Process

The cloud cover moves fast. Its sense of purpose surprising. Its speed shocking. The wind that moves it less than exciting. And in its wake it leaves great big shadows – over dozens of housing developments and landlocked avenues and bits and pieces of society.

Yet I find myself riding squarely in the sunshine.

But I’m not.

And I don’t know how that happens.

In the distance stands the next great vista and beyond that hopes and dreams.

Maybe even mine.

Rolling through the next mountain pass, I swear I can hear the sirens call.

I can feel the urge, the great need to explore, the great desire to be from ‘here’ and to go to ‘there’…

California is calling me.

Calling me once again.

Cresting the ridge, I’m struck by how the beauty of this state never fails to amaze.

No matter how out sorts I might be – and let’s face it, I am — there’s always something that draws me back. Something that draws me here. Something that makes me think this land is more special than any other.

No matter how much I travel or where I go in this world, it’s this land that speaks to me – This swatch of life that echoes the sentiment in my soul.

A blip of the throttle, a drop of the gears and one hell of an engine howl later, I find myself squeezing into the Duc’s tank and hustling the Monster up the next incline.

Then I hit the next corner and the bike dives.

For all the ups and downs in life, nothing reboots the system like an L-Twin.

In the back of my mind I crave that long lost smoke, I thirst for the booze I shouldn’t have, and I can’t help but think about where the road I’m on is headed.

But they don’t make maps for where I’m at… Nor where I’m heading…

After all, personal discovery isn’t communal… Its personal…

Right now I’m not quite sure how to process where I’m going – it’s both new and old and exciting and difficult and quantifiably confusing all at the same time.

But at least I’ll always have California.