COMET RIDER

Two years ago the spectacular Comet McNaught lit the night skies of New Zealand with a fiery display. As time passed the earth’s orbit meant the comet was just visible, right after sunset, above the rugged range of hills to the west of the bay. In my wild imaginings you could have stepped astride the comet for one exhilarating ride. In much the way I was to throw my leg over my sports motorcycle for one last ride.

Turning right I leaned the bike into the roundabout and gently squeezed the throttle open. Second, third, fourth, the 250cc motor produced remarkable acceleration as I clicked up through the six speed box with a clutchless shift. I lowered my head out of the wind and timed a gap in the traffic perfectly to pass without backing off.

I had thought I was going for another bike ride, little did I realise it would be my last as the full implications of the brain tumour hit home. I had never ridden a motorbike until two years ago and already I had 20,000kms of awesome experience behind me. I struggle to believe it must stop, but the reality is cancer in the brain means I am a threat to the safety of others. I can only be thankful for the great rides I have enjoyed to Waiheke, Pirongia, Taupo, Pauanui, plus the daily commuting past stationary cars; the memories bring tears of joy.

It had been a lack-lustre day of resting up and feeling jaded, but late afternoon sun inspired me to get out for a dose of my drug of choice, adrenalin.

Throughout the last year I have been acutely aware of the feel good ability of adrenalin when the body is struggling against cancer. The natural product of the adrenal gland clears the head, quickens responses and gets the heart and blood pumping. It is part of the ‘flight or fight’ natural defence mechanism of the body, but hard to stimulate without real excitement. On a scale of 1-10 the bike can produce an 8 safely, perhaps a 7 if you stick to the exact speed limits, but get on a race track in anything and the punch of a 12 out of 10 can last for a couple of days.

The roundabout at the top of the hill was clear to throw the lightweight bike into a left, right, left lean and power away, now I was really starting to enjoy myself! I headed east, enjoying the glow of the setting autumn sun, to the other side of the bay where a beachfront café overlooks the river mouth and lapping waters of the Pacific Ocean. It’s a 45 kilometres ride around the foothills rising from reclaimed marsh. Building the road was a nightmare in the early days and even now the heavy traffic quickly makes it uneven. But you can also see for miles, to a distant volcanic cone to the left and the bush clad hills to my right.

They talk about the freedom of a bike, but it is also like a meditation; you clear your mind of all other thoughts, allowing the all consuming exhilaration and absolute focus to take over. There is risk, but no where near the fear based rhetoric that peals off the tongue when friends hear you are buying a motorbike. The human ego is seemingly charged with the sole responsibility of spoiling fun and achievement with “what if” sentiments, however well meant. I have never got on the bike without a prayer and I have never come off on the road or experienced the “drivers won’t see you” scary tale. I simply feel like a spirit released, joy filled, every time I open the throttle.

Close to the hills the long shadows are already chilling a small township as everyone heads home for dinner. It was a safe place to slip past the slow juggernaut ahead; the rest is open road and I was only ten minutes from the café. I turned left off the highway and glanced to the sun sitting right on the hilltop; it was seemingly rising again as I quickly drew away from the hills.

Of course, there is a lesson in everything; having to give up the bike is one in a series of lessons recently, for me, and they are all about letting go of attachment to things of this world. I have an attachment to all of the good feelings about the bike and riding. They are amongst my top ten worldly experiences. But I am a spirit, eternal in nature, and here for a human experience. Before long my spirit will be leaving my tired, fragile and deceased body behind to move on into another realm. These lessons on attachment are coming thick and fast, teaching me to let go of everything on this worldly plain as I prepare for my ‘Coming Home’ to the loving arms of my heavenly Father.

My intuition had been telling me this could be my last ride and I opened the throttle wide. The road is a series of long straights and uneven tar seal through tight curves, a potentially lethal mixture. I took no chances and hauled on the front brake, gently on the rear, before gingerly powering through the rutted corners and back on the throttle for the next straight.

The 50kph restricted zone for the picturesque coastal village is just 500 metres ahead and the beautiful reflections of high tide in the estuary grabbed my attention. Remarkably the sun is still above the horizon and several strata of clouds promised a beautiful sunset.

Nearly a decade ago I had done all I could for my previous partner as round after round of chemotherapy and steroids left her tired and nauseous in the unsuccessful fight against breast cancer. It was then I had first noticed the coincidence of our witnessing numerous stunning sunsets. As 'The Celestine Prophecy' first told me, there are no coincidences; for those awakening to their true Self, these are the signs and wonders that become everyday experiences.

I rounded the waterfront to the café’s beachfront car park and pulled off my helmet, mesmerised by the colour and beauty of the setting fiery orb and its reflections on the gently breaking waves. As the local kids tossed a rugby ball and raced barefoot around the car park, I quietly gave thanks for an awesome ride and the Divine timing of this magnificent sight.

The cappuccino in the café was just what I needed. As darkness fell I pulled the helmet back on and switched on the twin headlamps; they would light my way through the night just like the fiery comet across the western horizon.