BUTCHER PAPER

WHEN THE PASSION TO RIDE EBBS OUT OF REACH

THERE’S A PART OF THE RIDE WE DON’T NORMALLY TALK about—not in polite company or over beers at the pub.

It’s the part between the awesome. We’re not talking about the moments of suck. Take enough trips around the sun and we discover sensations far worse than the hurt of impromptu pain or the suffering of masochistic machinations. We’re talking about something far worse than feeling pain: feeling nothing at all.

There are times when our passion for the ride fades until its last remnants slip between our fingers, leaving behind empty hands it. Like a canary in a coal mine, the feeling of nothingness suffocates the ride first, then creeps forward, enveloping everything in its path.