Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Yesterday was an incredible day here on the West Coast. Those of us that live in the area know that before about June days like we experienced can be far and few between. It was one of those days you have to take full advantage of if you ride a Harley.
There are so many times I'm asked why I do what I do, why I ride a motorcycle. Yesterday was a perfect example of why I choose to. There's something about being in the open air, wind blowing on my face, and feeling free, as we cruised the perfect, sweeping country roads we were on.
Riding past sawmills with the smell of freshly cut wood wafting through the air, watching as eagles soared above, and smelling the scents of springtime, are experiences a person can seldom, if ever, have while traveling by car.
We rode through rolling farmland, beautiful rivers lined by gigantic evergreens, small towns, and centuries old graveyards. All would have been nothing but a blur in a cage. However, on a Harley every sense, every sight is one with you.
Riding the country roads provide perfect sensations for a biker, sweeping curves, straight stretches, seeing the newborn farm animals at play, and other bikers riding past. Having a windshield on my Heritage, and wearing a full face helmet, I was spared from being pelted by bugs on my face, my boyfriend wasn't so lucky. It's springtime and the flying creations are plentiful, and hurt like hell when they make contact with your bare skin.
At one point we stopped along the road, and walked over to a grassy patch in the shade. It was the perfect place to lie down for a moment, stretch out, and breathe in the fresh spring air. As we looked through the bountiful needles of the massive evergreen trees into the bright blue, cloudless sky, we saw the moon staring back. It was a site that would have been missed had we not been on bikes.
We stayed there a bit talking, laughing, living in the moment, before mounting the bikes once more to make our way home. Meandering through farmland is mesmerizing, and then came the Interstate that led us back to where we live.
That's another thrill. Rolling back the throttle, hearing the pipes, and flying down the perfectly paved road for miles. Much more caution comes with that part of the ride. Cars were everywhere, not many see bikes. They're too busy on the phone, blasting their radios, or in their own bubble, and the thoughts that they alone are entitled to the road.
The danger vastly, in my opinion, lies not with riders, but with people that don't use turn signals, don't look before changing lanes, and attempt cutting in between bikes obviously riding together.
Riding is something that is my time to think, not to think, to see, to enjoy, and to be free of modern technology. It's my time to live.