Courage
Yesterday was the first Sunday without rain in quite a while. It was, in short, a day for riding motorcycles.
Now the minor damage suffered by Buster during The Recent Unpleasantness had been repaired over the winter and Buster had been setting in the garage for months. The time had come to saddle up.
I had not ridden a motorcycle since taking the riding class last winter and I must tell you that I had more than a little apprehension about riding again. But I reviewed in my mind what I had learned, suited up with my new riding gear and cranked the engine.
My mouth and tongue were as dry as that of a condemned man about to be hanged. The slow ride down the driveway in first gear was a piece of cake. The sharp uphill turn onto Deer Park Lane was another matter. Trust physics, I told myself. Lean and accelerate. OK. Next was the left turn on to Deer Track Road. A little faster but the same thing. Then another turn and another turn and then the first curves. Look ahead, lean and let the bike take me there.
Eventually I reached the Blue Ridge Parkway and headed north. I rode at 45 mph, making smooth turns, until I reached the Virginia Line. By then my butt was sore and I pulled off at an overlook to turn back south. Then and only then did moisture return to my mouth. I had ridden — safely and without incident — for 25 miles.
The ride home was a great deal more fun.
I was back in the saddle, a much wiser and more humble rider.
Now the minor damage suffered by Buster during The Recent Unpleasantness had been repaired over the winter and Buster had been setting in the garage for months. The time had come to saddle up.
I had not ridden a motorcycle since taking the riding class last winter and I must tell you that I had more than a little apprehension about riding again. But I reviewed in my mind what I had learned, suited up with my new riding gear and cranked the engine.
My mouth and tongue were as dry as that of a condemned man about to be hanged. The slow ride down the driveway in first gear was a piece of cake. The sharp uphill turn onto Deer Park Lane was another matter. Trust physics, I told myself. Lean and accelerate. OK. Next was the left turn on to Deer Track Road. A little faster but the same thing. Then another turn and another turn and then the first curves. Look ahead, lean and let the bike take me there.
Eventually I reached the Blue Ridge Parkway and headed north. I rode at 45 mph, making smooth turns, until I reached the Virginia Line. By then my butt was sore and I pulled off at an overlook to turn back south. Then and only then did moisture return to my mouth. I had ridden — safely and without incident — for 25 miles.
The ride home was a great deal more fun.
I was back in the saddle, a much wiser and more humble rider.
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