This morning I chose the cold weather jacket, not because the temperature rendered the mesh jacket inappropriate, although it’s been close to there several times over the past few weeks, but because the radar indicated there were a number of scattered showers in the area. The Comet, my cold weather jacket, sheds water.
I’m usually rushed a bit when I leave for work. This morning was no exception. I approached the first left turn noticing the green arrow was already showing. I was a little too far out. The last of the traffic ahead was clearing the intersection and the light turned yellow on my approach. I considered moving on through the turn. There was only one oncoming vehicle waiting and the light would turn red with me over halfway through the turn. I chose to wait.
As the oncoming vehicle pulled past me I noticed that it was one of the city’s uniformed public servants. How could I have missed that? Apparently my guardian angel was riding alongside this morning. My guardian rides a classic full dress Harley Davidson. I can’t see him and neither can you. Sometimes he has trouble keeping up, but this morning he was apparently right on station.
The second stoplight was crimson and there was an empty slot at the head spot in the right of two lanes. The right lane converted a short distance beyond the intersection to a right-turn-only but I had no doubt the Dragon could jump the passenger cage in the left lane with ease. When the light changed to green I moved away at my normal brisk pace and was surprised to hear the engine of the cage wailing and see it rolling almost alongside the Dragon. It took just a bit more throttle than I had planned, but we moved easily in front of the reluctant victim. I do so dislike bullying someone who doesn’t know what an easy target he is.
Turning right passed the elementary school I looked down to notice that the bottom snap on the right of my chaps wasn’t fastened. I tried to reach down and snap it while holding in the clutch with my left hand, but I couldn’t seem to find the connection without staring down. I refused to focus my attention downward especially while on in-town roadways. I decided I could get it some twenty-five miles down the way as surely I would hit a red light in Lawrence. The snap was still undone an hour later when I arrived at work.
I watched the sidewalk for short people. The day previous a boy on his way to school had waved at me and I caught it too late to get my hand up. I didn’t feel good about that. I never like to ignore the children. None this morning seemed to notice.
There was no rain on the way to Lawrence. We were briefly on wet roads, but only slightly so. You’ve seen the type. The surface alternates between covered with just enough water to throw up a light spray and presenting stretches on which the tracks of the cages in the right lane are dry.
The scenery along the highway was nice. It’s yet too early for most of the woods to have turned, but scattered here and there were individual trees that had changed to bright yellows and oranges. The hillsides were a mix of light and dark greens.
I came up on an SUV with a USMC sticker on rear window. I was pulling past ready to render the left handed salute when I saw that the driver was leaning toward his window with a thumb up in my direction. Now how, I wondered, did he know that I was also Marine?
Entering Lawrence I noticed the parking lot of the Walgreen’s was being resurfaced. Barriers announced the name of the contractors, Paradise Asphalt. I smiled. That could be a good name for a precious metals dealer, but not for a parking lot repair crew.
Up on the flyway there were a few drops in the air, but not enough to wet the pavement. Ironic that the only rain I found was over dry road.
It was not easy to turn into town toward work. I arrived under a beautifully scattered cloud sky. Ten miles north and east seemed to be overcast but the west seemed to stretch forever under scattered clouds. It would have been a good day to ride.
The ride home was nice and uneventful. At two spots crossing my hometown I came up behind riders of the other American made motorcycle. Both were riding primarily on the oil strip, but wandering occasionally all over the lane. This time of year seems to bring out a lot of amateurs.
Filling my tank I was greeted by a young man on the other side of the pump.
“How’s it going?”
“Good, thanks.”
“What kind of bike is that?”
“It’s a Valkyrie. Honda Valkyrie.”
“It’s really nice.”
“Yeah. I like it.”
“I have an eleven hundred Shadow. Honda Shadow.”
“They’re nice bikes.”
“Yes, they are. I was going to get a Valkyrie like you did. How much did you get in it?”
I didn’t really understand the question. “I bought this one in 2004. I paid eight thousand”
“That’s a good deal.”
“Yeah.”
“How much gas did it take?”
“It’s a five gallon tank.”
“Mine has four gallons.”
“Well this one has six carbs. It doesn’t get very good mileage.”
“Mine has four. It’s a four cylinder. I get forty-three miles per gallon.”
“This one gets about thirty-five.”
“What’s it weigh? About eight seventy or nine hundred?”
“Right around seven hundred.”
“Oh! It’s lighter than mine. Mine weighs eight seventy.”
“Yeah. Well, have a nice day.”
When you ride a Valkyrie there is time in the wind and there are conversations. Most days the time in the wind is better than the social intercourse. Today was one of those days.