My Eye on Being Free, by Jeff Henry

As I turn the door knob I can feel the excitement in my fingertips.  In almost a trance, my eyes fix on the garage knowing what is inside.  The door opens with a couple of squeaks and my first step into the brisk morning air awakens all of my senses simultaneously. The air is crisp and clean feeding my lungs with an almost new sense of life.  I walk across the pavement, my boots clicking on the uneven ground.  My walk speeds to a near-run as I get to the halfway point of thirty feet.  I reach the garage and unlock the door.  I raise the door, with its usual creak and crank sounds, and reveal the beauty of a motorcycle that lies within.

I walk up and swing a leg over it and proceed to back it out into the cool morning air.   I pull out my cell phone to see that it is eight in the morning.  I put my phone into a zippered pocket in my jacket and close it to secure the phone for the ride ahead.  My hand reaches for the start button and, depressing it with my thumb, I fire up my motorcycle.  I can almost taste the pureness of the air as I breathe it in.  It’s like I have been welcomed into a brand new world by all of the spirits of the land around me.

The cylinders begin to warm up and popping notes of the exhaust start to smooth out into a nice, low rumble.  By now the exhaust fumes permeate my nose and the adrenaline starts to rise as my eyes concentrate on the road just a few yards away.  I run my hand up the smooth, chrome handlebar, reaching the clutch lever and pulling it firmly in with my left hand.  Even that seems to feel perfect for the adventure to come.

The chrome on the motor glistens in the morning sun, clean as can be.  The paint appears flawless as the green pearl within the bright yellow dances as the sun’s rays bounce back and forth across it.  The idle of the motor has smoothed out into a nice steady rumble now. Now she is ready to play. The heads are almost too hot to touch. The exhaust note is complete and perfect without any sputter.

I pull in the clutch lever and bring my foot up to the shifter.  My hand grabs a bit of the throttle as my motorcycle comes to life.  My foot depresses the shifter to put it in gear.  As I begin to release the clutch and grab more of the throttle she really comes to life.  I am moving now as my other foot comes to rest on the right peg.  The road that was once yards away is now within inches.  The front tire glides onto the smooth surface of the road as the bike is now screaming loud.  I am now on the road, completely engulfed in the cool morning wind, and I ride into a beautiful summer day.

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