Stuffleufagus

I hadn’t ridden my motorcycle but once in the last 6 months – and that was  a brief trip to the office last week.

When I woke this morning it was already 64 degrees, and not quite fully light.  But before I even brewed coffee I knew I was hitting the road.

As the coffee brewed I prepared my bike, and myself.  While 64 degrees sounds warm I would be riding north, and knew it would get colder – so I layered up on clothing, filled my thermos with fresh coffee, and took off to wherever the wind and whim took me.

Normally when I head out of San Antonio I shoot straight up US281 – the fastest way for me to get to the Texas Hill Country.  But today I headed West first – until I hit Highway 16.  I’d never taken this path before, so it was immediately my favorite path. I love what I do not know.

I was near the town of San Geronimo before I felt I had truly left the city behind.  I visited the “Blue Hole” at San Geronimo Creek, where I stopped to drink my coffee and just spend some time with myself.

I followed Highway 16 in a large slow loop until I reached Bandera.  I thought I had spent time in Bandera before – but I was wrong – I must have had it confused with Blanco or Boerne.  I liked Bandera.  Of course I like Blanco and Boerne as well.

From there I took a slow ride south down HWY 173 to Hondo, TX – a familiar place to me.  After a late breakfast taco I hit the highway for the 40 minute ride back to San Antonio – and home.

I was gone a couple of hours.  Time I needed to spend away from me, and the Internet, my kids and Twitter.

I miss these days where I wake with no plan other then, “get out there and go”.  It’s part of why I hate the winter, which keeps me shut it.

The Spring begs me and my bike to find something new, and amazing.  And sometimes all it takes is me not being here.

Sometimes the journey is all that matters.

Sometimes amazing means nothing less than different.  And today I had a different day.

I only put 1400 miles on my motorcycle this year – which is pathetic.

What I miss is the stories I’ve been able to share about my rides.

And now it is very cold. And I doubt I’ll have another chance to ride this year (I HATE the cold).

I’m not sure why I didn’t ride much this year.  The new job?  Maybe.  The fact we haven’t had any rain to speak of so we have either been very cold or very hot (or very windy!) – probably.

But as little as I use my bike, I can’t imagine not having one.

It only takes a little bit of the garage; for me insurance is cheap, and all I need is a few hours on her a month and I’m happy.

But 1400 miles a year is pathetic

I woke up very early this morning. Before it was light out. I didn’t sleep well because the threat of storm would not let me.

Yet when I Woke up at 5:30 am, I felt awake. Unlike most mornings where I struggle to operate the coffee pot, this morning I felt clear headed. Which doesn’t make sense.

I had no coffee, I slept less than three hours, and I didn’t sleep well at all.

So going for a motorcycle ride was probably just stupid – especially since it was still dark, and the streets were still wet.

But I hadn’t ridden in a while, and I wasn’t ready to start my daily routine. So I just took off. No coffee. No idea where I was going.

I knew the storms hit hardest towards the northwest of me, so I rode southeast. I rode to China Grove, of the ZZ-Top song fame. I used to come here often with my Uncle, to fish in our illegal fishing spot not far away. We used to have so much fun doing little, and saying even less.

My Uncle has always been a quiet man. Being a Vietnam Vet who was wounded more than once, I never pressed him on what he had been through. But often, in the dark, with a nice little fire, sitting on the side of that creek bank, he would tell me things I know he shared with nobody else. Not his wife, or his own sons, or daughter.

He would tell me stories not of war, or courage.

Not of bravado or beer-brawls.

He would tell me about the people he knew. And although he never said as much, I knew that every person he talked to me about had not made it home. I could tell by the story, and the tone, and the lack of details about anything to do with them after the war. He never mentioned how they died. He never mentioned who they may have killed. He spoke about the person – the guy that wanted to open a hot-dog stand in New York, the guy who wanted to marry his High School sweetheart. The friends he made, and why he remembered them

But I never pressed him for more. I never intruded. I felt honored that he was sharing with me, and I didn’t have anything of value to add to the conversation.

And he didn’t expect me to.

He didn’t want to talk to me about these stories – he just needed to tell them.

And that’s where I sat for about 25 minutes this morning – in China Grove, Texas.

Eventually a fine mist started to fall and I decided I better head home – before the traffic started.

Every time I think I am ready to sell my motorcycle I have a moment like this – something that happens on my bike that just seems to not happen any other time.

And I know that if I sell her, I’ll just buy another. Since this one is paid for, I think I’ll keep her. She is cheaper than Prozac and a Shrink.

And infinitely more effective.

I have never given a TV a name, or a car a name for that matter. But for some reason, I have always named my motorcycles, and my GPS receivers. There is a long tradition in naming bikes but I am not sure about the GPS receivers. I might be the only one who names them.

My last GPS was named Sheila. She cost me $6000 when someone sliced the top of my convertible open to steal her.

My current GPS is named Katie. She’s a sweetie!

I guess I name the GPS systems because they have a nice female voice (meaning female and generally not bitching at me – except for the occasional “Do a U-Turn when possible” – which does sound bitchy!)

I name my motorcycles because they have the same things that I find attractive in women – power, curves, excitement, not knowing what will happen next and a they both have an adjustable ride

I haven’t shared the name of my bike with anyone. There may be hints in my blog, but I don’t think so.

I won’t share it now either. It is personal

Unless someone guesses it.