How Soon We Forget.
Three years and a bit ago, I bought my first brand-spanking-new motorcycle. The first year Suzuki released their DL650 V-Strom, I absolutely had to have one (in black, natch). The perfect ride: upright, comfortable seating, dual-sportish suspension, a windscreen, V-twin torque and power. My ultimate ride.
I had ridden other bikes before, Suzuki GS500Es lovingly rebuilt by my friend Matthew Patton. Reconstructed from frames, engines, fairings, carburetors from multiple different motorcycles, I referred to my first motorcycle as Frankenbike, and he was a revelation. From an early mid-life crisis came a new love, that of riding, the open road, and personal fulfillment. I rode year-round in the DC area, neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow preventing me from fulfilling my mission: Life on two wheels.
Three years ago to the day, my beautiful DL650 was stolen out of my driveway as I slept. It wasn't insured, and I had taken out a bank loan on it. I had been intending to take it in to my insurance agent the very next day to get it insured... but alas, I was a day too late. For two years I paid off the bank loan on a bike that no longer existed. The police never recovered it, no surprise.
Three years pass. Heartbreak, a broken marriage, a move back home to live with the parents, a new career...
One of the worst things about my divorce was getting my old GS500s back out of long-term storage, where they were stowed while we lived in the UK. As I sat astride those sad, broken bikes, pushing them onto the donation trailer, I realized how deeply I'd missed riding. How confined I had felt over the past years driving a cage.
In time, a long-awaited promotion arrived, and I finally had the funds to buy a new motorcycle. What else would I choose, but the DL650 that I had loved so well and so briefly? Two months searching for one in grey (blue, ick, and black hasn't been available since the first year of release). Determination will win out -- I was back on two wheels.
At first I was concerned -- would I remember how to ride? What if I couldn't manage the clutch and the gears and all that? To my joy, it turns out just to be like riding a bike. You never forget.
Now, just a brief time after, my bike is back in the shop for the first service. (The service manager noted: "This bike looks ridden. Most bikes we get back for their first service have been washed twice as often as they've been ridden. Yours has bugs and grime all over it... and is that really your helmet?" (Arai with Halo band.) "I have the exact same helmet setup, except without the bugs.")
I drove a cage into work today. I took all the back roads I love... and felt uneasy. I didn't have complete control over where I was going. I couldn't see around the rearview. When I was stuck in traffic, I could listen to the stereo, and sit patiently with my foot on the brake, not sweltering in my gear... but what I really wanted was to open my visor, and sit in the sun and glory in the sunlight, sweating buckets and loving it.
Two days ago I was waiting at a stoplight next to an SUV full of young Korean kids. They saw my bike, cheered wildly, and waved. When I waved back, they were thrilled. I suspect it made their day.
Today, I was waiting at the same stoplight in my cage. The same SUV was next to me, with the same kids. I waved at them. They didn't notice.
I miss my motorcycle.
Two years ago, as I was swirling around a tight road in Yorkshire, I narrowly dodged a deer in my wife's cage. Lost control, hit the stone embankment, and snapped two ribs as I smashed against the wall. I can't help but wonder whether I'd have dodged the deer cleanly on a motorcycle, or simply spilled and died. (I always wanted to ride in Yorkshire. The scenery is gorgeous, the roads twisty like you couldn't believe.)
Is it worth it to ride?
As I sat in my comfortable air conditioning today in traffic, I realized: Hell yes, it is. We only live once. Why waste my life stifled in the mundane humdrum? Better to live life to the full.
Next time it rains, put on your rain gear and ride anyway.
Before my promotion (and transfer to another store), I had a regular. I always asked him how he was doing. His answer: "Living the dream." Live the dream. Ride your bike.
Enough proselytizing. I just heard my bike will be done tomorrow. I'll be up early to go pick it up.
I had ridden other bikes before, Suzuki GS500Es lovingly rebuilt by my friend Matthew Patton. Reconstructed from frames, engines, fairings, carburetors from multiple different motorcycles, I referred to my first motorcycle as Frankenbike, and he was a revelation. From an early mid-life crisis came a new love, that of riding, the open road, and personal fulfillment. I rode year-round in the DC area, neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow preventing me from fulfilling my mission: Life on two wheels.
Three years ago to the day, my beautiful DL650 was stolen out of my driveway as I slept. It wasn't insured, and I had taken out a bank loan on it. I had been intending to take it in to my insurance agent the very next day to get it insured... but alas, I was a day too late. For two years I paid off the bank loan on a bike that no longer existed. The police never recovered it, no surprise.
Three years pass. Heartbreak, a broken marriage, a move back home to live with the parents, a new career...
One of the worst things about my divorce was getting my old GS500s back out of long-term storage, where they were stowed while we lived in the UK. As I sat astride those sad, broken bikes, pushing them onto the donation trailer, I realized how deeply I'd missed riding. How confined I had felt over the past years driving a cage.
In time, a long-awaited promotion arrived, and I finally had the funds to buy a new motorcycle. What else would I choose, but the DL650 that I had loved so well and so briefly? Two months searching for one in grey (blue, ick, and black hasn't been available since the first year of release). Determination will win out -- I was back on two wheels.
At first I was concerned -- would I remember how to ride? What if I couldn't manage the clutch and the gears and all that? To my joy, it turns out just to be like riding a bike. You never forget.
Now, just a brief time after, my bike is back in the shop for the first service. (The service manager noted: "This bike looks ridden. Most bikes we get back for their first service have been washed twice as often as they've been ridden. Yours has bugs and grime all over it... and is that really your helmet?" (Arai with Halo band.) "I have the exact same helmet setup, except without the bugs.")
I drove a cage into work today. I took all the back roads I love... and felt uneasy. I didn't have complete control over where I was going. I couldn't see around the rearview. When I was stuck in traffic, I could listen to the stereo, and sit patiently with my foot on the brake, not sweltering in my gear... but what I really wanted was to open my visor, and sit in the sun and glory in the sunlight, sweating buckets and loving it.
Two days ago I was waiting at a stoplight next to an SUV full of young Korean kids. They saw my bike, cheered wildly, and waved. When I waved back, they were thrilled. I suspect it made their day.
Today, I was waiting at the same stoplight in my cage. The same SUV was next to me, with the same kids. I waved at them. They didn't notice.
I miss my motorcycle.
Two years ago, as I was swirling around a tight road in Yorkshire, I narrowly dodged a deer in my wife's cage. Lost control, hit the stone embankment, and snapped two ribs as I smashed against the wall. I can't help but wonder whether I'd have dodged the deer cleanly on a motorcycle, or simply spilled and died. (I always wanted to ride in Yorkshire. The scenery is gorgeous, the roads twisty like you couldn't believe.)
Is it worth it to ride?
As I sat in my comfortable air conditioning today in traffic, I realized: Hell yes, it is. We only live once. Why waste my life stifled in the mundane humdrum? Better to live life to the full.
Next time it rains, put on your rain gear and ride anyway.
Before my promotion (and transfer to another store), I had a regular. I always asked him how he was doing. His answer: "Living the dream." Live the dream. Ride your bike.
Enough proselytizing. I just heard my bike will be done tomorrow. I'll be up early to go pick it up.