Z is for Zero Hour

Zero hour came Monday, November 24, 2014, when I looked in my car’s rear view mirror and saw my friend Carla Bryan ride Big Red across the intersection of Truxtun and Oak. We’d just left the AAA office, where we had taken care of the California DMV requirements, and Carla was leaving town, riding Big Red to her home in Las Vegas.

A bittersweet event, it was, surprisingly, more sweet than bitter. The hard stuff had occurred months before when I’d anguished over the big decision to give up motorcycling and sell Big Red. I’d spent restless nights and did a fair amount of bawling whenever I talked about it. Big Red had become a huge part of my identity. Who would I be now?

From the first time I put the words out into the Universe that it was time for Big Red to go, Carla was interested. She visioned the bike as hers and stayed positive. She kept in touch with me on Facebook and worked hard to earn the money to own Big Red. 

Laurie, TJ, Carla, me, and Sylvia

We had ridden together with the Sunblazers years ago before she moved to Las Vegas. Carla knew me and the bike, which she said were big factors in her decision to purchase Big Red.

Knowing my bike was going to someone who wanted her so much, would take good care of her, and would ride her on to new places -- and knowing Carla -- made it so much easier for me to pass Big Red along.

So in the wee hours of Sunday, November 23, Carla boarded a Greyhound Bus in Las Vegas, headed for Bakersfield, to pick up her “new” bike. We spent the afternoon getting reacquainted and orienting Carla to Big Red’s many features. She went for a spin and returned grinning from ear to ear. I felt better and better about Big Red’s new home.

Before we left the house Monday morning, I showed Carla the faded woven thread friendship bracelet that encircled Big Red’s left handle bar. “That’s been on there since 1996.”

She looked me in the eye and said, “And, it’ll stay there.” 

Blessings and safe travels to Carla and Big Red as they traverse the highways and byways of this great land, embarking on new adventures and seeing new vistas. It's comforting to know that a part of me will still ride in the wind with Big Red.

~ xoA ~

Y is for Yesterdays

Antelope Valley California Poppy Reserve

Astride Big Red, the USA was my playground with the back roads and highways reminiscent of the Game of Life, a board game in which players travel life’s roads, dealing with whatever befalls them. The time I spent cycling through life was extraordinary, even the occasional disconcerting or difficult times when the unexpected happened.

Honda mechanic in Greeley, CO, who got me back on the road.
He took the Gold Wing manual home so he could study it
and get me going the next morning.

For 25 years, I biked those roads, sometimes retracing and becoming familiar with them.  I knew to expect high winds on Hwy 40 coming through Amarillo. I learned, when on my way to Oregon at the end of May, I’d feel the sweet relief of coolness just north of Redding, California.

First scooter

The motorcycling years were a time of nurturing the sense of adventure inside me. A time of satisfying my curiosity about this country and places I’d only read about. I became stronger in body and spirit, more knowledgeable about geography, history, and regional cultures. It was a time of exploration and growth and finding out about my skills and capacities, my limits and passions.

Monterey on the California Coast

 Now it’s time to hang up my helmet. I sensed it. I knew it. I grieved it. I’m still grieving it.

Two things have eased the pain of change.  Scanning these past 25 years through photo albums and journal entries, I’ve relived countless memories of my yesterdays as a motorcyclist. Writing this series of blogs to retell my stories and share them with you has helped in my transition to former biker.

Though it’s been a time of letting go, sprinkled with a few tears and lots of smiles, the spirit of WingWoman lives on. And, as my younger daughter said, I will “always be a motorcyclist.”

Coos Bay, Oregon

~ xoA ~

“All my best memories

Come back clearly to me

Some can even make me cry.

Just like befoe

It’s yesterday once more.”

~ The Carpenters

X is for X-Factor

X factor -- noun.

  a circumstance, quality, or person that has a strong but unpredictable influence

The BMW I rode in New Zealand,
driving on the LEFT side of the road

Before we set off to New Zealand’s famed Milford Sound, I heard what our guide Al said about riding through the tunnel. “Don’t wear your sunglasses.” Three of us from Women on Wheels®, Donna, Nancy and I, rode together that day. I led our little pack.

Yes, I heard Al’s words, but when we reached the mouth of the tunnel, it was too late to safely pull over and stop. Before I knew it, I was already inside, my photo gray prescription glasses, dark. My friends, right on my tail.

The thought that went through my mind -- after a peck of expletives -- was, If I go down, we all go down. In the dark. I flashed my brake lights and backed off the throttle. Daring to take my left hand off the handle bars to reach into my helmet, I pulled down my glasses and peered over the frames, willing my eyes to adjust.

The narrow tunnel pierced the mountain for 1.2 kilometers.  There were no lights inside, just red reflectors on the walls and yellow ones on the strip that divides the two lanes. The slick, uneven road’s sudden downward slope, shot the headlight’s glow out into space.  I felt like I was driving into 'nowhere'. Sweat poured inside my raingear, making me feel like I was in a too-hot sauna. This was my scariest two minutes on a motorcycle. Ever. 

At the nearest safe shoulder on the other side, the three of us stopped to breathe and regroup. The good news was we’d made it unscathed. The bad news? To return to our farm stay lodging, we had to repeat this feat at the end of the day. 

Meanwhile, Judy had opted to ride in the van with Perry, another of our guides. Little did she know that Perry drove the van just like he handled his motorcycle. It was a harrowing ride for her, as Perry drove like a wild man and, so Judy could see just how dark it was in the tunnel, he cut the van lights for several yards.

Milford Sound is actually a fiord carved by the glaciers centuries before. It’s deemed the “wettest place on earth,” because rainfall averages 28 feet per year. Endless cascading waterfalls tumble down the faces of the rocks and cliffs from thousands of feet above. 

Our two-hour cruise showed off Milford Sound’s magnificence, but that return mile through the tunnel loomed over our heads, and I became distracted from enjoying the views. This was one day on our New Zealand tour when I would be glad to park my bike.

Internet photo

Since that terrifying incident, whenever there’s a conversation about the scariest time in our lives, this ride through the tunnel immediately comes up for me. What’s been your scariest moment?

~ xoA ~

W is for Women on Wheels®

Discovering an advertisement for Women on Wheels® in the spring of 1992 changed my motorcycling life. I’d had no idea of the power of belonging to a group of strong, competent, women who love to get out on their motorcycles and ride. In those days, we rarely saw other women riders. If a woman showed up with a helmet, she was climbing onto the passenger seat.

So the following summer, when I attended the Women on Wheels® International Ride-In near Atlanta, was a critical time -- a time of discovery, growth, pride, and of developing confidence as a rider.

My friend Sharon and I arrived on our red and white Honda Pacific Coast motorcycles at the host hotel in Dunwoody, Georgia, not knowing if we’d like this three-day event -- or this group. We’d pre-paid for our registration, but hadn’t bought the official Ride-In tee shirts. Neither had we made banquet reservations for the closing evening. What if we wanted to leave early? What if we didn’t like this group?

 Huntsville, AL 1999

As we rode up to the entrance, we couldn’t miss the huge “Welcome, Women on Wheels” sign on the hotel marquee or the array of beautiful motorcycles in the parking lot. I felt my smile broaden inside my full-face helmet.

Greenville, SC 2012

Walking into the hotel lobby, we saw clusters of women, some still wearing their riding gear, standing around, talking and greeting each other with hugs and squeals. And we heard lots of laughter. It was a scene of unbridled friendship. And, they welcomed us in.

June with her mom and riding buddy,
 Ms. Hazel at the 2012 Ride-In

The first morning, we straddled our bikes, lined up in pairs in the parking lot for the organized ride to a local motorcycle shop for a lesson and lunch. Soon, June Reeves, the ride leader zipped up and took her place at the front of the line. Her boyfriend climbed into the passenger seat, and the crowd broke out whooping and hollering, and blasting our horns.

By the time we returned from that first ride, had felt the warmth of comradeship and the joy of being with this crowd, we were hooked. Sharon and I rushed to the registration table to see if there were any banquet tickets left.   Somehow, we did manage to get two tickets, a lucky thing because I became a big winner when door prizes were awarded.

The second day, we all rode to Two-Wheels Campground in Suches, in the hills north of Atlanta. On a narrow, curvy road, it seemed like a longish ride. That’s where I learned that in Georgia, when the road sign on a curve shows 20 mph, they really mean it.

This first Women on Wheels® International Ride-In is where I met women and men who have become dear to me. They are now long-time friends who over the years have continued to inspire, reassure, teach, and befriend new riders.  Donna Brown was one of the few women Gold Wing riders at the ’92 Ride-In. She pumped me up and told me I could ride one, too. When I bought Big Red a year or so later, Donna instructed, “You need two things: floor boards and a back rest.”  I got them immediately, and on many a ride I have blessed her for that advice.

Donna in Huntsville at the 1999 Ride-In

Friendships with other riders whom I met at that Atlanta event have lasted more than 22 years. We’ve ridden together at other Ride-Ins, hosted each other in our homes, and kept up with each others’ lives.

Each year, Women on Wheels® holds the Ride-In in a different region of the country. This event is often a family event that is the central focus of many riders’ vacations. Attending it and seeing new territory have been why I, and so many of us, have ridden all over the U.S.A., multiple times.

Group Photo in Eureka Springs, AK - 1994

The mission of Women on Wheels®is “to unite all women motorcycle enthusiasts for recreation, education, mutual support, recognition, and to promote a positive image of motorcycling.” Even in the days before websites and Google and the mission statement flying across cyberspace, we knew it to be a reality. We felt it at each Ride-In. We rode a little taller in the saddle when on our own.

Cathy Davies at Eureka Springs, AK - 1994

~ xoA ~

T is for the Trek to The Bake

Cabin fever sets in during the winter months when motorcyclists can’t get out on their bikes. And, though Bakersfield is not normally a travel destination, from 2006-2008, it became the kick-off site for the California Sunblazers riding season -- The Trek to The Bake.

Beth, Laurie, & Virginia

Oregon club members Laurie and Beth would climb on their bikes around the last weekend in April and head south. Virigina would ride from Littlerock, California, and go past Bakersfield to meet Laurie and Beth on the road and escort them into town. One year, our members from Aguanga, Elaine and her Gene, joined us.

As with most events, we fell into traditional patterns. Friday we’d hold a reunion potluck. Good food, much reminiscing, games and laughter filled the evening. 

Sylvia, Debi, PattyB, & Trudy

There would be a day ride on Saturday. One year, to Porterville and the nearby iris farm. Another year, up the Kern River Canyon to Kernville, where they were having an arts and crafts fair. 

Perhaps the most stunning was our final year when we rode to the Antelope Valley California Poppy Reserve in Lancaster. Sunday morning was departure time for our Oregon amigas.

During the weekend, maps would be strewn over kitchen counters and on tables as we discussed summer plans, destinations, and routes. One morning Laurie, Beth, and Virginia traced the map and talked about their trip to Rapid City, SD. Beth would be going on to Kentucky to the WOW® Ride-In. It dawned on me that I could join them for a part of the way then break off on my own and head back to Coos Bay. Right then and there it was decided, and I was ready to ride.

As with all things, lives and priorities change, and the annual Trek to The Bake came to an end. But, on this Thanksgiving Day in 2014, I am grateful for the wonderful memories of our marvelous times, and for our deepened, enduring friendships.

~ xoA ~

S is for Sunblazers

Trudy 2012

I’m imagining the conversation began with Trudy pacing near her bright yellow Magna, puffing on a cigarette. It probably went like this: “I want to get out and ride!”

Then, agreement and head nodding from her friend.

“There must be some other women who want to ride, too. l’m gonna check out Women on Wheels®. Get some names of other women riders.”

More head nodding from her friend. It was hard to get a word in when Trudy was hot on a topic.

 * * * *

In early 1996, a letter arrived in the U.S. mail. It was from a woman named Trudy Albrecht. Little did I know that she and I would become great friends as a result of this letter and her desire to bring women riders together and form a Central Valley chapter of Women on Wheels®.

After the required number of meetings and memberships, and the necessary paperwork was filled out and filed, we were ready to ride as a formal group. So, on a Saturday in March of 1996, from all over the valley -- Fresno, Visalia, Corcoran, Clovis, Gustine Hanford, Coalinga, Bakersfield -- we met up at a gas station/convenience store on Highway 65 near Ducor, California. From there, we took off on our first excursion, to California Hot Springs Resort.  Mountain Road 56 climbed and wound into the central-southern Sierra Nevadas, and 25 miles later, we were at our destination.

Many of us were new to each other, so we spent time becoming acquainted over lunch in the resort dining area. Then someone went outside and came back yelling, “Snow!” We cleared the restaurant in no time, jumped on our bikes and carefully headed back down the mountain. This was the first of many memorable adventures with the group that became known as the California Sunblazers Chapter of Women on Wheels® -- Sunblazers, for short. 

Laurie shows off our Logo

The highways and byways of California and across the nation became ours. Excursions to the coast, the desert, and the mountains were all within reach -- sometimes on a day trip, other times, over night.  There were great weekends when we camped or rented a house at the coast. Once we were lucky enough to have a member with connections and stayed at a home overlooking the ocean at Cayucos.

Sunblazers in Redding 2001

We conducted meetings in which we learned about safe riding habits through reading, watching videos, and members’ experiences. Then, we put those behaviors into practice on the road, assuring safe journeys and fun experiences together. Basic maintenance seminars, given by our chapter director, Sylvia Thornton, enabled us to become more knowledgeable and feel more confident when out on the road.

One of the things I’ve been most proud of with the Sunblazers is our willingness and dedication in mentoring new riders. Often women have a desire to begin riding their own motorcycles but have few options for practice with seasoned, safety-conscious bikers. We have a history of helping those women gain experience and self-assurance.

The greatest gift for me is the personal connection between members, the friendships and loyalties that have developed over the years. We know we can count on each other on and off the bikes and enjoy time together over meals, in our book group, and in other travel adventures.  

Trudy, Earlene, Judy, Gil, me, & Sylvia
Kern County backroads ride

For nearly twenty years, a number of us have traveled the continent together -- to all points between both coasts, to Alaska, and even across Canada.  We can count on each other, knowing that our bikes will be road worthy, clutches will be out at the agreed-upon time, and will be considerate, law-abiding, safe riders.

3-Dam Ride - Redding 2001

From a group of strangers to a band of buddies, we are all the richer for knowing each other and bonding as Sunblazers.

                                                                                                                

R is for Ridin' the Rockies

Colorado Rockies [internet photo]

Living on the western edge of the United States, motorcyclists get to ride through some gorgeous country in our own neighborhoods. But, riding any distance to the east, we must traverse the magnificent Rocky Mountains. From Canada south to New Mexico, the Rockies inspire us and tantalize our senses.

Map from internet

Having motorcycled back and forth across the country six times, I’ve seen my share of the Rockies but have never gotten my fill. The towns of Colorado stand out -- Durango, Estes Park, Denver, and Aspen, to name a few. And, Cañon City, the scene of the 1998 Women on Wheels® Ride-In. It was at that Ride-In that I overheard one of the Motorcycle Safety Instructors in our groups coaching a brand new rider: “Chin up, stay up, as you go around those curves.” This is a phrase that I now repeat often, sometimes aloud so I can hear it as well as think it.

Ten years later, Laurie, Virginia, and I rode through the Idaho and Canadian Rockies on our way to Michigan. As we pulled in for the evening at our motel in Coleman, Alberta, Canada, the view of the sun setting on the snow-topped mountains was breathtaking. Too soon the next day we rode out of that storybook setting and began two days of travel through flat farmland.

Beartooth [internet photo]

The Rockies of Idaho and Montana treated Judy and me to some glorious vistas and twisty roads on our trip to Glacier National Park one summer. I’d heard from a fellow motorcyclist about his trip across the Going to the Sun Road at Glacier and was eager to ride it. Though we met with a lot of rain on that trip, and it didn’t feel much like we were “going to the sun,” we still had a memorable time.

Virginia & Sylvia view the Grand Tetons 2013

Most recently, the 2013 summer ride to Billings, Montana, allowed the “four amigas,” Laurie, Virginia, Sylvia and me, the pleasure once again of the Grand Tetons, Beartooth, and Yellowstone. 

Majestic in stature, fascinating to look at, and riveting to ride, I never tire of the Rockies.

~ xoA ~

K is for Kansas

 Kansas is one long drawn out state when traveling through on one’s way to the curvy tree-lined roads of Arkansas. Between the flat landscape and the stink of the stockyards, crossing Kansas takes forever. Yes, we have the “amber waves of grain,” but there’s not much variety in the view.

My first long-distance ride on Big Red, in 1994, was with my friend Sharon, who rode her pearl white Pacific Coast.  We were on our way to the Women on Wheels® Ride-In, that year in Eureka Springs, Arkansas.

One night we stopped over in Dodge City, Kansas. Maybe it was all those western movies that lured us. Remember, the cowboys always had to “get out of Dodge”? Or, it may have been that the AAA tour book write-up, boasting a replica of the old western town, piqued our interest. Dodge City awaited us.

When we rolled into town, we found our motel right next to the stockyard. The stench filled my nostrils and brought tears to my eyes. Wow! The dust, stirred by the hooves of thousands of cattle, filled the atmosphere, nearly choking me. Several minutes after the initial shock to the senses, the odor miraculously subsided.

 

Internet photo

The old western town looked typical of a movie set. Saloons, stores, a bank, and a number of other buildings lined the main street, a dirt track. We ambled along and came upon a big barn that had been outfitted with a stage and benches and turned into a theatre. A show was about to start, so we hurried in and found aisle seats.

It’s been over 20 years, so I don’t exactly remember the show. But I do know that before too long, we’d both had enough. One of us spotted a nearby side door. Motioning to each other, we decided to slip out that door instead of walking back up through the rows of people on the benches.

We wanted to make a getaway without a big ruckus. As carefully and noiselessly as possible, we stood and eased toward the door, opened it, stepped out, and closed the door with care. But, we’d landed in a small fenced-in field full of cow pies. The cows noticed us and began to move in our direction. There was nothing to do but hustle back inside.

Luckily, that door hadn’t locked behind us. We walked back in to find the show stopped and the audience enjoying our scene and laughing at us city slickers. Red faced, we held our heads high and strode up the aisle and through the crowd to the main doors and outside. Somewhere on the street we found water and washed off our tainted motorcycle boots. It was time for us to mount up and get out of Dodge.

 ~ xoA ~

J is for Journey Fever

2013 - Sylvia & I warm up our bikes.
We're meeting Laurie & Virginia to head for Billings, MT.

It never fails. Never. Anticipation rises like steam from a boiling tea kettle. Judy and I laugh about my restlessness.  “Journey Fever?” she asks. I own right up to it.

I go to bed, but sleep is short on the night before a big ride. Last-minute rememberings of items to check or to bring cross my mind. And, the first day’s route loops behind closed eyelids. Journey Fever.

Finally asleep, my eyes fly open an hour before time to get up. When I’m about to take off on a big trip, I need no alarm clock. I should try to rest, but in thirty minutes, climb out of bed anyway.

Dressing is quick and easy; I'd laid everything out the night before. Layer by layer, in the order that I will put it on. My black over-the-ankle boots will be the last, right before I head out the door.

A light breakfast, and I am ready to roll. Clutches out. Big Red has been pre-ride-inspected to make sure she’s roadworthy. Her saddlebags and trunk are loaded, and she's turned around to face the garage door so we can ride straight out.

If I’m meeting up with a buddy, I wait to leave so I can be there a few minutes before the appointed time. But, if traveling alone or scheduled to rendezvous at the end of the day, I depart at first light. It’s no problem if I arrive at our destination early, or if I have to wait for my friend somewhere on the road, that’s okay. Because I am ON THE ROAD. The journey has begun.

~ xoA ~

H is for Hustle to Huntsville

When Women on Wheels® announced Huntsville, Alabama, as the location of the 1999 International Ride-In, I began planning. Huntsville was the trip's centerpiece, but Judy and I made it a comprehensive event by visiting family and friends and doing a bit of sight-seeing in the east.

First, I took off on Big Red and saw relatives in Illinois, Ohio, and Michigan. A couple of weeks later, Judy flew out to visit her brother and his family in Chatham, Virginia. I wound up in Lynchburg, 50 miles north of Chatham, where Judy met me at my friend Peggy’s. The three of us took off on the “Hustle to Huntsville” with Peggy’s car and Big Red as our transportation. Judy and Peggy took turns driving the car and riding two-up with me. If it rained, they both rode in the car.

Driving the rural roads of Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, and Alabama was mostly peaceful, except for a few near misses when folks driving autos weren’t good at sharing the road. In many cases, it was more nerve wracking for Judy or Peggy, driving the chase car and able to only watch as errant drivers crowded Big Red’s space. Well, they did honk, yell, and make wild gestures, but I’ll bet those other drivers paid no attention.

We arrived at the Ride-In site with a few stories to tell our roommates, Sylvia and Trudy, from Bakersfield. Sylvia had ridden in from Missouri, where she’d been working. Trudy had just completed the Four Corners, riding to each of the four corners of the U.S. in 21 days.

From the list of possible lodgings available, I’d reserved a cabin that would accommodate five people. It was a peaceful place near the lake, where Trudy did fish, and there were kitchen facilities to have some of our meals in.  Cool evenings, we relaxed and chatted away on the deck, getting to know each other even better.

With three motorcycles, we could all ride up to the main lodge for Ride-In programs, test rides, and general hanging out with friends from all over the country.  The group excursion to Jack Daniel’s country in Lynchburg, Tennessee, found us sweltering in the July heat and humidity. But that’s just part of the deal. The sights, camaraderie, and laughter make up for barely tolerable weather.

I did take BMW’s new touring bike out for a test ride. It was about the same size as Big Red, and seemed like it would be easy enough to handle. I felt comfortable just sitting on it, but when we began to roll and I looked through the curved windshield, I got woozy. Nearly sick to my stomach, I turned around within a mile. “Back so soon?” the surprised-looking salesman asked.

I nodded my head and handed over the keys, “I can’t ride that bike. The windshield’s curved too much for me.” And that was the last time I took any bike for a test ride.

From the first night, when our Georgia friend June rode an Elvis impersonator into the pool party, to the banquet on our final night, that Huntsville Ride-In was one of the best. It was even sweeter to share with best buds.

~ xoA ~