|
|
|
Last Updated: Dec 12, 2008 - 4:54:39 PM |
Only a small part of the East Iowa Herald is on the Web.
For the best in East Iowa news and features Click here to subscribe
Summer will come someday...
A motorcycle is freedom and adventure rolled up into 600 pounds of steel and plastic. The adventure can last for weeks or even just twenty minutes. Mitch Traphagen Photo
|
I tighten the chinstrap – but not too much. Pull on my well-worn leather gloves, turn the key, press the starter and the engine beneath me roars to life before settling into a comforting rumble.
I bring in the clutch and tap my left toe down on the shifter and gingerly enter the road. Winding through the neighborhood streets, I try not to move through the gears too quickly – I don’t need to – the bike wants to run.
Within minutes she gets her wish: We are approaching an open highway. The bike and I are now as one and without conscious thought on my part, my right hand controls the throttle, my left the clutch and my foot the shifter all in perfect synchronicity. I give the bike what it needs; it gives me what I ask.
This time we scream through the gears and within seconds are at the highway’s speed limit. Still, I touch the throttle – just a little bit – and the speedometer needle reacts instantly. Beneath my feet, the centerline stripes blur into a continuous line. The late summer air swirls around me easily as I finally reduce our velocity. The human body, after all, wasn’t designed to tumble down a road at 75 miles per hour.
And that is always on my mind but there is no fear. The motorcycle is a miracle of physics and nature. It is a miracle that something weighing so much could be so finely balanced on two wheels. Moving down this highway, it feels as though nothing could take this bike down – it is glued to the road; and I am glued to the bike. But that only works with perfect focus. I focus intently on the motorcycle and the road ahead and I always assume that every car and truck is out to kill.
The world is alive as the miles roll past. I can smell the warm air and the rich earth of the fields around me. I can feel the heat radiating up from the asphalt only inches beneath my feet. The effects of everything I do are clearly felt in acceleration and in turns. My body is merely the flesh and blood extension of the steel. I am the brain and it is the muscle. Occasionally, I pull my left hand from the grip to wave as other bikers pass in the opposite direction. They know what I know – we are one with our motorcycles, and we are one in purpose. Whenever possible, we acknowledge those facts by acknowledging each other on the road.
Eventually, I slow and apply downward pressure to the left handlebar. The bike leans sharply and turns as though it is on rails. Loose gravel crunches beneath the wheels as I come to a stop and drop the kickstand. I walk into a convenience store for an ice-cold bottle of water but I can’t take my eyes off my bike. It is freedom and adventure rolled into 600 pounds of plastic and steel. Like nowhere else in the world, I alone control my destiny while riding. And I alone am responsible for the outcome.
I throw my leg over the saddle and glance down at my watch. Only 20 minutes have passed since I pulled out of my driveway. I know the bike wants to go on. Together, we could find the end of the rainbow somewhere down the road. But that will have to wait. Today there are deadlines to meet, calls to return and emails to send.
It was 20 minutes spent out of time. For those brief moments, I was outside of the frantic world in which I normally live. I was outside of the pressure and the frustration and the occasional short-temperedness of those I do not even know.
People sometimes ask why I would want to ride a motorcycle. “They’re dangerous,” they say. “Do you want to die?”
No, I want to live. And for those 20 minutes, I was more alive than I had been all week.
I’m convinced, although I’m not certain, that the snow will melt someday soon. As the weather warms and the sun re-appears all of us in East Iowa will have the opportunity to explore the paradise that is in our backyards.
Over the coming months, The East Iowa Herald will feature Iowa travel as part of an occasional series - some of that travel will be by motorcycle.
Is there a place you think would be interesting to visit? Let us know about it by sending us an email (click here) or by calling 319-647-8171.
© Copyright 2008 by The East Iowa Herald
Top of Page
|
|
|
|
Skies: PtcldyTemperature: 17F -8CDewpoint: 13F -11CRelative Humidity: 84%Wind: SE at 3m - 5kBarometric Pressure: 29.74FUpdated: 06:06:15 AM