The Motorbike, the Jackal and the Leopard Part 1

“I can take you on the motorbike” says Saman.

It’s been 35 years since I was last on a motorbike.

“Alright” I say.

“It’s only about an hour” he says. I search in vain for any reassurance offered by his words.

The things we say yes to…

My first experience on a motorbike was on Roy Kerley’s police bike. He dropped me home one night. It was a big bike. I was 11. Bikes were dangerous. Wild people rode them. It was daring. And policemen rode them too.

“Just lean with me” he said as we went round the roundabout. “Don’t lean the other way..” I held on to his waist and we purred round. I felt safe with my best friend’s Dad, on his bike.

Then I bought a bike during my first teaching job. A Honda 125. Riding into school I flirted with knocking down the year 7 students as I rode in. They scattered as I directed the bike at them in the carpark. Maybe a teacher had never tried to run them down before. I think that might have set the tone for the adventures of my teaching career. Living on the edge of the rules a bit.

And then on holiday one time in my 20s I found myself on the back of a local Spanish girl’s bike, who I’d barely just met, riding round the island very late…

And here I was again.

I tell him to go slow. I’m going to be petrified. We’re going to ride along the ‘gold’ road, a road with danger laden all over it like no other I’ve been on, where there are no pavements, hundreds of tuk-tuks doing the Whacky Races, motorbikes with whole families on them, and horn-honking buses overtaking each other on the single lane road. And, there are people walking on the tiny verge; imagine walking along the edge of a motorway that has no rules. Walking back from the school every day the road is swamped with vehicles trying to overtake each other and often I lean into the fence to avoid the motorbikes taking an inside route. Some of these guys are texting on their phones. It’s so very dangerous. Makes the North Circular look like a

“He’s a very safe rider” says Rosie, sensing my fear.

I check Google Maps. The journey’s over two and a half hours.

This really isn’t feeling good at all.

But I’ve already committed. He’s taking me.

I get on. Off we go.

My life is in his hands. You’ll know the feeling if you’ve been here. I close my eyes. An electrical storm of fear sweeps through me. I’m powerless. I can’t look.

“Just lean with me” said Roy.…

I’m in a timeless zone. There is no past, there is no future. I haven’t been here before. This could be one of the experiences that happens before we die. My fear response is all I know.

For the first few seconds, minutes, I’m helpless.

Then slowly, I notice I’m already taking long deep breaths. When my eyes open I discipline myself to look straight into Saman’s back, not at the road. As soon as I look up my thoughts “we are about to hit that swerving tuk tuk” are going to win the day.

Some thoughts are really not that useful are they?

Come on Dunc. You know some of this somatic stuff. I grab hold of my muscle of attention, and there she is, right where I need her. I shift all of my being down into the bike, into the road, down my body. Closing my eyes helps. I’m in my belly now, right in my guts. Everything I know is right in my centre. For a few seconds I drift, centred, moving in a dream of life.

I can do it! I open my eyes for a moment.. Don’t do that!

So back I come with my sister called Attention, again and again, and for the first twenty minutes of the trip I get to know her like I’ve never known her before.

Gradually, moment by moment, I find my way. I find I can keep my eyes open for longer periods. I can talk to Saman. When we get off the motorway and onto open road I gain more confidence. I constantly scan down my body, softening, softening…

I notice other passengers aren’t even holding on to their bikes! Eventually I take a hand away to look at my phone.. Only an hour to go.. Did I just take a hand away?

As we near the Rainforest, I’ve discovered enough moments of ease to take in the view. I’m exhilarated.

And also exhausted. I’ve been pouring resources into staying on this bike. The experience has had all of me. Just as my lover takes me, surrendered completely, falling into the blissful abyss, dying to the not knowing of it all. I understand why people do this, go to the edge of things.

We shed our skin, we die to our former selves, we learn another way to be, and everything is always new, every single time.