No Car

NO Car for Me

A view from the wet, shiny ground up of Paul and his motorcycle. Paul is decked out in motorcycle gear and looking off into the distance.I am often asked, why? Why do I ride in the pouring rain? Why do I ride in the black of night? Why do I ride in the bitter cold of winter? My motorcycle license plate reads NOCAR, and here is why I ride my motorcycle every day. Forty years ago, I had the opportunity to have my palm read by one of the most famous fortunetellers in the world—at the midway of a county fair. After paying with three ride tickets, he hooked me by miraculously knowing that someone in my life was named Mom. For an additional three ride tickets, he was able to inform me that my future might involve living happily ever after or end in a fiery automobile crash. I opted for the happily ever after, and I have tried to stay away from cars ever since.

Riding a motorcycle makes me feel alive and refreshes my spirit. After almost 30 years on two wheels, it still never gets old. We all need an activity in our busy lives that will do this for us. Skiing, running, surfing, painting sunsets or even knitting might do it for you. The trick is to find something you can be passionate about and make it an important regular activity in your life. You deserve it!

When I ride, I do not have multiple sclerosis (MS). Even the thought of my disease melts away almost instantly along with my symptoms and all the rest of my life’s junk, freeing me, leaving me carefree and in the wind.

Take today, a dreary cold January morning for instance. I’d bet a million dollars I felt more alive and refreshed when I arrived to work today than all the other commuters in my state combined. With no hint of bad weather or road conditions from the TV, I grabbed my boots, heated jacket and gloves. With a kiss from my understanding wife and a smile under my helmet, I rode off. I have a handful of routes to work I can pick from, but today I took 40 miles of scenic hills and curves.

About 30 miles into my ride, I began to notice the roadway was no longer salt crusted or dry. The heavily treed state park road I was travelling on hadn’t dried out from yesterday’s rain shower like the rest. The asphalt was glistening, and the dry tracks where tires helped expose the pavement slowly got thinner and thinner until there were none. It would not have been any issue at all, if the temperature hadn’t been 21 degrees. I was riding myself into the midst of another surprise adventure. ...To read the full article, login or become a member --- it's free!

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