Or at least, that’s what I tell people. Actually, I do dance… but not on two feet. I dance on two wheels. And instead of chamber music or the latest pop hit spinning on the turntable, I move to the beat of an inline four and the rythm of the pavement disappearing behind me. I don’t have a lot of experience on the dance floor, but if it’s anything like dancing on two wheels, it liberates your soul and lets you leave your cares behind. And today… I needed to dance.

Normally, I’m a pretty positive guy. But deep in my soul lurk my personal demons. They like to catch me with my guard down and torment me. Today was one of those days. I managed to enjoy the day with my daughter despite this, but once she headed home with her mother I needed to do something about it.

Dark clouds were closing in on the horizon but I decided to chance it and take “Precious” out for a romp. I needed to clear my head and time in the saddle does that better than anything else. I geared up and headed for the highway and a favorite set of off-ramps to get things warmed up. Then I just went with the flow and hit a series of side roads that feature light traffic and decent curves.

Finally it was time to decide… head home on the direct route or head north on the 405 and cut across Lake Washington on the I90 floating bridge. Without much thought I carved up the on-ramp and headed north.

Most motorcyclists don’t like riding in traffic, but in a strange way I enjoy it. It’s not the same as winding through a series of “twisties” or rocketing through “sweepers” but it has its own challenges. It definately makes you hyper-focus on your surroundings and that zen-like state is what always empties my mind of whatever is bugging me. As you concentrate on making time through traffic and avoiding getting killed by the “cagers” on their cell phones any cares outside the helmet are left behind in the dust.

Pretty soon I was approaching the west end of the bridge and the entrance to the Mount Baker tunnel. I love riding through the tunnel. As I always do, I eased off the throttle to create space between me and the car I was following. Why you ask? So that when I enter the tunnel I can get back on the throttle… hard. As I roll on the gas the four carburetors howl as they gulp great lung fulls of air. The roar of the exhaust reverberates off the walls me and serves notice to the sheep that a dragon hunts among them. Behind my dark face shield I smile and for a moment, all is right with the world.