SLAYING THE DRAGON

I'm intrigued when people claim to have "Slayed the Dragon." I mean, really, what do they mean?

Bikers proclaim it after they've successfully ridden the 318 turns in Deals Gap, Tennessee. But we riders have no ownership of the phrase. I've even heard accountants (I'm sure there are wonderful accountants) say it merely as a result of having survived what they call Tax Season.

What primitive drive causes us to think of everything in terms of slaying? When we rip an incredible ride on a wave, did we "slay" the water? Or did we in fact enjoy a brief moment in time when we and our surfboard synced perfectly with the wave, allowing us to glide weightlessly along a wall of H2O whose own movement is in fact merely mirroring the quickly rising ocean floor as the wave moves toward the beach? I think the latter.

It's the same in skiing, sailing, flying, and motorcycling. We do not slay the mountain, the breeze, the skies or the twising roads. We meld with them: we work with not against them.

We live on a green planet abundant with opportunities to dance with its elements. A winding road is like a great Tango. You learn the steps, you feel the music, and you let go.

Let others proclaim that they've slain a dragon. I'd rather play with it, maybe even let it take me for a ride high up in the sky.

Ahh, now that would be an adventure.