Motorcycle Explorer Nov 2015 Issue 8 | Page 224

And that was my column done, I submitted it and then promptly drove back home from the UK, 1600 miles to Bulgaria. Making miles, sleeping across the seats, through the night, into dawn, along time saving autobahns heading south east seeing nothing. When I got to the Czech Republic, where the corridor of speed takes a break, I drove alongside a slow flowing Saturday morning river, with orange leaves floating my way. Leaves which later passed me as I sat in a two and a half hour stagnant jam south of Prague, losing all the time my losing sleep had gained me. There was little compensation in reaching over for something to snack on, change the iPod playlist or the cab temperature because I was still trapped and unable to change the situation. Into a Slovakian sunset and a Hungarian Saturday night, past a Budapest party, staying on the ring road, staying in the cab, a few more hours pass across the seats. Then into a Romanian frosty dawn and slower speeds and way of life, cloud in the valleys, sun behind the haystacks, mountains on the horizon, and markets on the road, not car boot or super, just traditional, culture, the other side of my music and glass. And that's when I realised I'm not ready for this yet, to be a spectator, I can’t smell the fruits or fire smoke, the moisture of the mist or the warmth of the sunrays. I can’t stop without a lay by and turning around is as unlikely and leaning into a corner. I may be warm and able to cross long distances with ease, but this isn’t travelling this is transiting. If I had a bike on the back would I take it off for an excursion? No, in my mindset there is biking and then there is passage. And I don't see how I could mix the two, leaves drop off autumn trees and I can’t lift a hand to catch them, can’t catch an eye or shake a hand when a side stand goes down on the outside of town. I can effortlessly boil the kettle but its little compensation for the loss of feeling. And I don’t just want to see what passes me by, I want to feel it, on the bike I use all five senses and sometimes I get a sixth one free. I’m deprived of that in the cab, it’s senseless. Ride On Baby, Ride On Graham