WHATCHATHINKIN'

I hope everyone does, more often than not. You’re heading out for a ride, whether it’s for an hour or a year, and you go to the gear closet. In my house, there’s a his and hers gear closet, with the overflow on a rack in the garage. Selecting the appropriate outer layer for the ride can sometimes be tricky: early spring can bring a huge swing in temperatures from beginning to middle to end of the day and some summer days may bring more humidity inside the jacket than out. But once you’ve made your selection, that special feeling can come through.

When I slip into my riding gear, I am transformed. I am no longer the graphic designer sitting in front of a computer, agonizing over just the right font to use in a layout. I have left behind the woman whose nose may be deep in a cookbook, trying to find something new to do with chicken. The person stepping out the door, throwing a leg over her motorcycle and thumbing the starter is someone special.

Although most of my riding is done beside Brian, I am in my own world. Whether riding in the solitude of the morning mist, being accompanied by the tunes in my head or from my zumo or trying to clear an overly crowded mind, I am at my best while on my motorcycle. Oh sure, there are ‘those days’ when things just aren’t going right no matter where or what I’m doing, but being on two wheels is bound to help me sort through those problems. As they say, there are no motorcycles parked in front of a psychiatrist’s office, unless they ride.

Being one with my motorcycle may sound overly Zen, but I’m sure that many of you have that same feeling. Finding that perfect set of curves, leaning, looking and rolling on the throttle may be one of the best feelings I can have. When doing track days, I disconnect from the rest of the riders on the course, zoning in on my lines, my speed, my shifting and blending into my bike. The laps merge from one to the next and, if all goes as planned, by the end of the session I am seamless in my motions. This is a rare occurence, but I strive to better myself with each entry onto the track.

It’s almost impossible to explain that special feeling to those who don’t ride. While I’ve been at this for more than 35 years, when discussing with those who do not ride the allure that two wheels brings me, I see in their eyes that they truly don’t get it or understand.

All the winter months of planning for the summer rides come to fruition, and I ride from one to the next, grinning with each revolution of the wheels. Even more special are the stolen days of winter, of which we had woefully few this past year. Steeling myself against the frosty errant wind, the overly brisk tingle on the exposed skin and seeing the faces of those in cars with heaters ablaze make me feel like a warrior in an alien world.

As I head out on our serendipitous adventures this year, I look forward to that special feeling. Whether riding south in the twistalicious mountains, exploring the quiet roads north in the Adirondacks or exploring to the west – perhaps the serpentine loops of Ohio, my motorcycle and I will be as one and I’ll embrace that special feeling.