Yesterday would mark what I consider to be the first real ride. The Wee and I went up to Beaverton, about 70kms north of home. We stopped for fuel and a quick coffee. I find that the rough biker image isn’t mine. My impressions have always been that bikers would sooner rip your face off than even look at you. This is a hardcore life of solitude out here. Better not mess with me man! That doesn’t seem to wash with me. A number of things keep me from adapting that mentality or persona as soon as hop on the bike. Most notably is the presence of this huge ear-to-ear grin that I cannot seem to shake. Standing around my bike in the Tim Horton’s parking lot must look funny to others. “Look at that happy young…oh wait a minute…he’s forty-two.!” I’m still in the disbelief phase. It’s actually mine and I’m admittedly pretty proud of it. Looks good standing the Tim’s parking lot with a coffee on the rear luggage rack.
The ride was perfect. Wide open two lane roads with incredible sites to see all along the route. I found my way down to my sister’s home in Pickering where even the dog seemed impressed with new bike…at least that’s what I’m telling myself. From there I would wander back up to my home as the sun put on a marvelous display as it said good night.
We knocked off over 200kms last night and shortly after hoping off I was ready to hop right back on. Not only is this good, it’s better than I ever imagined it would be and we’re only just starting out. As I gain confidence in my able scoot it will just get better and better.
R
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