Road
trip
June 9, 2000
I just got back from San Francisco a
few hours ago. I went up there to see my Mom, My sister and her new baby who is
already 9 weeks old. I decided that I would ride my motorcycle instead of
driving. It is the longest solo motorcycle trip I have ever taken and I know it
won't be the last. If I take my truck it
is just another long trip on the interstate but if I take my bike I may choose
the road less traveled which is what has inspired this journal.
When I left on Sunday morning I had not
even opened the map to choose a route. I just headed north on I-5 on my Honda
VFR800 figuring I would pick the route while I was going. I am so glad I did. I
ended up taking Hwy.198 and then Hwy.25 between Coalinga and Holister. This is
100 miles of some of the nicest, most scenic, twisty, sent from heaven
motorcycle roads I have ever ridden. It is a long curvy road that makes you
concentrate so much that you forget about riding and just meld with the bike.
Let me explain.
Traveling down this road at a not so
legal pace, I see a caution sign ahead. It is yellow and has one of those
curved arrows and a mph indicator at the bottom. I don't pay much attention to
the mph number but look intensely at the bend in the road that I must
navigate. Without hesitation I roll off
the throttle with my right hand. Then my index and middle fingers squeeze down
on the brake lever. I don't have to move them far because they are always poised
touching the lever while I ride. The brakes are very responsive and they scrub
off a lot of speed in a very short distance. They work so well that the inertia
pushes me foreword and my crotch is pressed hard against the gas tank. I could
hold myself back off the tank but I want my arms to remain loose on the
controls. Breaking is not the only control input I must make. I judge my entry
speed without looking at the speedometer. It takes only a split second to feel
how fast I should enter this turn. As I get down to the end of my breaking my
left hand pulls the clutch lever in to the grip and simultaneously my left foot
does a toe tap on the shift lever to change gears. Just before I release the
clutch I blip the throttle with my right hand to match engine speed to the new
gear choice. If I do it perfect there is no lunge of pressure as I let off the
clutch lever. It is smooth and seamless. As the motor reengages with the road I
gently push on one side of the handlebars to lean the bike into the turn. I
slide over on the seat just a bit in the direction of the turn. Hanging off
feels great! As the bike settles into the lean I begin to roll the throttle
back on, slowly at first then a little faster. I look through the turn as I
roll the throttle on. The sound of the motor indicates that I chose the right
gear for my exit speed. In an instant I scan the surface of the road for
imperfections like potholes, bumps or debris. This is the time I must decide if
it is safe to accelerate. Then I look through the apex and foreword to the exit
of the turn. As I reach the exit I am at full throttle and rapidly approaching
the next yellow caution sign for the next turn. I glance down at the
speedometer for an instant. It reads 75 mph. It's a good thing I didn't notice
that the caution sign at the entry.
All this takes place in less than 5
seconds and I am launched off to the next turn where the cycle starts all over
again, braking, shifting, blipping, turning and accelerating turn after turn.
All of this takes a great deal of concentration and this is where the magic of
the ride really is. It all takes place without real conscious thought. I stop
thinking about what my hands and feet are doing. I am thinking only of the road
with a clarity that is hard to ever find. The bike becomes an extension of my
body. I am no longer riding on top of the bike. I am just gliding effortlessly
across the asphalt. I am powerful and graceful. It is a well-choreographed
dance that changes all the time. No 2
turns are the same but the dance moves are flawless each time. It is easy. I am
not breathing hard or breaking a sweat.
But the rush of sights and
senses takes my mind into an extreme place. All the input, although
exhilarating, becomes draining after a while. 45 minutes or so is about all the
rush my brain can handle so I pull over under a shady tree for a well-deserved
rest. As I park my bike and remove my helmet a calm starts to take me. This
calm is peaked when I take my earplugs out and hear the silence. The engine
whirl is silent. There is no more wind noise. There is no other traffic to
listen to. This road gets little use. I take off my jacket and sit 20 feet
away, under the shade of a tree. As I drink a sip of water and put a piece of
beef jerky in my mouth I look at bike. It sits there in the shade leaned over
on its’ kickstand. It is as calm as I am. It is not panting or sweating. The
ride was as effortless for it as it was for me. The bright red paint and the
flowing lines look beautiful in contrast to the surrounding hillsides. It is
late summer and the background is light tan with dots of green bushes and a
spindly barbed wire fence. My bike has taken me to another wonderful place. I
breathe the clean air a take a few minutes to reflect on how calming it is to
not move for a while. I feel lucky to be here.
After a little while I go back
to my bike and put my gear back on. First the earplugs, then the helmet goes
on. Then my jacket and lastly my gloves are slipped over my hands. As I lift my
right leg over the seat and get back on my bike I glance up the road to see
what lies ahead.
There is another caution sign on the side of the road. It says “curvy
road next 42 miles”. I must be in
heaven.
Let the adventure continue!
Tony Anschutz
