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Goddamn it feels good to be back on my bike! Lily is doing amazingly well. Three years in a barn, home to several families of mice and she started right up! That new battery I bought fit perfectly. Bit of a pain in the arse fitting the terminals, but at least the nut didn’t fall into the wiring harness and disappear. I guess the Seafoam Tom put in last year did its job. No sign of clouding or water in the gas. I’ll find out soon enough. She sounds great! That weird Triumph triple burble. Sitting still hasn’t affected her performance, at least not as far as I can tell. It’s a good thing I put new tires on her, though. Heidenau’s are the dog’s bollocks, but I read someplace that tires only last about 5 years. We’ll see. Ahh! Dang it! That stupid hip adductor! 10 minutes on the bike and it’s already cramping up. We talked about getting our riding muscles back in shape, but I’d forgotten that one. Stand up. On the pegs. We’re only doing 30. I remember standing up doing 60 when Sledge and I were in Alaska. Granted we were three weeks into 250-mile days by then. Hey. This isn’t right. Oh, yeah, I dropped the handlebars back to flat years ago when I wasn’t riding off-road as much. Bikes need some kind of lever or way to easily adjust the angle of the handlebars when you’re going back and forth between sitting and standing. I wonder what the folks behind me think. Standing up isn’t a trick. Not really. But I wonder if it freaks them out? Meh! My leg’s relaxed and now my wrist hurts, I’m sitting down. Whoops – hang on – took that corner a little wide. Lean. Lean. A little more pressure with my left hand. Counter-steering is so awesome. Don’t slow down. Just lean. And we’re back up. No one behind me, thankfully. Better still no one in front of me. Let’s open her up a bit. C’mon Tom, pin it! Wait! Why are you slowing down? Where are you going? Ah! Woah! That’s a big deer! Holy heck! I didn’t see her in the bushes. It’s nearly midday why are you even out, mama? Drop a gear and pull back on the throttle. You know it’s a good thing muscle memory is a thing. Mentally it feels like I have no idea what I’m doing, but my right hand is back in its familiar position, gently coaxing Lily’s throttle through those few millimetres that she responds to. Oops! A bit of chain lash, need a little more clutch. Take her up a gear and take some of that risk out. But acceleration is soooo slow now! And boring! Back down into third and up to 6,000 rpm. Ah, now we’re moving. Nah! Too much fun. Better back off until we get more gas. How much fuel have I got left with two bars? The light came on at three. It’s around a gallon, I think. I just can’t remember. These roads are all 35 miles an hour. Ridiculous! It’s the middle of nowhere. …We’re on a ride to nowhere, Come on inside, Taking that ride to nowhere, We’ll take that ride… They can tell you what to do, But they’ll make a fool of you, And it’s all right, baby, it’s all right… Ulp! Geez! It’s hot in the sun! The gladed bits are cool. Just shows what trees do for us. “Got to find out what kind of trees these are, they’re really something!” The sensory smorgasbord that is motorcycling. You’re cool, you’re hot, you’re thinking deep thoughts, then you’re about to get hit! No, don’t pull out you idiot. Hello! Run wide, car coming, slower, faster? Faster. Adrenaline buzzin’. I’m getting thirsty. We should probably stop for a few minutes and get something to drink. It’s like 100 in the shade now. Where are we anyway? We’ve covered a good 90 miles: time for some fresh fuel. That place in Snohomish has ethanol free fuel – that’s the ticket! None of that adulterated, corn fed crap gas. Nothing but pure, clear petroleum distillate. That and a bit more Seafoam will clear out any residuals. She’s getting around 50 miles a gallon, still. Amazing! We have totally unreasonable expectations of technology nowadays. 50 years ago I don’t think this ride would be possible. Crap it’s hot! This is a tidy little place. Never cared for chain link fence. Something about being chased by dogs when I was young. Didn’t matter if the fence was going to keep the bastards in or not. Bared teeth and attitude goes hand in hand with chain link. Left turn across the traffic. Stop. Please don’t kill me. Thank you. What’s Tom doing? Turning around? Yes. No. He’s backing in. Oh, yeah. Back the bike in so we can ride off without having to muscle it around. I remember that. Duh! Could-a had a V-8! Damn, it’s hot out here! Looking forward to a bite and something cold to drink. My shirt is soaked. And so is my helmet. But, Goddamn it feels good to be back on Lily and riding with Tom!
(With apologies to Tim Krabbé.)
