flying with nothing around able to touch you. I’m trying to explain here why a rider rides no matter the circumstances and it’s still hard to determine whether I’m getting through to you or not. I will let others share in this task.
Confessions are commonly made when there is no more fear of its consequences. Still, some are made to help explain someone’s past actions more eloquently. The confession below was found among a man’s possessions. He obviously had left it to explain his devious behavior to those that survived him. In life, he could not justify his seeming lack of attention to them even though he was a good provider, and they could not want for more. He always knew that he owed them an explanation. And so, he wrote this confession for them to find when he was gone:
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My Confession
My affair with her started some time long ago. I was crazy about her from the start, and then obsessing about her as our relationship grew, lusting for her every instant I am alive. I could not get enough of her; I could not get her out of my mind; not being on her was torture. She wasn’t the prettiest of all those that I’ve seen but she held the greatest promise. She told me that I could rely on her, trust her; she’d be the one solace for me that would always be there, never failing. Together, we looked at the horizon and said, “We’ll get there together, you and me, and we’ll see what’s there for us.”
I will not say that my wife does not know about her because she does, but she trusts me–that I would never leave her. She found comfort in the thought that for as long as my mistress was number two, she’d be number one. There are times when I do not want to listen to my wife nor spend time with her but somehow I still harbor a conscience–even when my mind wanders to the other one, thinking of how nice and satisfying she would be; how she begs me to ride her hard while she remains calm and oozing with passion; how reassuring it is to feel her purring underneath me, reality still somehow finds its way home. Then, I find time to regroup myself, to ponder my state, but still my love for my mistress prevails strong as ever.
In recent times, I have been jealous because others have taken a liking to my other one. I just know that if given the chance, they’d want the same thing I got. They’ve witnessed the caring, the subservience, the unerring ways in which my mistress has served me. Most of them have their own mistresses but they get tired of them easily, replacing them often. I myself have had others before, but this time, I feel the relationship has just begun. My friends may envy me, and the more they are, the more I love my other one.
If it is a sin to love her, then I’m a big sinner. I have no regrets, nor will I seek redemption because I truly believe that my affair with her is righteous. I will protect her just as she protects me. No other has ever given me confidence like she does–all the time.
At the end of the day, I am truly humbled by the way she had treated me, bringing me home safely with nary a scratch on me. So, I gently roll her into the garage, lovingly setting her on her side, giving her last glances, not wanting to leave her, and she glimmers in the light, promising me another wonderful time, anytime. Ah, my sweet motorcycle, goodnight, my love.
I would say that this confession may be used by all those out there that share the same passion. The motorcycle is, to us, the one thing that never disappoints. It always satisfies the deepest cravings we have. It takes away the gloom from our lives. It invigorates us, injects excitement into our otherwise dull existence. It unleashes our adrenalin freely without the usually attendant fear and worry of its otherwise undesirable triggers. It affords us premium moments of contemplation, taking us away from the clutches of boredom.
Why do I ride? Outright, I could not give you an answer that would sound easy. It’s hard to explain but I could try, or I can make you experience the same, the latter being the easiest way to make you understand.
The motorcycle as transportation is common, but it is so popular for other less obvious reasons. Some have called it an addiction and they, too, are correct. But better still, is its description as a way of life, an extension of one’s being, a reflection of the way he or she wants to live life.
So, why do we ride? It’s just the way we are.
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Author’s email: [email protected]
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