But the one thing that each of them had- that moment they all shared, was when the rider would climb on board the latest creation in the making, and hold his (or her) arms out in position and feet up in position and hold their head up... and look out at the horizon in front of them. See it. In front of the bike. The road ahead.
Even in the most ridiculous of motorcycle builder shows, looking closely, you can see each of these people, for just that moment - they forgot the cameras and the jokes and the lines and the producer... and saw the road ahead.
So I had my own little moment last night. I'd done my usual head home after work, gathered the mail and changed into the 'don't care if these get greasy' clothes routine before walking over to the garage and sip my Guinness while I watch the door climb slowly up. I did have some decisions to make, and I think I've arrived at a solution for a couple new things that have cropped up and been discovered. But in the middle of those, with fresh clip-on handlebars 'sorta' installed and the front wheel 'sorta' installed and the brake and clutch levers 'sorta' not dragging on the ground... I just wanted to climb on.
First thing that struck me was how narrow the bike is. Second thing was how loose I'd left the front wheel... but that's another story. Anyway, climbed on, leaned forward, imagined where the feet will go, grabbed ahold of the bars -
- and looked out.
Saw the road. The curves. The highway. The route.
And I must have gotten lost in that view for a few seconds too many, after getting pulled out of my thoughts and back to reality of garage space and a friendly neighbor chuckling to herself and throwing a compliment of the bike coming along my direction.
I hope I wasn't making any engine noises...
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