BORIS
THE COLD
It occurred to me the other evening , as I was hurtling along some high-altitude length of bitumen , that riding in the cold is rather nourishing to a man ’ s soul . It also occurred to me that I could die at any second if the front-end washed out on some black ice . Or I could spend some time in gaol if a police car should suddenly fill my mirrors with blue-lighted hate . But when you ’ re skating around in the dark on some grim mountain road , I find it pays to think positive thoughts . Because it is on just such roads and at just such times one finds the purity and focus that is so often missing from our daily commutes . There ’ s something truly purifying in the way the wind flenses through your face-blubber , forcing tears sideways from your eyes while your nose seeps like a snot-tap , flavouring the entire ride with your bodily drippings . Doing it at night , when your universe has been condensed to a few visible metres of fastchanging bitumen , ever-spooling painted lines , flickering guide-posts , and the inevitable hidden monsters , is like suckling at the very breast-milk of life . You are never more alive than when you ’ re eagerly nuzzling death . And as frozen as a bag of peas .
This has been my lot in life for the past few weeks . Testing winter jackets needs to be done in the cold . It ’ s not remotely cold enough during the day , which is also invariably polluted with my normal work . So as far as this jacket test is concerned , night time is the right time . And a mountain road is the right place . So please don ’ t read this as a complaint . I do this shit even when there are no jackets to test . A fast , night-time fang into the mountains so the Reaper can see your war face beats the crap out of sitting on your ever-expanding arse watching gay men and decayed hookers dancing on TV . What was that ? You don ’ t get it ? That ’ s alright . You don ’ t have to get it . I get it . That ’ s all that matters . Go back to your television . Feel that belly grow with each slice of pizza . It ’ s better that way . Heaps safer , too . You can still say you ’ re a motorcyclist . Not many people will know otherwise . It ’ s OK . Honest . You really have no business riding around at night in the cold . But I do . And I do because I friggin ’ love it . I love the way the wind bites into my pink , inner warmth when I ’ m sucking it through my mouth , and making some of my old fillings thrum with pain . I love the way my head voids
92 KIWI RIDER