I take off my helmet. It's dangerous, it's illegal, and it's not something I condone, but in that moment, in the sharp, cold night, I just wanted to feel the midnight air on my face.

I drive past fields of empty grain. The bright street lights over me cut my face into a shining mosaic. My polished handlebars glow, like a sweet guiding star. I squint into the winding road, savoring the soft buzz of the lamps, a blanket of comforting noise against unforgiving silence.

I remember an old story. It was about a beautiful princess who ran away from her palace and into the lonely, dark forest. She stood and wrapped her cloak tight around her. Eventually the elements got to her and legends say she turned into a tree to comfort those who are lost. Her cloak spread from her body into a blanket of moss to warm those who are sad and cold.

The cloak was green. Forest green. But it certainly wasn't close to the forest she stumbled into.

The wind whips around my ears, dulling my senses, calming my emotions. I want to go fast. Faster. I want to run.

It's not the same without the familiar burn in my muscles when I biked as a kid. There's no exhilaration as the pedals moved faster than your legs could keep up.

We're both sweating, though for different reasons.

It's strange, being all alone at night. It feels like no one else exists. A soft, quiet apocalypse where everything seems like it just flowed down a drain. The rust on the farm equipment glints off my headlights.

I see my breath in front of me. A delicate cloud of harsh white against the undiscovered road. I weave between bright yellow lines and green road signs.

I stop. I jump off my motorbike and stand in the night air. The moon gazes down at me. In horror? Pride? Confusion?

I laugh. Just a small giggle, at first. I laugh at everything and nothing and things I know and things I don't. The smell of asphalt and burning gasoline fuels my delirium.

I'm happy. I don't know why. I don't know how. I'm parked next to a narrow country road with my eyes closed. And it feels nice.

I smile. Maybe for the Earth. Maybe for the creatures that doze behind me in that great expanse of a forest. Maybe for my bike. Maybe for myself.

I sit down on wet grass. Morning sun hasn't chased the blossoming dew away. And I gaze back at the moon. Or the Earth. Or myself. And I wonder.

I get back on my bike and leave this place behind me. It's captured me, somehow, and in that moment, everything felt so completely real and bright and lovely.

My hands treasure the feel of soft dirt flowing between my fingers as I grip the handlebars tight and drive off into the endless night.