Old Creek->Hwy 1 (Morro Bay)->Turri Rd

[reg71]

The time has come again. I was out and about, finished my lunch and decided to take the back way to Grover to meet Brian and Tori to tear up my bike... I grabbed a few pics and I'll try and wax poetic a bit if I can find it in me for you guys...

Reg's World awaits...

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She fires right up just like she always does on a warm day. A smooth touch to the button and the low growl ensues. My heart speeds up a couple beats in anticipation or perhaps just getting in time with the roll of the pistons.

I don my jacket, earplugs, start some tunes, throw my leg over and settle in to that old familiar spot. My eyes close as the helmet slides over my head and reopen to a different world. A better world. The world from the back of a bike.

I push the play button and snick the gear lever into first. Slowly I ease out the clutch and let the RPMs build and pull me out from the parking lot. The wind slowly starts to whisper promises.

A left onto Hwy 46 takes me away from Paso Robles and towards the sea. I can't see her or feel her cool kiss yet, but in my soul, I know she is over there calling.

There's no hurry right now. We are just getting into our rhythm after a nice lunch and a cool beverage. The day is warm and bright. I feel the sun caress me and watch how he lights the world for me. So much green. How can one color be so many colors? It is for the gods to understand. I glide along the road letting the flow of traffic dictate my pace. My left hand drops from the bar and begins it's imitation of Orville and Wilbur's historic flight so long ago. Floating up and down, it pulls me into a ballet where the wind and the road and the bike are all performers.

I continue my flight dance for several miles just being one with this little part of the world that for this time is mine before I turn onto Old Creek Rd and pause for a moment. The last time I came through here, some of you were with me. Good memories flood my mind. My eyes skip across the landscape. I gaze at the rocks where wildflowers force their way through cracks to enjoy the sun with me.



In my mind's eye, the guys are here with me again. I hear Long on the radio. I don't know what he's saying, but I hear happiness in his voice. I see Randy gliding along with all the others. His eyes are greedily snapping up our vistas to take back to Canada and tell the story. You are all there with me and phrases race through my head as I race through the curves. How can I describe what I see and feel. The simple answer is: I can't. At least not adequately. I do what I can do, but words and cameras can only do so much.



Blue, I feel your kiss now. I can't see you, but in the background, I see your gentle misty breath and feel it on my neck. You tease me towards you.



My rear tire says she may be a bit worn, but she can make this one last hurrah. It is a fitting last ride for a tire, I think. I'll give her one last push, but not now. Later, I'll let her sidewalls feel the G forces pushing her just to the edge once more. Maybe let her slip just a little, let her know where her limits are. She's no racer but she held her own through miles of California roads...



Down the hill I go. I don't bother starting the motor. Gravity reaches out and pulls me. The winds in my ears sings a song of freedom. I feel blessed. I stop again and snap more pics while my memories of the fun we had together on this road continue to stew until I am almost there again. I am in both places at one time.








We dive down into the valley and the trees reach across above us saluting a remembered voyager. The shadows cavort across my fender, windshield and Rorschach my tank. I have no time to interpret them. Honeysuckle climbs through my helmet and into my nostrils demanding my attention. My diaphram makes a greedy pull filling my lungs. I am starting to feel it now. That synchronicity that sometimes happens when riding. Is this what Jung described?

My right hand takes a pull on the throttle, the fuel sprays in the chamber and Scratch lets out a mighty roar. That's my signal to pull my helmet down into the stream and let the wind just slide by as it feebly tries to grasp the unattainable.



The curves begin to melt beneath my tires. The only sounds, the whooshing of the wind, the roar from my pipes. The maniacal laugh inside my helmet.



The crescendo builds, I begin to climb back out of the valley. My knees jump out at the ground on inside turns. My hips slide left and right on the seat moving me lower and inside. My inside knee is a compass needle pointing me where I will go moving back towards center as the bike stands upright again. The bumps make pitiful attempts to upset my line as the racetech springs up front and penske under my seat giggle like school girls after their first kiss. The sidewalls of my nearly used up tire groan with both ecstacy and fear but hold true just this one more time... The cars that went by us as we snapped pics appear as dots on the horizon then just as quickly disappear as dots in my mirrors. Whale Rock Resevoir bleeds by on the right where we all stopped just one week ago. At 100+ it barely glimpses me before I am gone again.

Then, almost as quickly as it began, it is over. I am behind cars again and there is no line of sight. I dare not pass blind. That's okay. The moment I have snatched from time will live on and always be mine. My left hand drops from the grip and once again tries to shed it's earthly ties. It's attachement to me keeps it merely bobbing at my side while I feel the breathe of the pacific again. We have now climbed out of the valley and as we enter Cayucos, blue wrests the attention from green.




Off in the mist I see the first of the morros thrusting it's ancient volcanic head about the blue vying for its share of attention from passers-by. It and it's sisters form a chain in San Luis Obispo county giving us different terrain to hike on and views to behold. As I cruise along with the traffic flow, I see another of the Morros in the distance reaching out and pulling on my eyes. A petulant child tired of the abundance of attention going to another sibling.



I make a right turn on Saouth Bay Blvd and consider that I am now in yet a different world. Only moments ago, dots of sweat began to dew on my uppper lip as I soared through a valley greedily absorbing scents of fresh grass and hondeysuckle. Now, brine dominates. It's cool and a saltwater marsh borders me on my right.



Well, after a few mintues I decide that warmer climes are in order for me. I make a left on Turri Rd. Greens once again seize control of nature's palette and I amble along observing the world as a part of it more than a passenger on it. Ducks paddle in the brackish creek on my right taking no mind of me. I am there and gone before it becomes important. On to Los Osos Valley Rd I head back into San Luis Obisbo and split through the traffic when there is a red light. Does it bother them? It is of no consequence. Back we go onto Hwy 101. It and Hwy 1 are the same for this part so we suffer through it with the rest of the ants until at Pismo we are afforded the opportunity to take the road less travelled, and that makes all the difference.



Another stop near the Pismo Pier to absorb more shades of blue, then back onto the bike and off to Tori's shop to bid farewell to the rear tire. It's held up really well but it really wasn't made for the kind of abuse I threw at it.



Here she is in all her final glory before being relegated to the tire pile for recyclilng.



All in all, a good Monday. We bid farewell to the keg and dropped it off at Firestone, we rode through valleys, around mountains, beside an ocean, over a river, and along creeks. We saw wildflowers, wild animals, smelled spring scents and became one with nature.

Stay tuned for the next episode.

[drewl]

That tire owed you nothing, but one wonders how much you owe it?
Very nice write up. Makes me want to listen to the Books-on-tape version while taking in some scenery of my own.

[leftcoast]

nice write up nice ride...
what a nice day.


today's posts pretty much document your love affair with inanamate objects.
not a bad thing.....

[R.W.]

Originally Posted by reg71

I don my jacket, earplugs, start some tunes, throw my leg over and settle in to that old familiar spot. My eyes close as the helmet slides over my head and reopen to a different world. A better world. The world from the back of a bike.

My favorite paragraph, sex and riding can only take me to a different world, at my age I'm not sure which I enjoy more

[reg71]

Originally Posted by R.W.

My favorite paragraph, sex and riding can only take me to a different world, at my age I'm not sure which I enjoy more

I was really going for trying to bring the riders there with me. Even now when I read it, I can see it in my head how your close your eyes and the helmet slides on and you feel like you are different somehow...

[vfourbear]

If I remember correctly, there are two especially tight banked curves on Turri, and every time I rode it, I would be spending every moment from the time I first turned onto the road from either end thinking about how I was going to set up for them. It almost seemed like Turri existed only so it could take you to those two turns

[reg71]

Originally Posted by vfourbear

If I remember correctly, there are two especially tight banked curves on Turri, and every time I rode it, I would be spending every moment from the time I first turned onto the road from either end thinking about how I was going to set up for them. It almost seemed like Turri existed only so it could take you to those two turns

one of those is where brian wiped out a little over a year ago, I think. I was just cruising it slowly so there was never any even close call. I have had a couple curves on it try to bite me before, though...