So I decided that would be the focus of my ride for today: sensory
perception. Anytime my mind drifted to the future or the past, I’d check back
in with the here and now and focus on my senses. Yeah, kinda like yoga. Except
at 80 mph.
Knowing I’m a little rusty made this an even better idea.
Nothing but me, the road, the sun, the wind, and my little Street Triple R,
tearing up the desert. Most people would probably find the smell of exhaust on
a scarf repulsive, but I love it. Which is why I wash my scarf as little as
possible. So with Eau d’ Castrol around my neck and new Micy’s on my wheels, I
was off looking for crooked lines and adventure!
May is a great time to ride in Arizona because the desert is
in bloom. And the Saguaro’s are the most impressive to me. Heading up to
Payson, as I ascended into the high desert, the desert was painted yellow with blooming
shrubs and magnificent Saguaro’s towering over the land, each arm topped with a
bouquet of white flowers. Not a bad way to keep a girl focused on her senses!
Before climbing much in altitude I saw a few ADV riders
parked on the side of the road, having just come off the dirt. My mind wandered
to the day that I’d have my own off road bike and where I’d go with it, when a
police SUV whizzed past me with lights blazing. Apparently (and fortunately) he
wasn’t concerned with my speed, and I wondered where he was off to. See, that’s
what I get for thinking! I almost missed a cop car coming up behind me fast
with his lights on! I wondered if the ADV riders thought he was after me.
Back in the present moment, I enjoyed passing the cars that
couldn’t get up the hill as fast or hold their speed as well as I did. My new Micy’s
were rolling into the turns just great. Up ahead I spied the first half-way
real turn of the day: tight enough I couldn’t see around it, and loose enough I
could see nothing but blue skies beyond.
And that’s when I saw the police SUV again. On the side of
the road, with a few guys looking over the side of the cliff, into that blue
sky. I slowed down (obviously), and as I cleared the turn enough to see the road
ahead, I saw bikes. ‘Lot’s of them, also pulled over, riders standing and
sitting on the side of the road. Must have been 30 or 40.
Back to sensory perception, it didn’t take long to know what
happened. Someone didn’t make the turn. As I crept by, the other bikers started
at me, and as I wondered if I was breaking some kind of code by not stopping, a
slow leak of adrenaline oozed into my system making me feel a little sick and
light headed. I don’t feel that way when I see a car accident. But something
about a motorcycle accident makes me think to myself “See, you have to pay
attention. Always”.
He was out having fun just like me. I hope he was wearing
good gear. Whatever he did have, I
hope it was enough.
A few miles later I saw the ambulance coming down from
Payson, but by that time I’d gotten my head screwed back into the present
moment, and I was thinking more about my cooling armpits and bleary eyes by then.
Earlier I had decided I’d stop at the first gas station in Payson (87 miles in, a pretty
long start!), and make a plan from there. Gas, a little break, V-8 and cookies
in my tank bag for later, I headed back down the little a little ways to
Roosevelt Lake.
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| Shell stations seem to be a great motorcycling landmark, and the one on US 60 just outside Phoenix now has craft been on tap and their own logo'd growlers! |
The day was starting to heat up by then, and I found a great
little rest stop to watch the boaters and have a snack. I was slowed briefly by
a big pack of Harley’s, but they didn’t hold me up long as they made a quick
detour into a gas station with a very, very large parking lot. Plenty of space
for them to maneuver, I arrogantly chuckled to myself as I watched them pull
in.
Sensory perception the rest of the day included the smell of
a wet golf course in the desert, the grip of a brand new pair of gloves, the
itch of an earplug that wasn’t quite right, the fright of barely missing a pair
of mating hummingbirds, and an adrenaline gush when a blast of wind from
nowhere pushed me across my lane. I chuckled again as I remembered the real
wind of a dust storm I rode through once. But back to the present! It was an easy 250 miles, nothing to brag about, but I don’t need to brag. It was a day just for me, and it was awesome.
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