My husband has a Road King Classic. When he bought it, I told him he could sit in it in the driveway and ride around the block. Then I started to feel guilty and told him that he could ride his bike around our neighborhood, but only during the day. It wasn’t long before I saw him out of bounds with him. And it wasn’t long after that, I realized it was better to get on the bike with him. Saturday’s trip to Bruster’s in LaGrange was my first real group trip.
Saturday was a great day. We got up early and started with the Pancake Breakfast at the dealership. The pancakes and sausages were delicious! We then attended the first chapter meeting of the year held upstairs in the dealership. There were many people at the meeting. At the end of the meeting, a man named Paul made an announcement about the trip planned for the afternoon. He didn’t think it was a particularly good day for a walk. Just going to the dealership earlier that morning was very cold. Very cold. brrrr!
Anyway, Paul started going over the details about the trip, and honestly, at the time, he wasn’t really considering the idea. The one thing that really stood out, that I remember him asking me, was if it was the first trip for someone planning to go. And since I wasn’t going to go, I didn’t raise my hand or say anything. I know. I imagined that. He meant the driver. Anyway, then Paul finished, and the few people left in the room started talking about who was traveling with whom and something called sweeping. sweeping? With the meeting over, there was really nothing left to do, so my husband and I headed out the door. In fact, we were on our bike leaving the dealership, when that guilty thing showed up again.
It reminded me of being in a parade. All the bikes were lined up in pairs, and people were busy running around taking care of last-minute details like paperwork. As I sat watching, I studied the other riders. I began to worry about the cold. Some of the other bikers’ helmets had windshields, and almost everyone else wore chaps. I took a deep breath filling my lungs with cold air and decided it was too late. I was engaged. One by one the cyclists mounted their bikes and the rumble of engines began. I loved that. It was loud and exciting. We sat down to wait, patiently, with our helmets on and our bikes running. I wondered how long it would be before I felt the heat from the bike and hoped it wouldn’t be too long. The sounds of bicycles resounded, and there is something in that sound. I think I almost forgot about the cold.
I started to like everything. The riders revved up their engines and I thought to myself that my husband was right. He needed better pipes. As we continued to wait to begin the journey, I couldn’t help but think that the wait must have been intentional, a part of the itinerary. Reserved time. Perhaps it was to give the cyclists time to enter the area. Or time to grab the attention of anyone who isn’t on a bike. I used the time to hug my husband. Then suddenly he began the journey.
I knew that Paul, the road captain, moved forward and the procession of horsemen followed him. It was a large group. There were something like thirty riders, and we were in the middle of the pack. We left the dealership waving to the spectators. I hold on tight.
We rode back country roads, and the scenery was pretty. We follow the group through curves, under the shade of the trees, and through the neighboring villages. I tried to take it all in… the houses, the landscapes and the people. The sound of the bike roared up the hill, and then we sped down the hill. The horsemen used hand signals to communicate with each other. The obvious ones, right and left turns, and stop. Then they had a few extra ones to form a single line, change lanes, and slow down. It was fun to watch. One by one, the cyclists reported, and it was like a wave that the crowd makes at a baseball game. We passed junkyards and cemeteries. That was sad.
Then we passed some children playing in the front yard and I waved to them. I laughed as we passed the dog. It seemed that we had woken him up from his afternoon nap. I waved to the old man who was standing in the side yard waving at us or maybe he was just trying to block out the sun to see what the noise was about. When we stopped at a red light, I smiled at the girl in the back of the Ultra Classic next to us. We had been following her, and I had been secretly admiring her helmet the whole time. Sitting next to her, I was finally able to congratulate her. It was silver with pink roses on the sides. I love pink. She said something about her not liking the wind making the fringes on her vest hit her, and as we started to move on the green light, I watched as she pulled her coat out of the luggage compartment behind her. . As we rode she put on her coat and I was impressed. We rode some more and reached our destination, Brusters. I know. Frozen. We have a cold January day. What was she thinking?
We followed suit as bike after bike pulled into the parking lot and backed into parking spaces along the sidewalk in an orderly line. My husband stopped letting me off and I waited while he backed up our bike and turned it off. Suddenly there was silence. I slowly removed the helmet from my head enjoying the forgotten freedom and tried not to attract attention as I waited for the travel numbness to wear off. As I stood motionless, concentrating on the matters at hand and waiting for my husband to get his bearings, I chatted with a woman whose red hard hat was covered with stickers. There were too many to read at once, but one stood out. “Hairstyle by helmet” Cute! I could relate! I saw a sunny bench next to the building and decided to sit and wait for my husband while he ordered our ice cream.
I was so grateful for the sun and the warmth. She felt good. I watched as the bikers gathered in small groups and talked amongst themselves. I smelled the sweet fragrance of a cigar and searched for the man to whom he belonged. It smelled good. Something about it made me think of sitting by a warm fire, all cozy and warm. Then I heard my husband speak and I looked up to see him walking towards me with a chocolate ice cream cone. We share the ice cream. Knew well. Cold but good. While we were taking turns eating the ice cream, we met Cindy. She told us that it was her first solo trip. Wow! I wasn’t the only virgin on the trip!
When we finished eating, we decided to join the cyclists gathered by the bikes, so we got up from the bench. We had time now to take a closer look at some of the bikes and we enjoyed it. The riders were friendly and personable. Before long it was time to go. Paul said something about the plan being for him to ride with the sun on his back with the group following him. I asked him what the plan was when the sun went down, and he laughed and mumbled something about a swim meet for his daughter. I’ve been there and done that, I thought. The cyclists began to put on their helmets and shout “Saddle up” and, once again, the motorcycle engines roared.
One by one, the bikes fell into formation and left. There was no waiting this time and somehow our position changed. We were near the beginning of the group now. Shoppers from across town looked at us as we passed, and I wondered if they were having as much fun on their Saturday as we were. Probably not. Leaving the city, a red light broke up the group. We had passed through the light, but he stopped the rest of the group behind us. The only thing I could see in the rearview mirror were cars. many cars. And I was uncomfortable. Our route home was different. We were on a divided highway. Somehow, being in the middle of the pack before, on the two-lane highways, I felt a sense of security. With the busy road and the group separated, I missed the other bikes.
I guess Paul missed them too, because we stopped on the road. We waited only a few minutes and they joined us. We were together again. A great group. With a different position on the way home, I realized that I had a new bike to study ahead of me. Although I couldn’t determine the exact model, it was pretty. It had tons of chrome and was super shiny. I liked. The cover at the bottom was a skull face. I was wondering who the bike belonged to. How was the owner? That’s the thing with helmets. You can’t see the rider’s face. We turned off the divided highway onto a two-lane country road, and I relaxed by concentrating on the beautiful rural surroundings again. We ride and come to a red light having to stop. Things looked familiar. We turned left and I realized we were back on the route we had taken earlier.
As we continued I saw a couple of bikes move away from the group and I remembered hearing some riders say they weren’t going back to the dealership. It was sad to see the trip come to an end. We kept riding and the cold wind slapped my face. The temperature started to drop as the day ended, and I ducked my head trying to use my husband to block out the cold wind. Then, afraid I was missing something, I randomly looked up and saw a small plane overhead. I hastened to point this out to my husband, and he replied that we were not far from home. Before long, we were under the freeway, and the group turned right toward the dealership. We salute as we continue straight ahead, away from them. It was our time to break up.
We ride, just us. I could faintly see the light of a headlight far behind us in the rearview mirror, but we were no longer in the group. I wrapped my arms around my husband holding him tight and he released a hand reaching back to lightly touch my leg. I realized that he was thanking me. I’m thinking I’m over that guilt thing. I was sad to see the day and the end of the trip, but it was time. I was very cold! Caramba! My first trip was amazing. I loved it, and can’t wait to ride again. Here in the south, on a Saturday afternoon, even in the cold, there’s nothing sexier to do than take a walk!