ON THE MARK

ON THE MARK

MARK BYERS

WINTER WONDER-RIDE

It was cold when I got up - a cold that made me consider bagging the scheduled ride in favor of going back to sleep, but I had miles to go and a service appointment to keep. If you detect a hint of Robert Frost in that sentence, you’re right and it’s apropos given a morning temperature that started with a two. A warmer day was in the forecast, however, so I geared up to go. I got an unexpected bonus of a few degrees increase when the battery, numbed by the cold, refused to start the bike and I had to take the time to learn how to jump-start an R1200RT, which turned out to be fairly easy. I gave the battery a chance to charge in the early part of the journey, electing not to re up my electric jacket until I was going at highway speed for a while. That’s when I got my second chilly surprise: because of a miswired accessory plug, my electric jacket didn’t work. Fortunately, the heated grips and seat, along with the rising temperatures, were enough to make the ride palatable. Cold air can be debilitating, sneaking through gaps in clothing or helmet visors like an icy blowtorch, but I was ne and so was the ride. It was nice to be riding again after a tough January. Most of the salt was gone and what remained was in isolated piles where a salt truck driver had paused without turning off his “shaker.” I was de nitely the only motorcycle on the road that Saturday morning and the covered vehicle drivers all showed me some deference. The sky was that clear, cloudless electric blue that comes with low temperatures and correspondingly low humidity. The bike performed well, having good, dense, cold air to feed its internal combustion appetite. I know the roads to Morton’s BMW by heart, but I chose a less sporty route in case there were some lingering patches of ice in the low, shady spots along the Potomac. It still felt liberating, however, to be out again on a motorcycle, something I hadn’t done since early November. It was good to get back into the ow of shifting and leaning and weighting the pegs and braking and all those things Mr. Pridmore has been teaching me for years. The morning ride was like a refresher course, albeit a chilly one. There’s nothing quite like bumming around a shop while you wait for service, checking out the magazines (like this one), talking to the parts guys, shopping the bargain racks and bins, ogling the new and used inventory, and generally just being a motorcycle junkie. There’s a spirit and a smell to a shop that gets into your blood. Plus, the people at Morton’s are like family. I grabbed lunch and it was pretty near closing time when my steed was ready. I was a good ninety minutes from home and the waning light would bring dropping temperatures, so I headed out smartly. I chose the curvier route along the Potomac for the trip home and the bike was a willing and capable dance partner, responding to my weight shifts and bar caresses in a way I’ve come to expect. The low winter light played between the trees, making barcode shadows across the pavement as I scanned my way home. I called up the temperature display on the dash and noted the numbers dropping from ves to fours on the rst digit as the sun slid toward the horizon. Soon, the tops of the trees were painted with the orange glow that comes with a low winter sun. Since I was heading east, the bright orange ball shone annoyingly but beautifully in my mirrors. Later, I’d look in the mirrors and see the orange ball sitting astride a stark horizon like a little kid’s rendering, with a straight line separating a light blue sky from a dark blue ground. Later still, the ball was gone, replaced by a rapidly-fading, red-orange glow that you can’t view without thinking of the old sailor’s adage, “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.” The dash showed the temperature falling through the fours.

I pulled into the driveway in the waning winter light, not really cold and not really warm, just ready for a hot shower and a hot meal, preferably by the replace. It was mid-February, but it was about as good as a day on a bike can get. Winter can be a wonderful time to ride. ,