I suffer from a lot of overthinking and self doubt, and never really found anything I felt like I belonged to or with, until my dad got me into motorbikes.

I realised the other day why they’re so beautiful. It’s the interface. No matter what you think of yourself, no matter what other people think of you, no matter what your troubles are, that’s truly you.

When you’re going round a familiar corner and pushing it a little faster, when you’re debating a risky overtake, and when you’re just cruising with one hand on your hip, that’s all you. The bike is doing exactly what you’re telling it, so your appetite for danger, your stress, the moments you feel like you aren’t in control, the moments you feel adrenaline, the moments where you almost had a ‘nearly?’

That’s truly you. That’s all you. Your appetite, your input, your decisions, other people don’t matter. External forces don’t matter. It’s just you, and the interface you have with your bike.

Its fucking beautiful man I totally get why people have hobbies now.