Posted by BillO at 'MDSportTour' and I just wanted to share this guy's thoughts with you all ...
Stolen from Mr. Ed on Sport-Touring.Net...
A post entitled: "The epic quality of the long ride"
"For me, the long rides are remembered as a collection of moments,
sights, smells, feelings. I barely remember the stretches of
interstate to get from place to place quickly, but the quiet moments,
the exciting moments, the epic moments - those are the ones that
stick in the mind.
It can be something as simple as how the freshly cut grass smells on
a spring morning as you roll through a small town in the midwest in
the warm sun - you come down main street and breakfast is wafting
through the air with the wisps of coffee, toast, pancakes and
laughter coming from the local diner. Maybe it's the bite of a
really cold morning when you leave the no-name motel you picked last
night while it's still dark and the early morning air is still and
silent and the only sound you percieve is the wind whispering past
your helmet. Even with heated grips you have to flex your hands to
keep them from getting stiff, and the fog from your breath hangs
heavy behind your faceshield. It can be the sight of a perfect
sunrise coming up over a sleepy valley that's still wrapped in a
snuggly blanket of fluffy fog as you crest the top of a ridge in the
Smoky Mountains. Or the deep, rich aroma of the cold sea air as you
ride the Pacific Coast highway with the gulls.
Sometimes it's the heart racing moments. That squiggly little line
on the map that your coin flip this morning brought you to. A road
that's right at the limits of your abilities, that wakes you up and
makes you gasp a couple of times as you come hurtling around a bend
and the left peg just grazes the pavement as you continue to roll on
and tighten up to get through the other end. It can be that moment
that a lot of us have had - in the desert, on the flats, not another
living human soul around for 50 miles, dead straight road - how ...
far ... do ... I ... dare ... open ... the ... throttle .........
It can be the funny and touching and human moments. The little boy
in Nebraska who walks up to your shiny motorcycle, holding mom's
hand, and just stares at you and your bike with a huge grin on his
face, and then clings to mom as soon as you wave at him, and Mom
laughs. The time that you were gassing up at that little filling
station in Texas and a grizzled gray fellow on a beat up old 1930's
Indian pulls up to the next pump - and you find out that he's owned
that bike since he was in college in the 1950's and he's been keeping
it going for the last 50 years and riding almost every day - and then
you discover that he's got a Ph.D and he's an oil field geologist!
The gal in Ohio who gives you a cup of coffee and a cookie with your
gas "... just 'cause you look tired ..." The guy with the buzz cut
that you met in San Diego, getting one last ride in on his sport bike
before shipping out to Iraq the next day to do things no 18 year old
kid should ever have to do - God speed Marine, God speed.
And then there's the times when it's just you and the road and it
just plain feels good. The days when the time passes so well that
you're just amazed that you have to stop for gas already - didn't I
JUST stop? The days when 500 miles go by like they're 50. The days
when nothing is wrong, everything's working and perfect and this odd
sense of calm, peace and relaxation fall over you while you're doing
over 100 MPH. There's the 450 mile day in the pouring rain that
makes you ever so glad to see a Motel 6, but gives you a sense of
accomplishment nonetheless.
There's even joy, sometimes, in the bad moments. The day the bike
breaks down, but you're able to patch it together with the duct tape
and wire in your saddlebags enough to get to the next town. The day
that you get hurt, broken, bent, bashed, but come out the other end
alive and able to ride another day. And even tragedy can bring
people together. A friend dies and his friends can become closer and
more supportive of each other than ever before.
We all ride for different reasons. We all remember different things
about the trip. But we all have one thing in common - the ride is a
story, a fable, an epic tale told in miles and gallons and cups of
coffee and memories.
Ride safe. Enjoy the journey."
Stolen from Mr. Ed on Sport-Touring.Net...
A post entitled: "The epic quality of the long ride"
"For me, the long rides are remembered as a collection of moments,
sights, smells, feelings. I barely remember the stretches of
interstate to get from place to place quickly, but the quiet moments,
the exciting moments, the epic moments - those are the ones that
stick in the mind.
It can be something as simple as how the freshly cut grass smells on
a spring morning as you roll through a small town in the midwest in
the warm sun - you come down main street and breakfast is wafting
through the air with the wisps of coffee, toast, pancakes and
laughter coming from the local diner. Maybe it's the bite of a
really cold morning when you leave the no-name motel you picked last
night while it's still dark and the early morning air is still and
silent and the only sound you percieve is the wind whispering past
your helmet. Even with heated grips you have to flex your hands to
keep them from getting stiff, and the fog from your breath hangs
heavy behind your faceshield. It can be the sight of a perfect
sunrise coming up over a sleepy valley that's still wrapped in a
snuggly blanket of fluffy fog as you crest the top of a ridge in the
Smoky Mountains. Or the deep, rich aroma of the cold sea air as you
ride the Pacific Coast highway with the gulls.
Sometimes it's the heart racing moments. That squiggly little line
on the map that your coin flip this morning brought you to. A road
that's right at the limits of your abilities, that wakes you up and
makes you gasp a couple of times as you come hurtling around a bend
and the left peg just grazes the pavement as you continue to roll on
and tighten up to get through the other end. It can be that moment
that a lot of us have had - in the desert, on the flats, not another
living human soul around for 50 miles, dead straight road - how ...
far ... do ... I ... dare ... open ... the ... throttle .........
It can be the funny and touching and human moments. The little boy
in Nebraska who walks up to your shiny motorcycle, holding mom's
hand, and just stares at you and your bike with a huge grin on his
face, and then clings to mom as soon as you wave at him, and Mom
laughs. The time that you were gassing up at that little filling
station in Texas and a grizzled gray fellow on a beat up old 1930's
Indian pulls up to the next pump - and you find out that he's owned
that bike since he was in college in the 1950's and he's been keeping
it going for the last 50 years and riding almost every day - and then
you discover that he's got a Ph.D and he's an oil field geologist!
The gal in Ohio who gives you a cup of coffee and a cookie with your
gas "... just 'cause you look tired ..." The guy with the buzz cut
that you met in San Diego, getting one last ride in on his sport bike
before shipping out to Iraq the next day to do things no 18 year old
kid should ever have to do - God speed Marine, God speed.
And then there's the times when it's just you and the road and it
just plain feels good. The days when the time passes so well that
you're just amazed that you have to stop for gas already - didn't I
JUST stop? The days when 500 miles go by like they're 50. The days
when nothing is wrong, everything's working and perfect and this odd
sense of calm, peace and relaxation fall over you while you're doing
over 100 MPH. There's the 450 mile day in the pouring rain that
makes you ever so glad to see a Motel 6, but gives you a sense of
accomplishment nonetheless.
There's even joy, sometimes, in the bad moments. The day the bike
breaks down, but you're able to patch it together with the duct tape
and wire in your saddlebags enough to get to the next town. The day
that you get hurt, broken, bent, bashed, but come out the other end
alive and able to ride another day. And even tragedy can bring
people together. A friend dies and his friends can become closer and
more supportive of each other than ever before.
We all ride for different reasons. We all remember different things
about the trip. But we all have one thing in common - the ride is a
story, a fable, an epic tale told in miles and gallons and cups of
coffee and memories.
Ride safe. Enjoy the journey."
