I had a chance to take a longer ride this past Saturday after some small jaunts during the week.
It was a ride filled with friendly faces, allot of riders including Harleys, buses and of course cafes!
I headed out and got warmed up in the neighborhood first. Warmed up the tires and did some turns in my "safe" zone before heading into the real world. The previous week I had headed out like a car to my destination and it didn't;t feel right -too much too soon.
I took the back roads to the nearest gas station, going around the block so I would approach from the least busy and/or crowded entrance. I felt much more relaxed yet still alert as a pulled up to the pump.
After gassing up I still took some back-roads to continue my ramp up into the days adventures. As I was waiting to turn right at a stoplight in the south end of the city -two Harley riders passed in front of me, one waving back after my initiating wave. (I once read the "Harley Riders" don't acknowledge other bikers/riders but these guys proved the cliche wrong.
I took the right and fell in behind them for my first "unofficial group ride". I stayed with them trough some stop and go traffic magnified by the new Metro crossing that they had decided not to put underground. Yes the one a quarter mile away was underground but this one at a very busy and pivotal intersection had been left up-top creating 2 miles square of havoc.
I crossed my second second set of rail lines with the Harley guys straight on rolled right over, no slips or squirming.
The Harley guys turned right and now I was back in my own zone. I was headed over an old bridge and up a steep hill that I knew since I was a kid but had never rode on a motorbike. Basically this was the one of only ways to the neighboring town. Steep uphill, steep descent. The Ducati manual says to vary the load, so I was just following directions.
I ascended the hill in 2nd gear still with my revs at 'recommended levels" with two cars behind me. As I reached about a 50 yard plateau I put my turn signal on and pulled over to the right.
I was happy to let the cars go by and wanted to descend the hill at my own pace not worrying about tailgaters, etc.
I road down the steep in 2nd gear and then shifted up to 3rd as I approached the base. I bumped my way along an old "concrete" road and up yet another ascent that was tree-lined with beautiful patches of sun and shade. I was all by myself on my side of the road. I reached the crest, this time with no stop and descended an even steeper grade. My experience in descending fire roads kicked in and I felt in control but aware of the weight of the bike and the rock hard surface underneath.
I was now back in the Matrix twisting down an open blvd. "Hey there's that cool cafe with some people still outside", I said to myself. I thought they closed early on the weekend! With no one riding my rear it was time for "fuel" and a quick pit stop and I came to well defined emergency stop.
The owner was there and she was glad to see me and "I didn't know you rode". "Neither did I", said I as I was having "deja vu" from two weeks prior. A young couple was sitting outside and before I took my first sip of espresso, I was engrossed in conversation about bikes. It turned out he worked for a Moto supplier and we hit it off real well. Just then, the two Harley Riders passed by. I guess I had taken the shortcut, "the road less traveled".
I finished up and the couple went strode off arm in arm. It was a good day.
I took some pics with the camera phone, courtesy of the Treo 650 and continued on.
Before I knew it I was on the other side of town headed for my destination cafe # 2 the one they call the "paradise".
As I rode by side streets I spotted a yellow monster waiting to turn, we traded waves and I continued on. Wish I could have stopped but the pace of traffic and density pushed me several blocks before it dissipated. Catch you soon yellow jacket-
I was more bold on the open blvds this time but not cocky. I led the pack and kept a safe pace staying out of blind spots.
I was doing about 40 in the far right of a 3 lane when ahead I could see a parallel parker. I had left on "out" next to me and eased off the throttle as I took a quick glance over my shoulder and then switched left and left a wide birth for the parking car. Smooth, cool and onward I rode.
I made it to the cafe and settled in for some lemon cake. I parked at the upper end of the block just before the red zone leaving ample room for parking cars and good visibility.
It was getting late now and I wanted to be back before dark. I took my time putting my gear back on and stuffing my pockets with cookies I had boughtfor friends and family.
As I rode off I came up next to a large bus at my next stop. The noise from the bus drowned out the sound of my bike and I felt as though one of my "senses" were missing. The bus took away one of the key ingredients I use to ride! As the light turned green I relied totally on the feel of the engine and 695 as I released the clutch, I revved it a bit more as I jumped to 2nd still deaf to the sound of that awful bus. Its might be cleaner burning but whisper quiet it is not!
I finally came to my senses as I was out in front and finally pulled to make a left. I rolled up on another biker, Kawasaki and rode behind him for a mile before he turned into a Starbucks parking lot. As he parked and stopped I passed his view in the street, he shot me a thumbs up and I couldn't help to think how synchronized it felt. I guess it was that kind of day.
I made my way back to hometown, old-town filled with Saturday, restaurant eaters, moviegoers, shoppers and revelers. The warm dry wind wafting in from the foothills proclaimed that Summer was not quite finished. The shop entrances glowed a warm hue as the sky turned to a lazy shade of purple.
At the next red light my poetics were interrupted by the sound of sirens. As you know most of us bikers are perched a little further forward when we are at the front of the pack. It has become a natural habit to maintain visibility and remain safe. As the light changed an I could finally see the approaching fire truck. I knew at this point no other car could see it coming. I honked my horn and raised my right hand in a stop formation and all the cars followed my signal and remained idling. The fire truck passed swiftly without hinderance. The light turned backed to red and I lowered my arm.
I glanced over to the car on my left and the driver gave me a big thumbs up and a head nod. A big smile came over my face as I had done my good deed for the day. I headed down the street a few more blocks before stopping before a red. A gentleman and his wife/girlfriend pull up next to me in a convertible pull up next to me. He asks "where did you get one of those?" "Pro Itlalia", I reply " the best shop around. He says " I used to race those in the 60's when they were 250's." I gave him the thumbs up and he rode off to the right as the light changed.
What a great day it had been, I thought as I cruised down the densely tree lined street almost like a tunnel in the twilight hour.
A I reached the top of the drive way I cut the engine and just sat there for a moment. Crickets in the background, dust passing though my headlight beam, my content breath underneath my helmet. All so vivid, so just right. I guess that's what owning a Ducati is all about.
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