Posted by: nativeiowan | July 4, 2014

the sound of speed

My dreams are filled with the sound of speed;

Like a sailor whose wobbly legs are a memory of the sea,

I dream of wind and motion and sound and images phlashing past.

I hear the 80mph winds rush over, past n through me.

I see the shadows of faster vehicles before I see or hear them;

they come up fast from behind, tooling along 10 to 20 mph over my speed.

I hear the gears of the big-rigs shifting and toiling, up hill and down.

I smell the fried brakes over heated and warping from the down hill friction test.

I see the majestic scenery; the Colorado River, the Veil Pass, Utah in its barren glory,

Vegas in the glare of daylight, Nebraska in its flat nothingness; green, fertile n rich.

Those lonely sound filled hours of solitude;

a study of stillness in motion, man being still on the machine in motion…

Or such is the theory… how still can you be whilst in control of a 440lbs beast?

You are moving all the time, is the answer, moving and controlling and shifting and…

I think that riding long distance – at speed – is a perpetual motion sorta gig.

It’s about motion n control n awareness n being – out there –

OUT THERE, exposed n vulnerable n on the proverbial razor’s edge,

where the sound of speed is real, alive and an important part of life.

 

 

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