Ghost Riders

The last ironbutt I did was in 2006 with some of my Sol Sisters.  Somewhere in the desert, around 900 miles of continuous riding, some of us started to have a kind of group hallucination (for lack of a better word) of other riders on the road with us.  The vision of other riders seemed to be part of overtime on the road with no sleep but it also seemed to be something super real versus surreal.  It was a vision quest of sorts.  The riders we saw were not of this dimension but perhaps one of the other 10 dimensions that science claims must exist.  It was reassuring rather then scary.

The spirits of a universal realm of riders we carry with us on the road.  In our hearts and on the highway.  We ride the edge of life and expand our connections to a consciousness that is anything but complacent.  We pave a place of compassion over fear.  

Even when we ride solo we are never really alone.  We can tap into the energy of trailblazers before us and our sisters and brothers in the wind where ever they be.  For these reasons I actually feel safer on a motorcycle then in a cage/car ( and wearing a skull mask doesn't hurt as it might scare off malevolent forces mapped out in our minds or the outward mingling of big vehicles and less aware drivers, not to mention the possible bad weather and forces of nature.