Thick as Thieves

I was asked by a friend to make a post on our group's facebook page: Motorcycle Tourer's Forum- I figured that I should probably put it here too. Luckily he has not read my sappy posting.

My grandfather made a monster. Like Frankenstein but it was out of a well ridden motorcycle, passion, and the curves of the lower Appalachian mountains. My first ride was on the back of his bike in the long and winding gravel driveway. He told me that it would be bumpy, like a dragon’s back. I was scared but after more than 200 yards and stopping at the mailbox, all I wanted was to fly down the mountain. I was still too young to camp or go on longer drives. So my regular rides started with me riding to his friend’s motorcycle shop and the ever constant Dairy Queen. Before long I was able to leave school during recess to go ride and camp. I did not ride much as a teen. However, the desire never faded. I had gone to rallies and seen that he had hundreds, thousands, tons of friends. He knew every road. He knew all of the prettiest sights. He had been to the places that National Geographic would put on the cover to inspire itchy feet and a wandering soul. I wanted to be just like him. We were as thick as thieves. We still are just getting into more trouble now than before.
 Two years ago, I managed to finally arrange my life enough to allow for a nose dive into the deep end of the pool. The Hamburg rally, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia (and specifically the Cabot Trail). We started talking about bikes, sizes, styles, everything.
  In April of 2017, he had paid for my MSF course and I had a new letter on my license. We started practicing in the parking lot of the Sheriff’s Dept. they would chuckle when I stalled and before long I was whipping through those 5mph turns like I was Steve McQueen, even waving! We moved to getting onto the road, I panicked as soon as the front tire left the parking lot and stalled. Then it was loops on the freeway, small bursts through town, a few drives to Murphy, NC (from Chattanooga). After only 3,000 miles of practice, we were packing to head for Salt Lake City and then Alaska. I wanted to take the most difficult and taxing trip, the one with the most diverse set of conditions, the one that was sure to force a variety of experiences.

We had beautiful weather, spare the third night that broke his tent poles or the 3 days of drizzle while riding in 60 degrees. I would listen to him talk me through turns; “decreasing radius; drop a gear; push the rpms; you’re clear to pass-haul ass; breathe down so you don’t fog the shield.” He kept up with the road and I was the lookout for signs, like the ever constant Dairy Queen, A&W, or anything with ice cream and/or pie. We celebrated my bike rolling 100,000 miles, made it to SLC, celebrated my winnings (1st place sidecar, longest distance sidecar, and being interviewed for the local news), we crossed into Canada, and rode the Alaskan Highway. We went to Hyder, Fairbanks, crossed the Arctic Circle (with perfect weather), saw Denali (again, perfect weather), camped in Anchorage-saw a bear, and went to the Land’s End in Homer.
















We had reached the halfway point and while I was thrilled to keep riding, I was sad to leave. At one point, I was offered the option to head toward the house or detour for a few days to visit Claude Stanley in Middleburg, PA. Guess what I chose. We camped on the pavement in front of his shop by a highway that always had traffic. That detour meant 4 more days on the road with one of world’s most incredible human being to have ever lived. We had so many incredible moments and memories made on that trip that had solidified everything I had ever dreamed and hoped for. For some it’s not where you come from but where you are going. For some, it’s the open road and the wind on your back. For me, it doesn’t matter where I’m going. What matters is everything that lead to the moment that I started riding with my best friend and where his tail lights lead.





  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Quick Photography Session

Sidecar Saturdays : Games and Awards