Iíve been at this road riding gig for less than a year, but I think I figured out today why the bug has bitten me so hard. I took my first early-morning ride today, watching the sun rise as I rode 15 miles out to a small town where I found a local cafť for breakfast: one of those places that just oozes local color. It was almost all on a beautiful, smoothly paved rail-trail that has turned into a tunnel of trees now that the leaves are out. It was quiet and cool, and I finished my 30-mile round trip before the predicted clouds and rain arrived.
Probably like many others in this group, I spent most of the summers of my youth outdoors on my bicycle. I remember those days riding around with a bat and glove on my handlebars, looking for a pick-up game to join. This all ended when I was about 15 when my bike was stolen, and with a driverís license looming I lost interest in bikes for a while.
Then, in my early 20s, I started riding motorcycles. I remember how I came to realize that I really like motorcycles because they reminded me of my younger days on bicycles: out in the air, the feeling of freedom, and the enjoyment of banking through the corners on two wheels. I rode extensively for 35 years before I knew it was time to quit, and I thought that I had been willing to put all those experiences into the past.
But this morning it all came flooding back. When I went on motorcycle trips, my favorite time to ride was very early in the morning. Iíd hit the road while it was cool and the traffic light, watching the sun rise to start warming the day. About an hour into the ride, Iíd look for a place to stop for a big, leisurely breakfast before continuing my route. And this was exactly what it felt like today: a quiet ride on an isolated pathway; the early morning dampness in the air; looking forward to sitting down to a cup of coffee and a big plate of bacon and eggs.
Iíve come full circle. Iím back where it all started. Life is good!