The smell does funny things to me. It brings back times and situations of my youth.

The growl of engines, you can almost feel it resonating through you. Like a deep dark song that embodies your thoughts and feelings.

And the rush of speed, windswept, exposed. In control, yet at the edge of what is controllable.

These are the reasons why I have gone back to riding motorbikes. I read somewhere that riding a bike is the closest you will get to the sensation of flying. Someone else said that it is like steering a missile.

I’m older now, I have figured out that I’m not immortal. And control is often an illusion. I watch the road, the people, constantly scanning for warning signs.

But once you are out on that open road, there is no other feeling in the world like it.