It was just after a break up. Alone on the road. Like a standing K.O., facing the unknown. Lost, two steps away from letting it all go to pot. I needed to track down who I was, and figure out which path to go on down. I stopped for gas, stopped to think. First, I saw the bike, on its own, on its kickstand. A lightweight trail bike, 250 cc, with minimal baggage. I don’t know why I took a photo of it. Its rider came out from the station. Graham. He had come from the “Elephants”, a biker’s meeting held every January on the ice and snow in Bavaria. He was on his way home, to Birmingham. At 77 years old. He spoke to me with his fingers curled round his hot coffee. Then, he got back on his Yamaha and went on his way. And I understood. Graham had stopped there to reveal a path. One of adventure, independence, audacity, and of the refusal of the comfortable way. One of life.
C’était juste après une séparation. Seul sur la route. Comme K.O. debout, face à l’inconnu. Perdu, à deux doigts de vieillir d’un coup. Il me fallait retrouver qui j’étais, et quelle route suivre pour le reste du chemin. Un arrêt pour faire le plein et le point. J’ai d’abord aperçu la moto, seule, posée sur sa béquille. Un trail léger, de 250 cc, chargé de peu de bagages. Je ne sais pas pourquoi je l’ai photographié. De la station service est sorti son pilote. Graham. Il venait des « Éléphants », un rassemblement moto qui a lieu en janvier en Bavière, sur la glace et dans la neige. Il rentrait chez lui, à Birmingham. À 77 ans. Il m’a parlé, le temps que son café lui réchauffe les doigts. Puis il a enfourché sa Yamaha et a repris sa route. Et j’ai compris. Graham était passé là pour me montrer un chemin. Celui de l’aventure, de l’indépendance, de l’audace, du refus du confort. Celui de la vie.
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