It's a familiar routine in an unrecognizable realm. The decision was processed by the neurons long before the body executed the commands. It is Thursday 1100, time to surf. all systems are ready as the rider and mechanical steed begin the process of Synchronicity. I am in Southern California a known destination, I recognize the environment yet the life form is missing from its mega-metropolis arteries that fuel its energy source. These days the digital fish wraps of the world appeared to have embraced motorcycling as a sport, as there is constant chatter about climbing the curve, lowering the curve and flattening the curve, personally I prefer to lean into the curves. I'm surfing southbound on Las Virgenes road, when I stared this ride the temperature gauge registered a sizzling 91F/33C and now as I look again it reads 66F/19C. As I crested the Santa Monica Mountains, the cool breeze of the Pacific ocean clashes against my motorbike and face shield, the ocean smells are intoxicating and the fog transports me to another microcosm. One where fluidity amongst machine, human and environment can be achieved. A glorious yet perplexing experience.
I quickly settled into a rhythm as I pull in the clutch, close the throttle, up shift and simultaneously release the clutch and roll the throttle. I know where I am, I know what I am doing and yet something seems off. The seashore is deserted and there are multiple signs unwelcoming my visit, urging me to keep moving. This status is far from the home state I remember, far from where most individuals would like to exist. As I surf southbound on Pacific Coast Highway I ponder the effects of such aberration. I realize, I am halfway over my orbital sequence, but what will this mean for my successor and those whom must navigate this sphere beyond today?
There is an incessant monologue and directives that dictate that I should be and stay home, the constant noise that blurs and inhibits common sense, rationality in favor of the fallacy of safety under the guise of alone but together. I have been told what is essential and what a hero is and looks like. And yet I must politely and intently disagree, for I believe that liberty is essential and if you disagree then please sit, roll over, stay home and witness your life be attenuated. The aforementioned approach is congruent with a herd mentality and I prefer to surf alone and be my own hero. I have looked up to the sky and seen the lights, something exists beyond the known. Fourteen months ago I trekked southwest, a mandatory lay over to reconnect and ascertain a point of origin. I now exultantly await my return to orbit, where I shall rejoin my successor. We are all astronauts on our way home.
I once asked, if you were granted one wish and received exactly what you asked for, would you know what to do with it? I do and I will. My name is Fredo, I am a Tarmac Surfer, it is what I do best and this is my reality exponentially beautiful reality.
The Tarmac Surfing craft of choice to transport me through space.
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