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

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 ~

Q is for Q & A

Las Amigas in Nevada

When folks see a group of women riders, or a lone rider, they are surprised and curious. Questions, the reasonable and the ridiculous, roll out of their mouths.

“Hah! A bunch of women?”

“Where are you going?”

“How much does that motorcycle weigh?”

The first cross-country bike trip I took was with my friend Sharon in the early ‘90s. Starting out on Honda Helix scooters, we rode west to dip our toes in the Pacific Ocean. Then, we headed east to do the same in the Atlantic. I remember one question: “What are you going to do if it rains?”

Naïve, we laughed and said, “We will get a motel, sit down, and read our books.”

Beth and I coming home in the rain

The reality is this: When the rains come, you slow down and keep going as long as you can see well enough. You’re watchful that the water on the road doesn’t make your bike hydroplane and that no hazards are below the water’s surface. If the water rises high, swirls around you, or becomes so murky you can’t see, it’s time to pull over. On my Baja trip, our leaders cautioned us particularly about running through rain-filled vados, big dips in the road since we couldn’t see to the bottom.

Always, my first response is, “Strangers have jumped out of their vehicles and off their porches to help me pick it up!” And that’s true. It’s happened more than once. I could take you through the alphabet with names of places where folks have come to my aid. But, at almost every women’s motorcycle rally, there are demonstrations and opportunities to practice picking up a downed bike. Even a Gold Wing.

“Can you change your own oil or work on your bike?” 

I have to quote and agree with one motorcycle buddy from years ago who said, “That’s why I have a job. So I can pay a mechanic to do that.”

I can check tire pressure and put air in, check the oil, and, thanks to my friend Sylvia, refill the coolant reservoir. Once I even changed the battery, with Judy beside me reading the directions.

Getting TJ's bike started; Sylvia in the saddle

A lot of women riders have the knowledge and skills to do their own motorcycle repair and maintenance. If anything goes wrong with a bike, Sylvia, can figure out the problem and most often fix it. There have been times when Sylvia’s just laid hands on an unresponsive Big Red and she starts! The women I ride with, Laurie, Virginia, and Sylvia, amaze me with their skill, determination, and guts when tackling the mechanics of motorcycles.

PattyB in Glenwood Springs, CO

“Did you ride that thing all the way here?”

This question is one that is tempting to answer with sarcasm. Believe me, those kinds of retorts flash through most women’s minds. But, we refrain from speaking them aloud out of decency toward the speaker and as a matter of insuring our own safety. But, when we gather over dinner and a beer, the comebacks and laughter flow. “Well, I rode it half-way and pushed it half-way.”

Every motorcyclist I know welcomes the opportunity to talk about his or her bike. So, go ahead. Just ask your question. What is it that you’ve always wondered?

~ 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 ~

I is for Impressions

Bill, the carpet cleaner technician, lifted his gaze after 30 minutes spent surveying our floors and dragging in his equipment. He caught a glimpse of Big Red under cover on the patio. “Hey! Whose motorcycle?”

 

“Mine,” I said, moving right into my proud WingWoman posture.

“That’s a Goldwing!”

“Yep,” I beamed.

Wide-eyed, Bill turned and seemed to size me up. I could see a flash of admiration cross his face as he said, “I could never ride one of those.” Then he went on to talk about the discomfort and uneasiness of being unable to stand flat-footed and hold the bike up when stopped. “Those things are heavy,” he said, nodding at Big Red.

Like many others, Bill didn’t expect to discover that I am a motorcyclist. His surprise has been the typical reaction. Over the last 25 years, countless middle school students, members of my social and service clubs, and strangers on the road have been shocked at this news.

The people we encounter while on a trip ask questions that women riders find hilarious. “Did you ride that thing all the way here!?” and “Where are your men?” are two favorites. When one friend and I stopped for a bite to eat in one of the southern states and the clerk asked where our men were, my friend answered, “Oh, we buried them in the backyard when we built the swimming pool.” That remark got us some weird looks.

 

Sylvia, Virginia, Laurie, & me - US Hwy 50 in Nevada

Though the number of women riders has increased and women are the fastest-growing group purchasing new motorcycles, many folks retain the stereotype of the “biker babe” decorating the seat behind the man. So they are amazed that a woman can handle her own bike.

And, there’s still that image from biker movies of the rough, tough, burly, tattooed “Hell’s Angel.” 

Once people meet a real motorcyclist, they realize we are everyday, hard-working, fun-loving individuals. It’s just that we are willing to take calculated risks and seek adventure, fun, and new vistas. The freedom of the road calls, and the hum of our engines and wheels soothes. On our motorcycles, we are at one with nature and ourselves.

 

California Poppy Preserve

 What’s your impression of the motorcyclists you’ve met along the way?

 

~ xoA ~