After a busy weekend out of town, Monday was full of meetings with the Phoenix pastors, 127 Legacy work, interviews for upcoming motorcycle articles, correspondence with potential buyers of bikes I'm marketing on the web, then lesson prep for my history classes. Spent, I took off on a little ride (of course). It was relaxing, cranium-clearing, but also kind of hairy a few times.
First, on a main road, a guy in an SUV suddenly jumped out from a side street in front of me. I had been watching his inching forward, before he made his move. I was prepared, squeezing some brake without lockup, and gave him room to speed off.
At a road crossing, I nearly did the same thing myself, almost pulling out across the path of a small white sports car. I hadn't seen him, coming out of the shadow of a tree line, and nearly became his hood ornament. A second glance in his direction brought him in sight, and I didn't jump. Thankfully.
Down a previously unexplored road, I was enjoying it's sweeps and curves, when all of a sudden, in a wooded right-turner, the pavement gave way to gravel. Surprised, I consciously refused to grab or stomp brakes, kept some throttle pressure on, and the bike bobbled but easily rode through the curve. The road stayed gravel and dirt, so I found a place to turn around, and carefully rode back the way I came, until gravel returned to asphalt again. The above photo was taken when I got back on solid street.
I paused to stop and reflect, at this beautiful overlook across rolling fields drenched in the glow of the setting sun. I was thankful for training, experience, practiced skills, and trust (in the Lord, in my preparation, and in the bike), that kept me safe in each circumstance. Further proofs that riding a motorcycle is something we must get proficient at, then keep practiced at, to stay upright and alive.
