Wherever the road takes us
Ok
My laptop open to my travel photos, a glass of semi-sweet wine, and a lit cigarette...
A flashback, a journey back in time to somewhere around early 1997 when I first got on my very first bike.
Yamaha XS400. Nothing special, but at the same time, so much.
Bought from a friend on a handshake installment plan, 250,000 drachmas - "every end of the month I’ll give you a 50. Deal? Deal." A borrowed helmet, a reversible flight jacket that was black on the outside and orange on the inside, sneakers, maybe a thousand drachmas in my pocket, and off we go...
Later on, a stonewashed leather Perfecto jacket that I got from my friend Thanasis, who had gotten it from Giota, who today is my beloved partner and we share a mutual love for motorcycles (ain't life something...), and military combat boots.
A ride to Platamonas for a swim, to Elati for coffee, to Ioannina at night for a beer, taking the Katara pass.
Epic trips... wow man, look where we ended up again... Endless kilometers, grand journeys—or so I thought.
The king of the world... inside a helmet that leaked air, noise, and water from everywhere, a jacket that turned into a hot air balloon at 80 km/h, a torn pair of Levi's 501s, a bike where I'd chew Trident gum and stick it on to plug the small hole in the gas tank, a clutch that wouldn't catch neutral, and a set of fuses that would blow every single time I had to pass through Tempi at night.
Gear born of desperation, borrowed and a thousand times used: "Dude, I'm going for a ride tomorrow, do you have the helmet? Yeah man, come get it, I'm working tomorrow."
"-Remember," my friend Panagiotis told me- "-When I had the XR and used to go to the village, I'd take newspapers with me and stuff them in my chest, for the cold. They insulate, I'm telling you. Oh, and supermarket plastic bags for your feet. If your feet get wet, you're f@cked."
I did that too; they really do insulate, Panagiotis my friend.
And off I went, taking ride after ride through Katara, overtaking the trucks and buses to feel the adrenaline, to feel that I was achieving that silly little milestone I had set for myself.
To ride, to corner, to overtake, to feel like a winner in a race all my own that had no winner, but at the end of the route left you with a feeling that the world belongs to you. That the road belongs to you.
That this journey is yours and you bring along whoever you want without having to include one or more "musts," without having to report to anyone about the when, the where, or the why.
Just because. Because whenever. Because wherever it leads.
Wherever it leads, guys... what a massive thing to say... Have you ever thought about how free you feel at the mere thought of "wherever it leads"?
It's not a preachy urging nor advice for anyone, but just think for a moment about what we're missing out on in this little journey called "LIFE" with all these screws, washers, and safety nuts we've attached to our lives...
It's hard, we all live it daily. Obligations, work, family, girlfriend, boyfriend, relatives, but HOLD ON. Where are you in all of this? You are the one who will put on the helmet, turn the key in the ignition, and travel. Literally and metaphorically. You will leave everything behind with a twist of the throttle.
For as long as it takes. To clear your head. To dream. To corner. To meet people. To feel that your heart still beats hard on every tight turn you didn't take quite right, to sing your favorite lyrics behind the helmet visor even if you're completely tone-deaf.
So what? The journey is yours. Do you get it?
Let's travel. Let's dream. Let's love. Let's live.
My dear neighbor
My dear neighbor,
You desperately try to understand me. To enter the back compartments of my mind...
You see me pull down my helmet visor. I see you close the door to your prison...
I turn the key in the ignition, filled with joy. You turn the key in the lock, filled with fear...
I press the switch and her lights come on so others will watch out for me. You press the switch and the screen comes on so you can watch them...
I sit comfortably in my saddle and the images pass me by like a well-directed French romantic film. You sit comfortably in your armchair and the images pass before you like a poorly dubbed Brazilian soap opera...
I look at my watch, it’s 12:00, damn, how fast time flies. You look at your watch, it’s 12:00, damn, time is dragging on...
I greet my fellow traveler even if I can't see his face. Really, how long has it been since you said good morning to me...?
Dark clouds, the weather is turning bad, rain gear—check. Dark clouds, the weather is turning bad, I'm not leaving the house—check...
I search for the next road sign to guide me. The hack journalist has already guided you...
I am thrilled by the unknown of the next turn. You are terrified by the unknown of the next news broadcast...
My dear neighbor, I don't know if you'll ever be able to understand what it is that makes my mind escape from my routine... Perhaps when the time comes to reflect on how short your life is, you will then realize how wrong it was to let all your little moments slip through your fingers.
The rebel biker with the ponytail.
My suitcase
"Everything I need in life fits into one suitcase. I am not afraid, there is enough room for whatever tomorrow brings...."
Some things are meticulously arranged, others crumpled and messy... Some lie at the bottom, and not by accident... Others I feel out every single day, and not by accident... There are some I am terrified to touch; they hold pain, sorrow, grief, misery, loneliness, despair... I want them with me... to look at them, to scratch the wound open, to remind me... The colorful little boxes I keep right on top; there I guard the smiles, the apologies, the thank-yous... there I keep my very breaths... I breathe them in every day, and they never run out... strange...
Wherever I go, I don't lock my suitcase, I leave it on the side of my motorcycle; I wander into everything my insatiable soul yearns to know... I let my gaze get lost in the unknown... I watch my heart vanish behind every corner, and I let my mind gather us all back together at the end of the day, in some quiet spot, to watch the sun sink behind high peaks, or behind the blue of the sea and the white of the waves... Then the suitcase opens, and everything is placed inside with reverence...
Friends, acquaintances, and strangers from time to time open the suitcase. I let them, I don't react. They look through my belongings with curiosity. Some brush their fingers against the colorful little boxes; others, reaching deeper, touch the things I fear... I let them, I don't react... Some, unintentionally, crumple the colorful little boxes; others scratch the boxes at the bottom with their sharp nails... I let them, I don't react... only when I am left alone do I take them in my hands and restore them to exactly how they were...
Sometimes—rarely, to be honest—I’ve noticed some people standing over the suitcase for a long time without reacting. They don't open it, they don't touch the little boxes... They just stand over it and stare... Perhaps it reminds them of something they had, something they wished they had, something they loved, something they hated...
With every stop, the suitcase gets a little more battered, a little more faded... I don't even remember what color it was when I first started packing my precious things inside, but what does it matter... every time, a new color covers its exterior... The red of the dawn and the dusk, the pale blue of the sky, the deep blue of the sea, the green of the forest...
It keeps me company on every journey... It isn't just another useful accessory, it isn't even an object. It is something far greater, something that if I try to explain in words, I might get it wrong and fail to convey its true magnitude... Perhaps... it is my very self... the things it carries, are me...
"Inside it, I carry everything I love, everything I adore. They don't take up space. Tucked in a small corner, curled up like a little ball of yarn...."