Falling…
04-Sept; 01:44; 26 Hwy; West bound;
Asphalt. New, ultra black, unfinished. A new moon. Barrels. Tightly spaced. Reflecting too much light back into my eyes. No stripes outline the exit pathway. The ebony void before my dilated blue eye… I am falling.
Did I miss the road? How can that be? I’m right in the middle of the lane?!? Paradoxically, my upper body flexes and my hands loosen. Keep shoulders square and wrists supple. Just in case. The ground comes up quickly as I reach the lower layer of asphalt. The highway has been recently repaved, leaving the exit surface a full 4 inches lower than the highway surface I am leaving. With all of the light reflecting back off the barrels and the visual nature of the road surface, I had no way of seeing the drop off.
Wonderful.
—-
Odo: 3545
It was another 300 mile day, yesterday. I woke up feeling antsy. I wanted to get out for a few hours. I knew Tony was around. He has been kicking himself for agreeing to work today and tomorrow. I called him early. “Wanna ride?” His response was rather unpleasant full of whining and bitching about the price of milk and the day in general. “So you wanna ride?” At least then I wouldn’t have to listen to you bitch… I am across town, at his doorstep within a couple hours. Backtrack to I-205, north across the Columbia, we retrace the lower potion of the route I took last weekend. East on 14, north on 141, east on BZ – Glendale Hwy… around we go. Out into the rangelands with free roaming cattle. Mt Adams on our left. A bit overcast with falling temps, we ride. Speeds are rational, for the most part. And life is good. Well it is for me. Bitchmeitster is complaining about being cold. I didn’t say a word. I asked him earlier if he thought it was a good idea to wear perforated leathers today. It wasn’t that warm. Not a word…
Food in Glendale. It was edible. Not exactly flavorful, but edible. I had to laugh at the brown gravy smoothering Tony’s chicken fried steak. Being a more Southern boy, I wouldn’t dream of using anything but white gravy on that item. To make matters worse, I ordered mine with the gravy on the side. Yes. I admit it. I’m a picky eater. I wanted to see it, smell it, taste it before I am willing to commit to gravy. Good choice. With an odd dimpling and shiny iridescence, I left it. Untouched.
East toward Goldendale, we turn south toward Klickitat. Rockin’! Single lane, paved tarmac hugs the canyon walls. Mellow, careful around the blind curves, we drop hundreds of feet into the valley floor, then climb and fall for miles. A warm, simple pleasure — revealed apexes.
Back into the Gorge and to 14. “Left or right?” “I don’t know. Where do they go?” “Left takes us to Maryhill. We can cross and do the eastern end of the Historic Highway” “Does that mean we have to get on I-84?” “Yes.” “I hate 84. What about turning right?” “That’s the way we came. I think we are 30 miles from where we turned north.” “Sounds good to me.” “Right it is.” Pulling out, we drag race. My front wheel dances until I hit the rev limiter, then I miss my shift to second. The Z1000 leaves me as if I am standing still…
Once we return to Tony’s place, I change out a CD drive for a DVD drive in his PC. While I am working on the computer, my bike becomes mysteriously bug free. Reciprocity. Everyone that knows me knows how much I loathe washing my machines. I hate washing my car AND I am too cheap to pay for a car wash. Water has not even touched my DL. It has not rained while I have been out since I bought it. Puddles don’t count. I cannot remember the last time I washed the YZF.
I buffed out the scratches in my windscreen. A rock damaged the upper right side at some point in my travels. <shrug> Oh well. I didn’t buy this bike to keep it looking pretty. I bought it to ride.
More miles.
More fuel.
More opportunities for mental clarity.
I have this half-ass idea that I can put 6000 miles on my bike by October 1st. Time will tell. In the back of my mind, I am craving the DRZ, lusting after the off-road ability which I can only taste on my DL.
What can I say?
Slow. Fast. Twisting. Straight. Relaxed. Racing. I love to ride.
Maybe next weekend I will head toward the coast, camping Friday and possibly Saturday nights. My original plans were changed by two factors a wedding invite for my fellow roar warrior and my reception of free Megadeth tickets with backstage passes for Sunday night. And it’s a short week.
