I was told to get a good job.
I was told to be greedy.
I was told to lie, steal, cheat my way up the ladder.
Every day I would wake up and want to go back to sleep.
During the drive in, I'd contemplate calling in sick.
I'd show up to my prestigious job and take shit from people, surrounded by individuals obsessed with status.
Great for the wallet, terrible for the soul.
But I was missing something, and it was killing me every day I didn’t have it.
Like a voice in my head speaking a language that I couldn’t understand.
The only time it would shut the fuck up was when I would start my bike.
It's like it was afraid of the sound of the engine.
It's like it knew these motorcycles were the key.
These motorcycles brought me “this”.
I know what you're thinking, and I agree.
“This”, isn’t much of anything yet.
But since the day I quit that job, I wake up every morning ready to fucking destroy the day.
I hang out with my puppy while I finish my coffee.
I ride one of my Harleys to the shop, maybe even take the long way if the mood strikes.
I get to meet and work with literally some of the raddest fucking people I’ve ever met.
People like me, who love what I love, push as hard as I push. And motivate me to push harder.
Then they’re are hard days.
There are days my thoughts are a fucking puzzle, days I can’t figure out a way to explain my vision to those close to me. Or even the people I want to be surrounded by.
I haven’t heard that voice since the day I committed to this.
He has fucked off entirely.
But looking back, I can understand what that voice was screaming at me.
Now I’m screaming at you.
Because if you are like me, it's the only cure.
Bikes, Trucks, Business, family.
That voice is screaming “Build some thing”
And it won’t shut the fuck up until you try.