The first three days of March brought heavy rain and high winds, which precluded any sane person from wheeling their machine out of the shed for even a short ride. But the fourth day dawned crystal clear and the temps were forecast to “soar’ to 55° in most areas, so despite my house being infested with a demanding overseas intruder – my dear elderly mother from California, expecting my attention – I was off shortly after breakfast to “clear the carbon deposits from the carburetors” as we used to say.
I toyed with the idea of ringing up my riding buddy Manfred, but decided better of it as I what I really needed to do most was maximize my time away from the obligations of home by converting dead dinosaurs into global warming. No flap-jawing about when to meet, where to go, and when-do-you-have-to-be-back – just one steady stream of carbon emissions laid down over the hills and into the Alps as far as possible within my time-away allotment. A solo jaunt fit better with my other goals anyway, as I wanted to concentrate on polishing up the basic skills which had rusted the last four months, as well as do a comprehensive machine/riding gear field test.
Now, I readily admit to lusting heartily after other machines during the off season, Actually, I’m always in a state of lust for any number of bikes I don’t have. But sometime around mid-December every year I become convinced my life will be just oh-so-much better and next riding season will be oh-so-much more fulfilling if I would just have a shiny new adrenaline factory to sit astride in the coming year. My heavy old plodding work mule? Iron age! I need something better, dammit! Newer, faster, and for sure a lot more expensive!
This winter it’s been the new Triumph Tiger, my report of which you’ve read. Even as recently as last Saturday while it was pissing down rain, I was at the Trumpet dealer looking at the improved-saddle ABS version of the new Tiger. In blue, my favorite color. It looked hot.
But today, wheeling Ol' Blue, my trusty ol’ 2002 1150GS out of the driveway, I was struck by how much affection it is possible to have for a machine which truly suits. Underway, after any trepidation of making a rookie mistake had faded away I was struck by just how much fun I was having. I let out a whoop like Jeff Sabo getting the hot new flight attendant’s phone number. I said – out loud – “Yeah, man, yeah! This is it. THIS bike suits me down the ground. This absolutely rocks.” True Zen happiness settled in and I didn’t think about wanting another bike again.
So Ol' Blue and I rocked out over the hills here and into the Austrian Alps for 150 kilometers, and I came back a happy man. My bike works, my kit works, riding season is officially underway. March Forth indeed!
I told Sabine later, “Thank you for letting me go riding today. You’d have had every right to say ‘She’s your mother, you stay home and keep her company.’ But I want you to know it was the right thing to tell me to go riding. I’m much happier and better adjusted now. And just so you know, if I hadn’t gone, our marriage would have collapsed under the burden of my resentment. So good call.” She just laughed.
Highlights:
Summer-weight gloves with the grip heaters set at 50% the whole time
Not having a single close call due to bad judgment or over-eagerness
Passing in one clean swoop four cars who were all stuck nose-to-tail up a hill behind a slow van
The unlimited visibility of winter, with springtime temperatures – the Alps were stunning
The camaraderie expressed by every passing bike – we all waved
Taking some photos for the scrapbook to remember this especially good beginning to a riding season. Like this one:
