Haul Ass.

Matthew Labarge

Drop the Hammer.

Crack the throttle.

Punch it.

Floor the Pedal.

Grab a fistful of speed.

Jump on it.

It doesn't matter what you use or say. They all mean the same thing. Take all that energy inside you and transfer it to your machine. Causing you and it to eat up asphalt like a drug crazed addict popping pills like Pez. Speed freaks know what I'm talking about. The battle to keep it between the lines. The redline on the far right of your tach and the ever stretching line to your left running down the road. Outside those lines all your cares and worries blur with the world around you and everything rushes past and is left behind. Inside those lines you slow down, your focus becomes crystal clear. It's aimed directly in front of you, seeing everything coming your way and passing it, putting it behind you. It's one place in your crazy life that you can escape all the things around you.

In that place away from the cares and worries of the world it should be said that you are not actually alone. You have fear with you. And in between those lines it's a stand off between you and it. Who will blink first? You know it won't be you. If you blink while you're between those lines it's over. It's the gas in your soul fueling you as if it were the octane in your tank. Then there's the rush, that boost of nitrous oxide to your system, adrenaline. It kicks in and it kicks in hard. It's a continuous 150 shot to your core with an endless bottle. Fear and adrenaline, better than caffeine and nicotine. When your body courses and rages with that inside, all you can do is scream for more, more, more. Hell, your probably shivering in withdrawal from it as you read this.

But in this refuge of speed people are crashing. These are the ones that carry their worries with them and it clouds their focus. They let the fear take control, and the adrenaline is too much. They lose sight of what's going on around them and the end up merging with that world. Usually in a creation made of fire, flesh, asphalt and steel. That doesn't make them bad riders or drivers. There are those times when the world around realizes you are escaping its hold and reaches out to grab you. Sometimes you escape, sometimes you don't. If you can get back between those lines afterward though, you have another reason to be there, to give the world that tried to stop you a big Go Fuck Yourself. Everyone else, well maybe they shouldn't have been there in the first place. Plain and simple, if you can't leave everything behind when you get between those lines, then you have no reason or right to be there.

The stories of those that have been there keep enticing others to go. To experience first hand what it's like. Unfortunately there are people that can't pay the price of admission to get between the lines. The stories they tell, not always with their words, are tragic, sometimes heart wrenching. They serve as a warning to others that seek to reach that plane. Some will listen and heed those warnings while others will leave them behind along with everything else. The attraction and the warnings. Which tugs greater? Remember, if you can't get past the warnings, beware, you might end up becoming one.

When all is said and done, there are those that have been there and will continue to go between the lines and there are those that have been there, seen a glimpse and it was too much for them. If you choose to go between the lines, make sure it's a place you want to be. You don't have to look for escape and release here. There are other places to leave this world behind. Just make sure this is the one for you. Your loss or tragedy is not an escape from this life. It is a constant reminder to those you left behind.

The Biker eNews is a non-profit public service for the Tidewater and Peninsular Motorcycle Community. We are not affiliated with any organization or business. The Biker eNews is owned, operated and paid for by Phillip Floria. We accept no commercial advertising; our links are links of interest for motorcycle enthusiasts.