Motorcycle Muse
As a full time aspiring author and an intermittent blog writer, I find the need for inspiration to be a constant. My go-to muse is Olga, the 2009 BMW K1300s.
Recently, I encountered a nasty speed bump of dullness named, “Sinus Infection.” Adhered to the couch for a week, I watched many a day drag by where sunshine and unseasonably warm temps mocked me. “A real man would fire up his machine no matter what!” Then came Friday, greeting me with a feeling of 80% health. Of course, I defied doctoral advise, suiting up for an adventure, pushing aside my body’s protests all the way.
One does not need an “Adventure Bike” to traverse roads not suited for ripping and dipping. Although I love grinding through the turns, there’s much to be desired other than twisting the throttle until tunnel-vision-fear begs one to focus only on the tarmac.
Look at all that green! Wild flowers, misty mountains and the occasional cow lifts the spirit onto that enticing magic carpet ride known as the great outdoors. What better reason exists to sling a leg over the saddle than to immerse oneself in epic views, cool air and questionable roads?
Two years ago, my wife and I were driving on the very wrong side of the road as we explored the land of the Blarney Stone. Ireland is a must see, for ye world travelers, yet there’s also a bit of Irish flavor in the foothills near Fresno. Admit it. I could have cropped out the barbed wire and claimed this picture was taken in County Clarke! Guinness anyone?
Happening upon scenic beauty such as this can occur in a car, no doubt. For the motorcyclist, however, carving mountain roads is an all-encompassing experience where the tendrils of creation brush one’s boots as fortunate insects wiz by unscathed. Drivers of cars don’t take drives in the country anymore, as a rule. No? When was the last time your ears captured verbiage like, “Hey hon. Let’s jump in the sedan and just drive!”
Like a jewel netted into memory forever, the cool grass and ominous oaks begged this rider to drop the kick stand for a nap. Had I been 100%, I would have done just that. Jesus must have walked through here once, right? How else could it be so magnificent?
Wether one rides a cruiser, chopper, dirt or super bike, allow the allure of outside to infect you when the glums come knocking. Take that sketchy road you’ve ridden by a thousand times, always intending to see where it goes, one day. Remember, you’ll miss 100% of the roads you never lean onto.
Until next time, peace in. I am the Falcon. That is all.
