blowing
either the falling leaf or my hair
shaking
either the horizon or speedo needle
sinking
either landscape in rvm or fuel
tightening
either the turns or my grip
slipping
either gravel or heed... at times
whispering
either clouds or air through helmet
decorated
either fuel stations or soul
swearing
either slow four wheels or me
closing in
either me or the tank
growing
either distance or desire to ride
-gaurav
