Just a few thoughts from within the cold dark confines of "Winter Storage:"
A motorcycles mind...
It’s a strange feeling. It is a feeling which is both eerie and exciting. The time of the year indicated by the calendar pinned slightly askew just above the tool box to my right, tells me that it is the start of the annual hibernation season - yet the unmistakable brilliant rays of sunshine stream forcibly and unyieldingly through the cracks around the perimeter of my stall.
By this time of the year, I’ve usually had a fresh change of my fluids, been tendered to the wall with the gentle pierce of two alligator clips (normally one black and the other with a red rubber jacket) snugly fastened to my side. By this time, I am usually tucked safely away and comfortably covered to protect me from debris, dust and to render my service officially complete for the season. But mysteriously, not today...
I can feel a sense of excitement as I hear the large door at the end of my stall shudders into action under the unmistakable sound of a slightly slackened chain desperate for a coat of oil retracts the large door. Instantly, an unseasonably refreshing warmish breeze and a typhoon of sunshine fill the dark and dreary void around me. The contrast of this refreshing breeze blended with the unmistakable warmth from the sun leave me exhilarated as if this means that a ride will be sure to follow.
I can feel my side mount being retracted; handles straightened forcing my front circulating rubber disc to the centre contact patch as I am gently rolled from the garage to the comfort of the driveway’s black asphalt. Or maybe I am just being too hopeful… maybe I am being prepped for an unwelcome gush of cold water to immerse my already chilled structure before being put to rest for the months to follow. Perhaps I am over-thinking the entire experience and getting too worked up for possibilities that may not come to fruition. Maybe I should just… WAIT! An adrenaline rush has poured over me from front to back as I feel the certainty of the started button being depressed. I am being summoned into service and can now feel the intake of delicious fuel mixing ever so carefully air continuously exploding inside of me.
Autumn has pleasantly been delayed this year and for a late November Sunday afternoon this could be my last run of the season. Although the pavement is cooler than a mid-summer rumble, the scenery and crispness of the day more than make up for the absence of a mere few degrees of mercury.
With one rapid movement, I am kicked into gear, my motor screams with glee as I am summoned for duty. In mere seconds, I am been launched down the road in a systematic melee of grace and welcome uncertainty. Before I have time to clear my fogged senses, my tachometer has danced with elegance as I have hit third gear and have negotiated a series of small curves with the grace and mastery of a ballerina.
There is a buzz of activity today… many more rides and riders whisking there way down country corridors and challenging the physics of centrifugal force and speed against the geometric blueprints of the roadways. As my motor pulses to highs and lows in perfect response from the twist of my throttle and the constant up and downward shifts from my levers… a tune emanates every from within keeping me at high adrenalin for the duration of my trip.
“Well weathered leather, hot metal and oil, the scented country air. Sunlight on chrome, the blur of the landscape, every nerve aware…”– Neil Peart, RUSH
For nearly two hours, my pistons pound perfecting and my carburetors consume copious amounts of high octane all in exquisite and perfect harmony. My tires have warmed, my brakes are smooth and my sense of unison with rider and environment has created the perfect day of bliss and tranquility. I have a sense of complete relief and feel at peace as we slow, downshift and make that final left back up the drive where I will rest for the cold months that are sure to follow.
It has been a glorious ride. It has been an incredible season.
It has emphasized the paradigm of life…
To ride - or not to ride… really and truly is – a silly question.
See you in the spring.
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