"ROAD TRIPS" by THE OLD SQUID

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Street Racing in Portland

The Shroud of Sport Tourin
(part 1)

The Vortex of Doom
(part 2)

Real Motorcycle Shops and What Dad's Are For
(part 3)

Laguna Seca-
(part 4)

Is North Really Uphill?
(part 5)

"Road Trips" by The Old Squid

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you may be swept off to." Bilbo Baggins

Fall Commute

posted 10/21/02
Riding a motorcycle is five times more dangerous than driving a car. Those are the undisputable facts that I have to live with and so there must be some compensation for the added risk. We all inherited some "Risk taking" gene. We left Africa and moved out. It is human to try new things. It could be argued that those of us in the western United States may have an extra dose of this inherited from ancestors that not only moved here from Europe but who also moved to the west in a conscious break with the past. Along the way, some of these risks have paid off in positive changes in our lives. More land, more food, more freedom...to take more risks and keep the cycle going. Sometimes, the payback is more subtle.

My ride to work is one of those paybacks. Each morning last week has been a commute that makes me want to pass work, get on the ferry and just keep going. Our weather has been absolutely vintage with a string of dry days that rivals August. It's 10 minutes to work and all but the last ¼ mile is in the country and recently I've been wishing for a longer commute!

I ride the BMW out the driveway and head down the valley. It's dawn with the sun coming up behind Mt. Baker 60 miles away. This is our local volcano that stands sentinel on the distant horizon. All the Pacific Northwest has a "distant volcano" and it orients me every day: I am here. The mountain is there. I find my bearings by aligning with the cone on the horizon like an ancient mariner lining up familiar headlands. I once rode a weekend in New Hampshire and I was lost in the endless Oburbs with no landmarks in the distance.

This day, I rode to work early. The sun wasn't up yet, just a red promise on the horizon that faded to dark velvet overhead. There was a fog in the lower valley creeping in from the Sound and the land looked like the aftermath of some primeval flood. The tops of trees poked out of the fog and only a few rocky high points were showing. I could see this in a car but what I couldnąt experience is the spicy smell of alder leaves fallen by the roadside and the odors of the agriculture along the way. I also wouldnąt feel the change in temperature as I drop down past the marsh just before Douglas road and then the warming as I rise up past the airport and into town.

Some mornings have been really chilly with a good frost on the grass last weekend but this morning was cool and bracing at about 48 degrees. I love these temperatures. This is the Fall Range. Its cool enough every night to be refreshing and warm enough every day for a shirtsleeve walk. Today was 68. Tomorrow the same. I love this range because I can wear full protective gear on the motorcycle and not be overheated or chilly. Just like a fairy tale porridge, it's "just right".

There's no traffic on the road and so the air is calm and laminar as I disturb it for the first time. The motor whirs and the air parts, flows, and rejoins without a whisper of turbulence. It's so still that were it not for the houses along the way, I could be the first rider on a virgin landscape. Such are biker dreams on soft fall mornings. The reward for the risk I gladly take with the turn of a key every morning.

SAN JUAN ISLANDER © 2008

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