Motorcycles: Surprise

So as I was driving home from the ferry today, I started to feel... tense. It was unexpected, as the day was finished for work, and I was going to my wife and food and beer (both also courtesy of my wife). There is a bit of road called Osborne Bay, rather twisty and newly paved; that's folowed by Herd Road, which travells through a few kilometers of farmland; the last half of the trip has the 100 km/h #18 highway, wide with a startling sunset this time of year.

I noticed the speedometer creeping up past Speeding and into Stupid. Time to ease up on that, then. I turned up the music - A3s "Exile on Coldharbour Lane". Brilliant stuff.

What in the world / has come over me...

The tension started in my shoulders, that peculiar ache of unsued muscle, a push that meets no resistance. My hands were travelling loops around the steering wheel, trying to twist its hard plastic cover when they were still long enough to get a grip. My feet twitched up and down, impatiently flicking through ghost gears.

Ah.

Woke up this morning / Got yourself a gun...

Knowing what the problem was didn't seem to help much. My body was positioned wrong. I felt it twisting in the seat, writhing under the belt.

Your monkey's messing with bad medicine / So you feed it with a Jones

It knew: you fit astride and engine, not behind one! What kind of seat lets you move side-to-side, instead of forward-and-back?

The only conclusion: riding is a drug, and I was jonesing in a bad way.