The Little Things
There’s a kind of magic you only notice on two wheels—the sudden cold pockets of air, the sting of rain on your cheeks, the bugs smashing into your face like it’s part of the deal. It’s chaos. And it’s sacred.
There’s a kind of magic you only notice on two wheels—the sudden cold pockets of air, the sting of rain on your cheeks, the bugs smashing into your face like it’s part of the deal. It’s chaos. And it’s sacred.
Most people don’t get it. They think riding is about speed or rebellion. But for me, it’s therapy. When I throw my leg over the bike, my soul returns to me.