My buddies and I ride many miles on our motorcycles. Countless hours are spent on two lane highways. We inevitably catch up with slow moving vehicles. Those moments force us to make a very important decision.
It is possible for all nine of us motorcyclists to be patient. We could travel at speeds that are 20 mph below posted limits. Sure, that slow, tedious, boring option is our preferred way to ride . . . NOT!
Most of us riders are extremely patient. We are men who are fast movers in the worlds where we practice our professions. Each one of us likes to let others dictate the pace of our day. We willingly relinquish the prerogative of initiative to other people who will then govern our schedule . . . NOT!
So if you believed this last description of the personalities of my fellow riders, then I have some swamp land that I would like to sell you. The men and their machines with whom I share the road are like thoroughbred quarter horses chomping at the bit to run a race.
Our powerful engines are just itching to have the throttle twisted, gears shifted and body lean into a quick change lane. Each one of us wants to feel the jump of acceleration for a quick pass. The challenge is to do it safely for the entire group.
The other day we followed day-dreaming drivers who didn’t seem to realize that they had rearview mirrors. Nor did they seem to have the sense that they were being mind-melded by strong personality types to move aside. There were several occasions when a turn-out was available. They could have moved over and let us pass. They did not. Our patience was thin and wearing thinner.
Then, the solid yellow dividing line turned into a broken line. The road straightened out and on-coming traffic disappeared. With the multiple twist of the throttles nine powerful motorcyles roared to life and passed one very slow moving vehicle with expeditious efficency.
Once in the lane of opposite moving traffic, my heart rate quickens, pupils dialate and my senses are on full alert. Around the upcoming bend, headlights appear. I know I can make. There’s enough juice in my ride to kick it forward and slip safely back into my lane as three tons of metal roars past me going in the other direction. Passing is such a rush!
2 comments
Comments feed for this article
August 28, 2008 at 8:45 am
Duane
Bruce:
Once again you have been able to put into words the thrill of motorcycling. I have vivid memories of the first time a number of years ago when “the group” I was riding in passed a slow moving vehicle on a 2 lane road. No one had told me advance what to do or what to expect. Suffice it to say, I figured it out, very quickly. Fortunately, many drivers, upon seeing that we are passing, pull over to the right side of the lane and let us by. Then, there are the ones like that guy in Canada who passed us while we were, in turn, passing another car; I still haven’t figured that one out. But, the Lord was looking out for us and kept us safe. Thanks for these (and all of your) blog entries, they are great reading! (ever thought about putting them together in a book?)
August 29, 2008 at 1:01 pm
brucefong
There’s so much about riding that gets into our blood. It’s a challenge to write about riding so that the non-rider can capture the same exhilaration. It can’t be done but perhaps we can draw them closer with a few pieces like this. Thanks for stopping in for a visit!