The Biker Who Came In From The Rain...

The rider claimed he was going to be passing through my area on Tuesday, August 9th, and wanted to know if my schedule would permit a meeting over lunch. This rider was a blogger, whose technical posts on maintenance and riding hjave been entertaining me (and others) for over a year. The only question in my mind was to bring him here to the house (West Chester, Pa), or to meet him on the road, somewhere closer to the direction he’d be traveling, which was west.

I dragged my feet when it came to answering his last e-mail.

My first thought was to meet him out by Strasburg, Pa in the heart of Lancaster County Amish country. There are nice places to eat in Lancaster and the friendly (read “mildly cool”) reception by the Amish is always fun. Yet the weather this summer has been a constant pain in my knees, with forecasts for the mid-eighties (Fahrenheit) coming in ten degrees higher by noon, accompanied by humidity with the density of drywall. I was reluctant to make meeting plans for a location I wouldn’t feel like riding to, and finally sent him directions to the house.

I sent him three sets of directions with a heavy emphasis on beautiful back roads that would take him past racing horse farms, open fields used for traditional fox hunting, small Amish farms, and settlements of stone houses predating the Revolution. It was my intention that he should see the real Pennsylvania, on his ride up from Annapolis. My only concern was, “This will be a beautiful ride for him — if it doesn’t rain.”

Tuesday dawned in a smudge of humid murk, which turned out to be the comic relief for clouds that were darker than the atmosphere surrounding a federal tax audit. The two dogs in this house — Atticus (the towering German shepherd) and Scout (the rescue dog who keeps burglars from stealing Atticus) — are the perfect barometer for storms. Neither one cares for lightning nor thunder, and both were wearing old motorcycle helmets while cowering under the stairs.

Above) Chris Luhman and his Suzuki SV650 (left) with the author and the legendary K75 known as "Fire Balls."

The canine forecast was for thunderstorms... And not the kind of summer storms that fire bullets of hail and dump sheets of water... But the variety where dark clouds conceal squadrons of evil flying monkeys. Had it been me riding up from Annapolis to meet another blog personality for lunch, I’d have emailed my regrets and spent the day in a hotel bar, slipping single dollars into the “G” string of an enthusiastic performance artist.

That’s not Chris Luhman’s style.

The publisher of “Everyday Riding,” Luhman rides year-round in his native Minnesota, where the temperature in February routinely hits zero degrees Kelvin, and stays there until Memorial Day. The threat of rain means nothing to him. Which was good as the storm front that hit while he was en route would have sustained a brook trout dumped on a car hood.

Luhman surfed up the driveway on a red 2001 Suzuki SV650, that emitted a very satisfying growl. He released ten gallons of water from his boots and his tank bag once inside the garage.

“How was your ride?” I asked, solicitously.

“I have it all here,” Chris replied, tapping his GoPro camera.

The consummate gentleman, Luhman made a point of complimenting the rural nature of the roads leading into West Chester, describing how the terrain changes dramatically within a short distance. “What would have made this ride perfect would have been two feet less water on most of the roads, and fewer of the fallen trees that backed up traffic when the wind knocked them across the pavement.”

Luhman then replayed the footage on his GoPro. The first shot showed him climbing a hill that looked more like a millrace, with a solid six inches of moving water pouring down the pavement. “I had no other option but to proceed,” he said, “even though my toes were dragging through the torrent.” Chris remained nonplused as the video wore on, though I suspected this would have changed if floating trees, cars, and houses had been coming at him in the tidal surge.

His next scene was that of traffic at a standstill, as one of the stately oaks that line the roads around here had coming crashing down, blocking lanes in both directions. A UPS driver was out dodging the occasional lightning bolt, while directing traffic to turn around. Hearing the sound of chainsaws amidst flashing lights, Luhman saw things differently. The road crew had opened a sliver of pavement, and Chris charged forward, like a key going for the only opening in a closed door.

The background sound of the video was really entertaining... It primarily consists of growling Suzuki, and the noise of a thousand ping-pong balls hitting plastic. This was a relentlessly driving rain smashing into the waterproof GoPro housing.

In his mid-thirties, Luhman could probably fit into his high school clothes. The fulcrum of his life is a vegetarian-based diet that eliminates the vices — and their side effects — that have constituted my downfall. I suspect he forages for grubs and berries in the local park at home.

We hit the local Hindi joint for dinner, than chatted about things moto until 1am. I took an interest in his riding gloves, which I described as falling into the “Teenage Ninja Mutant Turtle” costume variety. I couldn’t help but notice the knuckles of these were festooned by miniature alien skulls. (See photo.) Chris pointed out that the palm-side of these riding gloves were made of kangaroo leather (probably the pouch) which retains its strength regardless of the thickness. I again reminded him that this strength was at the expense of alien skulls on his knuckles.

Looking at my K75, Luhman said, "I thought there'd be more lights on it." He is the only person who has ever looked at this bike, and drawn that conclusion. (There are five white lights ranging from 50 watts to 300 watts facing forward.) I now intend to add another set,

Above) Miniature "Alien" skulls on the knuckles of Chris Luhman's riding gloves. Photo by Lesle Marsh.

An IT person by trade, Luhman explained how he built his own computer at home, specifically geared to handle his specialized needs. He is also an accomplished photographer, and showed Leslie and I an image he captured at the brink of Niagara Falls, at night, that really grabs the character of the location.

Luhman made a point of explaining how he intended to make this current trip on his BMW GS, but a blown brake line changed his plans at the last minute. Though he is ambivalent about the GS, he’s crazy about the Suzuki, which is sleek, red, and ballsy. We shared a leisurely morning over oatmeal, and Chris shoved off for his next adventure — meeting a mutual friend in Chicago. He is the second blogger and third online rider to arrive here, following in the footsteps of Michael Beattie and Carl Boler. This has been my year for meeting riders and bloggers. Just last month I made the acquaintance of George Ferreira, Nikos Laskaris, Rich Machido, Steve Williams, and Rick Slark.

©Copyright Jack Riepe 2011