Wet underwear.  James Dean, Steve McQueen, Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper in Easy Rider, and Arnold Schwarzenegger as the Terminator—all icons on a motorcycle of coolness.  But even these icons were they to ride on a sunny summer day with temperatures in the 90s and humidity in the 80s would find themselves feeling damp all over.  Last week I felt the heat plastering my t-shirt to my back.  This week’s heat melted the “plaster” and rolled down my back.

            But I’m getting used to riding in the mid-Atlantic summertime heat.  We did get a little bit of an earlier start—11:00 instead of 1:00.  There was an excessive heat warning, but hazy, hot, and humid in July is normal for around here.  We again opted out of the Alpinestars jackets, and I kept my Klim zipper as low as possible to allow for air flow.  As long as we were moving, the ride was comfortable.

            Except as the heat built, the lining of my helmet began to dig into my forehead.  I again turned my head side to side to let air flow through the helmet vents, and I wore my sunglasses so I could keep my visor cracked.  But I couldn’t get air onto my forehead, and I had a red slash at my hairline when I took my helmet off.

            The heat did get to me some.  As we cruised up the fast road, I got distracted by the cool breeze.  I was thinking how wonderful the air felt and forgot to check out the little church parking lot and overshot the turn.  One of the churches has a wide, rectangular parking lot that Bill likes to lead us into to practice figure eights.  If there’s a car in the lot, we ride by.  But if the lot is free of any vehicles, Bill heads into it.  Because my mind was focused on the cool air hitting me, and because Bill had checked up on the road in front of me, I didn’t register his turn signal in time to slow down and make a comfortable turn into the parking lot.  I did slow down and think about turning, but I would have been wide and next to the turn in for the parking lot is a cluster of trees.

            I also knew the historic house and another church were about twenty yards away, so I would be able to turn around and rejoin Bill.  Of course, Bill had no idea what had happened or even, briefly, where I was.  One of the few times during a ride I would have liked to be able to communicate with him.  I was gone for less than two minutes, so since he was in a parking lot, I figured he’d sit there and wait until I showed up again.  But join him I did, and we circled around to hit the fast road again.  I was on the lookout for a pull off into the parking lot, but Bill kept us zooming.

            We again skipped the slow speed maneuvers since that’s when we really feel the heat.  But we did do the on-street U-turns.  I was a little too close on the first turn and went to the edge of the road but stayed out of the grass.  My second turn had more distance and that went really well.

            The wildlife was quiet trying to stay cool.  I did see a cabbage white butterfly before we left the garage, and I had believed I would go through the ride without spotting any when one intrepid little guy fluttered across my path.  There were a few small birds flitting between trees, and a chorus of birds singing their hearts out in the cul de sac at the end of the long road.

            It was after the ride that I realized I had sweated enough to soak my skivvies.  It was then I realized the funny juxtaposition of the “cool dude” iconic images of motorcycle riders and the rather damp reality of the rider’s situation on a hot summer’s day.  So as you’re out driving around this summer and you spot a motorcycle rider trying to look cool, just remember—wet underwear.  I’ll be out next weekend riding in the triple H July weather with my undergarments getting damp but not my riding spirit.