The Ride Is the Point Rebel’s journal — torn page, oil-stained corner I don’t ride to escape people. I ride because people don’t come with me. There’s a difference. When the engine turns over, the world simplifies. Not because it gets smaller, because it gets honest. The noise falls into place. Wind. Asphalt. Throttle. Balance. Everything else either keeps up or gets left behind. Most things get left behind. Why I Ride Riding isn’t a hobby. It’s a sorting mechanism. On a bike, there’s no room for pretending. You can’t multitask. You can’t perform. You can’t scroll your