MIDNIGHT RIDER

There's something about riding after dark. Something about being shrouded in the vastness of night. Something about the glow of dashboard lights and the flicker of illumination provided from surrounding sights and passers-by...

After sunset, the lazy hoofbeats of my Milwaukee Marvel fit the mood perfectly. I roll over forgotten county roads and dream. Cares drift away. Life becomes a minimalist exercise - man and machine.

The pulses of combustion match my own heartbeat. I could never get this relaxed on a modern sport bike. The whirring cackle of multiple cylinders would only spoil the mood. I need a crude connection with the elements. The Heritage Softail is my interface. Wind, fire, sweat, blood - we are one creation on the road.

Once Sol has gone to bed, then I am free. In the empty nothingness, my soul is at liberty to expand, and wander. Rules, and responsibilities fall to dust. I am the 'Midnight Rider' of 60's fame. Davie Allan plucks a soundtrack in fuzznotes that bounce off my windshield. I am drenched... wet with electric, tonal feedback. Drizzle runs off my goggles. The black horizon crackles with energy. Lightning strikes witness the plectrum pulses of a heroic king. And I sing to the wind:

"Midnight Rider/breakin' the law/the life of a rebel/without a cause
Midnight Rider/lost and lonely/born a Hell's Angel/born to be free."