John S. Hegamyer is a certified Motorcycle Safety Foundation RiderCoach and coaches at training sites throughout Virginia. |
Seventh Inning Stretch
John S.Hegamyer
Hey Guys, here we are at in between the
seventh and eighth innings, what is commonly referred to as the seventh inning
stretch. This is the point in the majors when the crowd rises to their feet and
joins in a little singing and stretching and most importantly restroom breaks
and beer. So, if needed please hit the head and grab a brewski and settle in
for a good read, don't forget to stretch too.
Judging from the amount
of motorcycle traffic I've seen on the road lately, it looks like everyone is
rising from their long winter's nap, dusting off the bikes and leathers and
hitting the road. This is the time of the year that I am glad to be a
motorcycle enthusiast, you just can't beat the spring rides and getting
together with friends. For this installment I thought we would have a little
fun, even though it's not a skills lesson per se I hope you enjoy it.
Back Roads
It's always been said that life was a lot
better when we all lived on dirt roads. Most of us probably don't remember a
time when we all lived on dirt roads, but the thought of it sure is nice. Dirt
roads simplify life. Life runs a little slower, no one is in a great hurry. A
little dirt on, your shoes is okay, a little mud on the tires is even better.
When you live on a dirt road, you tend to know your neighbors a little better.
You tend to take more evening walks, and you probably leave your doors
unlocked.
Most of the dirt roads got paved, and now we only have a few
remnants known as back roads. They are the hard surfaced descendants of the
dirt roads. The back roads will always get you where you want to go, maybe a
little slower, but you'll get there. I'm fortunate to live in a place that
still has back roads, and I have made it my personal duty to explore as many as
I can. I have even gone so far as to widen my exploration to include as many
back roads in as many areas as I can possibly find. I guess I can be best
described as a "Back Road Traveler." Yes, I've been known to take the four hour
trip to the post office and three more to get a jug of milk. It is nice to have
so many back roads nearby.
"Back roads", not sure where the term
originated, probably is some distant cousin to terms like "wrong side of the
tracks" or "over yonder" or maybe it truly means the roads in the back, as in
far removed from the more highly traveled roads out front. It also seems that
most small towns and rural areas are blessed with a multitude of back roads.
Additionally, it also seems that in these rural areas some of the back roads
have the same names, names like "Thunder Road", "Dead man's Curve" or "Ridge
Road." These roads are the best, a little nostalgia mixed in with the asphalt
that's probably laid over the dirt road roots of the place. Years ago I sought
these roads out with my friends, driving late sixties and early seventies model
muscle cars, fueled with $1.09 a gallon gas and leaving black stripes to mark
our territories. Today my travels are powered by two wheeled machines, sweeping
around the tight turns and floating over the hills like a ground hugging
aircraft.
Just the other day I was blasting down Thunder Road, you
know where it is, turn next to the fence line where the road hooks a hard left
into the woods. There's that bridge there where the rumor is you can hear a
woman's scream at midnight during a full moon. The ground is littered with
Boone's Farm bottles and Bud Light cans.
Anyhow, I was flying low down
Thunder Road, snapping through the gears on my bike and getting a little air on
the hills. This run was quick, perfect cuts through the curves, really
straightening the curves like Bo Duke. Must have cut my personal best time by a
second or two, good enough for pole position on Sunday I'm sure. As I slowed
for the stop sign on the other end, I knew I had achieved my goal to ride
quickly and efficiently because all the cows in the field nodded approvingly. I
swear the bull even had a stopwatch on me. Pulled up short at the stop and
drank in my success, a near perfect run.
I cast a glance towards the
bovine fans and realized they wanted more from their favorite weekend
attraction. Not wanting to disappoint my dedicated followers, and knowing
another record book run was within my grasp, I did a U-turn. The bike was
rearing to go; the wind felt good, I dropped her into first and closed the
visor on my helmet. Easing the clutch out and giving a wink to the bull, who
was keeping time, I was off. Quickly into third gear, now rolling back off the
throttle to sweep the first curve, touch both brakes and get perfect entry
speed. Head turned and looking through the curve, I am focused on my exit point
and the bike follows the perfect line around the apex of the curve. Steadily
I'm rolling the throttle on, increasing speed and the G-forces are working to
perfection on the bike, and she's stuck to the road and stable as a race car.
Exit the curve and a couple of quick up-shifts, pushing 70 mph or so and
setting up for a hard left hander. This one is off camber and sloped downhill
as you roll through the apex. Both brakes again, get her into third gear, pick
the line and focus, roll on the throttle, getting faster. Man I wish the old
bull could see me fly through this one! Good line again. Real good.
Another twenty or so shifts and a couple of really sweet curves later, I'm
pulling into the pits, I mean into the stop sign. Not sure about the time, the
old bull probably won't share either. Don't have to think real hard about what
to do, have to run through one more time. One more U-turn and I'm ready to
launch. My four legged fans can't see me from their seats, but I'm going to put
on a good show for them anyways. I'm off, blasting again, cutting time off the
clock if I had one. My shifts are snappy, good direct shifts right in the power
band. I'm squeezing all the power I can out of the bike and she's living up to
the sales and marketing claims.
Long sweepers to the right coming up;
man they're my favorite, a nice symmetrical curve where I can perfect my art of
cornering. Entry speed, check; look through the curve, check. Press into the
lean and roll the throttle. Roll the throttle as far as I can and still stay on
my line. I'm laughing in my helmet, enjoying the hell out of this ride.
I get back to the stop sign and sign some autographs for Bessie and
Jenny. They're big fans. As I get ready to head back out my cell phone starts
to vibrate. Maybe another one of the cows wants an autograph, or better yet
maybe the bull is giving me time sheets for my quick runs. I look down and the
caller ID says "Home."
Uh oh, I think I was supposed to be somewhere.
Yes dear, no I didn't know it's been three hours. I didn't forget the milk.
Almost to the store now, that's right, yes dear, love you too. Whew, that was
close, if she only knew about my time trials.
A quick wave to the
crowd and I leave the course. Thank goodness I still have a few of those back
roads to ride on the way to the store. After my stop there, a couple more back
roads on the way home.
Needless to say, I like the back roads. I'll be
out again soon, looking to expand my back road repertoire. Add some more
specials to my catalog of by ways. I may be near your Thunder Road soon, so
let's get together and have some fun.
Ride safe out there!
See ya, John
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