Project Start

The project begins the moment I turn the key.

A twist of the key, and the starter sings while the gauges wake all at once. The air in the garage trembles faintly, and the beat in my chest falls into line, one pulse at a time. To my right, a red open-top supercar; to my left, a big motorcycle in the same red. Both of them suit my mornings—two partners of mine.

The bike first. I drop the visor and the world turns a shade clearer. Cold air slides across my cheek, and the texture of the road reaches all the way to my fingertips. The corners come closer like lines on a screen, and I match my breath to them, just slightly. Not by force, but by flow. The throttle, only a little—yet precise. Onto a heartbeat steady as a metronome, the pulse of the engine quietly layers itself.

Back to the garage, and this time it's the car. The weight of sinking into the seat straightens my spine, and the steering wheel trembles lightly at the same tempo as my pulse. At the edge of my vision, a single line of morning light reaches out. Beat by beat, I'm in control. The nose strokes the horizon, and a soundless music fills the cabin.

Today there's no course map and no destination. Starting itself is the purpose. Inside the wheel, countless starting lines appear and vanish. The watchword is always the same—Flow, not force. Inputs with nothing wasted and nothing lacking; turn only the angle I need, and unwind only as much as I need. That alone, and an unknown straight stretches out ahead.

I often don't decide on a destination. When I drive without deciding, the road chooses me first. If you asked me which one is really me, the bike or the car, my answer is both. The moments of walking a thin needle's edge and the moments of splitting low clouds can be counted on the very same beat.

When I cut the engine, the quiet rushes straight back. Even so, the starter inside my chest is still turning. The next step has already begun from within, sooner than a turn of the key. I shift my grip on the helmet and ease the car door shut. Today I am—probably both. With two ignitions, I'll brighten a single morning.

Just once more, I match my breath, softly. Let's go. The destination can be decided later. For now, setting off is everything.