After a being cooped up on four wheels all through winter, heading towards a day of work at the office is a pleasure for our Ramblings correspondent. That is, as long as he can take his GS500F for the commute.
While I'm generally the first to admit that long off-seasons create a sense of urgency for us Northeastern riders, it appears that nature's madness has worked to our benefit.
You see, merely one week ago I was awoken with the type of heart-pounding enthusiasm that only the first official ride of the season can provoke. It is a joyous occasion where the elements align perfectly, the birds outside the bedroom window sing almost as if to herald the occasion, and the morning sunlight filters through the partially closed blinds in lines of warmth projected on the walls.
Despite the fact that my destination (the office) should have offset at least some of the excitement of this annual tradition, I found myself getting dressed with almost frightening enthusiasm. Sometimes I'm convinced riding a motorcycle can overrule the gloom of even the most dreadful destinations (examples include going to the dentist, funerals, political debates, etc.). In fact my own uncle is known for attending board meetings with a euphoric smile plastered across his mug during the entire affair thanks to any opportunity to log some time in the saddle of his Road King.
"Sir, the budget is a mess, the union is planning to strike, and the taxpayers demand a thorough list of how their money has been spent. This is no time for giggling. Sir, are you even listening to me?"
By 8am, with an air temperature hovering around 80 degrees, I fired up the trusty '04 Suzuki GS500F, noting the slight carbon haze that blasted out of it's canister and the fuel tank which I thoughtfully left nearly bone dry since last season. The bone-white roads (thanks to a healthy supply of winter salting) accepted my clumsy take-off, and led me toward the nearest gas station. And just like that the riding season had officially begun, the five or so months out of the saddle immediately blurring into the recess of memory. The smell of fresh spring air deflecting off my fairing and the breeze, almost tropical, catching up to me at stop lights.
Five dollars later, I was sitting pretty at three-quarters of a tank and off to the stacks of paperwork that generally await my arrival at work. Naturally, the daily stresses of life in the mortgage business were drowned out by the prospect of the return ride home. Like a child eagerly awaiting his folks to stir on Christmas morning, I found myself converting the remaining hours into minutes (Important tip: Never convert the remaining hours of the work day into minutes. as the number will be staggering).
One of the obvious benefits of being a motorcyclist is that fueling up is much more forgiving experience with a two-wheeled creature than a 4-wheel-drive beast of the SUV variety.
The ride home was a race against the setting sun through air that was still unseasonably mild even at dusk. All in all, the debut ride was just a little over 20 miles and cost less than $1.50 worth of fuel.
After a winter of dumping seemingly endless gallons of petrol into a heavy 4-wheel-drive SUV, such low fuel consumption costs border on kooky talk. I was reminded of a quote I had once heard: "Fuel to an enthusiast is simply potential excitement in liquid form. Fuel to a commuter is simply a necessity required to get them where they're going."
So it is with fond memory that I document this recollection from the warmth of being out of the snow storms that have been plaguing us this week. As quickly as it came, our early spring has retreated to yet another round of winter pounding. Bikes that littered the roadways a few days prior have retreated to the safety of garages and sheds everywhere, like the buds on the tree branches, lured into believing spring came early.
I will say, however, that things look a little different this time. Old man winter has been broken, as snow in April is the final desperate blow of a defeated season. Besides, a brief return to winter ensures that we will not be quick to underestimate that feeling of urgency I had mentioned above.
The warm days are approaching, and with them our annual metamorphosis from mere commuter to enthusiast.
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