The Long Short Ride

I decided to ride from New Hope to Frog's Inkhouse in Moody on Saturday December the 6th. This ride is 102 miles each way from my house from which I left at 11 am on Saturday and did not make it back until 2:30pm on Sunday December the 7th. How can this be you ask ?

The original plan was to meet a couple other BamaRides members in Gadsden and continue on to Moody. Somehow our wires got crossed and that did not play out. Though this cost a little time it was not the problem. The problems started in my driveway and should have served as an omen of things to come. You have to keep in mind I had invited folks to go with me on the forum so my mind set was not open to not going to Moody. As I pulled on my gloves my nose itched and I reached up to scratch the itch with the back of my right thumb forgetting about the hard rubber shield cleaner attached to my gloves. You guessed it. I cut myself right where my nose meets my upper lip. Nothing to do now but stop the bleeding. Delay number one. Mounted up and moving now I get out to Hwy 431 South and go a few miles and stop to get gas. The call made to the guys goes straight to voice mail so, I leave a message that I'm running a little late but am on the way.

Riding down the highway I can't help but notice it seems a little colder than I thought it was going to be. I'm wearing long johns, jeans, two sweat shirts, chaps, leather jacket, thick socks, my supposed winter riding gloves, my neoprene skull print face mask, boots and helmet, I think to myself, no problem. By the time I get to Guntersville my finger tips are a little more than uncomfortable. Reaching Boaz the pain in them forces a stop. I try another phone call with the same result as before. Riding on I am now on Hwy 411 South in Gadsden and stop at the first gas station I come to to warm these again aching hands. I try to make contact with my guys again with the same result as before. After warming up for about 30 minutes and trying the phone one more time I now am deciding whether to go on or go back. I should probably explain that getting a mild case of frost bite on my hands and feet, compliments of Uncle Sam, in Germany in 1983 is the cause of the pain once they get cold. So I really am not a wimp you see.

I decide to go on to Moody, which speakes for my hard head. Again, just before reaching Odenville I have to stop for the hands only this time I have trouble squeezing the clutch and front brake levers. Warm again I ride on and get to Frog's Inkhouse in Moody. It is now a little past 3pm. I meet Frog and we try to find something that will work for my cover up tattoo.
Not able to find the exact thing yet I notice its getting on toward sundown. It's now close to 430 pm. The return ride in falling temps and the approaching darkness now dominates my thought process so I bid my farewells and hit the asphalt on the way back. My hands are now reaching the painful stage at a faster rate and the cold is beginning to start the shivers. I arrive in Asheville around 530pm with my mind made up to get a motel room for the night which I do. I realized the feeling was beginning to come back to my feet around 10pm and I think how strange I didn't realize they were that cold. My hands probably kept me from recognizing it I suppose.
The next day I check out of my room and am on the way in ernest about 11am. It's cold again but the sun is shining and I only have about 75 or so miles remaining of the 102 mile return trip. Both routes are virtually the same mileage. I pass through Oneonta and stop at a small gas station just before reaching Cleveland to warm my again throbbing and burning hands. The lady at the station has these Chihuaha's and the male is wanting to play and acting real friendly. After a few minutes of petting the dog, he runs off for awhile and returns, rears up on my leg wagging his tail just the way he did the previous time he wanted to be petted. This time as I petted him, just like before, he suddenly bites me on the palm of my left hand between the thumb and the wrist. Great, now I'm stopping the bleeding again. The lady is apologetic and I tell her aw he's just being a dog. Now I'm thinking why did you say that since, had the last dog that bit you not gotten away you were going to use the knife you retrieved from your pocket to gut it alive and now your not even upset, how strange.

After a little more time spent warming up, smoking one more cigarette I gear up, mount up and ride on. I make another thawing stop at the intersection of Hwy 79 and Hwy 278 and continue on to and through Guntersville and stop at the Shell station after crossing the river on Hwy 431. After warming up again I cover the last 15 miles or so and alas at 230pm on Sunday I've made it, I'm home.

As I rode this weekend with my mind running in countless directions, cleaning the laundry so to speak, I suppose it began to creep in at some point. I think it finally arrived as I sat around warming up at home. Over the course of the weekend a lot of things happened that would normally have had me operating at varying degrees of frustration yet none of it phased me in the least. I pondered this fact and wondered why is that? Some would consider this an ordeal but I didn't. I was completely content with things the way they turned out including being bitten, Why is that I questioned. The answer to the question at the end is found by looking at the beginning. It is simply the ride. The ride on it's own dominates all the other circumstances encountered.
Circumstances which are unpleasant, irritating and even at times painful are so overshadowed by the ride itself that they are willingly endured for the sake of the ride. I think this can only come from a true love or passion for riding and can only be understood by those who share in it. I am thankful that in my life I have been fortunate enough to encounter both, the passion for riding and people who share that passion.
Ride On and Ride Safe
jc