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July 27, 2013

I pick out my favorite pair of jeans and grab my green Army socks. I lace up my old Army boots; the swede is dirty and would get me in trouble if I was still a soldier, but I’m not. I roll my jeans down over the boots and reach for my helmet. Anticipation tingles down my spine; this never gets old.

It’s escape I seek, like the kind you find in the pages of good book. I need to escape, from nothing-from everything. I jog down the stairs and step outside. Sliding my arms into my protective jacket, I put the key in the ignition and give the choke a few seconds before I grab the clutch and press the button that brings life. Pazzo Drago growls, obviously agitated it’s been so long since I last said hello. I smile.

The zipper on my jacket gets stuck since I’m in such a rush. I force myself to slow down and then brush the hair out of my face before putting on my helmet. I forgot to clean the bug splatter off, but it’s too late to backtrack now. I’m so close to my escape.

My gloves squeak faintly as I put them on; they’re new and the leather still complains sometimes. I reach over and grab the front brake before mounting. I feel the vibration underneath me as I tilt Pazzo Drago to stand upright. I put the kickstand up with my left foot remembering how foolish I felt the one time I left it down. Never again, I think as I grin and shake my head at the memory.

I take a deep breath. The clutch resists as I pull it to shift into first gear. I take a moment, as I always do, to ask for protection before leaving. I ease off on the clutch and feel Pazzo Drago ease forward-just as eager as I am to be going. I roll the accelerator and smile. This is it. Nothing to stop me and only clear skies waiting for me. I escape.

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