I remembered what Dan said about riding on the salt. That there is no traction and turning may be a problem. I slow down slowly and tap the shift to first making wide turns paying close attention to the feeling of the back tire. My worry is a low side but it never happens. I’m something like five miles from the bend in the L where everyone camps out in the mud. I’m as far as I can go down without someone telling me I can’t be any further without a CB radio and a fire extinguisher. I push through to fifth gear easily and I’m at 75mph in no time headed back towards the bend. The wind is screaming fiercely, its eddies in my ears make the engine sound drown out. All I hear is the wind. Touching my chin to the tank, I tuck in my elbows and knees, everything hugs the tank and I am flying. With no helmet the rushing air pulls at my hair, my shirt flaps. I could do this forever.