Ride. An advice ? An order ? Just a simple will ? A simple semantics hiding dark schemes ?
Ride. A mantra, a state of mind, something that we frequently force ourselves to, even though the elements are roaring outside against us.
Ride. When the awaking morning sun covers us with its subtil and seldom unpleasant heat during our endless summer rides.
Ride. When still asleep, we get on our bikes to stand against the morning frosts to go to work, complaining against our addiction for this fascinating and painful object, which is constantly forcing us to search our limits.
Ride. When a steep trail, full of pine needles and branches covering sharp stones and roots, suddenly appears under our tyres after an uncertain try.
Ride. When an abrupt road that we however thought endless, discloses new tortuous and dark turns.
Ride. With shaking hands, readjusting our googles facing a steep path, falling into a pure and untouched nature.
We could carry on endlessly, enumerating the joyful and crazy reasons which lead us to ride.
Transpose, talk and exchange about these irrational needs, here are the basics of Rolling Boar.
Ride, it’s simpe isn’t it ?