Every story has a beginning. Sometimes you can be in the midst of a story before you even realize it started. Sometimes stories start years in advance, like a seed planted. Sometimes stories move so slowly that you don’t even notice them happening until they are over and there is a tree, giving shade. Sometimes you know though, you know this is a beginning. This moment, this decision, this is the beginning of something.
Often there are more then one beginning. When the idea first entered your head, when you first said it out loud, when you first decided to do it. In that way, maybe they aren't beginnings but instead forks in the road. The roads begin and end but the journey, as whole, is the sum of them all.
A few weekends ago was the beginning of something. Nathaniel and I took our bikes out for our first, fully loaded, long distance ride. Friday afternoon, we loaded up all our gear, cloths, tools, spare parts, medicine, camping gear and personal items. We divided up the gear and packed it into our panniers, pelican cases and tank bags. We planned to ride to Billings for the weekend. 140 miles one-way.
The bikes fully loaded for the first time, can’t help but feel like we have forgotten somethings.
Riding on the highway is a whole new experience. Our bikes comfortably cruise at 65 although we tried to maintain a more reasonable 70-75 range. Which, when the speed limit in Montana is 80 means semi trucks pass you. Which is terrifying. Semis create huge areas of turbulence behind them that feels as though someone is sitting on the front of your motorcycle and slapping you repeatedly in the face. So here are Nathaniel and I, already a little uncomfortable traveling this fast, with a pretty heavy cross wind so that you are leaning into the wind to go straight, struggling to maintain your composure and then you check your mirrors and see a semi bearing down on you like a great white whale of biblical proportions. The five steps to being passed by a semi on a motorcycle, as told by a first time highway rider, are as follows.
Step One: Fear, tastes unpleasant. You wonder why in the world you thought this would be a good idea. “Buy a motorcycle” they said, “It’ll be fun you” they said.
Step Two: Anticipation, as the semi pulls into the left lane behind you and creeps up to pass, you get a few seconds to anticipate terrible thing to come. Whoever said anticipation is the purest form of pleasure is a sick man.
Step Three: The Passing, as the semi roars past you like an apocalyptic freight train taking your courage and bowel control away from you. Powerful waves of chaotic, turbulent air buffet you about. The feeling, I imagine, is similar to a cork in a hurricane.
Step Four: The Eye of the Storm, as the semi passes you completely you are sucked into the area of low pressure directly behind. With reduced wind resistance you instantly speed up. Great for gas mileage but to stay in this bosom of comfort would require staying within 30 feet of the back of the semi, which is a bit like having a tiger by the tail. Fun, in a terrifying sort of way.
Step Five: Slapping Time, as the semi pulls away you enter the wake of the semi. Here the wind buffets you about in a distinct fashion. It feels as though a man wearing pillows on his hand is hitting you about as hard as he can, alternating from one side of your head to the other. The rhythm is quick strong to begin with although as the semi pulls away the strength and speed both reduce.
Repeat until you toughen up.
Than with his radio taped to his face. I think he’s excited.
Than with his family. Just arrived in Laurel MT after 2 hours on the highway.
