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[…] my commute is the highlight of my waking hours. On a motorcycle, commuting is not a helpless act. I am not bound to follow the lead of the slowest common denominator. I have no awkward company but myself. A line of dawdling cars clogging the freeway becomes a moving puzzle to overtake. Watch the gaps between them, eyes on converging lanes, and a well-timed slip between the slothful lot yields an addicting drip of joy.
If you’re really so all-fire concerned about my safety, don’t preach at me. Just do me this one favor: pay attention when you’re driving. Keep your greasy fingers off your touch-screen, put down your phone, use your turn signals and lay off the booze before you get on the road with me.
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