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Third Wheel

Third Wheel

My dad was my hero. He still is today but when I look back at all his little intricacies, all the habits I thought were so random, I realize he was just another man trying to do his best.

One of those random habits was coming home from work and asking me if I wanted to go on a ride on the bike with him.

He told me later it was his way to breathe, a way to relax from a stressful day at work or a fight with my mom.

I think he liked to take me because I didn’t bother him about the world. Instead, I gave him a little bit of hope with my sense of amazement on the road.

You see, I didn’t see it as a way to destress, I thought it was magic.

I always felt that any motorcycle journey was special.

The connection to place, to the land, the wind, the sun, stars, the moon. it sounds romantic, but it’s true the visceral experience of motion, of moving through time on some amazing machine.

Those journeys were something I wish I could have again, when I see him again, I’m driving this time and letting him see the magic as I got to.

Why do I wax nostalgic about a motorcycle ride?

Because admittedly, I see some of that magic in you BMF.

Especially you, Zero and Pyre.

You see, I got to take small trips, my mom and dad, they were on the real journey.

I was a local run, they went cross country all the way to the other side.

I see Zero revving up the throttle with Pyre holding on tight.

Wind blowing through their hair, eventually making their way to the final destination.

Only one thing, there’s always something about a long journey that’s never talked about, the third wheel.

For a good bike, the third wheel is a just in case measure. A tire just as good as the two that are being used. When one eventually goes, the spare can do the job possibly better than the old tire.

It’s what I had to do when I went from a spare tire to a tire on its own.

On a bad bike, its to remind you what happens when things inevitably fuck up.

You two know exactly who your third wheel is, it’s Luke Storm.

On the motorcycle that keeps BMF running, he’s the donut that is only there by necessity.

He’s worn down by too many miles and instead of looking at the road ahead like you two, he looks at the back like a rear view mirror.

Looking at the best parts of his life and seeing how they drift further and further away from where he is now.

I wonder how useless he’ll feel at your wedding.

A lightning strike when a fire is already burning.

A best man who’s best days are long behind him.

A third wheel that will pop the moment it has to hit a road you two couldn’t handle.