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The ride


oldschoolsdime92

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I pulled this from the easttnriders forum. I thought it was a good writing.

The gas tank was topped off, tires in good shape, all was working well. As I eased back onto the lake road I noticed there was still a bit of fog across the farther ends of the lake. I knew it would be burning off quickly as the sun continued its climb in the sky. Until then it lent a surreal feeling, a hint of chilly mist as the revs settled down along the frost heave-ridden roadway.

The morning had started like many others, alarm signaling time to awaken and face the day. Today was a Saturday and the first in a long, long while that promised clear skies and a mid-seventies afternoon. There had been three days of steady rains to wash away the winter and spring was making itself known with a vengeance. It was an easy decision to throw a leg over my trusty steed and turn it away from home toward my own version of Mecca. A quick stop for a breakfast biscuit and a last moment top off on fuel and I was ready for a day of riding.

A few yellow flowers dotted the hillsides punctuating an otherwise bland covering of dried grasses, a holdover from winter that would soon change to the brilliant colors of spring. The rock faces still had a dark glistening sheen from the previous nights rain and were highlighted by random waterfalls, some small, some large. Even the often dry fall next to the first big turnout was running today; it was almost as if the road itself was beckoning a welcome to my day!

It was easy to take notice of these things as my bike constantly surged and hunted against the slow speed limits of the lake road. It positively craved these cool, crisp mornings as a well trained race horse bucks against the gate in anticipation. The bars felt light in my hands, relaxed, tactile. I could feel every nuance of the road, every imperfection, yet none of them felt harsh. It just let me know what was beneath me and let me more confidence. This easiness was reinforced by a few simple sweeps back and forth within my lane. Responsive. Eager?

At last I was along the last part of the lake road. The fog is fading back into the valley of the lake. The bridge marks the beginning of my destination, for on this day the destination is a few miles long. Not one car or bike has been seen since I first got onto the lake. It is early yet, but until they come this road belongs to us.

Across the bridge there is a short straight as my foot taps down a few gears. A handful of rocks, a couple roughly the size of bowling balls, line the right side of the road after being cast down by the recent rains. No worries there as I lean into the first left then tap the brake for a tighter right.

My bike is a willing dance partner today. Eager to surge forward at the merest hint of throttle. A slight bend leads to another slower left and tighter right, these I take a bit quicker feeling out my tires. So far, all is well. I let her have the bit as I roll the throttle on up the short hill approaching the tight left, one of a few corners where people didn’t make it. Harder on the brakes and my knee puck grazes the surface for an instant before I’m hard on the gas through the left bend and harder still on the brakes as the right hand hairpin approaches.

A rougher corner this hairpin, often covered in a bit of gravel from those trying to cut it, a paint stripe farther than it needs to be. No one coming so I take a late apex and let the corner fall behind me as the front tire skims the road as I power up the hill. The tach swings frantically toward the red as the sound echoes off the close rock wall. Small left bend taken at full twist, my foot taps the next gear, my bike a part of my hands, an extension of my legs…

A blip of the throttle as I bring it back down a gear for the harder left. This one a bit blind; one that often catches those coming toward me by surprise. No rush here. Just roll on the throttle for a moment and back off for the even tighter right, my knee pucks playing along the white line of the road edge.

In front of me now are the esses, one of my favorite sections. Playful fun, a rapid string of dancing apexes taken with the throttle opening. Right, left, right, left, as fast as I can lean the bike, then up a gear until the next sharp left approaches all too quickly.

Hard on the front brake for this corner, the rear twitching as it goes light, and then smoothly trail-braking before you get there for the sun almost never touches it. Sure enough, it’s damp and usually slick, especially toward the edge. A late apex lets me avoid most of it without putting me on the line, yet no hints from the bike of anything but grip. The rains have done their job. Something to revel in as the tight right approaches, banked nicely to carry a bit of speed. A second left to right almost a mirror of the first save for a much shorter straight and a third set that open up toward a pair of bends.

The overlook is empty as I grab the next gear. No one is there yet, but I know my friends will be joining me shortly. The front wheel climbs from sheer power. No one to show off to, no one to impress, no camera’s clicking, just me and my machine and the sheer thrill of riding!

The bike is again surging at the bit, unrelenting in its’ desire to build speed and attack the apex. Every corner has brought a larger smile, every touch of the throttle that much more torque. Today everything is clicking. This is one of those rare days where everything is coming together perfectly. My mind is clear and sharp; everything is in focus. The sun is illuminating the road with early morning brilliance. The corners are beckoning and we, my trusty steed and I, are up to the challenge!

Twenty four corners down, two-hundred ninety-eight to go….

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