(“…nothing left to lose.”  – for the 10 people who don’t know Kris Kristofferson’s iconic song).

So, I woke up this morning with an overwhelming urge to jump on my motorcycle and blast down the road.  Destination unknown.  Return? Undecided.  But, you see, I haven’t built it yet.  It’s simply a figment of my fervent imagination.  All bits of unpolished aluminum, black powdercoat, and red leather.  Mere fragments of thought.  Machine sex love thoughts, but thoughts nonetheless.

I really hate and really love this stage of my projects.  It’s when I’ve imagined plenty enough for it to feel real.  That is, be real to me.  But, I haven’t pulled out the welder.  I haven’t bought an engine.  I haven’t stripped the frame.  There is no red leather seat for me to test my position in the saddle.  No grease that I can’t scrub out – but must cut out – of my nails.  I’m caught between wonder and action, creativity and reality, dreaming and awakening.  Ugh….

It’s like beauty queen – but in my head – and starring a 1200 V-Twin instead of Tyra Banks.  As the details unfold, dissatisfaction with inaction grows in my muscle.  A tipping point looms and sweat, spit, muscle and heart will pour into steel, and leather, and copper and chrome.

And then…

…Until then…

…I ride.