motorcyclemeditation.com

Standing at a window, staring at the sky, from behind a radio voice spelling out the weather, snow on the way. The voice containing clarity, no shoulds and mights, it’s going to arrive and when it arrives it’s going be big. A weather system meandering around the Bay of Biscay, picking up moisture, coming to our shores, colliding with freezing air, dumping its load, lumbering on, taking its own sweet time, snow, snow and more snow.

Motorcycle adventures ruled out, nothing to do but stay indoors. Heating on, the air becoming stuffy. Out of the window the sky turning to flat dull grey smudged with yellow. The first flakes arriving, a glass of ale to celebrate and contemplate. The flakes becoming big and thick, the streets quickly white. The beer taking its effect, the sofa calling. Some dumb programme on television, hard to stay awake.

To hell with this, too boring, let’s just go. Instantly onto the motorcycle. The roads deserted. The motorcycle engine muted in the ghostly calm.

The rear wheel uncomfortable, sliding around, never mind. The road covered in snow, borders difficult to make out, all the landmarks in white disguise. The sky grey and looming. Suddenly, swirling snow, filling the world. The visor caking.

No way to continue. No way to stop, the traffic behind would mow you down. Heartbeat mounting. Get a grip, find an answer. May not get out of this. Won’t be the first motorcyclist to die. Probably won’t even know it’s happened. The back wheel jittery, almost no grip, going sideways, the motorcycle somehow righting itself.

Ahead, red taillights, relief, a reference point. Coming up too fast. Front brake on, gingerly, no effect. Motorcycle floating mazily on. Somebody waving. Everything slowing down. A shattering bang, then a long silence. Then a slow soft thud. Vague pain in leg. Lights flaring and flashing and darting. A soft groan in the helmet, breath deflating, a deep warm slow peace, all gone...