Drunk on the wind in my mouth, Wringing the handlebar for speed, Wild to be wreckage forever. - James Dickey

These hunt, as they have done
But with claws and teeth grown perfect,
More deadly than they can believe.

I had the feeling that if it were perfectly quiet, if I could hear nothing, I would never wake up. Something in the world had to pull me back, for every night I went down deep, and if I had any sensation during sleep, it was of going deeper and deeper, trying to reach a point, a line or border.

I decided that survival was not in the rivets and the metal, and not in the double-sealed doors and not in the marbles of Chinese checkers. It was in me. It came down to the man, and what he could do. The body is the one thing you can't fake; it's just got to be there.