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     Snowdave |
It’s 6:00 AM and I am awoken by the sound of a thunderstorm. It’s been a rare sound this year as the summer has been mostly dry. I try to fall back to sleep, but there is too much to think about. Our first baby on the way, what should I do with my career, should I go back to school, how am I ever going to finish the honey-do list, will we have enough money…I can’t sleep so I might as well get up. I head down stairs and think about washing the dishes, knowing that I don’t do them enough, but the sound of rain drops outside the kitchen window are too alluring. I love riding in the rain. I quick run upstairs, throw my jeans on and kiss my wife goodbye. Boots, raingear, helmet, gloves, I am finally ready to go. I decide to leave the tank bag and map at home. Getting lost is almost preferable. Besides, north-south-east-west has never failed me so far. I fire it up and quickly push the choke back in to avoid irritating the neighbors too much. I am not even down the street before the sound of the new Vance & Hines muffler reminds me that I have forgotten my earplugs. That’s okay, I like the sound of the muffler and half the reason for riding in the rain anyway is the sound of the raindrops as they hit the helmet. I stop at the gas station on my way out of town and it’s a good thing since the tank was empty. Just as I pull in, an older lady filling up her car stops to give me that disapproving look. She doesn’t get it. I turn right out the gas station only so I don’t have to wait for the red light. I’m on Route 26, it’s a boring road and I’ve traveled it a dozen times so I quickly turn, this time onto County Y. I’ve only ridden this road once, and I am ready to find some new riding spots. It’s only been a few minutes since I left the house and I am already on a desolate road with no traffic. Just me, the bike, the road, and the rain. I can see why people like these V&H exhausts, the sound is intoxicating even if I did sacrifice some power compared to the race exhaust. I am already starting to get wet. The rain suit is the $10 sporting goods store special and I always get soaked around the neck. My left foot feels especially wet, but that’s due to the split in my boot where it contacts the toe shifter. My gloves are not rain gloves and act more like sponges, but it’s all okay. These problems seem completely inconsequential as I continue motoring through the rain. I turn left, slipping the rear tire just enough to remind me that it is very wet and realize that I am still on a road that I know, Route 59. After passing a police officer and wondering if he will come after me for my exhaust (a real irony here in Wisconsin where all Harley riders have open pipes), I come to a stop. This is my first chance for a brand new road. I continue straight, which puts me on County M. As I accelerate to the speed limit I wonder how much throttle is ok before the rear will split loose. I pass another officer, and imagine that he just thinks I am crazy for being out in this weather and he certainly isn’t interested in stopping. I spot a herd of cattle off to the side of the road. They are all huddled together, receiving what I am sure is a much needed bath from the rain. I never realized how much livestock stinks. Although, each and every smell I come upon while riding is appreciated. I feel bad for those people locked in their four wheeled boxes. They are missing so much that I can’t even begin to explain. I continue riding and it isn’t long before M joins up with County H. Oh how I love County H. This road is just what I imagined Wisconsin would be when I first moved here. Twists, turns, hills, running along the river on a road completely fenced in by trees. I have had too many speed racer sessions on this particular road. When M splits off, I decide to follow it. I have been on H many times and I want a new adventure. Not to mention that I am not riding to scrape pegs today, but to enjoy the soothing rain drops. I feel bad for the people that can’t appreciate riding in the rain. The temperature is nice and cool and the rain only bites if you go too fast, riding in the rain is about relaxing, not speeding. I get more enjoyment out of a quick hour ride in the rain than I do in months of commuting and running around town. Although the season has been dry, suddenly everything appears green in the rain. The rolling hills, the farmers fields, the fields of grass, it’s lush and peaceful, much like Washington. I have never loved Wisconsin, but it is easy to see how Peter Egan can wax so poetically about riding in this state. Every time I read his column, I just have to hop on the bike and ride away. Unfortunately, his riding stories about summer don’t appear until winter – the evil season. Winter is not that far away now as the rain starts to feel colder yet. How can I make it through another Winter? Should I succumb to snowmobiling like everyone else in Wisconsin? I could always see if spiked tires are available. I know they race motorcycles on the lake during the Winter with two inch nails sticking out from the tires. I cross Highway 14, which I know leads back home, but what fun are highways. It seems as if only seconds had passed here on County M and yet it comes to an end. I run into Route 213. Yeah, another road that I have not ridden before, this is perfect. I come up to County A and realize that 213 will only take me south, back to people and traffic, so I turn. I am ready to go home and I know that County A is a beautiful road. The road is very straight, but one hill after the next. I come up over a hill only to pass County H again. It takes all my will power not to turn and go play, but again that is not what today’s ride is all about. It’s not long before I am back in town. There are a few cars out and about. I drive past the country club and laugh as I think about the upset would be golfers, disappointed by the rain. I enjoy golf, but they too, just like the old lady, don’t get it. Maybe Wisconsin isn’t so bad after all. Little traffic, seconds away from beautiful country roads, I could get used to this. Just ask me how I feel a month from now when there is twelve inches of snow on the ground with a windchill of zero degrees. Only a few more minutes and I am pulling into the driveway. My ride did not make all my problems and worries disappear, but I am happy. I can deal with anything that comes my way. Who ever would have thought that rain can be uplifting? The moral of this story - go for a ride out in the country in the rain. | ||
| Loki |
Just like taking a walk in the woods on a foggy morning...... | ||
| Ferris |
Snowdave, very nice piece about riding in the rain. having grown up in western Washington, i've done more wet-weather riding than i care to admit -- and honestly hate everything about it -- but it was cool to hear from someone who sees the silver lining, when all i see is the potential for rust and corrosion  is anyone running 190 rears on a X1? Y2K, i ran a 190 on my VFR awhile back (a Dunlop D207), on the stock 5.5 rim. it fits perfectly fine, but i didn't care for the "heaviness" the tire imparted during aggressive cornering, nor the extra dinero the thing cost. it looked cool, but i like how a 180 works a lot better. FB | ||
| Sparky |
Songdog Ride Report, May 3, 2003: A late season rainstorm has hit Southern California this weekend coinciding unfortunately with the annual Songdog Spring Rally, the first weekend in May. Saturday started out sunny as we finished packing the T-bolt, then turned rainy as we left. It stopped raining as soon as we hit PCH in Santa Monica (about 15 miles) and we rejoiced at seeing the clear blue sky over the ocean. Hopefully it'll be sunny the rest of the way. We stopped at the Leeward Winery in Ventura long enough to pick out what we (she) wanted ('98 Merlot) to enjoy at the campground. All is well as we left for the gas stop in Ojai. We backtracked on the 101 a couple miles to Santa Clara Rd which turns into Hwy 118, Los Angeles St going eastbound. A few more miles we made a left on Bradley Rd and turned onto Balcom Canyon Rd. As anticipated, Balcom was spectacular! It was clean & dry which made the rapid descent to the 10 mph kink halfway down fun and uneventful. So. Mountain Rd & Hwy 150 thru Santa Paula was clear with no traffic. Getting into the winding bits of 150 on the way to Ojai it started drizzling lightly. The road was getting wet now but traffic was light enough for me to get in front of them so I didn't have to ride in road spray. As we left Ojai winding our way on 33 into the clouds shrouding the mountains, it drizzled heavier. It's always good seeing the "Road may be closed anytime" sign is up at the foot of the grade rather than the "Road Closed Ahead" sign. This raises expectations that one can actually get through to the other side. We did make it over but it was one of those character building situations. For one thing, the temp dropped to 45 which caused shield fogging problems for me. Then the wet road was slipperier than I expected because the rear tire slipped once in a turn where I didn't think the pavement was particularly slick. Apparently it was. That confirmed the warning the man at the gas station said about it being slippery up there and not because of icy conditions (it wasn't). So, having raised my awareness and heightened my anxiety, I slowed down a little after that. Then the bike quit running, once going uphill and then a little later going downhill. This was the familiar sticking tank vent valve when it gets cold & rainy problem that continues to plague this bike. It got hairy the first time because I couldn't pull completely off the road to fix it. By the time I opened the gas cap to vent the tank, a couple of trucks were coming up behind me and another was coming from the other direction, all converging at my spot. The dickhead in the first truck didn't even slow down as he roared past. Then the bike started and I took off before the second truck caught up. The bike ran OK for about 15 miles when, after the summit, the engine quit again. So I pulled in the clutch and coasted for a few miles and was having fun doing this until I realized that my electric vest was not heating. I expected this because the volt sensing thermostat cuts off current when the battery voltage drops below 12V. Even though the temp gauge read 45 degrees, windchill & a damp Aerostich over a dry long sleeve thin thermal & a cotton Songdog tee shirt was gradually getting me colder. So while still coasting I hit the starter and it fired. Hooray! By the time I felt warm again, we were out of the drizzle, heading for the warmth of the sunshine surrounding the Songdog Ranch in the valley. The dirt road through the sandwash and up the incline to the campground was damp and offered good traction, much more so than when it's dry. We found our usual bush and pitched the tent next to our bike which was by now half covered with road grime. All in all we had fun getting here. Now we could relax, pop open that Merlot, and bask in the glow of the campfire with our fellow campers. The rally itself was fun even with a smaller than usual attendance. I'd say about 50 campers were here. We got here in plenty of time to feast on beef ribs & chicken appetizers although Jen cautioned that I shouldn't fill up on ribs lest I spoil my appetite for the main course, Tri-Tips, at dinnertime. The campground's resident dogs made friends with everyone who was chewing ribs. The band had already set up and was doing mic checks. Before the sun went down, they decided to move inside the lodge where the wood stove made it cozy. Dinner was superb but alas I ate too many ribs earlier and couldn't finish it all. Oh well, the canine disposers were grateful for whatever they could get. They love these rallies. It rained a little during the night even though when I made a trip to the outhouse, the sky was clear and starry. It's wonderful out here in the country at night. You can actually see thousands of stars! We heard some coyotes, aka songdogs -- hence the campground name, off in the distance yipping merrily along. In the morning I was awakened by a chirping bird in the bush next to our tent. It sounded more screetch than chirp but it was pleasant anyway. On Sunday we had a nice ham & french toast breakfast, packed up and headed out. I wanted to take Cerro Noroeste Rd into Pine Mountain Club & Frazier Park but when I turned onto Cerro Noroeste the sign said, "Chains Required". With that, the rain last night and the dark clouds hanging around the mountains ahead I knew that could only mean trouble, so we turned around and headed for I-5 and the Grapevine. Approaching the Grapevine grade a light drizzle started. Fortunately it didn't get worse and the road was barely getting wet. When we pulled off at Gorman, the drizzle stopped. We took Gorman Post Rd to photograph the wildflower display on the hillsides there. Beautiful large blue patches with orange swaths attracted plenty of passersby stopping to appreciate this famous springtime wonder. When we got back into town I headed for the Baja Cantina in Marina Del Rey to see if one of my favorite surf bands, Insect Surfers, got to play there Saturday afternoon. Turns out they cancelled due to rain but rescheduled to May 14, the Big Wednesdays (Surf Night). We had an appetizing lunch of margaritas & mini tostadas at a party place in the middle of a Cinco de Mayo celebration for a fitting end to an excellent weekend adventure getaway. Sparky |
