What I have come to know is this — some bends in the road are made by God. They sweep left in a constant arc and as I prepare to lean my motorbike, my whole being becomes focused in that one moment. There are no distractions. No stray thoughts about bills not being paid, friends who haven’t called or lovers who’ve decided to leave because I haven’t given them enough attention.

I don’t think I ever really understood Kate. In the beginning she was happy. We’d go to the movies, we’d screw, lark around some and we’d sleep. I understand living with a woman requires more content. But things shifted and she didn’t wait for me to catch on or catch up. Her note on the fridge was full of anger. She was leaving, and I should wait before I called her.

I like to ride my motorbike — to get away and just ride. I like the way it helps fix me in the present. When I tour, there is nothing except now. No place except here. That makes decisions simple. Do I turn left, or do I turn right? It doesn’t get much easier than that.

Kate should have given me more of a chance, a bigger hint that something was wrong. Her way, I’ve been tried and found guilty, without knowing I had even committed a crime.

Maybe I did know a few things. I’ll admit she told me a few weeks ago about some things that pissed her off. She said I wasn’t attentive enough. Said, I used to listen to her, I used to hear when she called me and I would respond. Now, I ignore her. She also reckons I don’t touch her lovingly anymore. I don’t put my arm around her. I don’t spoon with her in bed, and when I do touch her it’s only because I want sex.

These are valid complaints. They are all sins I admit to freely, but are they crimes worthy of leaving a perfectly good relationship? Hasn’t she over-reacted?

When I ride, the most important things I need to consider are: When and where to stop for lunch; how much fuel do I have in my tank; when and where will I stop for the night? In the scheme of things, these are not some of life’s most perplexing decisions. Do I stop now and eat or do I wait and stop when I need fuel? Will I ride an extra hundred kilometres and make tomorrow easier or will I stop now, put my feet up and have a beer? This is what fills my thoughts as I ride. Complex problems are too hard, they take too much energy, too much concentration.

Last night, I decided I might call Kate and tell her she’d been too hasty and ask if she really wanted to kiss the relationship good-bye.

I thought I’d say, “I’m sorry, I’ll try harder — there are lots of things that were good so let’s not get all screwed-up with this small stuff.”

That’s what I decided last night.

This morning, as I jumped on my bike I made another decision. I decided to turn left.