The prior night saw me on conference bridges working through system outages and restoring service so the world economy could continue grinding away on waves of cash being printed by the feds. By the time it was all over the sun was up and I was too sleep-deprived to be piloting a motorcycle for more than a fifteen minute trip home.
What really grinds my gears about it is I missed an opportunity to ride at least part of the day on my buddy Tom’s Ducati Multistrada while he gave my big Triumph a run for the money. That would have been a nice change of perspective for both of us.
With nearly half a century under my belt those missed opportunities are starting to become more and more regretful. I’m pretty sure that on my deathbed (if I end up on a bed and not a highway) I’ll be wishing I’d gotten out to ride more.
I keep asking myself:
Are all these evenings and weekends solving problems caused by others really worth it? Is the pay, the nice house, the kick-ass car, and the gadgetry really enough compensation for the lost adventures?
The answer is always “No”.
But I never take that answer seriously.
Eventually I’m sure to regret that.