Riding motorcycles is pretty much everything you’ve heard or imagined it is. It’s exhilarating and freeing, but at the same time humbling and meditative. There’s a lot of time to think out there, but a healthy awareness of your surroundings is always necessary if you’re going to keep the shiny side up. Time for motorcycle metaphors.
Over the years, Mike and I have ridden these bikes through some damn beautiful places: Maine, Nova Scotia, Blue Ridge Mountains, Adirondacks and the Smokies. Most of the time I like following Mikey, because I like his pace and trust his judgment. Occasionally he forgets the route, but it usually ends up with us laughing as he adamantly explains that he was SURE he was right. GPS mounted on the handle bars has changed a lot of this, but I kind of miss the days when I would take out the big map, write out directions on a little piece of paper and hope he would remember which way to go.
I followed Mike through Northern Colorado yesterday on a perfectly beautiful route full of straightaways and curves. Riding along the Illinois river towards the Medicine Bow mountains in Wyoming was a cruiser’s dream.
Taking curves is one of those moments that embody all the emotions of being on a motorcycle. You see it coming and and you are at once excited and totally present. Depending on the information you have you can relax and enjoy, or tense up and feel anxious. You begin to contemplate your speed, take in your surroundings and anticipate what is around the bend, or cliff, as it may be. Take a blind curve too slow and you have to muscle the bike through it struggling mentally and physically through the whole thing. Take it too fast, and you risk losing control or being surprised by something you couldn’t see coming. The worst is when you miss the road sign telling you it’s coming and you have to make adjustments at the last minute to accommodate a situation you really didn’t need to be in in the first place. Occasionally you come around a blind curve only to get caught by a wind gust amd find you’re headed straight towards a storm.
Sweepers are my favorite. Long stretches of road in front of you with the mountains getting closer, and if you’re lucky a little river running alongside you accentuating the curves. These are the curves you see coming and approach with happy anticipation. Gliding through one, the next curve already in sight, totally present as the tiniest adjustment keeps you perfectly placed and on course. Pure bliss.
I have followed Mike through a lot of curves in life. A few have been blind curves that I feared and resisted, leaving me muscling through the moment afraid of what was on the other side. I may have even missed a sign or two advising me to change my speed, slow down and be cautious. Most of them have been blissful sweepers where you can see way ahead of you and anticipate what’s coming. Long stretches full of happy memories where tiny adjustments kept things on track. The blind curves I had to take on my own taught me a lot. If you resist change and fear what you can’t see or imagine, you suffer. Trust yourself, stay aware and keep moving and you come out stronger and better prepared for the next curve.
Like I said, I like following Mike. I like his pace and I’m happy to be on one of the straightaways with him right now. When the curves come, I know he will always be waiting on the other side ready for the next part of the journey. The view in my rear view mirror is pretty good too.
leavethebaggage 