When You Touch Perfection
It was about nine o'clock this morning when I walked outside. What a beautiful
morning. Having the day off of work prior to Thanksgiving felt good. The sky
was clear and the morning sun was warm for November Twenty second. Looking over
at my motorcycle, I frowned. It was covered in dust. My God! I haven't ridden
it since before some minor surgery. How could I have let that happen? Well, I
knew it was time to give her a nice bath and try to say I'm sorry. Lets see,
bucket, soap, water, rags, OK I'm ready. Just rubbing my wet washcloth over her
smooth "lines" felt good. It had been so long since I even touched
her. What a great piece of machinery, I thought. She's huge! And so much
chrome, everywhere you look. How could I have neglected her for months? Well I
thought, today will be different.
After a nice wash and dry, I stood back and admired her beauty! Wow! Looking at
the odometer, she had only seventeen miles on her since her last fill up. I
must have filled up in town and drove straight home. That's good I thought. No
need for a gas stop today. I checked all of her vital signs, gas, oil, tires, and
air pressure. Yep! Everything was OK.
I went inside and put on a long sleeve sweatshirt over my tee shirt. I grabbed
my ball cap and put it on. Now where did I leave my sunglasses? OK I got 'em.
It's time for another check. Let's see, keys, driver's license, hat,
sunglasses. I think I'm ready. Wait, what about my helmet? No....not today. I
just can't. I'll take the risk and suffer the consciences. Now where was I? Oh
yeah, lock the front door, pet the dogs and warm up the scooter.
Starting was not a problem. She fired right up. Choke on full......Roger That
.
As I stepped over the seat and sat down, I felt at home. Yeah, this is where
I'm supposed to be today. Right here, right now. I rolled her backwards,
keeping my balance as I dropped off the edge of the carport. Uh Oh, now I'm in
gravel, gotta be careful. As I back up, using foot power, I realize just how
heavy she was. Topping the scales at just over seven hundred pounds, my worst
fear is dropping or laying her down. I pull in the clutch and put the
transmission in first gear. It enters with a sharp thump! Now I have to make a
hard turn in the gravel to head out of the gate. Once outside the gate, I stop
and put the kickstand down. Get off my scooter and close and lock the gate.
Hey, what are you dogs looking at? I'll be back. You guys guard the joint. They
looked back at me, like, what? Never mind, you'll do your job.
OK, back on my lady, and out on the sandy dirt road in front of my house. Choke
still on full. These water-cooled beasts take a while to warm up. All six
cylinders are running rich at the moment. But by the time I reach the pavement,
she'll be warm enough to take the choke off. It takes a full six or seven
minutes to go a quarter mile on my dirt road. It's so full of holes and
creators. It looks like a bombed out road in Iraq. Just be cool and ride the
edges of the creators. From behind I appear like a drunk trying to keep my bike
from falling over. My top speed, about five miles per hour. Feet always on the foot
pegs. Taking your feet off the pegs is a sign of weakness, a visual, out
of control condition. Its a game we biker's play, whether or not we admit
it. Ah! Pavement dead ahead. I stop at the stop sign, and continue on. Feet
still on the pegs (the game). Straight in front of me is Mt. Rincon! What a sight.
I cruise due east on the two lane blacktop road. Up ahead about a mile, the
road tees into another paved road. I glance down, to make sure I took the choke
off. God it feels great! I keep her in third gear as I reach the next stop
sign. All is well. My windshield offers protection and a sense of security. Now
let's see, I can go south or make a left and go north. It doesn't matter, as
long as I don't go straight ahead. I choose left, and point the machine toward
Old Spanish Trail. It sounds so good! The tail pipes are throaty.
I'm taken back to my days of cruising in the muscle cars. She
sounds like a small block Chevy purring down there!
By this time I make it to Old Spanish Trail.
It's decision time again. Do I go east or west? West takes
me into town. East, toward Colossal Cave. Yeah, east, away from town. The sun
is pretty high in the late morning, causing a minimal of glare and distraction.
The winding road does not allow me to open the throttle. Once again I stay in
third gear doing about fifty miles an hour. I can't believe this day is all
mine! After driving for about ten minutes, I realize that I have to turn around
or pay to get in to Colossal Cave Park! Wait a minute! I forgot about Pistol Hill
Road! They just finished it. All brand new asphalt, black as coal, and smooth
as glass. I quickly turn right to catch it. Oh yeah, nice road, no pots, no
patches, and about a quarter of a mile straightaway before any curves. I shift
through the gears sharply, up to forth. I'm doing about seventy-five. Man does
this feel good. I continue south on this road until it turns back into the old hi-way.
I'm surprised there was no traffic. Hey, lets turn around and do this little
stretch again. I'm having a great time! OK, first gear, take her up
to near red line. Hit second.......WOW, a squeal of rubber. I start to chill
out and gently go into third. Up ahead is my straightaway. That's right,
my straight-away just for today. I'm in third gear and I'm doing about
sixty miles an hour. Let's go baby! I know you want to as bad as I do. Third
gear up to red line and hit fourth. I'm passing one hundred miles and hour! It
feels great. I glance down at the gages. So plain, so simple,
yet they're all I need.
Where do I work? Am I married? Do I have children? Don't know right now!
I'm too deeply into it. Hell, I still got fifth gear and a lot of throttle left.
Look up ahead, and see that my straightaway is
disappearing fast. Reality sets in and the lazy curve to the right, says forty-five
miles per hour. I know beyond that one, the next curve is posted at thirty-five
miles per hour. My scooter is equipped with front and rear disc brakes. Good
ones I hope! I lean into the first curve as I'm dropping rapidly below ninety
miles an hour. Eighty.....seventy......OK I can safely navigate this one. What
a great day! That moment in itself was everything! How can words do justice to
a precise moment in time! When all is right.
I finished my ride up, and headed back for home. Happy I had the opportunity to
feel and witness a small piece of perfection. The day.....the machine....and....me!
Big Bear
(#15111)