You can see it’s drizzling, you have checked the weather the 10th time. You know you hate the train commute, buses are worse. You weigh your options even though you have made the decision. You know there are mad drivers on roads, roaming free, ready to bite any time. You think of those V8 brick houses on wheels, you imagine that busy lady with her make-up kit in hand, you imagine that 40something man texting and feeling proud of multi-tasking. You think of frustrating, angry commuters sipping coffee, changing radio channels, reading newspaper, ‘liking’ their ‘friend’s’ posts, scratching their arse. You think about each one of them, like you, going to work trying to make a living in their big car, small car, but a car. You think, you hope they are not rushing to work, you hope they are regular commuters, you hope they know it will be a long time before they get to be in the office, the towering buildings visible at the horizon. You hope they know people commute on motorcycles too. People, just like them, not evil, need to put bread on the table too. After thinking all of this, for one and half minutes and another observing look at the sky, you decide to ride to work again. You trust yourself, your instincts, your bike, your luck. You make it. You survive. You knew you were going to ride. It is 5pm. You look outside, clouds, few drops, slippery surface, limited visibility. You think about the drivers, you hope they didn’t have a bad day. They are hungry, tired, just want to go home, like you do. You trust yourself, your instincts, your bike, your luck. You make it. You survive. Tomorrow is a new day. You know you are going to ride.