She sits there as I grab my clanking golf bag and walk past. She sits there as I make a quick trip to the grocery store — without her. She sits there as the weekend arrives and dust still accumulates on her gleaming paint. I tell myself I should take her out for a ride today. Then the day slips away, and my motorcycle still sits there.
“This guy rides more than anyone I know,” a friend introduces me.
I feel a twinge of guilt at hearing him say that.
Shamefully, I haven’t put as many miles on two wheels this year as past seasons. Autumn fast approaches, and I feel regret creeping over me for all the lost moments I didn’t spend atop my Yamaha instead of in the air-conditioned comfort of a cage.
Like many riders, life often pushes our riding hobby to the back of the garage, both literally and metaphorically. I still feel the same joy and passion as a carve through a mountain backroad. Yet, somehow other interests or mere laziness to put on my riding gear have meant fewer miles on the odometer, and fewer long-distance adventures in the saddle.
Long the advocate of “just take the bike” when running minor errands, I now find making time for my motorcycling hobby to require a bit more self-motivation. Not uncommon. Several of my riding friends also tell me they haven’t been hitting the road as much this year.
As summer fades into fall, I know several of my usual excuses for not riding will vanish: It’s too hot today. A thunderstorm is going to hit in a few hours. My back is a bit sore. (OK, that isn’t seasonal, but due to my 50s quickly vanishing).
Fall also stirs that feeling I should cherish these sunlit days, which grow shorter each day as we spin toward the winter solstice. It’s also when I realize those bike nights, group rides or charity events will soon disappear for a few months. No more saying, “I’ll go next week.”
The summertime blues will fade as will the foliage, offering new incentives to hop on the bike and just point it toward the mountains on the horizon. The air will take on that aroma of dried leaves. Fewer insects will splatter on my windscreen and visor.
Those lakes and rivers now filled with vacationing families will return to their quiet, pastoral nature once summer ends. I’ll be able to pull the bike to a waterfront parking spot without the chaos of inflatable tubes, rafts and harried parents marshaling squealing children.
Maybe a change of seasons is exactly what I need to re-devote myself to motorcycling. That popular motorcycling road I’ve avoided due to the summer crowds still awaits my return. There’s probably a lonely mountain pass I’ve never traversed out there. The connection with nature I’ve neglected still holds some sublime riding moments: the V-formations of geese flying over mountaintops, the Monarch butterflies briefly resting on your parked bike before resuming their journey south to Mexico.
With renewed purpose, I roll the bike from its dark corner. Check the tire pressure, lube the chain. She fires right up, eager for any new adventure or just a leisure cruise around the neighborhood. I smile as I roll on the throttle and hear that wonderful exhaust note growing.
“Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing. Done with indoor complaints,” wrote Walt Whitman. “Strong and content I travel the open road.”
— Michael E. Gouge
Editor-in-Chief
