Clouds which had been threatening all afternoon had coalesced into a deep opaque whole. Sunset was nigh. Low angle light slipped between the darkening skies above and the shimmering horizon below; like heat softened metal hovering just above the anvil. A hammer was about to fall.
I turned a full 360 degrees assessing the situation. It didn’t look good. The brooding skies I’d first noticed were the best of the lot. In the other direction the clouds looked positively malevolent. Wind was beginning to gust. I know the prevailing winds of the area. It was blowing in the wrong direction. Not good.
My plan had been to top off at the nearby gas station. That idea went out the window. This wasn’t yet an emergency, but it wasn’t a good time to fiddle fart around.
My motorcycle, a carbureted anachronism, takes a few seconds to warm up. I’m in the habit of thumbing the ignition while I’m standing next to it putting on my helmet.
Hustling to secure my helmet I became aware the bike was running without thinking about starting it. It was as if I’d willed the beast to life. Jacket zipped, gloves tightened, leg over, clutch in, kickstand up, clicked into gear, and under way. It happened in the smooth motion that comes from a thousand iterations and the tacit acknowledgment that I wanted to be anywhere but there.
Rolling out of the tiny town was frustrating. It took restraint to keep her under 30 MPH. The local yokel cops are pretty decent overall but they’ll gladly help balance their budget with a ticket issued to a flighty biker. So I reined in a “fight or flight” reaction even as I registered that not a soul was out and about. Small towns “roll up the sidewalks” early but even so I expected some human activity.
Wheeling through what felt like a ghost town at exactly the speed limit gave my brain time to catch up with my situation. A storm, a very bad one, was about to hit. You’d have to be a fool not to acknowledge that! Then again, so what? I’ve ridden through storms before. It’s a skill like any other; keep the wheels on the ground and don’t panic. You’ll be fine. The worst I’d get is soaked.
As my grandmother used to say “so you’re wet, you won’t melt!”
Wise lady she was. Also, not one to put up with bullshit. I hope I live up to her ways.
I did a little mental math. The winds were blowing south. I was heading south. The full force of the storm was still impending and not a done deal. If I could get out of town I’d be on open road and there’s not many storms that can outrun a bike. I might get wet but I’d likely be out of it before things got too exciting.
More to come…