In the scheme of things, State Hwy 22 South of Auckland is a
minor road. Route 1 runs virtually parallel and sees all the action
- except for the riders.
Now, I'm not going to get it tattooed on my butt or anything, but
part of me lives on that road - or it in me - or something deep.
I hope I never forget:
Toes being the only part touching the peg, because an inch
below, on the other side of the sparks and melting aluminium, is
violent tarmac.
Knee out, hip out, neutral balance, arms relaxed and loose
except for a twist of the throttle.
The camber through the hills - like a satellite in orbit, falling
without ever touching down, the bike drops through the corners
on my balance, without thinking 'steering', just feeling, just
moving weight.
Alert. Concentrate. Don't trust what you can't see. Contingency.
Helmet always on the level plane and bike and body a pivot
beneath it.
Finding the gear for torque. Pulling out of the lean with power, the
roar of the 1200.
The kid waving with glee at the sight of the bike. The countryside.
The pace. The adrenaline. Finding the edge. Satisfaction.
That's why I take the photos. To re-live and re-visit and keep it
real. And post 'em to hopefully entertain.
So, found Nirvana? No, but I have an idea what the driveway
looks like.
http://www.davidcohen.co.nz/sh22/pages/road.htm
bd
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