10 lbs of flour in a 5 lb bag.

I said don't tell me what I need. I ate dinner and swam afterwards. It was immediately afterwards too. I jumped right in. Normally I might wade in slowly. Normally I might wait 30 minutes like mom used to say was important. Cramps be dammed. I'm over the possibility of pain.

I've felt enough already. Scar tissue folds over and adheres to skin, organs and itself. How often is it repeated like a mantra, mind over matter, where there's a will there's a way, anything is possible with a good attitude.

I quit my job suddenly in June. There were lots of whys and whatareyougoingtodonows ? Without real clarity myself, the answers returned left the questioners dissatisfied, uneasy. Rumors flew around the workplace, ranging from ridiculous(growing pot) to semi plausible(commercial fishing). The point of course was lost on everyone. I wasn't going to start working another job. I had ideas but no plans. It wasn't about money, but rather the opposite. I didn't plan to be making a dime for several months. I jokingly said I was retiring, but why the hell not?

I am unemployed. I am without health insurance. I cashed in my meager retirement. I paid some bills off and then I am off and running. The west. Mountains. California. Alaska. Hot springs. Twisty motorcycle rides. Big dog in a little car.

My life of fitting 10 lbs of flour in a 5 lb bag.

Go Fast Genes

I always tell people that I don't have the "go fast" gene. I can point it out in my dad and brothers. Speeding away from stoplights, revving their engines, screeching tires in corners. You can see it in their faces. The big smiles and searching looks to see if anybody else around is enjoying it too.

There was a point where I thought I might be in trouble. When I bought my first motorcycle and began to ride I realized that pound for pound there were far more horses in between those two wheels than most cars. Just a simple twist of a wrist was all it took to flatten my eyeballs and grip that machine tight. It was easy, too easy, and way too much fun. I had good luck tempering my enthusiasm by riding in inclement weather and freezing my ass off. At least it did take a lot of the immediate fun out of it, delaying the gratification(or was it relief) until arriving at the destination.

I have not had a wreck yet. I say yet, because I truly believe it is inevitable given the frequency with which I ride. Nor have I been in a car accident, except getting rear ended by a very old woman at a stoplight. I am certainly mostly cautious, but I find myself taking those calculated risks for the sheer fun of it and having plenty of close calls. Wildlife, rough roads, inattentive drivers, mechanical failure have all nearly ruined what was otherwise a perfect day(or week or year or life).

When do I stop? I have seen many men quit riding due to starting a family. Is the temptation to have fun on two wheels too great and too directly deadly? Some people ride very safely their entire lives right up until they can no longer balance a bike and even then sometimes they continue on a trike or with landing gear(training wheels). I get the feeling that I will never stop unless health gets in the way. I have derived too much joy, made too many memories, and seen so many places that I can't imagine life without it.

But it's even simpler than that. When I start up a bike, throw a leg over and give that throttle a twist. The rush, the hang on tight you could die at any moment feeling takes over every other sense. It dominates all errant thoughts and distractions. It puts me so firmly in the moment that to even entertain a sideways glance could be the last thing I see.

"Go fast genes?" Nah not here no way. Thanks dad.