They never knew…
Posted: Mon Apr 04, 2005 10:19 pm
Coming back to Texas from my business trip/ride to Daytona Bike Week last month I was really bored. The entire trip was over 2700 miles and 90% of that was on Interstates. And 90% of those were straight. I really had no choice...I had to get there quick and get back. I was on the clock, on the company tab and I needed to be there. So “super-slab†it was for me. It was the longest motorcycle trip I had ever been on and not seen a mountain…Bo-ring!
Early the second bright, chilly morning out of Daytona, I entered Louisiana. And having about 800 miles to go I decide “screw itâ€Â, I'm off the slab and into the hinterlands. What followed was one of the most pleasant short-two day rides I've ever done. Nothing spectacular like the Rocky Mountains or dramatic like the Tetons or entertaining like the Ozarks or enchanting like the Smokies. Just Pine trees and forests, gently curving roads, easy hills and the natural rhythm of the road you can only experience alone...on a motorcycle.
I was actually hoping for rain as I had some new rain gear I needed to test. The storm cells and I played tag for a couple of hours until we caught each other in central Louisiana. The smell of the approaching, inevitable rain was nearly breathtaking inside my Arai with all vents open. Then the sudden change in temperature and smell of the gentle rain itself was like running into an old friend by chance in a favorite bar. For mile after mile I thought how wonderful this was...to be in my totally dry, warm cocoon, astride my favorite motorcycle, reveling in the smell of the fresh-washed Pines, all alone with my thoughts…and with those of the ghosts of all the other riders who went that way before me, and the ones who will follow, wondering about we who rode before.
As I slowed for the very small town I first saw, then smelled the lumber mill where the fragrance of the cut Pine was almost intoxicating. Then it changed to the smoky smell of burning wood scraps and bark and just as quickly was gone again, leaving only the rain and the steady heartbeat of the big twin.
As I passed out of the little town, one final magical olfactory astonishment nearly made me laugh out loud in delighted amazement. At a small roadside fruit stand someone was boiling shrimp! I don't know why I didn't stop and sample this feast but I think now I was just so "in the zone" of the whole experience - the ride, the rain, the smells, the nearly overpowering beauty – and appreciation - of it all, just made me want to ride on. Forever if I could, but knowing I could not, as none of us can.
And then a thought crossed my mind that actually saddened me, a little, for a bit. I thought of all the insulated, isolated, uninvolved, unknowing, unmoved people in their cars with windows rolled up, air conditioners on, cruise controls set, stereos playing who had missed this simple, wonderful thing that had left a lump in my throat and made my spirit soar.
They never even knew it was there...
Early the second bright, chilly morning out of Daytona, I entered Louisiana. And having about 800 miles to go I decide “screw itâ€Â, I'm off the slab and into the hinterlands. What followed was one of the most pleasant short-two day rides I've ever done. Nothing spectacular like the Rocky Mountains or dramatic like the Tetons or entertaining like the Ozarks or enchanting like the Smokies. Just Pine trees and forests, gently curving roads, easy hills and the natural rhythm of the road you can only experience alone...on a motorcycle.
I was actually hoping for rain as I had some new rain gear I needed to test. The storm cells and I played tag for a couple of hours until we caught each other in central Louisiana. The smell of the approaching, inevitable rain was nearly breathtaking inside my Arai with all vents open. Then the sudden change in temperature and smell of the gentle rain itself was like running into an old friend by chance in a favorite bar. For mile after mile I thought how wonderful this was...to be in my totally dry, warm cocoon, astride my favorite motorcycle, reveling in the smell of the fresh-washed Pines, all alone with my thoughts…and with those of the ghosts of all the other riders who went that way before me, and the ones who will follow, wondering about we who rode before.
As I slowed for the very small town I first saw, then smelled the lumber mill where the fragrance of the cut Pine was almost intoxicating. Then it changed to the smoky smell of burning wood scraps and bark and just as quickly was gone again, leaving only the rain and the steady heartbeat of the big twin.
As I passed out of the little town, one final magical olfactory astonishment nearly made me laugh out loud in delighted amazement. At a small roadside fruit stand someone was boiling shrimp! I don't know why I didn't stop and sample this feast but I think now I was just so "in the zone" of the whole experience - the ride, the rain, the smells, the nearly overpowering beauty – and appreciation - of it all, just made me want to ride on. Forever if I could, but knowing I could not, as none of us can.
And then a thought crossed my mind that actually saddened me, a little, for a bit. I thought of all the insulated, isolated, uninvolved, unknowing, unmoved people in their cars with windows rolled up, air conditioners on, cruise controls set, stereos playing who had missed this simple, wonderful thing that had left a lump in my throat and made my spirit soar.
They never even knew it was there...
Gotta learn to leaven the bad with the good.