It’s a three-way dance with an unlikely triad of man, machine and the elements all acting in unison. Four tiny contact patches between rubber and asphalt. Four even smaller contact patches between hands and a wheel and feet and pedals. It is blood, oil, bone, steel, tar and rock blended with horsepower and an irrational desire to see what’s over the next hill. For some it is a means to an end. A way to get from here to there. For others, there is no destination. There is no end of the road. Just the joy of the next corner. It is its own reward. It is what we do.

WE’RE ASFOLT. We drive.