Fired up the motorcycle this morning to ride to work. It's not the first time for 2015, but you can count the number of times I've ridden on one hand.
It reminds me how different the experience is between driving my truck and riding my motorcycle. In the truck, I have my iPod blaring, or sports radio babbling, the heater blasting and I am trying to shake the morning fog out of my brain.
On the motorcycle, I tune in to the sound of the engine, and I get a silly, teen-age giddiness whenever I crack the throttle and accelerate a little quicker than necessary from stoplight to stoplight. That's one reason I ride a motorcycle – so I never have to grow up.
Why does a little patch of dirt or gravel on the pavement freak me out when I've ridden thousands of miles on dirt and gravel roads?
Never miss a local story.
Ditto for wet pavement, although I haven't ridden thousands of miles on it, I got a lifetime supply of it living in Western Oregon.
Why does it take an hour for my feet to warm up after a 20-minute ride, even on a 42-degree morning. I just have cold feet. That's all.
Heated grips are amazing. I don't care if you call my wimpy. I love them. Now get the engineers working on some heated foot pegs.
I'm not paranoid; people really are trying to kill me, even if they don't realize it. The trick is figuring which ones are about to do it. Chances are good that on any commute a car will try to take me out by cutting in front of me or switching lanes into me.
I'm more awake, my mind is sharper, and I have a little boost of energy when I commute on the motorcycle rather than driving.
I know I look a little silly in a full riding outfit for a 20-minute commute. But I own the stuff, so I might as well wear it.