Biker Meditation

I was in sort of a mood this morning, for a variety of reasons I won’t go into here, except to say that one of them was probably that I haven’t had a good ride in a while. So, when your thoughts are all tangled and your mood is dark, the best thing to do to unfuck yourself is meditation. Specifically biker meditation, also known as wind therapy. Besides, I just oiled all the leathers yesterday – they needed to be aired out.

I was pretty proud to still be able to zip my chaps down my legs. There were a couple winters recently I couldn’t, due to “middle age spread”. I’ve had this same pair since 1989, so I really want to see how long I can make them last. So far, they’ve outlasted four leather jackets, four ol’ ladies, and about ten bikes. Who knows how many miles they’ve seen?

I digress. I put Lucy on a charger while I ate breakfast, because A) it’s been a while since I really rode her, B) we’ve had some cold nights lately, which can drain a battery left unused and outside, and C) due to finances of the moment, I was forced to buy a low quality, cheap-ass battery a few months ago.

Aaaaaanyhow, I got her all fired up and warmed up and myself suited up. Huh, look at that sentence – my day was already looking up….. (see what I did there?)

Sunday Rd on Sunday afternoon

Off I went. I started down some familiar territory, but chose some different roads branching off the state highways I’ve gotten used to. When you see a side road named Sunday Rd and you’re riding with no destination or schedule on a Sunday, you just kinda HAVE to try it, right? It turned out to be mainly residential, but had some hills and curves, so it wasn’t completely disappointing. A weird thing about today was that I kept taking these random turns onto roads I’d never ridden before, and somehow I kept riding circles and coming back to places I’d already been today. I’m not gonna lie, it felt like a metaphor for life, especially with the way my mind had been working earlier in the day.









But I just rolled with it, and let the engine vibration, the chilly air and the wind brush the stress away. After a couple of hours of crisp air, rolling through some semi-rural roads lined with a mix of Georgia pine and half barren trees still hanging onto some leaves that varied between red, brown, and gold, my mental load felt a lot lighter. Even when I found myself on an unfamiliar road heading toward downtown, with long lines at red lights, I didn’t stress it.

Autumn foliage in the metro ATL

Well, until I got stuck behind a bus doing 30 in a 45, holding up traffic, with no clear sight line to be able to pass safely. And me with a full bladder! By the time I was able to stop somewhere, I was doing the pee pee dance. Ah well, a couple drinks later and I was back to being relaxed.

So, the cure for an overthinking day in November appears to be wind and gin. In that order, mind you: be safe out there.

Prescription: More Throttle

I haven’t posted in a while, because I didn’t have anything new to post. I hadn’t found work, and was running out of money for gas to ride around on. Finally started work, and now I don’t have the time. Insert something here about greener grass on the other side or something like that…

Anyway, today I had kind of a stressful day. Nothing bad about the job; just me being me and mentally overreacting to things. Once I start down that road, I’ll just keep stressing. I’ve only found three cures for it. My girlfriend is a few states away in college. That left the bottle and the throttle. Living in my Dad’s strictly alcohol-free home left only one treatment: the throttle. After all, that's what had been missing in my life lately.

I came home, made a quick cup of coffee to perk me up – that 6:00 a.m. start time is still getting to me after a month and a half of unemployment. Then, grab the jacket, lid and gloves. Snag the iPod and dial up some appropriate music, and head out to mount up.

First, to the gas station. Well, gas stations. Plural. Here in the Southeast, we’re going through a miniature version of the historic gas shortages of the 1970s. The first station I tried was out of gas.

Full tank, helmet back on, hit the starter button, pull up the kickstand, engage first gear, and roll out. Waiting for the light to turn green, I reach up to the earbud cord and squeeze the Play button. Then roll away from the intersection to the opening tones of Motorhead’s “Ace of Spades”.

I rolled down GA Hwy 42 out of Morrow, through Stockbridge, on southward. Continued on 138, turning onto 155 toward McDonough. Neat little town, from what I saw as I rode through the square, past a courthouse from another time. I’ll have to go back again when there’s less after work traffic and check it out.

I continued on the street I sort of wound up on, Jonesboro Road, riding on across I75. When I noticed that the street name had changed to McDonough Street, I realized I must be getting closer to Jonesboro. Sure enough, not much longer, I wound up turning onto Tara Blvd. Back into territory familiar from my teen years. Coming farther into Jonesboro, I turned onto Battle Creek Rd, another familiar signpost from high school years. I passed Tara Stadium, where all the high schools in the county play football (at least in my day - there've been a lot of changes, so who knows?), and where, as a member of the ROTC Color Guard, I performed countless presentations of the colors during National Anthems.

A left turn onto Mount Zion road took me right back to the station where I fueled up a couple of hours earlier. Fifty miles and almost the entire album “No Remorse” to get right back to where I started. A fine use of time, electrons, and liquefied dinosaur remains, if you ask me.