My Motorbike, My Freedom
FOR AS LONG as I can remember, I always understood that riding a motorbike was the beginning of a journey from which you never return, even when you put your feet back on the ground. On a bike you must keep moving forward. Because if you stop, you fall off. This is probably one definition of freedom.
Before this, though, is the feeling of freedom: the bicycle. I remember my first bicycle so clearly, its colour a “racing” red. I must have ridden thousands of miles, must have invented a
