FLTRI
08-22-2008, 03:30 AM
I wrote this a couple of years ago when I was still working in Laughlin. I got home after a brutally hot and miserable day down there, went for a ride around 1:00 AM, and had most of this written in my head on the ride home. Sat down at the computer, and it all rolled out in about five minutes. Kind of a stream of consciousness piece...
The day’s okay, but I live to see those rays slip away.
Stolen, and probably misquoted, from Blue Oyster Cult.
It's hot and muggy in Las Vegas right now. This is the time of the year I envy folks that live in the Snow Belt. They all are out there racking up miles, riding winding roads lined with beautiful green trees, and doing it all in relative comfort. It's riding season for them.
For us, it's the off-season. The monsoons are here, 110 degrees and 50% humidity.
But then, the sun goes down. It's still touching 100, and the humidity is still there, but that blast furnace in the sky is now torturing Sri Lanka, or some other near equatorial place I've never been.
Time to ride.
Wake up the Rineharts at midnight and sneak out of the neighborhood, 1600 RPM keeps the decibels down until I make it onto a major street. I can give it a little more juice now, not too much, because there is a good chance anyone else rolling beside me has either had a few too many, or is looking for those that have. Don't want to have an off course incident, or draw undue attention to myself.
After a few shortcuts, I make it to the new freeway. The 8 to 5 commuters are all snug in their beds, and those that are left are in a hurry to get there. Hit the ramp in second gear, run her up to redline, quick squeeze to the clutch, up shift to third, and I get a satisfying lift on the front suspension as I join the others running 80 plus.
This is what I paid the tuner for.
I love freshly paved surfaces. Flat, smooth and black. The sodium streetlights cast so much light that I could drive with the lights off. I see the shadow of the bike catching up, passing and fading, catching up, passing and fading, catching up, passing and fading …
The freeway ends as I enter old Henderson, and approach Lake Mead. So do the streetlights. It’s dark now, the billions of watts Las Vegas burns every night are still a glow over my left shoulder, but it’s black as coal in front of me. Flick the high beam on, and it opens up the blackness a bit further down the road.
Ride up to the tollgate into Lake Mead Recreational Area, and hope I have $5.00 to get in. But it’s past midnight, and the park rangers have finished their shift too. Glide through the gate at 5 mph, see a whole bunch of nothing in front of me, and twist hard.
Yup, again, the dyno time was worth it…
Got to watch it out here though. Coyotes, gravel, big horn sheep, drunks towing their boats home, and plenty of jackrabbits could put a serious damper on my ride. Settle into a nice 60 mph lope, and lean the Road Glide into the sweepers. It’s all high beam now, and it feels like I can see forever.
Stars. I can see the stars. Maybe that’s not unusual in other pars of the country, but it’s a bit unusual here. Too much light pollution from The Strip. But not out here, they are out in full force. Maybe I’ll see a shooting star...
Maybe I should look where I’m going instead, that’s a better idea, coyotes and all.
45 minutes later and I’ve reached the other end of South Shore Road and the exit tollbooth. Nice little chicane here, no ranger, and I know the line. Lean right, push right, pull her back, lean left, push left. Scraped both boards.
Stupid stunt, I know, but damn that was fun…
Gotta get home now, my wife left her car out so I could ride. She told me to have fun, but I know in my heart that she worries when I ride at night. She pretends that she doesn’t, but then, that’s why I love her.
Back on the freeway, and the thoughts of moving somewhere where the scenery has more that four shades of brown seems much less important now.
Yup, It’s off-season in the desert.
But I can always ride at night.
The day’s okay, but I live to see those rays slip away.
Stolen, and probably misquoted, from Blue Oyster Cult.
It's hot and muggy in Las Vegas right now. This is the time of the year I envy folks that live in the Snow Belt. They all are out there racking up miles, riding winding roads lined with beautiful green trees, and doing it all in relative comfort. It's riding season for them.
For us, it's the off-season. The monsoons are here, 110 degrees and 50% humidity.
But then, the sun goes down. It's still touching 100, and the humidity is still there, but that blast furnace in the sky is now torturing Sri Lanka, or some other near equatorial place I've never been.
Time to ride.
Wake up the Rineharts at midnight and sneak out of the neighborhood, 1600 RPM keeps the decibels down until I make it onto a major street. I can give it a little more juice now, not too much, because there is a good chance anyone else rolling beside me has either had a few too many, or is looking for those that have. Don't want to have an off course incident, or draw undue attention to myself.
After a few shortcuts, I make it to the new freeway. The 8 to 5 commuters are all snug in their beds, and those that are left are in a hurry to get there. Hit the ramp in second gear, run her up to redline, quick squeeze to the clutch, up shift to third, and I get a satisfying lift on the front suspension as I join the others running 80 plus.
This is what I paid the tuner for.
I love freshly paved surfaces. Flat, smooth and black. The sodium streetlights cast so much light that I could drive with the lights off. I see the shadow of the bike catching up, passing and fading, catching up, passing and fading, catching up, passing and fading …
The freeway ends as I enter old Henderson, and approach Lake Mead. So do the streetlights. It’s dark now, the billions of watts Las Vegas burns every night are still a glow over my left shoulder, but it’s black as coal in front of me. Flick the high beam on, and it opens up the blackness a bit further down the road.
Ride up to the tollgate into Lake Mead Recreational Area, and hope I have $5.00 to get in. But it’s past midnight, and the park rangers have finished their shift too. Glide through the gate at 5 mph, see a whole bunch of nothing in front of me, and twist hard.
Yup, again, the dyno time was worth it…
Got to watch it out here though. Coyotes, gravel, big horn sheep, drunks towing their boats home, and plenty of jackrabbits could put a serious damper on my ride. Settle into a nice 60 mph lope, and lean the Road Glide into the sweepers. It’s all high beam now, and it feels like I can see forever.
Stars. I can see the stars. Maybe that’s not unusual in other pars of the country, but it’s a bit unusual here. Too much light pollution from The Strip. But not out here, they are out in full force. Maybe I’ll see a shooting star...
Maybe I should look where I’m going instead, that’s a better idea, coyotes and all.
45 minutes later and I’ve reached the other end of South Shore Road and the exit tollbooth. Nice little chicane here, no ranger, and I know the line. Lean right, push right, pull her back, lean left, push left. Scraped both boards.
Stupid stunt, I know, but damn that was fun…
Gotta get home now, my wife left her car out so I could ride. She told me to have fun, but I know in my heart that she worries when I ride at night. She pretends that she doesn’t, but then, that’s why I love her.
Back on the freeway, and the thoughts of moving somewhere where the scenery has more that four shades of brown seems much less important now.
Yup, It’s off-season in the desert.
But I can always ride at night.