The idea for this one just came to me out of nowhere. It gave me the chance to combine a couple of my favorite activities with a couple of my favorite characters.
Or you can take this as a tribute to both motorcycling and a very special lady. Whatever the reason, this was a very easy story to write. I hope you like it.
Javahead
*****
Cars are convenient for large loads or bad weather, but the best way to see the country is on a motorcycle. Even the straight drone along a level freeway becomes tolerable, while side roads are a constant temptation to take your time and explore.
All through my teen and college years, I'd owned bikes; little ones, big ones, both old and new. The only thing I'd never owned had been a touring bike. A good tourer costs money, while a proper tour takes time. Somehow, I'd never had both at the same time.
Out of college, I had more money, but even less time, and when I first met Nita what free time I did have went entirely to her. I had sold my last bike just before I met her, and to her it was just interesting past history. She'd never really believed I'd make good on my promise to take her for a cycle tour.
I smiled to myself; now she had no choice but to believe - we were on the second day of a bike trip up the Pacific coast.
This time, I was able to do it right. I'd bought the bike I'd always lusted after, an older but sound BMW tourer, complete with a fairing (windshield to you non-bikers) and saddlebags that came off to double as suitcases. We had camping gear with us, and enough cash to stay in motels when we wanted to. I had three weeks off work, and back roads I hadn't ridden in years to relearn. But best of all, I had a woman I loved to share it with me.
Though for me it was a chance to indulge a long-held dream, to Nita it was all new. Though she'd been in the United States for years, we lived in a city, and her old home town, Hong Kong, is one of the most urban places on Earth. Prior to this trip, she'd only experienced the forest on day hikes near home, or car trips to places like Lake Tahoe or Reno. The vast emptiness, the shear size of even relatively crowded places like the California coast was a revelation to her.
On a bike, you experience the countryside differently than in a car. Instead of sitting in air-conditioned comfort, watching the miles pass by through a window frame, you're part of it. You can reach down and tap your boot on the ground if you wish, reach out and grab a handful of leaves from a roadside tree, feel the air rushing past your body, smell flowers and barnyards. But the biggest difference is the way you experience the road itself.
Everyone knows the feeling of rounding a corner in a car; go a bit too fast and the tires begin to chirp, while your body starts to slide towards the outside of the turn. Taking a twisty road in a car feels, especially to passengers, as if you're fighting the road.
Everyone also knows that bikes lean in corners; what most non-bikers don't know is that, thanks to that lean, what feels like "down" to a biker is always directly through the seat. If the rider doesn't get too aggressive, his passenger can sleep right through a twisty section of road without even noticing it. Instead of a battle, going through a curvy section feels more like a dance with the road.
When you combine all these things, a bike becomes something of a paradox; though a bike can go faster than most cars, pleasure trips usually end up taking longer. There is an ever-present temptation to explore a side road, re-ride a twisty section for the joy of it, or just pull off a bit to enjoy the view. Sometimes, you can't indulge yourself, but enjoyment was the whole purpose of this trip; over the last couple of days, we'd taken advantage of ever diversion that had offered itself.
"Perhaps there is something to be said for hurrying up." I thought to myself. Without my noticing it or really paying attention to the time, the day had slipped past; the trees were casting long, deep, shadows across the road. I pulled off on the shoulder of the road to ask Nita what she wanted to do for the night.
"Want to start looking for a camping spot?" I suggested.
She made a face at me. "We still need to buy some food. Besides, I'm stiff - couldn't we find a nice, comfortable motel to stay in tonight? One with a pool, or maybe a hot tub, and a nice soft bed..." Her voice trailed wistfully off.
Now that she mentioned it, I was stiff too. The thought of a long, hot soak and a soft bed was almost irresistible. I surrendered gratefully - I hadn't really been looking forward to making camp this late.
Even the long summer evening was almost over when we pulled into the yard of the motel. It was convenient, and looked clean, but the irresistible draw was the sign that said "Pool & Spa" right under "Clean Rooms". I went in to register while Nita walked around the parking lot to work some of the kinks out of her legs.
