My Motorcycle Diaries – Friday, October 1, 2010 C.E.
When I think of riding a motorcycle, I imagine long stretches of desolate roads that melt into blue skies littered with puffy white clouds that welcome me home. I feel like I can be as free as it’s possible to be in a society of voicemail, mobile-mail, email, and snail-mail. I’m free when I’m on that bike, riding away from everything that keeps me separate from myself—from my humanity.
The Long Road That I Ride
These posts are a diary, a recounting if you will, of my most recent ride through the hills and dales of Southern California. One item of note before we begin: Southern California is majestic—I don’t care who you talk to and what they say, if they claim otherwise they are the offspring of retarded pigs.
That being said:
Friday, October 1, 2010
I head out to rent a Harley Davison Street Glide. I’ve never ridden this particular model before and am dismayed to find that it has, for some ungodly reason, speakers in the front. I try to explain to the gentleman helping me with the rental that I think the bike is a bit too much for me; unfortunately, he interprets this as “this guy doesn’t know how to ride a motorcycle,” when I’m really trying to say, I’m not ready for the jean jacket sans sleeves with dragon embroidery on the back stage of my life. If I listen to music while I ride—and oh yes, I rock the block while I ride—I prefer the subtle iPhone in-ear headphone to the angry and disjointed melodies piped from a motorcycles sound system.
I delicately explain to the young man helping me that I don’t like the CD player and speakers on the front of the bike. It’s not me, and I’m a firm believer that everything you think, do, say, and ride should be a representation of who you, in this case me, are/is. We discuss the intricacies and benefits of the stereo system on a Hog for significantly longer than I want to donate my life to. I quickly wrap up this line of dialogue and sign off on all the paperwork that absolves the renter from the rentees negligence, and the injury and/or death that may result therefrom.
I’m on the Hog, and try, for exactly three minutes, to listen to the radio through its speakers. I stand vindicated as it’s absolute rubbish. In go the in-ear headphones and on comes Muse (I love Muse).
I run the gauntlet of traffic from the place near LAX where I picked up the bike to my apartment in WeHo. A few tips on riding in traffic, and I apologize if I offend you with my generalizations, they are all just stereotypes and as we all know, stereotyping is just another word for efficiency. The tips:
- All people who drive minivans suck at driving. I don’t care if you’re Michael Schumacher (famous F1 Driver, Google him!) and you’ve rented it to take the kids to Disneyland. There is something about the minivan that activates the Sucky Driving Gene in all people. If the minivan is your “vehicle of choice,” then you probably have other issues and shitty driving is low on the Totem of Defects you no doubt carry.
- Honda Accord and Toyota Camry drivers are only one peg above the minivan driver. I salute you and want to receive holiday greetings from you if you happen to be one of those happy families with a Camry/Accord and a minivan. I’m almost certain that there are stickers of stick people with names underneath them that represent each of the people in your happy household on the rear window of your minivan, but, iunfortunately, you are synonymous with death for motorcycle riders worldwide.
Remember the two tips above and you’re well on your way to a happy, and healthy, life as a rider. But I digress…
I arrive at my apartment and remember that it’s my friend’s going away party, and I’m hosting. I quickly shower and change, set up a few Hookahs, because nothing brings a party to life like the sweet sweet clouds puffed from a Hookah, and order some delicious Lebanese food.
Such a View... Oy!
We party into the wee hours of 12:45’ish and everyone is gone. The house is silent, my dog has peed, and I’ve set my alarm for 6:30 AM. Tomorrow we ride the epic ride (map included below for your convenience)…
An Epic Ride For Epic People Who Tell Epic Tales of Epic Proportions
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