Screaming in the wind

 

 

 

Couple weeks ago, went on a ride to benefit a local food bank. Close to 500 miles, a great route with less traffic.

But for over 100 miles, with temps in the low 40's, we were hit with massive wind gusts. It's scary to see a Road King in front of you wobble & wibble. I gripped my bike with my thighs, using my entire body to keep the bike upright & even leaning toward the wind.

The cold coming right through the leather, my fingertips numb & frozen to the grips. With each wind gust that could knock over a semi, I screamed probably every curse word I knew.

We stopped for gas, it was hard to get off the bike, I was so stiff from tense muscles & from being so fucking cold, I'm a lizzard rat, I wear a sweater when it's 70.

20 of us raiding the gas station for all the hot coffee they had. I'm sure we were a sight, most had face warmers, ski masks or scarves wrapped around our lower faces.

Full tanks, empty bladders & slightly warmed by the coffee, we all took a deep breath before heading out into the cold wind again, not sure when the wind would stop, knowing we had 100 miles till the next town.

Sure enough, that fucking wind was relentless, blowing us all over the highway.  Still screaming every curse word I knew & starting to wonder if the others were too.  But I did manage to notice the desert starting to wake from winter, wild flowers starting to bloom, the mesas & hills covered in green.

Pulling into the next stop, still stiff & frozen, fearing I was too stiff to put the kickstand down, but I was able to park it safely. Once again raiding the gas station for coffee & so happy to see an A & W inside. We all ordered lunch & more coffee, I wondered over near the cash register & bought a large pair of fleece gloves to go over my leather ones.

The wind had died down & rejuvinated, we headed out again. Enjoying the ride now, jamming to the music from the earphones plugged into my i-pod. Riding, riding, riding. Heading back down into the valley. & Then starting to warm up & then getting hot dressed in the leathers, two layers of gloves & scarf. Finally a signal to turn into a parking lot, we instantly started shedding layers.

Riding to the last stop, now in just jeans, t-shirt & vest. Going past the memorial for the Fallen Four, I gave them a wave & touched my heart.

The tripometer said 497.5. I do confess, I was so stiff & sore the next day, Papa Bear laughing at me, teasing about when he leaves me stiff & sore.

Riding home

 

 

Growing up riding dirt bikes, the desert was an open opportunity to ride what felt like everywhere. As I got a little older, big enough to ride my dad's dirt bike, I started riding on some of the back roads & a couple times to a friends house. Part of my rebelion side, against the law, against my parents rules. Then I discovered boys with legal street bikes & dated a couple before meeting hubby on his bike.

30+ years I rode on the back, all along thinking about riding my own, but always doubted I could handle the weight of a Harley or the crazy big city traffic on a bike.

Then one day was fuck it, I am doing this. I'm riding my own.

Here I am a couple years later, not as many miles as I hoped, but more miles then I had once thought I would never do.

My high school reunion was a month back, I had already made it clear I am riding home, over 300 miles each way by myself. I've riden by myself  hundreds of times, but never that distance, through mountains alone. Hubby was saying "do what you gotta' do" kids were insisting I call them the second I get there.

My parents still lived in the house they bought when I was 4, I have done the drive home countless times in a car or truck, so many times, I could do it with my eyes closed. I know I can haul ass throught the reservation, I know the curves on the road going through the mountain, the tunnel that was featured in a movie & the two bridges.

I start looking for the mountain peak that signifies home, it starts out so far away it's hazy, soon it gets clearer & the clearer it gets, the more I know I am closer. Our house is at the base of this mountain, clear view from the back porch.

Riding into my hometown, riding on Main Street to the highway up to the house, not riding up the long driveway because it is still gravel, but parking by the mail box instead. I'm home, but I'm not really. This is my growing up home, the house I own with hubby is my real home.

A couple people I went to school with was not surprised to see me pull up on my beautiful light blue Harley. Those that knew me back then, knew how I would turn out. Those that never cared to get to know me the 11 years we went to school, were shocked & some didn't recognize me. I did show up wearing my full leathers & my vest with my chapter patch.

I rode a few of those back roads from so long ago. Commenting to my dad how cool it was to finally legally ride those roads.  He asked what did I mean & I said oh, nothing.

I took the ride back a little slower, taking my time.  I didn't want to let this ride to end.

Holy shit, it has been a while

 

 

A long while.

Been on so many great rides, with others and by myself.

My first long ride was to San Diego. It was for officer training for the club I belong to. Officers from chapters from all over the US, a few from Canada and one from Germany.

Met up with the other officers in my chapter and another chapter, it was pretty damn chilly that early morning, duffle bag held on with a bungie cord on the back of the bike. Me dressed head to toe in leathers. We all checked with each other to see who had the smallest tank, mapped out gas & piss stops. And we were off. Along the way, we picked up 5 more officers from three other chapters. 18 bikes, 5 chapters of the same club, rolling thunder.

Cruising on a highway with just your brothers & sisters is a very cool thing. Waving to kids looking at you from their windows, seeing them smile & wave back, hoping they will be inspired to live their dreams some day.

Every now & than, one of my brothers will pull up next to me, with a thumbs up and a nod. Nearing the mountains in California, we all pulled over & talked about the strong winds we will be facing.  They weren't kidding, the strong gusts were bad enough, but slowly being pushed to the side of a steep cliff could be a pants shitter. .

We made it into San Diego at the start of rush hour, holy shit 8 freeway lanes of cars darting every which way. One of the road captains sensed my hesitance to change lanes, pulled up next to me and mouthed "I got your back".  And he did, my brother always. He would merge just behind me, so I could get over, everytime we changed a lane.

Riding up to that hotel, seeing so many members everywhere, 700 bikers invaded that hotel for three days.

I felt the opening to the training was a little too corporate, last time I went, they were blasting God Smack & one rode the new 48 through the hotel, up onto the stage. Another guy shooting t-shirts everywhere. That set the tone for the rest of the weekend, crazy, insane & a damn good time.

This time, as I said, too corporate, too many speaches, not enough rocking and rolling. But the networking & brainstorming with other officers from different chapters was great. There wasn't as high energy this time, but I did learn a lot and picked up a bunch of great ideas.

I was more prepared on the way home, was no longer intimidated by the crazy freeway drivers & knew what to expect and what to do when we went back through the mountains.

After getting back across the AZ border, we all started splitting up to head home. Eager to see Papa Bear, tell him about everything & share my "I did it" moment with him.


Now, whenever I am faced with an unknow or somewhat scary situation on my bike, I think, if you can do that ride to San Diego, you can do this.

Fear sucks, screw it, let's ride!

So, I've been riding solo for about 2 months now. I bought a magnet that I keep on the bars to remind me that fear sucks. & Of course my bike had to have a butterfly. Saving my pennies for a custom paint job & louder pipes.

Not too long after I got the bike was an annual ride to the kids burn camp up in Prescott. In years past either I rode on the back with Papa Bear or chased in my truck. Dammit, I am riding my own bike this year.

The ride was the back way through Yarnel & up into the mountains into Prescott. Not sure of my skills, Papa Bear & a couple good friends agreed to ride that route with me a few days before.

At first, I was shaky & taking the steep mountain grades & curves too slow, Before I knew it, I was leaning into the turns without backing off the throttle.

Going back home down the mountain was a blast, I was leaning, down shifting like a pro. The best consumer reports on the 883 Superlow was the light & more balanced weight, how well it responds to curving & quick speeds. It was also mentioned that the design makes you feel like you are sitting in the bike, instead of on it. The reports are right. I wonder if there couldn't be a more perfect bike made for me.

The burn camp ride was a blast, I was riding with a very experienced group made up of mostly fire fighters. It was an absolute blast riding up the mountain with them, I gained quite a bit of more skills & really mentally connected with the bike.

Putting on the miles, several times to work now, more when the temp drops just a tad, a couple out of town rides & scootin' all over town.

Let's ride!

The bitch just passed you

When I was about 5, my dad brought home this little dirt bike. It had a two stroke Tecumseh engine & no gears to shift. Not sure if someone took a lawn mower engine & stuck it in a bike frame, or if it was actually manufactured. Didn't matter, I had a blast riding that. Grew up in the desert, so my riding range was limitless.

I graduated to a Honda 80 when I was maybe 8. & then was finally big enough to ride my dad's Honda 125. Then came boys with street bikes.

The first time I met hubby, he was on a bike. & I've been the bitch on the back ever since.

The first of this year, we went on a 300+ mile charity ride. On the way home, going about 80 down the freeway, I got a cramp in my leg. Hubby is yelling "Sit still" I'm yelling back, "I got a cramp" He yells, "We ain't stopping" & I then thought fuck this, I'm paying off my truck loan & getting my own goddam bike.

I did pay off my truck & took a beginner rider's course. Glad I did, the kids were just babies the last time I rode solo. As soon as I got on the bike at the course, I remembered everything. I passed & received a certificate to take to the MVD to get my motorcycle license without having to take the MVD riding test.

Last weekend, we drove over to the dealership & got fitted for a Sportster 883 Superlow. Beautiful powder baby blue paint job & am saving up for custom pin striping. I love that Harley realized that women ride too, & have come out with smaller & lighter bikes (& more expensive clothes).

if you can read this, the bitch just passed you

Back to playing basketball

Our Son is back to playing basketball, something not too long ago, we thought he would never play again.

A couple weeks ago, we got some not great news. The leukemia is in his stem cell, the odds of his having two types are so rare, there is another name for it. Biphenotypic acute leukemia. It will come back, when we don't know, but bone marrow donor match has began. (those with his caringbridge link can get the details)

But that isn't what this post is about.

It is about Son playing basketball again & is in a league. Last week he scored 42 points, his oncologist came & sat there with tears in his eyes almost through out the entire game.

Son is back to playing basketball, in the pickup games, leagues & street ball here, he has made a name for himself & has quite a reputation that the other teams always make sure to put their best player on him. So many people he has played against through out the years have come to watch him, support him & maybe finally try to figure out how to stop him on the court.

It is like poetry to watch him play, his passion for the game, his constant coaching & helping of not just his team mates, but those he plays against.

Our Son is back to playing basketball.

02/10/2011

Gearing up

AZ bike week is one of my favorite local biker events. It lasts a week. Dealer parties, bar parties, numerous charity poker rides. A straight week of no work, no worries, except "do we need gas?". Just a few more weeks.

Last year, a few weeks before, our son was diagnosed with Leukemia & lost some bikers in a very tragic accident. (fucking meth head driving a dump truck). We spent quite a bit of bike week hanging around the hospital, seemed that sometimes, we lived there. We did a couple rides & a couple parties.

God (of your choice) has played a very cruel joke on us. Our son's leukemia will come back, it is in his stem cell. Our daughter, his only sibling & most likely match for a bone marrow transplant, has been diagnosed with an auto-immune disease, whacked out thyroid & re-accuring shingles. She won't ever be considered for a donor. I encourage every one to be a bone marrow donor, all they need is your blood. (red, not blue)

Wednesday's Riding for Kids, go at your own pace, usually over 200 miles. Raising money for kids that have survived burns, this ride helps pay for a summer camp, so the kids can attend free. Some have small burn scars, some are disfigured & some crippled from burns. But to see the courage & life goes on attitude from these kids is absolutely amazing. I had made a bunch of crazy, flannel material, teddy bears for the kids. Now I'm using the scraps from the bears to make quilts for sick babies in neonatal care.

Pay it forward.

Special Olympics Torch Ride. Wow. 3,000 + bikes all riding in a very, long line. Police escorted. Breakfast served by members of the Special Olympics, seeing their smiles. A ton of money is raised every year, over 50k last year. Rolling thunder.

Haven't heard anything about the Chior Boys ride. They are a bunch of characters & just plain fun. If I don't hear anything soon, I'll register for Logan's Run.

Just a few more weeks.

Bike shows, live bands, vendors, food, same place where all rides end. I bought a raffle ticket for a '11 Sportster today. It's powder blue & I've always been told I look good in blue. I've had my eye on the factory paint pink & blue Sportster Low model, but the powder blue model will bling up just fine.

This past Saturday, we went on a 310 mile ride. at one point, I got a cramp while we were going about 90 down the highway. Papa Bear is yelling to sit still & we ain't stopping. Sunday morning, my thighs & back were stiff & sore. It's time to stop being the bitch on the back & start being the bitch that just passed you.

Just a few more weeks & we will be gearing up.