Sundays and Sunrises

To be sure, yesterday was a perfect spring day. Windy, warm, sunny, and perfect. Everybody in the entire state, it seemed, was outside doing "something", and we were no exception.

Sunshine and I were out early amongst the morning bustle. Sunrise to sunset, I was on bike and loving it, putting on nearly 265 miles before calling it a day. We left the big city and Minnesota behind and rode well into Wisconsin before turning north and making a great counterclockwise loop back into Minnesota and then back towards home.

In Wisconsin, we found unending stretches of windy and open roads, and the road got close to her pegs on more than a few occasions. :-)

Rural Wisconsin is beautiful. Old barns, silos, churches, and family farms. It's really the definition of "a picturesque countryside", very Norman Rockwell.

On the loop back into Minnesota, I found myself at a cafe surrounded by other bikes and bikers. I ate one great egg sandwich with literally half of an onion sliced onto it when I asked for "some onions". Love it, thanks Chef Jeff.

We also passed a ton of bikes on the ride down the Minnesota side south and west back towards the city. I honestly got tired of doing the "biker wave" back to folks, but hell, we can't give up biker-to-biker respect, and I made sure I waved every time I got waved at.

In the evening, I took my wife two-up on a local run on Burt, my Honda Shadow Spirit 750dc. In all, I rode the heck out of yesterday, it was great.

This Monday morning, however, the cold wind bites hard and a storm is coming.

We launch into the open and empty road in the gloaming pre-dawn hours. The neighborhood is silent, too early for school buses and morning commuters, and everybody is still nursing coffees and sore muscles from all the "Spring-Is-Finally-Here!" activities that took place on Sunday.

The ride is fast out of the city on the big empty highway that leads into the glowing early morning sky. I keep Sunshine close to triple digit speeds as we head east, and she purrs and feels really good opened up for a bit. We reach the river's edge just as the sun starts to glow through the clouds now obscuring the eastern horizon.

A short while later, we take in the river boats and head into a local coffee shop to write this and reflect on yesterday's riding. The sky above continues to darken, now thick with the approaching storm. It's going to rain on me on the ride back, but I'm strangely looking forward to that, too.

These are the kinds of days that you always hope for... and that I hope I'll always remember.

Riding Life

Rode the sunrise yesterday, the world was icy and calm, a cold winter chill had bitten the northern reaches again. No snow like the day before, but cold nonetheless.

I slept yesterday under the full moon, with stars and planets all around - last thing I saw before I fell asleep.

This morning I'm riding again, out for a coffee with my lady.

Riding has become an ingrained part of who I am - how I am.

It is awesome.

Life on the Road

Seems like my life has been measured in miles the past week or two - up north, back down, relocating trailers and equipment.

I still manage to ride every day, but work and life are taking priority over riding exclusively, and so I've been limited to local rides to coffee shops to get plugged in for work or at night to get some fresh air. On the weekends, I a pulling a trailer and shuffling tools and equipment back and forth or doing demolition and construction work for most of the waking hours.

Still, the days are (slowly) warming up and although the streets are still quite sandy and debris-ridden and city traffic is as crazy as ever, I'm making the most of every ride... and enjoying the hell out of it.

Remembering the Sun

It was early morning, and Sunshine and I left home as soon as I could see water running down the alleyway. It was in the low 30's outside but the sun had already started to punish the remaining ice and snow.

I pushed her out and carefully walked her backwards pushed our way over the packed snow tracks running lengthwise across our driveway entrance, and gently and with legs out for balance, we rode down and out to the street.

Easing her into motion, and taking great care to warm her tires up thoroughly before attempting any kind of more 'sporty' maneuvers, we made our way to a marine-side cafe near the Wisconsin border where I intended to finish out my work day, 4 hours in, 4 hours to go. Avoiding the highways entirely and maneuvering from one "Trail" road to another, we wound through immeasurably beautiful sunlit and snow lined S-curves and deep bends and expansive views and hills and more...

The twisties today had their challenges, though. It was generally outstanding riding, but still a bit dodgy where the shade kept the road from fully de-icing and/or where salt and sand piles still dominated the centerline - Sunshine lost her backend in a couple of spots, but quickly regained traction as she passed beyond the yucky bits.

We found our parking spot next to a huge pile of leftover snow. It's colder down in the river valley that borders Minnesota and Wisconsin, and so even with the bright sunshine, there are still piles all around here that may take a few more days or so to fully melt away.

Jeff, the proprietor of the awesome Marine Cafe, cooked up a special batch of his chili (vegetarian with corn chutney and a strong dash of heat + red pepper) to warm up my chilled bones and I ate, grateful at this opportunity and full enjoying the day.

Jeff and I talked about motorcycles and barn finds and I remembered what a good life and genuine warmth and rural hospitality felt like again.

Awesome day.

Spring Thaw (and the Elated Many)

... at long last, got back from a ten day visit to see my mom in Colorado (drove there) and no sooner was I back than the entire southeastern portion of Minnesota got hammered with nearly 2 feet of fresh snow in 48 hours! I got exactly one ride in hours before the snow started flying. Ugh.

It was winter overreaching its welcome and stay, and it sucked in every way for a guy who was looking forward to riding a lot when he got back from a long, cage-bound road trip.

So... we started digging out again and I started my countdown clock before I could ride again.

That was six days ago.

Thankfully though, as I write this, Burt is parked out squeezed in between a bunch of cars at a music cafe. The sun is shining, the snow and ice are giving way, and there was just enough asphalt for me to make it to the street. In truth, I was forced to chop away at the ice-covered alleyway enough to fishtail the Shadow out past and over and through all the wintry junk. Still, worth it.

Once I got to the actual edge of the road, I tucked in, pulled the throttle hard, and never looked back. Phew... it feels so good to be on a motorcycle again!

Still slick out, still icy and sandy and what-not but I know enough to be careful about those things. We point north and west and south again, and make our way, long way around, to a coffee shop on the other side of the cities that I really like.

I know it seems trivial, but the coffee shop is at least twice as packed as I've seen it, especially for mid-afternoon on a Thursday.  But after all the snow and depression (around having to shovel tons of snow and ice in the middle of April) gave way to the 40's-degree sunshine of today, I am surrounded by the happy sounds of "nothing-in-particular".

People are talking about random bits of triviality. Laughing at aimless jokes. Smiling at blank walls. It's the kind of real relief you can only experience if you've been through a challenging time and, judging by the expressions and discussions going on all around me as I type this, this damn winter has been challenging for all... probably in many more ways than just the weather.

I take the long way home, stop by a lake, and ponder when all this white stuff will melt away, and I'll really be able to sink into corners again...

: - )