1.21.2007,7:17 PM
Flight of the Frisky Filly

The bike was lonely. I was impatient. My back was killing me but I needed a ride; and a-ride we went.

I haven’t ridden in over a week. That’s the longest ever I haven’t ridden since Whee and I became a team. Only short of death could keep me off the bike today.

After pulling off the cover, the bike started with one press of the ignition button. He purred while I checked tires, brakes and chain. I geared up, almost too impatient to be sure all my gear was in order.

I had to pick up my right leg with my hands to put it over the saddle and I winced in pain. Sitting on the saddle I stared at the ‘pond’ of rainwater in front of us and the driveway. If I knew for certain the tires wouldn’t mire in the mud, I would have ridden around the house as normal. But with my back out like this, I knew I could not pick the bike up if it went down.

I winced and carefully tried to back the bike in the gravel to turn around. I could feel my left iliac crest grinding in the joint and my locked vertebrae pinching the nerve; my leg was going numb. Backing far enough at an angle in the driveway, I rode forward onto the soggy front lawn of the house and in a big circle back to the gravel drive.

Turning onto the gravel private road, I saw how greasy it was from washing out. Mental note: take it easy. I slowly stopped about a hundred feet from the tarmac road to let cars go by the entrance. When it was clear, I rolled the throttle open and sprang forth like a racehorse out of a gate. The front wheel left the ground for a second and I grinned with a “Woohoo!!” inside my helmet.

Turning a quick left onto the tarmac, I opened the throttle and we pranced ahead and around the corners like a frisky colt on a brisk morning. The leans and flicks, gear changes and suspension were all smooth. Everything was meshed: me and the bike. And we pranced forth like a frisky filly dancing with a frisky colt.

This was going to be a good ride.

I met Chuck at Borders and exchanged howdedos and horn connectors. With an ice tea and a book, I sat outside in the sun, called my family and closed my eyes to soak up the sun and recharge my batteries. It felt so dammed good.

I noticed a red bike parked next to mine and a young man reading at a nearby table. I saw his black helmet and the Ducati logo on his jacket. ‘Ah, a red Ducati next to a Wee-strom’. That’s like a polished Italian gentleman in finest Italian cloth next to an American farm girl in dirty coveralls.

Walking over to the bike preparing to leave, we introduced ourselves. Andrew and his Ducati 998 live in Weatherford. His friend Nick on his new blazing blue Ninja joined us from Dallas. We all chatted and I told them about the TWT forum, our wonderful Texas-wide community of riders and the several events and rides we participate in.

After we shook hands and waved goodbye, Andrew and Nick headed for a joy ride near Weatherford, and I went on my ‘Long Way Home’ ride heading the same way.

Whee and I sprinted for a 45-mile run, a nice spirited ride down country roads. I had to put a mental tourniquet around my right wrist to prevent the adrenaline from rolling the throttle wide open.

I stood on the pegs over bumps; positioning myself like a cat ready to pounce and up on the pegs as if I was jumping over fences on a horse. We tilted side to side on the straight aways and dropped shoulder and weight into the leans on the road bends. It was my mini race run. And I wore a grin the entire time.

I normally stop to take pictures here and there along the way, but not this time…….I didn’t want to stop.

I stopped once and took a few on the last neck home. Only because I had to stop and watch the sunset progress like a kaleidoscope.

My back didn’t hurt until I rode into home. The endorphins kept it silent. Until now.

The Jacuzzi is ready with hot water and the Advil sits next to my water.

It was a good day for a frisky filly to fly with the frisky colt.


posted by Macrobe
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