What can I say, that I haven’t said many times before. The weather was “almost” perfect today. Friday we rode 155 miles in between rain. The same with yesterday and another 175 miles. Today was supposed to be a complete wash out so Judy and I made plains to go grocery shopping and some other house hold chores. It was sunny and sixty-four at nine a.m. At Ten AM all thoughts of shopping and chores were abandoned and we
headed for a destination that need not be met. But rather a direction to point the bike and Clyde.
That direction was northwest towards Erie Pa. and it couldn’t have been better planed. About forty-five minutes into our trip the temperature climbed into the eighties. The bike was running perfect and I could breathe deep, relax, and settle back into the arms of Judy. I was in my zone, my nirvana, if you will. Nothing could harm, nothing could upset the balance within me.
Now that my time has surpassed the half century mark, by almost a dozen years, I have lost one of the joys and pleasures of riding. The peace that I find listening to the powerful and fine-tuned motor beneath me as it propels me along the rivers of asphalt, has now become muted. After forty years in manufacturing, twenty years in competitive shooting, and a life time of motorcycles, I suffer from tinnitus twenty-four/seven and must use ear plugs to tame the sound of the wind and motor least the ringing in my ears becomes too painful to endure.
It’s a different feeling on the bike when you’re use to hearing how you ride. My shifts have taken on a whole new timing. Now, instead of hearing my motor rpm’s and shifting appropriately. I must go more by “feel” of the bike. I must admit to being pretty good in the first four gears. But from forth to fifth and then into sixth I get a little confused as to which gear I’m in and which one I should be in and, on occasion, I’ve had to refer to the information window on my speedometer to see which gear I’m actually in. I’m hoping the relearning process won’t take too long.
The roads we chose for our trip were all two lane and free of the hurried pace of Interstate. So I didn’t pay close attention to the speedometer and kept our speed at a pleasant pace. Fast enough to not impede the flow of traffic but slow enough to enjoy the day, the sun and the road.
Along the way we passed many farms and most fields were in the process of being readied for this years crop. Here we are on a Sunday enjoying the day and the company of each other at the same time a farmer is working to feed the masses and bring food to our tables. All the while earning a living for his or her family. I wonder how many truly appreciate those who work the land? Or how many even really know where the foods they buy in the mega supermarkets come from?
Speaking of food, One of the pleasures Judy and I indulge in on our journeys to where ever we end up, is finding new places to eat and today as well as the past two days were no different. The past two days we found ourselves in each other’s company at a couple of places that were familiar and common to us. After which we just rode around aimlessly wearing thin the tire tread on roads close, but not too close, to home in case the weather turned ugly. Today the skies were blue the temperature was warm so it was decided that a trip to the Japanese Hibachi steak house would be a welcome treat from the burger and fry joints or the salad bars.
After our meal we decided it best to head home. The weather had turned out to be a wonderful surprise but could just as easily turn the other direction as well.
The trip home was as pleasant and calming as the trip up. (Well, except for a brief verbal encounter at a stop-n-rob quick mart.) Once home I sat on the porch contemplating the days ride and the rides this weekend in general. I was staring mindlessly at my boots. Not really thinking about them but just looking at them as I dwelled on the next ride or how many more rides I have left when I noticed something.
Most bikers put their left foot down first when stopping at a light or sign or simply coming to a stop. The tread on my left boot is half of what the tread is on my right. So I simply say to all who claim to be “true” bikers… “How much tread is on your left boot?”
Today Judy and I rode 235 miles. It was a great day!
Long Lonesome Highway 