Wombat in Flight...sort of

I'm exhausted.
Another long night of back-breaking work. Even so, as I slip on my leather jacket and grab my helmet, my hand finds the key in my pocket and a small smile crosses my lips.

Once I'm clocked out and the helmet is on, I actually grin as I turn the key in the ignition and the bike growls to life. The aches, the weariness of the night's labor all start to fade into the background. As I drop it into first and release the clutch, I feel my heart begin to beat a little faster.

I quickly navigate the local streets and hit the country road as the sun breaks the horizon. With the bike at 'cruising' speed, I cannot resist the urge to weave back and forth in my lane. Gone now is the exhaustion, replaced with child-like abandon. My motorcycle is the closest I come to flying.