Last night, I got my Harley out for the first time in several months. The cold doesn’t bother me, but there’s been enough snow out that I didn’t want to take the chance of dumping the bike.
All I did was run an errand, then meet my wife and kids at church. I didn’t put more than eight miles on the bike. But I was out on two wheels again, tipping and leaning my way through some nice curves near the house.
It’s a different kind of riding than when I’m working. It’s easier to enjoy the whole concept of riding. The air seemed just a little clearer, and the grass and leaves seemed just a little greener than they had just a few hours before.
I love to ride motorcycles. I got my first bike in 1989 after I got out of the Army. My mother hated them, having lost a boyfriend to a crash. I don’t think my dad cared one way or the other, but he had to support my mom. My parents said that when I could afford a bike and the insurance, I was welcome to get one, but they wouldn’t help me pay for it.
I found a used Honda CB 650 – maybe a 1983 or so. Had it for several years, and rode it hard. I recall one night I was riding to a friend’s house, doing about 95 up the road, in deer country, during late November, just as they’re coming into the rut.
Not too smart, eh? I looked down at the road and realized that there were only about six square inches of rubber between me and the asphalt. I decided at that point to slow way down, and pretty much behaved myself after that.
I sold that bike in about 92 and didn’t ride for almost nine years. Then I bought a 93 Harley (FLHTCUI 90th Anniversary Edition) that used to belong to my stepfather-in-law. I still have that, and ride it as often as I can. With six kids under 9, that’s not very often.
About three years ago, I started working for Police Motorcycle Escort. The important thing to know about this is that for the last four months, even though I’ve been riding, I’ve been on four wheels, using a Voyager kit attached to my GoldWing. It’s OK; I’m still getting paid to ride, but it’s four wheels, so it’s not quite the same.
Two wheels are better than four.
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Originally Published on bobmuellerwriter.com
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