Friday!!!! not that it makes much difference, I work half days on Saturday and this Sunday on call.
I am better today.
Omaha had sixty degrees yesterday. I took the afternoon off and rolled the Harley out of the garage, kicked it into life, and headed to the car wash to clean the dust off.
Headed across the river to Iowa and pulled the helmet off to feel the wind on my face and hair. I know, I know. Not the smartest thing, going without a helmet. I was, for that several hours, In Heaven. I haven`t ridden much these last couple of years, I had forgotten how good it felt to roll out onto a two lane back road and just roll it on. The heart quickens and the blood rushes. I only think of the road and the bike, nothing else. Well, it was cold, needless to say!
I had to amend this because tonight(Fri) I slipped out of the office right on the money, rushed home and rolled the scooter out again. Already clean, ready to go, rode out to the western edge of town to the Elkhorn river and back. Cold, but the bike ran cool and the cold moist air must have been the right mixture the carb needed, because she just ran strong, had that throaty sound and feel to it that makes the adrenaline run. I like riding at night in the city and on the urban interstate highways. A little faster than traffic, in order to better feel the flow. Better to be passing than being passed. The chrome sparkles in the reflection of the myriad lights. The exhaust reverberating from the cars as you roar past.
Something about riding that focuses the mind. The rush when you twist the throttle and the bike leaps forward. At times the memories flow forth, The Runs, the Parties, the Drugs, the Women.
I do not miss, but do fondly remember the nights with a handful of reds, a bottle of Boones Farm, a couple two or three doobies, and a buddy who yells" lets go to (insert name)" and several fired them up and away we went. Ten, fifteen guys wasted to the hilt, riding wheel to wheel, hell bent for election, so to speak.If you didn`t have a sweetie, you went somewhere one could be found. How did I live through all that? I was always amazed at the ability to be so terribly whacked out and still be able to ride.
I have no idea who may ever read this, if anyone. I am here to vent and just put it down in writing. Some form of catharsis, I suppose.
I will, at some point, talk about the bike I ride now. Built from the ground up, the bike started as a pair of perfect 1951 EL motor cases that I lucked onto. So, I had the start of my new ride, the best scoot to date. I will get around to posting a shot of it here.
I am not one of those middle aged guys who have more money than brains who rush out to buy a ready built Harley and run around playing pretend biker. I may drive a BMW, but it came long after the bikes. I guess you would call me "Old School", I did my partying when I was young.
When it was real!
