alone with my stupidity
I guess one thing I like about riding the motorcycle, after just getting back from my first weekend trip, is that it forces me to prioritize. What I mean is, it's generally pretty easy for me to get sidetracked thinking about what's for dinner, or thinking about summer plans, or thinking about a cute girl, or thinking about neat cabin floorplans, or whatever. On the bike, if I get sidetracked and start daydreaming about stupid things, I could end up dead.
Another thing about the motorcycle:
At 55 miles an hour, it felt like being on a fast horse. At 75 miles an hour, it felt like being strapped to the wing of an airplane.
Mostly, though, what I want to talk about is the overall experience. People talk about how the big attraction of riding a motorcycle is the 360-degree view that is unobstructed by glass and door columns and such. And in fact, that's pretty damn neat. BUT, it's only part of the total sensory experience. The really cool part of the ride, for me, was being able to smell the trip. Like, really, have you ever remembered a trip because of the way it smelled? If you can, it was probably somebody's stale farts, I'm guessing. But on the motorcycle, man, wow. It was a whole new world.
This trip smelled like: lilacs in Greybull, cool river at the bottom of Shell Canyon, hay along the Powder River, rotting carcass in lots of places, freshly turned dirt in the Bighorn basin, wind across the snow above Burgess Junction, and rain coming in.
I also noticed the temperature changes a lot more, too. In the car, I happen to realize that my air conditioner is getting too cold. But on the bike, when you drop down into the canyon, you feel the change. When you cross the river, you can feel the cool air rising up off the surface. And there was a spot, somewhere east of Buffalo, where I could actually feel a cold wind front blowing on my left shoulder and a warm front blowing on my right.
If you're wondering, as you're passing by on the interstate at 75 miles an hour, Gillette smells like char-broiled cheeseburgers. I expected it to smell more like oilfield trash, but nope. Just char-broil.
Another thing about the motorcycle:
At 55 miles an hour, it felt like being on a fast horse. At 75 miles an hour, it felt like being strapped to the wing of an airplane.
Mostly, though, what I want to talk about is the overall experience. People talk about how the big attraction of riding a motorcycle is the 360-degree view that is unobstructed by glass and door columns and such. And in fact, that's pretty damn neat. BUT, it's only part of the total sensory experience. The really cool part of the ride, for me, was being able to smell the trip. Like, really, have you ever remembered a trip because of the way it smelled? If you can, it was probably somebody's stale farts, I'm guessing. But on the motorcycle, man, wow. It was a whole new world.
This trip smelled like: lilacs in Greybull, cool river at the bottom of Shell Canyon, hay along the Powder River, rotting carcass in lots of places, freshly turned dirt in the Bighorn basin, wind across the snow above Burgess Junction, and rain coming in.
I also noticed the temperature changes a lot more, too. In the car, I happen to realize that my air conditioner is getting too cold. But on the bike, when you drop down into the canyon, you feel the change. When you cross the river, you can feel the cool air rising up off the surface. And there was a spot, somewhere east of Buffalo, where I could actually feel a cold wind front blowing on my left shoulder and a warm front blowing on my right.
If you're wondering, as you're passing by on the interstate at 75 miles an hour, Gillette smells like char-broiled cheeseburgers. I expected it to smell more like oilfield trash, but nope. Just char-broil.
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