A couple of winters ago, Bill and I were out riding on a day approaching freezing.  Both of our motorcycles displayed a cold weather warning (mine is a snowflake; Bill’s is more of a message—it’s crazy cold!).  We rode that day but kept it short in deference to the motorcycles’ warnings.

            So as we headed out on today’s ride, with temperatures nearing 100 (98 was the official), and a heat index of the center of a coal fire, I wondered why the motorcycles weren’t warning us.  The truth is the cold weather warning is to make us aware that there may be ice on the road.  Since it’s not likely the asphalt would actually melt under our tires, I suppose there’s no need for an extreme heat warning on the motorcycles.  Not that we would have paid it any more attention than we did the extreme cold weather warnings (Even My Motorcycle Thinks It’s Too Cold to Ride).

            I opted for no Alpinestars under jacket, and there was a breeze, not a cool breeze, but the wind wasn’t blowing hot air either.  I used the heat of the day to help me work on my riding focus which was a good thing as we ran into a few choke points.  Both were on blind curves with cars parked on either side of the road.  The first involved a large Ford F-150, but Bill was in the lead on that one, so I mostly just followed his sudden stop.  The second one, however, I had just taken the lead as we headed toward the garage.  But I stopped suddenly and let the white Honda CRV pass through the choke point before resuming my ride.

            Other than the zooming and lots of crazy traffic, there wasn’t much happening outside.  The only wildlife I spotted were a few crows here and there chilling in the shade provided by large trees.  Last week people were enjoying the beautiful day out walking their dogs.  During today’s ride, we only came across two cyclists and two teen girls out for a walk, one of whom, the one not on the phone, looking absolutely miserable.

            At several points during the ride, I felt the heat of the exhaust in the heel of my left boot, so I kept moving it a bit for some relief.  But when one chooses, as we did, to ride on July days in the upper 90s, hot and sweat are to be expected.  The crape myrtles still smelled crisp and clean, the air flow still felt as good as it could and, best of all, I still got to ride my motorcycle which is what matters most.

            The summer heat of earlier in the week gave way to a cold front that brought rain, wind, and cooler temperatures for our ride.  In fact we weren’t sure we would manage our motorcycle ride as early rain fell Saturday morning.  But with a little patience, a little extra care, and a lot more attention, the ride was possible. 

            I tied in today’s ride with what I had been studying last week about paying attention both to traffic and to road hazards.  The puddles made road hazards easy to avoid, and there was just enough traffic to allow me a good afternoon of awareness practice.  I also felt that riding on slightly damp roads is a good experience in case Bill and I are ever caught in a sudden summer shower.

            The gray skies gave a muted, calm beauty to the lush greenness of late spring.  The hydrangeas have begun blooming along with the brightly colored day lilies.  And the hot temperatures of earlier in the week brought out the gardenia blossoms and even a smattering of crape myrtle blooms.  The rain allowed the clean scent of the magnolias and gardenias to drench the air with sweet perfume.

            I didn’t spot a single butterfly throughout the ride, but I did spy two ospreys and a great blue heron.  The heron was in someone’s front yard and, while the roar of the motorcycle engines disturbed him, he chose only to walk slowly farther into the yard, allowing me a great view of his face and crest.

            We did work on slow-speed maneuvers around the puddles.  I had the opportunity to wonder if my skills are as good as I think or if the R Nine T is giving me.  The balance on my U-turns is spectacular, no doubt due to the balancing impact of the two-cylinder heads of the boxer engine.  But I also wondered if the dry clutch gives me over-confidence in my feathering technique.  At a stop, Bill stalled the Rocket, something he has done several times over the past couple of months.  And I wondered if I were riding a wet clutch motorcycle, would I stall more often?  It seems to me I did stall more on the 310 and the Scrambler, but I attributed that more to my lack of riding experience.  And I remember struggling to get the feel for the R Nine T’s clutch when I first began riding it.  But now it’s very rare for me to stall at a stop.  So is that because I’ve become a better rider or because it’s easier to feather the dry clutch?  An easier feathering would also explain my confidence in U-turns.  It would be interesting to have more than one motorcycle to ride (I’m not strong enough for the Rocket) to see if it’s my technique or the clutch.

            Now that I’ve written all that about not stalling, I’ll probably stall two or three times during next week’s ride.  But that’s OK because even if I’m stalling the motorcycle, at least I’m out riding the motorcycle.