So yesterday Nick finally talked me into riding his father's bike. His father is coming out in August to tour the coast up to Canada, and sent money to purchase a bike. He prefers a sportier ride, so Nick found a 2005 Triumph Sprint ST. I'm a new rider and I like Lucia, so I've been fearful of getting on any other bikes. With my arm injuries I can't really support myself, either, and my arm turns in weird ways when other people's arms would be settled and comfortable. But he finally talked me into trying it. Last night we rode out to see Rock of Ages, then we came home.
The theatre we went to is in our old neighborhood, so I know the streets and I was familiar with where I was going. MUCH better choice than heading off into the unknown on an unknown bike. I was amazed by how different a feel a sport bike is to a cruiser. I felt much more engaged with the bike, and it was like I understood better how to use my body to control the movement of the machine. And it's a smooth ride. Nice and smooth and gliding and...nice. Of course, there's also the difference that it REALLY feels like you're going to just pitch over the top if you have to stop hard. That edgier, more dangerous feel gives huge rushes of adrenaline. On the ride home I just decided to keep going, to really enjoy the bike, and I skipped our exit and rode into downtown. It's about 6 miles from our exit, with an easy turnaround at the bottom. When we got back to the house Nick asked me, "Did you like it?" and I took off my helmet and just laughed. Laughed and laughed and laughed. I was drunk on adrenaline and speed. I asked him what time it was, and he said, "Riding time." We gassed up and went out again. This time we went up and across and back down 805 so I could cross the bridge. Serendipitously my playlist decided that You Could Be Mine by Guns'n'Roses would be a fantastic song to play then. I was flying across the bridge on this bike, listening to an aswesome song, around midnight in a beautiful city.
It's amazing how the world comes together sometimes.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
A joyful ride
Work has been insane and one of us has been out of town or sick quite a bit, but I've still managed to get up to 3,000 miles on my seat. I passed 3,000 just yesterday, actually, coming down PCH around Encinitas. Lucia and I are getting to know each other better, and I'm settling in as a biker.
Last weekend was the best ride I've had so far. We picked up a friend from Capistrano Beach and went up the freeway the back way to Cook's Corner to hang out for a little bit. The first time we went there--this was time #2--Nick teased me mercilessly about not hitting the other bikes and not stalling when I pulled out. It wouldn't do to look foolish in front of the other bikers, and when I saw this looooooong row of bikes pulled up out front I was a bit scared. I mean, here I am on this huge badass bike, and it's just little timid me controlling it, and I barely even know what I'm riding (VStar 1100) much less anything else about it! But everyone there was really nice. Or, at least, no one noticed me at all, so it wasn't an issue. I was up for a second visit.
We came in the back (winding) way, unfortunately behind a VERY. SLOW. Minivan. Ugh. Who would think that I'd ever complain about going SLOW on my bike? But really. As I've gotten a bit more comfortable I can handle a bit more speed, and I think greater than 20mph is generally safe. Sheesh. We finally got to the bar and just hung out for awhile, listened to the band, watched the other riders, and chatted about various and sundry topics. Then we realized how late it actually was and headed out the "fast" (direct) way down El Toro.
El Toro, as far back as we were, is 2 lanes in each direction and wide, swoopy turns. There are trees, which for Southern CA is noteworthy. It was around 6, so the sun was low and we were getting long shadows. No heat, but not cold yet. At the bar I set my Chatterbox to my Favorite Country playlist, and just when I hit a stretch without any stoplights it started playing Highway 20 Ride by the Zac Brown Band. The high, sweet, mournful fiddle played as I glided down the road through the shadows. I was comfortable and completely at home on my bike. I felt like I was in complete control and Lucia and I were symbiotic. Nick has talked a lot about feeling like he was free and happy on Fezik (his VStar) but as a new rider I hadn't yet felt anything other than fear and an overwhelmed sense of impending mayhem. But for those few miles, listening to that high, sweet fiddle, I felt a complete sense of joy in where I was and what I was doing. Everything worked. I was in control, the evening was glorious, the road was my friend and Lucia and I were partners. It was a beautiful ride.
Last weekend was the best ride I've had so far. We picked up a friend from Capistrano Beach and went up the freeway the back way to Cook's Corner to hang out for a little bit. The first time we went there--this was time #2--Nick teased me mercilessly about not hitting the other bikes and not stalling when I pulled out. It wouldn't do to look foolish in front of the other bikers, and when I saw this looooooong row of bikes pulled up out front I was a bit scared. I mean, here I am on this huge badass bike, and it's just little timid me controlling it, and I barely even know what I'm riding (VStar 1100) much less anything else about it! But everyone there was really nice. Or, at least, no one noticed me at all, so it wasn't an issue. I was up for a second visit.
We came in the back (winding) way, unfortunately behind a VERY. SLOW. Minivan. Ugh. Who would think that I'd ever complain about going SLOW on my bike? But really. As I've gotten a bit more comfortable I can handle a bit more speed, and I think greater than 20mph is generally safe. Sheesh. We finally got to the bar and just hung out for awhile, listened to the band, watched the other riders, and chatted about various and sundry topics. Then we realized how late it actually was and headed out the "fast" (direct) way down El Toro.
El Toro, as far back as we were, is 2 lanes in each direction and wide, swoopy turns. There are trees, which for Southern CA is noteworthy. It was around 6, so the sun was low and we were getting long shadows. No heat, but not cold yet. At the bar I set my Chatterbox to my Favorite Country playlist, and just when I hit a stretch without any stoplights it started playing Highway 20 Ride by the Zac Brown Band. The high, sweet, mournful fiddle played as I glided down the road through the shadows. I was comfortable and completely at home on my bike. I felt like I was in complete control and Lucia and I were symbiotic. Nick has talked a lot about feeling like he was free and happy on Fezik (his VStar) but as a new rider I hadn't yet felt anything other than fear and an overwhelmed sense of impending mayhem. But for those few miles, listening to that high, sweet fiddle, I felt a complete sense of joy in where I was and what I was doing. Everything worked. I was in control, the evening was glorious, the road was my friend and Lucia and I were partners. It was a beautiful ride.
Friday, June 8, 2012
Hear me roar
Today I was told that I need to change my haircolor. They have, you see, written and issued a "company handbook" and apparently one of the owners has a problem with my haircolor. Apparently it's offensive.
Now I will readily admit that it's bright, and most women would feel awkward with hair as bright and short as mine. But whatever, I'm not most women. Despite the fact that I'm the only one who is licensed for PT in that office right now, they want to push this issue with me. I was...not entirely happy. I came home for lunch, and decided to ride back. Changed into gear, packed a bag, and set off.
I made it to the office and pulled 'round back, jumped off and ran inside while I was still taking my helmet off because I didn't know if I was late and I still had to change. I threw open the back door and rushed down the hallway and all I could hear was chatter.
"Who's that on the bike?"
"Who rides around here?"
"Is that someone who works here?"
Then I rounded the corner into the break room with my helmet in my hand and the room pretty much exploded.
"It's ERIN!"
"I didn't know you rode!"
"Is that bike really yours?"
"We were talking about who that rider could be and it's YOU!"
Everyone was fascinated by my ride. I changed into scrubs and clocked in, but everyone kept commenting to me on how cool it was and how great it is that I'm a biker. When I was leaving that night I had to change again. I was sitting in a chair wearing my leather jacket and tying my boots, and one of the massage therapists came into the room.
"I think it's great that you ride, but I was completely shocked that the bike belongs to you!" She commented.
I looked up. "You never figured me for being a badass biker chick, huh?"
She laughed and blushed. "Well...no. You seem so...quiet."
I grinned at her and just observed, "The quiet ones are the ones with the best secrets." She agreed. Still waters run deep, indeed!
Now I will readily admit that it's bright, and most women would feel awkward with hair as bright and short as mine. But whatever, I'm not most women. Despite the fact that I'm the only one who is licensed for PT in that office right now, they want to push this issue with me. I was...not entirely happy. I came home for lunch, and decided to ride back. Changed into gear, packed a bag, and set off.
I made it to the office and pulled 'round back, jumped off and ran inside while I was still taking my helmet off because I didn't know if I was late and I still had to change. I threw open the back door and rushed down the hallway and all I could hear was chatter.
"Who's that on the bike?"
"Who rides around here?"
"Is that someone who works here?"
Then I rounded the corner into the break room with my helmet in my hand and the room pretty much exploded.
"It's ERIN!"
"I didn't know you rode!"
"Is that bike really yours?"
"We were talking about who that rider could be and it's YOU!"
Everyone was fascinated by my ride. I changed into scrubs and clocked in, but everyone kept commenting to me on how cool it was and how great it is that I'm a biker. When I was leaving that night I had to change again. I was sitting in a chair wearing my leather jacket and tying my boots, and one of the massage therapists came into the room.
"I think it's great that you ride, but I was completely shocked that the bike belongs to you!" She commented.
I looked up. "You never figured me for being a badass biker chick, huh?"
She laughed and blushed. "Well...no. You seem so...quiet."
I grinned at her and just observed, "The quiet ones are the ones with the best secrets." She agreed. Still waters run deep, indeed!
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