Ace's Dichotomy

Ace took a morning ride on a beautiful early Fall day. As he ripped along the country side he passed a horse farm with a robust old farmer riding a red lawn mower in the roadside ditch. In a thrashing green fog he was cutting a path through the weeds. The ebullient aroma of the horses and the fresh cut weeds was scintillating on the wind. He approached and it drifted in and then just as swiftly he had left it behind. The fresh cut weeds, the horses, the wind, the sun, the blue sky, the white clouds, the grey asphalt, yellow striped, the joy, the pity. It's the dichotomy of Ace's experiences. The beauty in and of nature, alive in his senses while astride the saddle of his iron machine. His machine, the one that he tends to with soap and water, polish and wax. He fills it with refined raw materials, extracts of crude oil, petroleum, gasoline. The machine, whose combustion expels noxious fumes into the air, and not quietly. The roar of his loud pipes could certainly be considered noise pollution. Yet this machine transports him physically and spiritually. It connects him to nature and all it's wonder.

This ride, like most others was one taken alone; thus the Brotherhood of One. Ace knows that the experience of every ride would be markedly better if shared with another like-minded person. But for Ace, folks like that are few and far between. Regardless, he pities anyone that may never experience or appreciate the ride; yet he has the club to share as much as he can to whomever takes an interest. The reliving of the experience brings Ace great pleasure, like regaling the tales of a great party night; and it serves as a filler until the next ride. But man, how about that next ride. It can't come soon enough. And with it, the wind, the sun, the blue sky, the white clouds, the grey asphalt, yellow striped, the joyous vexing duality.