“I have found that cars, unless they are old and funky (MG TC) or very high performance (Ferrari), or both (Cobra, E-Type Jag), tend to dull our memories of travel, while motorcycles amplify them and etch them clearly in our minds.” – Peter Egan, Them Ice-Cold Blues, February 2003
April 30 breaks as a steady rain day, not a downpour day, but rain falling like a creek meandering through a valley. It is 60 degrees in the early afternoon when a 2-hour rainless riding window opens.
I take off without a route and with a satisfied smirk, as if cutting class in high school. Anticipating temperatures in the 60s, I am dressed well except for the forgotten neckerchief. The cool breeze funnels down my neck and keeps my back straight.
The Honda Goldwing, Big Red, is pointed toward Catoctin Mountain west of Thurmont, MD. Catoctin Mountain is “new forest.” Until 1930 its trees were harvested to make charcoal at Catoctin Furnace. 93 years later the new spring green explodes throughout the forest. I wince imagining a bald Catoctin Mountain but enjoy the new green before it gives way to the faded painted-on green of summer.
Near the mountain’s peak, I pass an open gate that was locked the last time by. Curious, I double-back and enter. The road seems seldom used, even abandoned – potholes and exposed underpayment abound. Riding on, the road turns eerie – am I that hapless teenager in a horror movie?
After a short rise the road wanders downhill. I ride like a toddler learning to walk - eyes wide and uncertain where I am going. Signs of life begin to appear – squirrels and deer dart from my bike and an occasional hiker lifts a hand hello. Slowly the road improves, and I recognize I am headed to my destination - Route 77 east back to Thurmont.
So begins another season of riding and amplified memories of travel etched clearly in my mind.
How about you? What is etched clearly in your mind? Share a story.
2nd Helping
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