RIDING WITH GHOSTS

I went riding yesterday, nothing unusual in that. Especially not in an MSTA event. What was unusual was my riding partners...


I started out riding alone, just as I rode many years ago. I had some of my favorite tunes on my ipod, some fine twisty roads, and the committee inside my helmet was serene and content. Existing in the moment, one with the bike and the day, Focused totally on throttle, gear, looking through the curves, lane position... I was twistee dancing.


If I have to explain it any more than that, I am not certain you will ever understand. It is a place where man and machine become one, where existence, mind, body and soul merge into infinity. It is my own version of what I believe Eckhart Tolle means by “The NOW”. To me it is sport touring nirvana.


Almost 20 years ago, I was a young (ok 30 something) guy who had a fast bike, and who thought all he had to do to be one of the “fast guys” was pull the trigger and hang on. I thought money was all it took to be a great rider. I wanted to get the reputation, and the respect, without paying the dues and learning the skills. I joined the HSTA, and one of the first friends I made (the guy who introduced me to the club) was Mike Traynor. I remember one of my rides with Mike, I was on my “Iguana” green 750 Ninja, he was on his red st1100. I was pushing as hard as I could and for 20 miles of twisties, all I saw was his headlight in my left side mirror, paralleling my rear tire. After the ride, I asked him what he thought of my riding style, “very smooth” was his reply.


I wanted to sock him, “smooth, I want to be fast!” Then a few years later I got to ride with him, and Kevin Erion, on a group ride. 45 miles of curves, and neither one of them touched the brakes. Another rider in the group had just one remark after the ride...


“Man those guys are sooooo smooth!”


I was leaving an event in Dillard Georgia, a few years later, riding home with Mike and his wife Dianne who were riding 2 up. He said “I need a few more twisties, want to ride along?” I agreed. He turned right, then turned left at the first curve. That was the last time I saw him for 30 miles, Dianne taking pictures on the back, him with his feet off the pegs making the left turn. I found that road again yesterday and I could almost swear I saw his red st1100 making that turn.


Another of the “fast guys” was Rock Rhodes, a man I was almost scared to talk to when I first joined the (then) HSTA, as I was so intimidated. But over the years we began a friendship. I learned that under the “bluster” was a heart of gold. Some of the advice, and jokes (frequently at my expense) have helped me grow into a better rider. I seldom rode in the same group as Rock, and as such many of my Memories of him riding are of his bike and his group passing me midroute, and usually “briskly” but my memories of kicking tires, him with his cigar and beverage in hand, are very clear. There was one defining memory at STAR in Taos a few years ago, I had a tough and emotional time at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, and he came over and offered me some consolation.


As I was riding yesterday, a year after Rock passed on, and a few years after Mike passed, and so many others as well, too many others to mention, I noticed some things. I noticed I was riding smooth, off the brakes, and so much faster than I ever could have imagined back when all I did was pull the trigger and hang on. I noticed the scenery, the smell of the woods, the sun on my back.


Through it all yesterday, even though I never saw another MSTA member on the road, I was surrounded by friends, Tim, Dana, Rock, Mel, and Mike, and I remembered the lessons I learned from them all, lessons that make me a better, safer rider. I do not ever ride alone anymore, that is their legacy to me, as long as the lessons they taught me, and the comradeship given, remains.


Every once in a while, if I begin to forget, I get a memory of a glimpse of a headlight in my left side mirror, or maybe an image of an FJR or an ST disappearing around the next corner, and I know I just have to ride “my” ride, I do not have to be one of “the fast guys” I am fast enough for me, and someday I will pull into a parking lot where the tires are always sticky, and pavement always fresh, and see them all again, and we will kick tires, and tell tales, and we will ride again, and all of us will be... Fast Guys.


“Iguana” Joe Thomas