I was within inches of being decapitated by the side mirror of a big black, driverless truck, a reoccurrence of a run in with the Devil earlier in the day. Clearly, I didn’t die, but there is some stuff I want to get to first.
Today, is a beautiful Sunday and I was looking forward more than usual to my motorcycle ride with the Sons of Kauai. I was on the mainland, visiting family and hadn’t ridden in two weeks, a long time for an infatuated biker. In addition, I had to take Flaming Lips to the hospital right before I left. It is the first ride on my resuscitated, two-wheeled muse.
I got up this morning extremely early, but I always do. I was actually looking forward to my cup of coffee and then outside to clean up the bike because it had been neglected for several weeks and that is simply unacceptable biker etiquette.
I picked out my t shirt, a very psychedelic Sgt Pepper look, and slipped into the next, washed pair of jeans in my denim progression. I fired up my Pandora, a handpicked symphony of what I consider to be specially eclectic, iconic sounds, a complete library of the hundreds of tunes I can’t live without. The motorcycle started, but with a slight hesitation, causing a little concern about whether she was cured.
I have never been shy about saying I am terribly locked into certain routines and to disrupt them is to risk an ugly, internal tsunami. I am not sure where superstitions fit into this straight line, regimen. I will bet you that every bike rider has their own weird shit related to riding. I wear the same hat, the same gloves, the same vest, the same personality, whenever I ride with my friends on Sunday.
So, every Sunday, I go to the same gas station, because Bob told me their gas was best for bikes and Bob knows this shit, plus the coffee is very good. I get my gas and go inside to say hello to a wonderful spirit of a lady. Our brief exchanges are great and she is delightfully vibrant.
It was business as usual this day and when i went inside to get my coffee and settle up, my return change was $6.66, followed by her warning for me to be careful. You see, this would be one of those things on a bike ride Sunday that would spook the hell out of me. I slowly walked out with change in hand, not feeling like I wanted that voodoo in my life. I have a coffee card and every so often, I get a free cup of coffee. Before I hit the door, I turned to her and she said I should have gotten the free cup today, altering the true amount of change. I got a mathematical Devil pass and I was very happy to have that out of my head.
For some reason, I wanted to write about this ride and my experiences on it because I had a feeling it was going to be eventful and I was right. I made the terrible mistake of taking a piece of gum from one of the riders. Leaning into the rolling curves of the road up Wailua, I felt a small, hard object, burying itself in the gum. Upon a rigorous, tongue inspection, I fell into the cavernous space once occupied by a tooth I had come to count on after all these years. I pulled at the tooth and the gum. I dropped the tooth in my vest pocket, while the chewing gum made itself at home on my fingers and i was unable to do a fucken thing.
Losing part of a tooth doesn’t really qualify as the work of the Devil, but it felt like another black bump in the day. Slowly, I calmed down and remembered I was seeing the DDS in two days and there was nothing to do about it today.
Today’s ride was exceptional and it feels like living in a landscape, where the foreground hasn’t quite dried and the background has a certain grace about it. While it is tempting to sign it in my imagination, it is not nearly complete yet.
I was lost in thought about today’s ride and my good fortune, with the idea of writing about it as soon as I got home, but the Devil wanted one more shot. I prefer riding the inside lane because visibility is better and there is more maneuvering room. I was a little close and I came out of writing this story in my head and there she was, a big, black truck slipping over into my lane, its gargantuan, side view mirror looking me in the eyes. I did my best Muhammed Ali and slipped my head over to my right, just enough to avoid being a live action cartoon, Larry’s Home Run Head.
I knew everyone behind me couldn’t have missed the maneuver and I think they were more frightened than me. When it happened, I instantly thought it would be a great addition to the story of today’s ride. We talked about it at the next stop and by that time, I felt good about pulling a fast one, just like the sleight of hand with my morning coffee at the beginning of today’s adventure.
There is so much dumb luck in this world and I am always grateful to be a recipient.