The Unrushed Ride

An unrushed ride along Bangor's seafront and out towards Millisle.

Granite clouds dissolve to a hazy blue in the early afternoon and the hue matches my tank perfectly, at least in my head it does.

Warm salty air and the thrum and oily heat of a parallel twin underneath envelops the senses. Trev's up ahead on his earlier Bonnie, warning of potholes as he swerves.

I'm not listening to music but somehow Johnny Kidd & The Pirates is playing in my ears and it's always a perfect soundtrack on a motorbike.

After a while we pull in beside the beach. Trev has a smoke while I miss the smell and we don't talk about politics once.

I often think I should've lived as a teenager through the 60's instead of the 80's. Childish guffaws when I notice our bikes are almost identical except for my bigger exhaust holes.

There's nearly 20 years between us but in this shared intersection we're ageless.

Almost grab my thoroughly un-retro smartphone to take a selfie.

Almost...