whitedelight
Grey Hound
I pinched this from AdvRider,but sure quite a few could relate to this....
As a grown man, and I use the term loosely, I recognize that there are moments of thoughtful reflection that help us on our journey to male enlightenment (not to be confused with enhancement!)
For some, it comes with summiting a 4,000 footer, for others, a beautiful sunrise at the beach, or even a baby's smile. For me, it usually comes in that hangtime moment while cartwheeling over the bars of my newest bike. So came the moment a couple of weeks ago on my KTM 990 Adventure R.
The setting: It was a monday, and all the guys at work were going to ride afterwards. The weather was spotty, with both threatening skies and occasional showers. Slowly but surely everyone bailed as panty waisted, road bikers tend to do. One guy, with a 30K plus HD even had the nerve to say he doesnt even take his bike out if it looks like rain! Evil Knievel would be rolling over in his chrome slathered casket if he knew!
As I had ridden to work already, and had a rain suit, I decided that I would at least take the "long way home" after work. After all, I ride a KTM 990 Adventure R, (pronounced ARGHHHHH, like a pirate), the premiere swashbuckling Armaggedon-mobile on the road today! A bike that evokes a sense of adventure just parked in front of Starbucks!
For me, the long way home involves a network of dirt trails of various quality that heretofore have been slayed by me and my trusty DR650. So after donning my rainsuit I set off, weather and pusscake buddies be damned, I'm riding!
As I got deeper into the trail, now affectionately known as the "trail of tears", I realized it must have rained a lot more than I expected as all the ruts were well filled with water, hub deep, and now had been transformed into my personal kryptonite, mudholes.
I have had my ups and downs in mud, learning over the years to be much more subtle than on dry land. each lesson beginning with good intentions, and ending with a thud. But this time was different. I was on the two wheel personification of a Viking Warship! Mudholes, prepare to be boarded!
The first series of rutted hell was supremely successful. smooth and steady as the water sprayed over my boots, laughing like a mad man as I negotiated the bike adventure bike through the forest primevial. Rain, water, mud, woods, bike, all blending together to wash away the toils of my workday life, dammit, I AM an adventure biker.
For me, these moments of manley epoch last only so long. Like a hit of the best drug on the street, it is the ultimate rush, followed by of course, the ultimate let-down. This came is the form of the last mudhole, or "my Waterloo".
I entered a 30 foot long rut, high on the pegs, steady speed, with a slight downhill and right entry. Steady as she goes, 5 feet, 10 feet, I'm doing it, Im doing it, then the KTM decides its lesson time. With the speed of an olympic Judoka, and the finese of a bull ring champ likely to be named something like "ballbuster", the KTM decided it was timed to teach this tenderfoot a lesson. The bars cut fast to the left, turning into the rut, pitch to the ground and flung me across the trail. I performed a rather elegant summersault (elegant from a 53 year old perpsective), landing flat on my back in the equally soupy muck that my KTM now rested in.
My reflective moment came as I lay supine in the middle of the woods, now mud covered. I realized that as well as I had mastered my DR, as much as I had learned about riding the rough stuff, now with a 990cc firebreathing shit-stomping Austrian Uber-Bike between my legs, there was still much to learn.
After picking up my bike, pulling the mud clods out of the bar guards (thank you KTM, they actually work! Not a scratch on her. ps, the handguards are tough as a pigs ear too!) I threw a leg, fired her up and finished the ride. Fortunately my loving and supportive wife was still at work so I quickly hosed off all the evidence, which even included a significant mudblob on the back of my helmet, and deprived her of yet another opportunity to say "I told you you'd fall of that damn thing".
The good points, I wasn't hurt, the bike wasnt hurt, and I had a grin from ear to ear all the way home, not in spite of hte fact that I was covered in mud head to tow, but because of that fact. This Bike is gonna be fun.......
As a grown man, and I use the term loosely, I recognize that there are moments of thoughtful reflection that help us on our journey to male enlightenment (not to be confused with enhancement!)
For some, it comes with summiting a 4,000 footer, for others, a beautiful sunrise at the beach, or even a baby's smile. For me, it usually comes in that hangtime moment while cartwheeling over the bars of my newest bike. So came the moment a couple of weeks ago on my KTM 990 Adventure R.
The setting: It was a monday, and all the guys at work were going to ride afterwards. The weather was spotty, with both threatening skies and occasional showers. Slowly but surely everyone bailed as panty waisted, road bikers tend to do. One guy, with a 30K plus HD even had the nerve to say he doesnt even take his bike out if it looks like rain! Evil Knievel would be rolling over in his chrome slathered casket if he knew!
As I had ridden to work already, and had a rain suit, I decided that I would at least take the "long way home" after work. After all, I ride a KTM 990 Adventure R, (pronounced ARGHHHHH, like a pirate), the premiere swashbuckling Armaggedon-mobile on the road today! A bike that evokes a sense of adventure just parked in front of Starbucks!
For me, the long way home involves a network of dirt trails of various quality that heretofore have been slayed by me and my trusty DR650. So after donning my rainsuit I set off, weather and pusscake buddies be damned, I'm riding!
As I got deeper into the trail, now affectionately known as the "trail of tears", I realized it must have rained a lot more than I expected as all the ruts were well filled with water, hub deep, and now had been transformed into my personal kryptonite, mudholes.
I have had my ups and downs in mud, learning over the years to be much more subtle than on dry land. each lesson beginning with good intentions, and ending with a thud. But this time was different. I was on the two wheel personification of a Viking Warship! Mudholes, prepare to be boarded!
The first series of rutted hell was supremely successful. smooth and steady as the water sprayed over my boots, laughing like a mad man as I negotiated the bike adventure bike through the forest primevial. Rain, water, mud, woods, bike, all blending together to wash away the toils of my workday life, dammit, I AM an adventure biker.
For me, these moments of manley epoch last only so long. Like a hit of the best drug on the street, it is the ultimate rush, followed by of course, the ultimate let-down. This came is the form of the last mudhole, or "my Waterloo".
I entered a 30 foot long rut, high on the pegs, steady speed, with a slight downhill and right entry. Steady as she goes, 5 feet, 10 feet, I'm doing it, Im doing it, then the KTM decides its lesson time. With the speed of an olympic Judoka, and the finese of a bull ring champ likely to be named something like "ballbuster", the KTM decided it was timed to teach this tenderfoot a lesson. The bars cut fast to the left, turning into the rut, pitch to the ground and flung me across the trail. I performed a rather elegant summersault (elegant from a 53 year old perpsective), landing flat on my back in the equally soupy muck that my KTM now rested in.
My reflective moment came as I lay supine in the middle of the woods, now mud covered. I realized that as well as I had mastered my DR, as much as I had learned about riding the rough stuff, now with a 990cc firebreathing shit-stomping Austrian Uber-Bike between my legs, there was still much to learn.
After picking up my bike, pulling the mud clods out of the bar guards (thank you KTM, they actually work! Not a scratch on her. ps, the handguards are tough as a pigs ear too!) I threw a leg, fired her up and finished the ride. Fortunately my loving and supportive wife was still at work so I quickly hosed off all the evidence, which even included a significant mudblob on the back of my helmet, and deprived her of yet another opportunity to say "I told you you'd fall of that damn thing".
The good points, I wasn't hurt, the bike wasnt hurt, and I had a grin from ear to ear all the way home, not in spite of hte fact that I was covered in mud head to tow, but because of that fact. This Bike is gonna be fun.......
