Not really a motorcycle song but one that I like to crank on as I'm pulling up the entrance ramp to the highway as I'm starting a road trip. All packed up. Throttle twistin. Gear jammin and feelin The Breeze.
"Well, I got that green light, baby
I got to keep movin' on
Well, I might go out to California
Might go down to Georgia, I don't know"
There is something about the Harvest Moon that instills in me the urge for nighttime riding. Not sure if it’s a nocturnal animal instinct or just the fact that the moon shining bright at night gives more light to see more.
It’s usually late September or early October when it comes around, and a little chilly on a bike but with proper gear not bad.
One year several years ago when I was young and without the funds for proper gear I convinced some of my riding buddies, who were in the same financial states as me, and their ol’ ladies that we needed to take a late night ride when the harvest moon came around.
The plan was to meet about 10:00 pm and ride the rural river road from the town we lived in through the low farm lands to a hole in the wall dive bar in the middle of nowhere for cheap bar food and cocktails. About a 75 mile round trip.
The day the harvest moon came is what about 60 degrees during the day so we kept to the plan. By the time 10:00 pm had rolled around the temps had dropped about 30 degrees with some brisk northern winds that brought in the cold temps but none of us would back down. We were young, tough hard tail riding bikers.
About 15 miles out of town I was rethinking this plan. My overly thin gloves and cheap jacket were about as useful as a plastic bag against the cold wind but I figured we were almost have way there surely I couldn’t get much colder plus we were almost to the bar were I could get some whiskey to warm me up from the inside out.
I was never so wrong. When we got to the bar I peeled myself off the bike walked into the bar and through chattering teeth I asked for the strongest whiskey they had.
The bar maid replied, “Oh,,, we don’t have a hard liquor license but we some of the coldest beer around. “
I almost cried right there in front of God and everybody.
Needless to say the ride home was completely miserable and those guy’s ol’ ladies never let me live that one down. As a matter of fact I don’t remember leading them on another ride until March when we were Daytona for Nike Week.
LOL, great story FatFat, I've been on such rides, and once committed there's just no way out of it, just have to knuckle down and do it, do it, do it! (always was a Roger Miller fan)
Have been caught in rain storms so severe that we were soaked to the skin, and deeper, and yet still had 80 miles to get home!
Have ridden to race events where spectators fainted with the heat at mid-day, and yet we were near-frozen to death on the ride home that night.
Have ridden in fog so thick and low, that I could see for several miles, but couldn't see below the handlebars on my motorcycle to see the road!
I have screamed with "cold-aches" from my hands being frozen from riding too far in sub-freezing temperatures. To warm these extremities slowly when you arrive at your destination is torture, the brave, but masochistic way, is to plunge your hands into a bowl of extremely (near boiling) hot water, the pain is extreme, but it is over sooner!