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Bikes and drugs

Philos

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Hi,

Partakers of street drugs will tell us that it is an on/off thing. When you are high you can't imagine the feeling of being straight, and when your straight you can't imagine the feeling of being high. The drug changes body chemistry and when its gone, its gone.

I'm feeling the same way about the bike*. I can try to imagine being on the throttle, but its not real until I am actually in the power band. When in the power band I can't think of anything else. The 'rush' is just too powerful.

So when I have a few days or a week off the bike I just don't expect the rush of hitting the redline again. It is like coming home, and every time is like the first time. Many drug users have talked to me like this, at least in their honeymoon period.

What is your experience/feeling of this or similar?

A.

* Note – 'Bike' in this context is a fast sports motorcycle, with a top speed typically around 160mph+
 
I'm not into really fast bikes because I'm a big puss. I'm too afraid of dying. I did love abusing heroin though. Most drugs, really, but opiates were my soft spot. I taste heroin right now, just from thinking about it. Jonesing for adrenaline and dopamine are probably both just as miserable. I never got off on adrenaline unless it was associated with obtaining the drug. Obtaining sex and cool-status could be similar ways to get the dopamine from riding huh. Plus the love of bikes is a buzz in itself and I see that everyday. Healthy addiction compared to what else is out there to play with.
 
I'd say that things become addictive through the process of repetition and reward, what was originally a special treat transforms over time to the point where what began as a treat becomes habit, so is no longer a treat but a part of our normal repertoire, then we need something new, something special, something that is a treat....and the processes rolls on.
 
Was in a body cast at age six and had magic Vicodin orange juice for years after healing. I begged for the stuff and I didn't know why I was begging. My body needed it, even when I wasn't in pain. I lied to get it. Pretended I was in terrible pain. Limped around to tug at Mom's heart strings. She always gave in. I guess she was my first enabler at age six. A lot I enjoy about opiates has to do with returning to childhood feelings. Makes me feel innocent to do heroin, if that makes sense. I was higher than hell when Hinkley shot Reagan. I was watching a little black and white - in a full body cast. I remember being sooooo high at the time. Cross-eyed, drooling and laughing at Reagan getting shot. I didn't even know what being high meant. Actually I didn't even know what getting shot meant. I sure do now!

Thank God for Suboxone. It gets you off heroin, but is 100x harder to quit. Very logical way to treat addiction. I got off Suboxone by using small doses of Valium and huge doses of cannabis. A little Clonidine can't hurt, but the idea is to stop drugs, not keep pumping them in. I'm a straight edge herb and hallucinogen user now. Don't need any of the hard stuff to get by. I can quit any drug I am on and be just fine. Hey never take Suboxone. I think that was my point.
 
I'm not into really fast bikes because I'm a big puss. I'm too afraid of dying. I did love abusing heroin though. Most drugs, really, but opiates were my soft spot. I taste heroin right now, just from thinking about it. Jonesing for adrenaline and dopamine are probably both just as miserable. I never got off on adrenaline unless it was associated with obtaining the drug. Obtaining sex and cool-status could be similar ways to get the dopamine from riding huh. Plus the love of bikes is a buzz in itself and I see that everyday. Healthy addiction compared to what else is out there to play with.

another 1,

I'm thinking that taking heroin needs courage, considering the eventual consequences. I know a guy who used to have a 'crossover'. This is when others inject heroin into one of his arms and cocaine into the other one at the same time! Years later the guy is a mess, with all kinds of organ damage and emphysema. He talks about his drug taking days with love.

I'm too fond of the booze, but I tell myself that, given a stark choice, I would choose to keep the bikes in my life over the booze. It would mean drinking a lot of coffee!

A.

PS - On the drugs thing, I sometimes take an over the counter Cocodamol just to take the edge off. I can definitely feel it after half an hour of dropping two tablets. Its not possible to take a larger dose than recommended because of the Paracetamol in there.
 
I'd say that things become addictive through the process of repetition and reward, what was originally a special treat transforms over time to the point where what began as a treat becomes habit, so is no longer a treat but a part of our normal repertoire, then we need something new, something special, something that is a treat....and the processes rolls on.

DBT,

I would have agreed with you, but have found something different with the bikes. After 10 years of being 'born again' on bikes I get exactly the same buzz every time I hammer onto the motorway from a slip road. It is one of the few places I can use the power of a litre bike. I expected the buzz to fade over time, but it hasn't.

A.
 
I'd say that things become addictive through the process of repetition and reward, what was originally a special treat transforms over time to the point where what began as a treat becomes habit, so is no longer a treat but a part of our normal repertoire, then we need something new, something special, something that is a treat....and the processes rolls on.

DBT,

I would have agreed with you, but have found something different with the bikes. After 10 years of being 'born again' on bikes I get exactly the same buzz every time I hammer onto the motorway from a slip road. It is one of the few places I can use the power of a litre bike. I expected the buzz to fade over time, but it hasn't.

A.

Yes, some things never grow stale. Some of the things I enjoyed as a boy still remain pleasurable.
 
And the road narrows. The moon is out. Trees line the straightaway like tooth picks. You're at 80MPH with no one in sight. A faint mist blows in the slightly rolled down windows. Oh, and the radio is blasting, but now it's time to leave the stress of life and straddle the tranquility of the zone.

Steadily the speed begins to increase. The deer on the side of the road brings no fear, just a mumbled little utterance, "ooh food." The roar is tantalizing to the ear and so the volume of the radio is slightly lowered. The trees seem to merge, and the occasional pot hole in the road only momentarily keeps your sanity. The moon is bright, the lights are on bright, but now as you surpass 110, it's time to succumb to the rhythm of the rain, so the lights are dimmed, and the clutch of the wheel begins to loosen.

You're passing 130 and though it's like ice, it's just now time to play. You cut the emergency flashers on and yes, oh yes, you cut the headlights completely off, and with intermittent precision, you can faintly see as the flash of the orangish yellow alternates with the sanctity of the moonlight. Flash, ... flash, ... flash, ... flash, ... flash, ... flash

And then, you floor that son of a bitch
 
I'm not into really fast bikes because I'm a big puss. I'm too afraid of dying. I did love abusing heroin though. Most drugs, really, but opiates were my soft spot. I taste heroin right now, just from thinking about it. Jonesing for adrenaline and dopamine are probably both just as miserable. I never got off on adrenaline unless it was associated with obtaining the drug. Obtaining sex and cool-status could be similar ways to get the dopamine from riding huh. Plus the love of bikes is a buzz in itself and I see that everyday. Healthy addiction compared to what else is out there to play with.

another 1,

I'm thinking that taking heroin needs courage, considering the eventual consequences. I know a guy who used to have a 'crossover'. This is when others inject heroin into one of his arms and cocaine into the other one at the same time! Years later the guy is a mess, with all kinds of organ damage and emphysema. He talks about his drug taking days with love.

I'm too fond of the booze, but I tell myself that, given a stark choice, I would choose to keep the bikes in my life over the booze. It would mean drinking a lot of coffee!

A.

PS - On the drugs thing, I sometimes take an over the counter Cocodamol just to take the edge off. I can definitely feel it after half an hour of dropping two tablets. Its not possible to take a larger dose than recommended because of the Paracetamol in there.

I think they called Cocodamol some other street name. Can't remember, but yeah. that sounds dangerous. There was a fad called triple-c back in the day. That may have been it. As for riding, I should have picked up on it early in life. I rebelled against anything my parents did. My Dad rode, and I had no idea how awesome it actually was. I liked dirt bikes and stuff like that but big bikes don't feel right to me. I made a major wrong choice between bikes and drugs, but I suppose it was made for me, very early in life.

Speaking of speedball, that is intense. Better to get out of the way when you're young. Wit my medical history it would kill me at age 41. Booting some dope hours after the coke, sure. I'd do that if I inherited some more money someday. So many famous writers thrived on speedballing. More than just writers. Founders of thought engines we rely on every day. Psychology especially, huh.

Good idea switching to coffee. While bikes and booze were (I now clearly see) the best choice I could have made, like I said, I tasted the good stuff when I was a lil kid and I never outgrew it until I learned drugs for myself and found ways to cure pretty much anything that ails me. I may even have a cocktail that will allow the apprehension of God itself. Only problem is that most people become lazy, societal dropouts when they see through the lens of psychedelics. The inconsequentiality of everything is overwhelming at times because psychedelics are a moody animal. Blame that on the snuffing of psychedelic research in psychology I suppose. We'd have tamed it by now, hadn't the research been snuffed overnight.

As far as courage goes, considering heron, I feel it is a cowardly act overall. Elephant tranquilizer is flooding the east coast. You'd have to be a fool to use any of the stuff floating out here from those corner-cutting cartels. Carfentanil feels nothing like heroin, but these redneck dumbasses eat it up and DIE by the dozens daily - in my city alone. If you're going to use heroin, use real heroin, dispose of used needles and be tidy. It can actually prolong your life if used properly... studies say, anyway. The adulteration is a direct result of illegality. Thousands die a year for a law that incarcerates even more than it kills - for no logical reason.

People out there wanna die. Sad truth is that a lot of them do. If they want to die using a drug, why not make it legal for them to do so? Using it illegally causes them to destroy everyone around them. Compare it to handing an uzi to a suicidal person in a room full of people. Why not let them walk quietly into the woods with a blade? They're going to die anyway. Why take so many innocent people through the hell their addiction causes?

Buy them a dirtbike at age 9 and I bet their chances of getting junked out lowers significantly. A drum Set? SOMETHING besides the empty internet and the doom it invokes in the minds of the young. There are so many reasons people become hooked on stuff. The coming generation is going to have it really rough I fear.
 
Want a heroin and bike story? The thread says yes.

I went to this festival, right. Somewhere in WV. There were some bikers there but mostly a bunch of weird hippies. People from fringes of everywhere. Always a lot of rednecks, but they can be the coolest people of all when they're trying really hard to seem like hippies. You can smoke with them for hours and demand drugs from them, because they are hippies, and that is what hippies do, of course. Drugs. Be cool and get me high all night because of my fake, unidentifiable accent, type thing. Best way to stay high at any event, really (if you're a male). But these good times were interrupted very quickly.

First forklift has two people on it. I was bored with whatever wasn't happening so I followed it to a tent. I was on a lot, lot of drugs. I'll spare you the list but hallucinogens is on it. Important thing to remember because I was forced into one of the most intense situations of my life, with - or without the intoxication. This tent... this tiny little thing was yellow and it had two little beds. It was like a little dollhouse. They lifted the people from the forklift and started to do their thing. I involved myself immediately and they didn't mind, because here came another forklift. And another. I knew immediately that it was heroin. Heroin was the most likely cause. Could have been something exotic or just datura laced weed but I sort of knew more than the people in the tent... when it came to what drugs were at the festival. The poor weirdos were foaming at the mouth and blue. Piling up around the tent. There was of course a crowd but no one was sober enough to do much. They just crowded around and started laughing about other things. Then formed smaller crowds and scattered. Eventually nobody seemed to care at all, except the severely hallucinating man and the poorly trained EMT's rented at what I hope was a huge discount.

They were about to die any moment, these weirdos, and these people in the tent were dicking around. I grabbed a female, rammed my fingers down her throat, pulled out a string of disgusting phlegm and (Cheetos?)... and then I SUCKED the rest of it out of her throat. Then I slapped her. She seemed coherent enough to breathe again but it didn't last. Narcane wasn't popular back then so they were using some kind of salt water. We were in the 1800's. It was a true emergency. This biker chick seemed to know what she was doing, so I started thinking we may have a chance. Another forklift came and I started smacking the hell out of people. Fun thing about heroin is getting to smack your friends with impunity. Sometimes even strangers! A few other souls eventually joined in the smacking. They must have seen how fun it looked? They kinda mocked my procedure for heroin overdoses. Ice helps a good bit. Keep them breathing no matter what. Work with what you have. We sure didn't have much. We became as one, to save every life present.

What was odd to me (in my nonpresent state), was that Steel Pterodactyl hadn't stopped playing their set. It was a somewhat illegal festival - and it turned out to be so huge, there was no controlling it without tanks. All we had were forklifts? I never got the full info on the legitimacy of the festival. There are always things like that being coordinated by people trying to make money. They don't account for human life, I suppose. I DO account for life. All I knew was that human life wasn't going to perish in my presence. And it didn't. 8(?) people were responsible for saving at least twice that. I worked on females if at all possible, but doing compressions on the males was doable. If I was going to taste someone else's dinner straight from their asphyxiating throat, that someone was going to have to be a female. I was just tripping too hard for anything other than that.

All was a success until they paid me for my efforts. I bought some heroin just to sniff. No downers were available and I HAD to come down from the hallucinogen and even myself out. I don't generally experience what is commonly known as "shock". Just a personality trait. But in that moment, on that stupid night - I was in SHOCK. Anyway, I snorted a little of the heroin and stood up from a milk crate. Then I woke up in the tent. I blacked out and my breathing slowed, so the forklift came for me. The biggest hero of the night was the person driving the forklift, in my opinion. I am DEFINITELY second, but I disgraced myself, because the whole time we were working around the tent I was condemning heroin. But when there is nothing else to come down on, you have to take your chances. I don't want HPPD or PTSD from a drug. Calming myself down was imperative. I was younger and incapable of escaping my mind briefly so there were no other options than heroin. Luckily I avoided psychic damage but picked up some HPPD later down the road. I didn't tie bikes into the rant too well, so I italicized "the road".
 
Hi another1,

Phew, your story is taking me back to times best forgotten. My mates were kind of redneck/hippy/bikers but mostly redneck. Looking back I know that I was trouble and one of the worst. It wasn't heavy drugs with me, but I'd go crazy with booze. Hmm, I still can't watch Easy Rider!

A couple of the drug takers died early, one in his own bed.

A.

PS - We do have rednecks here in the UK; I think rednecks are everywhere except maybe France?
 
Best forgotten indeed lol.

Even France is reporting some redneck sightings. The whole world may be in trouble. They are easy to turn into stupid hippies, so that may be our only option to deal with the wave. What is a good word for combining redneck and hippy? Redhipps? I don't know. That slang will secrete on its own magically. I wonder where slang comes from sometimes.
 
usually the story goes something like there is nothing like the first time, and then every time thereafter you are looking to recapture that first rush. That is what is referred to as "Chasing the Dragon".
 
usually the story goes something like there is nothing like the first time, and then every time thereafter you are looking to recapture that first rush. That is what is referred to as "Chasing the Dragon".

Malintent and folks,

I used to believe that, but rediscovering bikes and bourbon in later life has been a total wake up call for me.

Every time I hit the road on the sportbikes is 100% as good as the first time. They have the capacity to scare the s*** out of me solid, and that comes at about the same point on the rev counter on every run. As Valentino Rossi commented after his recent MOTO GP win, it is the "feeling" we want, and the bikes deliver.

Bourbon is a little different as the possibility of over 'oversippage' is a constant menace. However, with self control it is quite easy to enjoy the bourbon hit with smaller portions, savouring rather than chugging. That was a great discovery for me. :)

Maybe there is something of the poet William Wordsworth in this stuff, with this view on re-experiencing the joys of youth in age, but with deeper understanding and appreciation.

A.
 
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