Sunday, July 1, 2007
Back In The Saddle
I can't tell you the number of times I've been asked if I'd ever ride again. After the first accident, all I wanted to do was pick my bike off the street and ride like nothing had happened. I just wanted to press on with my plans to meet Peter in Twin Falls two days later.
Close friends told me I'd be crazy to get back on another bike and encouraged me to give it up, saying I should count my lucky stars and accept that I had a good run of it. But I blew off the naysaying and said I'd be back at the top of my game again soon. And then Peter's accident happened just days later. People were saying it was a sign that I shouldn't be riding. I don't think of myself as superstitious, but I couldn't deny that maybe there was something to it all.
After Peter's accident, I'll be honest, I had some serious reservations about riding. My eagerness to replace my bike was surprisingly replaced with feelings of disinterest in the sport. I just wasn't in a rush to buy another bike anymore.
It was a terrible conclusion because I loved to ride. All the world is right when I'm on two wheels. I've felt that way from the days of riding my bicycle down my grandparents' hill at top speed. I love everything about motorcycling - the wind-in-face freedom, the camaraderie between friends and strangers alike of the same fraternal order or the solitude for self-discovery, exploring the country and getting in touch with nature and the elements, flying down long stretches like a bat out of hell, and dipping into sweepers or twisties like a day at the track, and just getting away from life and common surroundings sometimes. There's nothing like it and it can't be explained - only experienced - to fully understand. It's in my blood and I was disappointed at my own reaction.
Thankfully, it was a fleeting notion. As you're already aware, I purchased a Cruiser a few weeks ago to get me around town. The first week on it, I was horn-happy. I made sure to let people around me know of their slightest infractions, usually followed by muttering four-letter words inside my helmet. Everyone around me was a stupid driver.
Unfortunately, my Yamaha is not much of a sport-tourer. In fact, it's more akin to my Vespa scooter than a motorcycle. I don't trust it over 65 mph and I can't keep pace with my riding buddies. On a few occassions I've had to pass on offers for joining them on rides. It just wouldn't have been fun for anybody.
But today, however, I put in an 8-hour day and rode 300 miles with my friends, Karson, Sarah, and Jerry, and actually kept up the whole time! It was my first real ride in a month and my bum wasn't sore and my hands weren't still buzzing at the stops. I didn't miss a beat with the turns and the straight-aways. It was amazing fun! I was on cloud nine...and my Yamaha never left the garage. Jerry let me take out his other bike, the BMW K1200S, for the ride! It's a gesture that simply floored me. I'd never let ANYONE ride my bike. Most riders don't. But Jerry is of a different breed and I consider myself very fortunate to have such generous friends.
Our first pitstop was in Monument but Karson and Sarah had to turn around because of an emergency. It was just Jerry and I and his two bikes now and we continued onward, modifying our plan slightly. Instead of reaching Canon City, we worked our way past Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs, through Manitou Springs past Cave of the Winds and onto our new destination point, Buena Vista.
The last twenty miles to Buena Vista were pure torture for me. I had an itch under my helmet that I couldn't reach and I didn't want to interrupt Jerry's rhythm of passing cars by pulling over. The best I could do was grab my helmet by the "jaw" and move it up and down fiercely as a way of scratching my head.
When we made it to town, I couldn't help but notice the Paradise Restaurant in passing. On Memorial Weekend 2006, Karson, Sarah and I rode out to Buena Vista together and stopped for a bite there before I continued on with the rest of my abbreviated journey alone (I lost my driver's license and had to turn around after 3 days). The marquee read "STEAKS BURGERS CHICKEN ISH" which I found pretty hilarious. One might assume "Ish" was really "Fish", but I took it to mean that pretty much no matter what you ordered you were getting a mystery meat of some sort, like a Chicken-ish Sandwich. But that was cleared up this time around. Now the marquee reads "Steaks, Burgers, Chicken, Fish" and it's good to know I was wrong.
Nonetheless, Jerry and I stopped for lunch at K's Dairy Delite, a pleasant cross between In-and-Out Burger and Dairy Queen. When you order, you're given a celebrity name instead of a number. Pretty nifty I thought, but Jerry was Kevin Costner and I was Seth Green. I asked for a better celebrity, but the name stuck. Oh well. K's must be a tourist spot because there were buses of high school missionaries, dozens of H-D riders, and families all waiting in line for a taste of K's. Inside was a map of the US and one of the world for dotting your place of origin. There were people from as far away as Africa who have visited K's. Then again, there's a high probability that kids were playing around with the maps.
After eating our lunch in the park behind the restaurant, Jerry and I swapped bikes. I was now riding the earth-eating BMW R1200GS Adventure - the Humvee of motorcycles. That thing can go 450 miles before needing to fill up! This was my first time ever spending any real time on a GSA, so I was pretty excited. BMW makes a collection of superb bikes for every occasion. The GS bikes are known for being great all-rounders, and particularly good for globe-trotting or just farm roads for the less adventurous. Because of its versatility and touring prowess it was easily a contender for my next motorcycle. The opportunity to put some real miles on one was a real treat because it was the kind of test ride I needed to know if the GSA would make the final round.
My impression of the bike is that it is a great machine and a real joy to ride. Despite all the whining from critics about the vibration from the traditional boxer engine, I found the engine to be smooth with a little bit of soul and with sportbike intentions due to all of its torque. You want to know vibration, ride my bike for 10 minutes! Now about that torque...this bike is no slow poke. I'd blip the throttle at any RPM and the front suspension would fully extend! You can also cruise comfortably at 80 miles an hour without working the engine. The boxer engine is a real gem.
Speaking of Hummers, with its extra suspension travel, the commanding riding position of the GSA puts you at least at eye level with drivers of big SUVs. The curvature of the seat (GS seat on a GSA) allows you to pick virtually any riding stance you want and it holds you in place comfortably. I never found myself unintentionally riding up on the tank as is what happens on sportbikes and even the GT. I was surprised to find that the bars were relatively flat like my hooligan K1200R and not set back like a touring bike, such as the RT.
My only real complaint was just the massiveness of the bike. I thought it was a bit clumsy around town at slower speeds. So for every day riding, I think it fails the test. Like any bike, more time on it would increase my confidence, but it didn't feel as spot-on as the K1200S did when I rode that. The K1200S is a precision machine with which I find very little fault. The technology, handling, speed, braking power, and comfort of the bike is astounding. I took naturally to the K-bike and believe I may find myself on one of 3 bikes: another naked K1200R/R-Sport, the full-fairing K1200S sportbike or the award-winning GT sport-tourer. Time will tell.
I digress. Jerry and I left Buena Vista, but not before my eye caught a thermometer reading on the way out of town: 97 degrees. Any doubts about wanting to ride again were wiped from my mind as we made our way from Buena Vista to Copper. The views were just spectacular. I thought about pulling over to take photos, but I knew there was no way to capture the essence of the views. You'll just have to take my word for it or go for yourself to see. We made one last stop when we reached Frisco. I threw the rule book out the window and decided to live on the edge by ordering a Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream on a cone. By the way, that's another advantage of having a motorcycle - being lactose intolerant doesn't offend anyone...well, unless you have a passenger.
We swapped bikes once again when we left Frisco, so I was now back on the S. When we hit Idaho Falls the traffic was stop and go, well, more stop than go. I was now riding on my wrists and balancing Jerry's $18,000 bike at speeds of 1 mph in 100 degree heat. I was hating life right about now. Then we saw a fellow on his BMW RT zip past everyone riding on the shoulder. Out of pure jealousy, I shook my head declaring, "What an asshole!" Just as soon as I finished saying that I look over and see Jerry booking it down the shoulder, too! "Ahh, hell with it!" I thought and joined the rebel gang - it was great!
The traffic went as far as the eye could see so we took an exit and wound our way through Idaho Falls, ending up behind two burly H-D 'ladies'. Not our typical crowd, but they seemed to know the way, so we invited ourselves along for the ride. Well, the pavement ended and we had no choice but to ride in gravel for a couple of miles until we hit the highway again. The S actually managed just fine, but if it weren't so miserable out, there's no way I'd choose to ride down that path.
Safely back in Denver, I had to surrender the keys of the K1200S to Jerry and have a reality check by hopping back on my 83 Heritage Classic. Riding home with a stupid smile on my face and my visor open, I was paid a visit by a bee that made a crash landing on my face. My head instantly felt like it was going to explode. I was swatting at my helmet franticly all the while screaming like a 12-year old girl with a scraped knee. The people in the cars next to me must've thought I was a lunatic - which in hindsight may not be such a bad way to keep people from driving into me. Anyway, I raced my way over to Starbucks and ran into their bathroom to pull out the stinger and inspect my eye. I then went to the counter, explained what had just happened and asked the Barista for some ice for my eye. His response was, "Oh, I just thought you had to pee real bad."
Despite the mishaps along the way, today was just an incredible day. It was an awesome first ride since my accident and I look forward to the many miles ahead on two wheels of my own. It's good to be back in the saddle again.
Safely back in Denver, I had to surrender the keys of the K1200S to Jerry and have a reality check by hopping back on my 83 Heritage Classic. Riding home with a stupid smile on my face and my visor open, I was paid a visit by a bee that made a crash landing on my face. My head instantly felt like it was going to explode. I was swatting at my helmet franticly all the while screaming like a 12-year old girl with a scraped knee. The people in the cars next to me must've thought I was a lunatic - which in hindsight may not be such a bad way to keep people from driving into me. Anyway, I raced my way over to Starbucks and ran into their bathroom to pull out the stinger and inspect my eye. I then went to the counter, explained what had just happened and asked the Barista for some ice for my eye. His response was, "Oh, I just thought you had to pee real bad."
Despite the mishaps along the way, today was just an incredible day. It was an awesome first ride since my accident and I look forward to the many miles ahead on two wheels of my own. It's good to be back in the saddle again.
Comments:
<< Home
Shit yeah - sounds like a great adventure. Can't wait for Chance to get out of the hospital and you can ride her up to me. It's 90 degrees today and I'm stuck on 4 wheels.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]