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My favorite post on this site

643 views 4 replies 5 participants last post by  bsmac 
#1 ·
Every once and a while I repost this..... The story below was written by a member of the original VolusiaOwners.com site. It is long, but well worth the time to read it. Zookoff (Zane) passed away in early 2004 about the time I bought my Volusia and became a member.

I remember reading it and thinking OK, I'm not crazy, there are other people that feel the same way about riding as me. I couldn't have expressed my thoughts about this any better than Zookoff..... I never met you yet I miss you!

Friday night, 11 o'clock. Crazy time to ride, but I wanted to feel the cold air on my face, needed to think. So I needed to ride. Kids were playing video games and oldest daughter was online and chatting with friends. Hell, they wouldn't even really know I was gone, but I told them I'd be back in a bit.

Go out to Black Beauty, I swear she could tell we were gonna go out. Have to apply a little choke since I haven't rejetted and it was 50 degrees or so, I remind myself to check into buying the kit. Briman told me what to get. With a couple minutes warm up as I tied on my doo rag, cleaned the clear night glasses, pull on my gloves, a quick check of the bike and off I go. She sounds good tonight.

The cold air smells good. Smells like nights in the country when I was a kid. It's amazing the power smells have to make you remember. Things that you haven't thought about in 20, 30, or more years come screaming back into your mind just from some molecules mixed in air.

Riding on West Rd I pull up to the light at Hwy 6, hear some laughter, and look over to see a car full of teenage girls. I'm the age of their fathers, but they seemed to think the bike, or the image of a biker, were cool. I nodded and they giggled. I smiled. I like being that guy. Light turns so I headed out down Hwy 6 south........not going anywhere, just going.

That's why we ride. Yeah, we ride when we "HAVE" to go somewhere, have to ride in to work, have to ride here because we're supposed to meet someone, have to ride there for some other reason, but the real reason, is to just ride. It's not that destination, it's that ride. Just like life. The destination isn't what we focus on. We focus on "the ride". The "Journey", or as Garth said, "the Dance". So I ride.

Now, my mind is slowly being emptied. The stress is leaving, with each exhale, more and more leaves. Not all at once, not instantly, but it's leaving, I can feel it going. I stop in the left lane at a light and in the mirror, I see another bike. He pulls up next to me, in the middle lane. It's a Harley. Looks like a pretty new Night Train, Wide Glide, something along those lines with the skinny front tire, but man does it sound good.

I think to myself (and it's been discussed here many times) that I could spend 600 bucks on RoadHouse pipes (or any other pipes for that matter), and my Vol would never sound like that. He looks like a biker. I wonder if I look like that to other bikers. I mean......I have my doo rag on, leather jacket, leather gloves, motorcycle boots, but do I look like a biker? Does it matter? I have to admit, to a part of me inside, yes it does. It does matter that I look the part. I notice he's got a Jesse James type cap on and nod as I looked over and I think, what the hell, and I give him a thumbs up as if to say, "I ride a bike, but I am not afraid to say I think you're bike is way cool". He smiles. He understands sign language. No one else is at the light so I tell him I wished my Volusia sounded like his Harley. He laughs and says it could, and I responded that all it took was money, he smiles and nods.

Light turns green and we ride off. I look in my mirror, and he's coming over behind me. The Harley, letting the Volusia take the lead. What's he thinking? Is he just waiting for his time, and then he'll accelerate his Harley, having almost double the engine my Vol's got, and then pass me in contempt? I decide I don't care, I didn't come out to ride seeking a Harley riders approval, I came out to ride because I didn't want to think about stuff. I just wanted to ride. We're moving pretty good now, so I take the left side of the lane, he the right. He's riding right in the mirror so I can see he's there. Staying safely back, but letting me know he's there in case we need to move over.

Air is colder here, there's fewer buildings, and more land. More trees. More green, and it's cooler over the land, than over the pavement. We need more green, although we have to have the pavement if we're gonna ride. I'll think more about that later. We go from light to light, changing lanes and passing a slow car, changing lanes again to pass a truck that had terrible exhaust.

He's right there. Staying right where he's supposed to, but he's still letting the Volusia lead. The Suzuki is leading the Harley, and he's not too proud to let that happen. He's here for that ride too. Not for anything else. We run 65 mph down Hwy 6 after Groschke or whatever that road is called all the way to I-10.

That feels good......the cold air..........I can feel it on my face and it's cold, but that makes me feel alive. I can feel my face cold, but I can feel. I'm not numb. Our lives make us numb. We get up, make coffee, shower, go to work, make a living, go home do husband and dad things and go to bed. The next day, repeat. Numb. It makes us numb. Is he thinking about being numb? Does his life make him feel numb sometimes? When the cold air makes my face cold, when my mind wanders and I think back, and remember a memory from years ago, simply because of something I smell, I'm not numb anymore.

Yep, he's still there. We pull up to the feeder road of I-10, downshift, slow a little, downshift again, I really like the way drilled pipes sound downshifting.......I hear that single-pin cranked Harley gurgle and rumble as he downshifts as well and we both come to a stop. I'm alive. So alive. This ride is exactly what I needed. I look over at the Harley Dude, he's smiling. He knows. To top it off, he knows more. More than I give him credit for. Knows more that I give a lot of Harley riders credit for.

Grinning, he says, "Thats a really good looking bike". He knew. He knew what I was asking myself. He was asking himself questions too, the same, but from a different perspective. But, now I know...........he's here for the ride too. He just chose a different steed. His iron horse, and mine, aren't all that different. Both metal monsters that let us breathe. Let us smell. Keep us from being numb. It's not about the destination, it's about the journey. "Thanks I say". He nods. Yep, he knows. We share the same secret. The "secret" that all reading this story know. As the light turns green, we pull across the intersection.......he changes lanes and rumbles off. With waves of gloved hands, the Harley Dude and I go our separate ways. We rode together for 10 minutes. But it could have been 10 hrs. It didn't matter. We understood. We're not numb.

zookoff
 
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