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Sharing some MC Zen with my peeps


RVTPilot
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I just got home a few minutes ago from my ride home from class. Two more of these rides, and I will be a grad. But that's not the reason for this. As I casually rode home, I caught the scent of lilacs on the cool evening air, and it took me back to a time where I can say I truly got into riding. My lesiurely pace home allowed my mind to wax poetic of those memories, and here's a peek.

When I was stationed in Beaufort, SC, I bought my first new bike. Just home from Japan, I picked up a new '96 FZR600. It was mid summer of '95 and the stash I collected from 6 months worth of existing on beef curry rice, cheap beer and chow hall food put a nice down payment on my new ride. Though I had ridden off and on with a friend's bike in high school, this was the first machine that was all my own, and the newest thing I had ever ridden. And while it wasn't the popular F2 or new F3 or the hotness of a ZX-7, it was mine.

With my work schedule and the Mrs. schedule that summer, I ended up with a ton of evenings alone. So I spent lots of time aboard my newfound love interest, and took her through the paces along the South Carolina and Georgia back roads. I found that from about 6 until 8 o'clock at night was the best time for jaunts and excursions about the Low Country, as the heat and humidity had (relatively) expired, leaving the asphalt warm to the tires, but the air cool though my Shoei's vents. The roads were clean, wide, and for the most part vacant, save for the occasional passing cage, and sometimes temporary partnership of a fellow rider. But by and large, it was just me, the bike, and a plan of having nowhere to be and all night to get there.

As I traversed back and forth across the likes of SC 278, US21, and connective asphalt arteries, I'd pass under the canopy of the indigenous oak trees clad in the webbing of spanish moss. These occasional natural tunnels gave the scenery an ominous, yet stoic charachter that was offset by the blossoms of magnolia trees and blankets of honeysuckle. It was the fragrance of the latter that rested upon the salty oceanic air wafting into my helmet. This mixed with the scent of new helmet, exhaust, and scrubbing Dunlop created a peaceful yet intoxicating bouquet that induces even now right-wristed muscle memory that opens carb butterflies and extends forks. That summer spent breaking in a new bike and untested rider was akin to summers lovers often reminisce about when conjuring memories of a first love. I may have had previous summer afairs with a bike, but this summer I fell endlessly and hopelessly in love with this pastime. Nowhere else would I find the satisfaction I found with my bike.

Tonight was a glance back at that time as my olfactory nerves danced about incited by the cacophony of the evening air tonight. My chubby cheeks pressed well into the pads of my Arai as the grin grew large across my face. The thunder of the RCs pipes echoing amongst the surroundings spoke of how far I have come in terms of talent and machinery since that summer in '95, but the passion is just as strong, but perhaps deeper than it was the night I rode out of Savannah Yamaha on my pristine new FZR. Like recalling that first kiss that endeared my to the fairer sex, my mind conjured similar stirrings within my soul for my love for our sport. And that, my friends, is why I ride.

Edited by RVTPilot
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Most of you guys prolly wouldn't get it I guess. Most of you aren't old enough to have a memorable moment. But I know what he's saying. It's about reliving a moment, a special happening or experience. It's curious how we are wired that way. How some simple usually involuntary stimulis of smell, taste and/or sound can take you back a decade to reminise in a long forgotten moment.

I was almost there with you. I remember those lazy Georgia back roads. They were as amazing as you described. The moss made it feel like driving miles through a covered bridge. Georgia has its share of treasures i hope are never exploited. The empty beaches nobody but the locals know about. The swamps and wetlands. An island you won't find on a Map and one we called crab island was a desolate wonder itself. I found a meglodon tooth there. Just lying on top of the sand.

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Most of you guys prolly wouldn't get it I guess. Most of you aren't old enough to have a memorable moment. But I know what he's saying. It's about reliving a moment, a special happening or experience. It's curious how we are wired that way. How some simple usually involuntary stimulis of smell, taste and/or sound can take you back a decade to reminise in a long forgotten moment.

I was almost there with you. I remember those lazy Georgia back roads. They were as amazing as you described. The moss made it feel like driving miles through a covered bridge. Georgia has its share of treasures i hope are never exploited. The empty beaches nobody but the locals know about. The swamps and wetlands. An island you won't find on a Map and one we called crab island was a desolate wonder itself. I found a meglodon tooth there. Just lying on top of the sand.

+1 Devildog. There are tons of those roads in undiscovered places that may nit have the prestige of The Gap or the Ozarks, but in that lack of notariety comes the gift of wide open freedom. I think I would be just as happy to truck it down to Atlantic Beach, NC and run 70 out to 17, and just ride that south towards Savannah. I just hope it's not been turned in to 4 lane divided slab by now.

And we used to go take a little jaunt from the air station to cat island, where an extension off of Lady's Island ran out and terminated in a cul-de-sac only after twisting and undulating across the inlet. You could carve up some roads so long as the sugar sand wasn't strewn across it.

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too much to read.
+1.

Cliff notes FTW :popcorn:

:lol: I'm the same way. If it's too long I will just scan it. My wife gets sooo annoyed because I delete her email FWD's because I don't read them if they're too long. :lol:

I'm going on 32 and don't have time for that shit! :lol:

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I'm guessing you were also a MARINE. I was at Camp LeJune around the same time, 95 96. I had similiar experience because thatwas also when i got my first bike. Loved those summer evening rides. Great read man...

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I'm guessing you were also a MARINE. I was at Camp LeJune around the same time, 95 96. I had similiar experience because thatwas also when i got my first bike. Loved those summer evening rides. Great read man...

Semper Fi, leatherneck! I spent '92 at Cherry Point, '93-'93 outo f Beaufort (with 2 West Pacs in there), and '95-'98 at Cecil Field, in Jax, FL. I miss the sound of freedom more than I thougt I would. But those roads by the inlets down there are great for playing on. The olny bad part is the areas along the tide creeks when the tide is out and the sun bakes the creekbeds. Smells like unfiltered ass.:wtf:

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RVTPilot and luvkawzx6-R, Thank you both for your service.

RVT: Nice write up, and good read! I've had a few of those "Zen Moments" myself... It's cool!

** EDIT **

Woo-hoo my 50th post! It only took me a year!

:cruiser:

Edited by Ziggy
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Perhaps one of the most well-constructed works of prose that I've seen on the board! Good Work!!

I'm sure he'd let you blow him since you to have the same bikes.

:bj:

I heard you twin guys like to do that kind of stuff.

:D

Nice wordsmithing there Steve!

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:lol: Dude I myself was just teasing. I read it and it was a good read.;):cool:

Nick, you know you and I are all good. Eh, I know deep thoughts about motorcycling isn't for everyone. but once they hit puberty, things will change. :D

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ya, I was at cherry point also. I think around 97 I believe. I lived in Newport, not to far from Bouge Field (dont remember how to spell it). Use to spend alot of time at Atlantic Beach. I also bought my first bike when i got back from my first deployment, Kosovo. Awesome read, brought back some great memories. Oh ya, SEMPER FI!!!!

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