The First Roar Of A Bike In My Driveway For 2009...

The garage looks like a bazaar in Baghdad. One that just got worked over by a car bomb. Initially built for three cars, temporary (though indefinite) storage of tons of crap have whittled the available space down to accommodate one small SUV, a bike trailer, and my motorcycle. A fast inventory includes one canoe that has not been in the water for three years, a wheel barrow with a flat tire (whose bead is as loose as the elastic on my oldest pair of boxers), an electric version of “The Total Gym” still in the box (exercise equipment that weighs 700 pounds), several bicycle racks (sans the bikes), gardening chemicals, tools, a turkey fryer, fishing gear, camping gear, and 40 or 50 boxes of extra art supplies collected by my hot squeeze. It should be noted that the the 100 feet of shelving in this garage looks like a flea market from hell. Organization is not my strong point.

Stiffie (Leslie), my hot squeeze, has made it clear that anything that has not been touched in two years is a candidate for the trash. This does not apply to impedimenta that belongs to her, however -- only stuff that is obviously mine. For example, taking up rare space in the motorcycle bay is a collapsable garden refuse container, filled with the dry stalks of last autumn’s final pruning. You wouldn’t think this dehydrated plant matter had value, but it is apparently priceless. I am going to move it next to her car tonight (the driver’s door) and I expect it will surface in conversation tomorrow. On the other hand, I have motorcycle-related material strewn throughout the bike bay. My helmet, has been gathering dust on a chair in my office for three months. I found a spare clutch cable tossed into a pile of gloves, which somehow escaped from a box I packed them in.

My stuff needs tending to.

The garage is insulated poorly and tends to be somewhat inhospitable when the weather turns unpleasant. It was designed by the person who invented the vacuum bottle. Consequently, it stays icy cold when the weather outside warms up and retains the heat of hell when the air cools off on a summer night. This is but one of several convenient reasons I have for never staying in there long enough to straighten it up. The fact that I have arthritis, a fear of lurking spiders, a dread of wasps flying in from outside, and move with two speeds -- slow and reverse -- are other convenient reasons.

Jim Robinson and BMW GS roared into the ice-shrouded driveway, 

the first bike and rider to do so for 2009. 

(Photo by Jack Riepe -- Click to enlarge)

But the weather warmed up to 49º(F) on Sunday, and I opened the doors to let in the sunshine and spring-like air. It was just past noon, when I decided to tidy the place up -- exclusively using my Jedi Knight mind powers to move stuff around. Two seconds into this, I was distracted by the snarl of a motorcycle fighting its way up the ice in the driveway.

“Impossible,” I thought. “The ice is still an inch thick in most places. How can this be?”

The suspense was shattered a few minutes later when my pal (and fellow Mac-Pac member) Jimmy Robinson appeared at the top, wearing a two-foot wide shit-eating grin, astride a silver BMW GS.

“Damn,” said Jim, with a laugh. “You don’t make it easy for friends and acquaintances to drop by, do you?”

“Actually, most of them take the hint,” I replied.

Robinson reported that the streets were largely free of ice and that warmer temperatures compelled him to get on his bike and ride. “Why don’t you come with me?”

The imposing profile of the Beemer GS looks great in the driveway, 

or on the Great Wall of China. It's BMW's best selling model.

(Photo by Jack Riepe -- Click to enlarge)

I pointed to the tarmac in front of the garage for my answer. The blacktop was shrouded in dirty, gray ice right up to the garage door. This presented no obstacle for the vintage Suburban or the Subaru, both of which are equipped with four-wheel drive. “I have no intentions of dropping that bike in the driveway, or anyplace else today.”

The flight deck of the GS is neat mixture of computer screen and analog dials.

Jim Robinson can be seen shoveling his escape route through the crud encrusted windscreen.

(Photo by Jack Riepe -- Click to enlarge)

Technically, the streets were clear. But melting snow and ice left most of them soaking wet with a piquant brine solution. Anything taken out on the road would return covered with white salt streaks. If there was one thing I felt less like doing than cleaning the garage, it was washing my bike in a cold garage. Plus Robinson was not quite honest about the clarity of the roads. The volume of water in the streets, especially where it was channeled by dissolving snow banks, was the equivalent of a good rain storm. A rider would be thoroughly soaked by the spray from traffic within a few miles.

“Do you have a snow shovel I could use to help cut the ice down on the hill in your driveway,” asked Robinson.

“Aaaah, Jim. I hate to think of you shoveling the driveway,” I said, giving him a choice of two shovels. “Don’t forget to hack a path to the side door.”

Robinson cleared enough of the ice away to guarantee front wheel traction on his exit. Nevertheless, I refused to turn my back on him knowing where that shovel could have been shoved. Seconds later, Robinson roared out, anxious to put a hundred miles on the bike in the next couple of hours. My big surprise is that a recent procedure has made my arthritis a lot more tolerable. Had the driveway been clear, meaning that if we had had two weeks of rain to wash away the salt and gravel, I would have ridden with him.

Robinson cleared enough of a path to guarantee traction for his front wheel 

on the way out. It wasn't quite that simple on the way in.

(Photo by Jack Riepe -- Click to enlarge)

So Jim Robinson and his GS became the first bona fide rider and bike to appear in my driveway for 2009. Forty-eight hours later, the temperature dropped again and there’s eight inches of new snow covering everything. I’m so happy I could just shit.

Addendum

I wasn’t kidding when I said I had two speeds, slow and reverse. The two last winners of the Twisted Roads Riders Meal’s Contest never got their prizes from November of last year. As you may be aware, two individuals are selected from everyone who contributes a comment to the blog each month. Brenda Wheatley and Bobskoot were the last two winners and their $50 meal cards were mailed today. The prize department of Twisted Roads regrets the delay.

©Copyright Jack Riepe2009
AKA The Lindbergh Baby (Mac-Pac)
AKA Vindak8r (Motorcycle Views)
AKA The Chamberlain -- PS (With A Shrug)