Eureka!

Picture this: you’re somewhere on a lonely stretch of road in Nevada, astride an imposing train-like motorcycle. You are rumbling towards Eureka, a tiny town you’ve never been to before, never had a reason to go there – but tonight, the promise of spicy tacos, cold beer and a warm bed are as good as any. A hot shower too – face blackened with road dust, you can taste 100 miles of desert in the back of your throat. The ride today has been a little hard, in that way only the most special rides are.

The rider next to you points across an open plain to a bluff a mile off on the right side. A swollen black puff of cloud rolls down the hillside, its powerful curtain of hard rain knocking dust to the ground. The sky darkens as the cold breath of the storm cuts through your leather. It will be on you in less than a minute; you are being pursued. Looking towards the others, you see that they understand this too. There’s not enough time to stop and put on your rain gear. The undulating desert back road is narrow, the surface pockmarked and slippery, and you’ve never ridden it before. But you raise your left hand, high in the air so they all see it, and throw it down towards the road ahead. The others respond and their RPMs rise in chorus, singing “fast now, we’re going to try to outrun this bastard.” Heads down, the pack threads along the desert road as you hear the first rain hiss down on the hot tarmac behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you see headlights grow dim in the silver torrent, swallowed by the rain. Riding as hard, as well as you’ve ever ridden, you know you can’t outrun it. As the downpour overruns you, steam comes off the big v-twin engine and stinging droplets needle into your face.

And then you hear a strange sound. Louder than the hammering rain, booming above the combustions of six hulking motorcycles, you hear…..laughter. The kind of laughter you haven’t heard since you were a child, exhilarating, unrestrained, uncaring. Pure joy. And then you realize that the laughter is coming from you. 

And as you finally approach the tiny town you’ve never been to before, soaked down to your underwear, you feel relief. Not because you’re arrived……but relieved because you chose to take this journey in the first place.