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Motorcycle, Motorcycle

November 2nd, 2025

I went to a dealership in Santa Clara. Bought a Kawasaki and sealed the deal.

The man selling was a middle aged white fellow. Told me a story of how he almost got his bike robbed in Oakland. He liked the company I worked for, so if my company had any cool swag I let him know I would swing by and share.

The ride back was tough. It was getting late at night, and I was a new rider. I hadn't ridden in more than a year since the MSF course. I decided to call it a night and booked a hotel nearby.

The hotel was filled with tech workers. Silicon Valley. The front desk attendant was nice and gave me free parking.

I showered then laid in my bed, and then nodded off.

I stopped by my friend's place near Menlo Park for lunch, and then we went to go see the Kpop Demon Hunters theatrical release (for a second time.) I sang. It was fun.

I waved them off goodbye and drove to San Francisco on the 101. It was perhaps the most exhilarating, dangerous, and riskiest thing I'd ever done in my life.

I was on the highway, and a biker throttled up to me. Sixty-five mph. He extended his hand for a fist bump. I shook my head and white knuckled my grip. I flashed him a thumbs up. But he went in for the close and fist bumped my hand while I was white knuckling the handlebars. Then he sped off at ninety.

What the fuck was that? Holy shit.

Less than twenty miles on a bike and jumping on a highway. I'm fucking stupid as hell. But fuck yes.

There was a moment of pure zen, having been so close to death so many times, knowing my bike just tipping a little bit would leave me dead, that I just locked in and focused.

I made it back in one piece, with cortisol and adrenaline rushing in my veins. My hands sore from white-knuckling the throttle for so long.

I won't be on the highway for a while, but let's do some street riding.