Sunday, June 19, 2011

Happy Father's Day

the day started gloomy. Too dismal to consider a ride through Vancouver to the mountains. We stayed in bed....and I cooked him bacon....not an easy feat for a vegetarian.

As the sky lightened we eventually sidled our way to a Show and Shine in Surrey. Lots of fringe...lots of grey.....a few rode over the grass so tenuously that I wondered of their skill on the road. They had the 1200 electraglide all decked out and they matched it perfectly....but the fear on their face on slippery grass was priceless. I might have taken a picture but I was afraid they would think I was after them. (shudder)

We walked around...talked a bit...and the man gave his piece of wood up for another guy. When I asked why he shrugged and said his bike was pretty solid....and the guy had on a motorcycho patch. I am curious why he doesn't say..."hey - that's me" to anyone. Every now and then someone figures it out. At the Yamaha dealer yesterday the guy pegged him. "ya"...he says somewhat meekly. "How did you figure that out?" I ask. "Facebook....I saw a pic on FB and knew it was you." Norman Anonymous might not remain that way.

Something I have always admired about him is that he has never had the need for someone to know the details. He has given to those in need....with no praise....he dj'd for years with the anonymous moniker....and his magazine is decades old now. He has never sang his own praises....never tooted his own horn. I have never seen him try to get attention for any of the things he has done.

Of his greatest accomplishments, I know that he has 4 amazing kids who adore him, admire him and are proud of their humble dad. I am the most blessed of all....and I get to ride with him into the sunset.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Chuckanut Drive has yet to disappoint me. We had no one in front of us the entire time.....and the only damper on the moment was the cop at the very end pulling us over for a ticket. I have no idea how he could have gauged that we were doing 60 in a 40 zone. He was hidden from view and not pointing anything at us. We chew on this fact later in the day of course....after the request for $195 has already been issued.

Trying to be as optimistic as possible I note that many times we have escaped detection...and with the thousands and thousands of kilometres we ride...we truly have been fortunate. Ken concedes..though I know his attitude borders on insolence.

We amble through the farms to Mosquito Lake Road....but not before i spot another cop coming toward us. "Pull over," I urge, just to see if he is possibly going to follow us. In true form he pulls onto the deserted farm road....and letting him lead but losing sight of him means that my head is twisting and turning to spot him anywhere while the speedometer is kept within the legal limits. The stress is almost too much for the man. He admits this at one point and I think he is about to turn around. A deep sigh and some resolve and we continue on the road...with a little more thought and not quite as carefree as usual. Mosquito Lake Road ambles and bends around pristine farms, meadows hugging hills and as far as I can tell, not a lake in sight.

American flags and We the People signs are prevalent everywhere. Mentions of troops and guns are plastered on signs as well, reminding us that we are far from our home and native land...even if we are within an hour.

We head toward Mount Baker and the back and forth...left to right following bendy snakes as we climb. The vista is breathtaking. Snow....in 10 and 20 foot drifts line the sides of the roads, though the air has no hint of cold. At the apex the valley is verdant and distant.


Our descent takes us back through the esses and a view of waterfalls from melting snow. The moment is great, although I can feel myself in the mode to clutch, brake and throttle. I am not entirely bored as a passenger....but I crave the thrill as you dip from side of side.

The valley is peaceful, cows lowing, a deer hopping through grass...bison huddled together at a fence. The dale seems frozen in time....time of yesteryear with cars strewn through the acres...washtubs....trailers. There is no hint of this century. It could be the 80's...

Heading back toward home there is the comfortable meandering through the backroads. Our adventure is done before two and we are brought back to reality of the now....dishes neglected, laundry and a game to fret over.

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Had I known years ago how much I would love the adrenalin rush of the wind in my face...it would have happened decades ago. I love it.....I really and truly love it. It could not have been a more idyllic day. For some reason cars were banished from our routes and we were able to enjoy twists and turns through bucolic settings along 264th in Aldergrove. I am such a nerd that I actually was singing about how much I love this place....living in Vancouver takes my breath away.

Riding is ethereal. I can't help but smile. I love that I don't have to think about gears...it all comes natural now. Look to the left and right - more throttle to catch up to him. He is on the Pan today and the swagger is there. Left hand on his hip on the straights....gliding around the curves....mmmmmm...'The swagger......nuff said.

Mountains in their majesty...winding tarmac...the flicker like a filmstrip of the sun amidst the trees. Could it possibly get any better? I think not!!