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Freeway driving in Southern Califonia is lonely and isolating. For the most part, the only vehicle-to-vehicle communication is the expression of rage.  Although a couple on a motorcycle are cocooned in their shared experience, the lone motorcyclist is the exception to the rule of freeway isolation. In a motor culture where drivers spend hours alone, protected in containers of glass, metal, and plastic, the biker has an immediate connection; to his vehicle, the elements, and to passing drivers. 

I'm profoundly phobic of driving on the freeway. My converse comfort as a passenger has allowed me to capture my freeway observations at high speeds. Unlike car drivers, motorcyclists not only enjoy having their picture taken, but also the simple connection between themselves and the photographer. They enjoy seeing and being seen. The voyage is as, or more, important to them than the destination.