The Starting Gun for a Dangerous Game

For the first time in at least six years, and for only the fourth time in my 35 years I tasted it. Like somebody served me up a fistful of pennies. Most people have tasted it, "normal" people I believe much more often than me. Here it is, the stuff addiction is made of:

Norepinephrine, or noradrenaline; the piece of the fight or flight pie that courses through your veins and makes your (or maybe not) brain crave more. It's the partner of adrenaline, the ugly stepsister if you will. Because while adrenaline affects only your body for a short while, enabling extraordinary muscular strength and core protection, noradrenaline shoots to your brain, causing a dopamine dump and enabling sharp focus, causing overclocked hyperthreading in your mind.

Scientists have a theory that the brain is supposed to quickly process all these neato chemicals, leaving one feeling uneasy and exhausted and, many tmes, not a clear recall of the events surrounding the odd experience. The theory goes on that in many people with "addictive personalies" may enjoy a lingering effect of the euphoria brought on by noradrenaline and dopamine. Just long enough to remember clearly how good it feels. This is possibly actually due to the body inhibiting this reaction in all but the hairiest circumstances.

Regardless, it was one hell of a ride, in more ways than one. Long story short, some jackass tried to t-bone me and KilLeR on the ride home. The coppery taste was my first conscious "alarm bell", apparently brought on by the looming Caprice Classic's grill in my periphery. Before I could process the taste and visual, I realized that the bike was leaning to the limits of traction to the right and the curb was fast approaching. I was fortunately able to right the rudder and ride on, but was unable to let off the throttle and breathe before looking to see some ridiculous numbers on the speedo. I managed to contain the rest of the ultimate high to a few joyous woots and yells, and pulled off the road for some water and skoal. Drugs beget drugs, mind you. Writing this is my "new" way of controlling the nasty down side of the rush, in opposition to the alcohol that has taken the edge off in the past. So, there's no point to this post, certainly not boasting, because it had to be typed.

It's a dangerous game. One must enjoy these experiences and be thankful for the outcome while fighting every day to suppress the urge to seek the ever more difficult-to-reach high. Going to the movies and keeping the coin in the pocket to toss another day. But believe you me, it will fly again.