Motorcycle Quote of the Day

"As recent memory serves, the most I have felt at home is while on two wheels, riding a solitary road."

Late Starter

By all intents and purposes, I am a late starter in the world of motorcycling. Sure, there were the occasional rides on the neighbor's little Honda 50cc dirt bike in the backwoods of Illinois when I was in high school. Maybe that is what lit the fire. For decades that ember sat somewhere, waiting.

Not until late in 2007 did the ember catch on. The reasons for the delay are many, and for the purpose of this, do not matter. What matters is that it did catch.

Yesterday I enjoyed the opportunity to ride up to Eureka with several other riders. No, we were not on bikes. 14F temps, in my opinion, are not conducive to enjoyable two wheel time.

The arid landscape is quite unlike that of Las Vegas. Here, is a quiet stark beauty. The roads are mostly two lane and sparsely traveled. The land, populated with trees and scrub, beckon the hiker, the rider, the adventurer. Odd signs, old roads and paths, ruins from the 1800's exercise an odd gravity to some.

To go where few if any tread. To experience what few if any do. To see things that few if any can or will.

These things urge me to go out and buy another type of bike. Maybe a little Honda CRF230L. Maybe a Yamaha TW200. Maybe something larger like a V-Strom or a BMW F650GS (see pic).

To think of the roads, the trails, the nights under the stars, the dirty, messy bikes, the broken spokes and chains, the friendships and experiences I missed while traveling my own path...

Being a late starter does not preclude one from missed experiences, it only means the new experiences can be savored more with a better trained palate. My project bike and the roads are calling.

Satisfaction, Never and Always

Satisfaction, Never and Always.

The road tempts with catharsis and peace and power and freedom.

Every mile, every turn, every straightaway; desert or mountain or plain satiates the primal being. The grinding pegs, early mornings, hum of the road, thump of the engine, din of the wind washes everything away, leaving nothing but the rider's bare eternal primal soul.

The day's end, a beer, a camp fire, silence and reflection. More is needed. There is so much to wash away but less. Gaining in perspective but ride as one might through sun and rain, heat and bone chilling cold, the end of the ride leaves an empty something.

A turn, a fork in the road, an unintended stop may bring unknown adventure, a new friend, a partner or more. Who's to say for there is satisfaction. Yet at the end of the day there is not.

To ride one more day, to be satisfied, to cleanse, to make a difference, to carry the colors again. That is my desire; my prayer.

Waystations

6:30 AM. 40 degrees Fahrenheit. Humidity 84%.

Cold blooded Athena rumbles her complaints but knows we must be moving on. Another waystation ahead. Will there be shelter? Will there be dry warmth where the two of us can recover from the elements?

One never knows for sure when the next safe waystation may be. In this cold, harsh world, one must have faith in ones' friends and that the next stop will welcome the chilly, wet, tired rider. When a friend or waystation with open arms is found, they must be remembered, savored and held close to the heart, lest they be lost forever in a sea of mediocraty and ambivalence.