Off We Go

May 4, 2012
Pulled out of the drive at 7:30 a.m. heading to Sudlersville to meet the rest of our group but first we need breakfast at Parkside Deli and as we suspected Bernie was there drinking coffee and telling stories with his buddies. Sneaking in I placed a kiss on his neck and startled him and gave his buddies something to talk about. In a few minutes Andy and Bonnie joined us and then by 8:45 a.m. everyone arrived. We had 19 bikes; 24 people all excited about heading north. I noticed we had 6 women riding their own bikes; that’s a good number.

The morning is cool and fog has settled around us; the moisture in this cloud which engulfs us coupled with the wind chill of riding at 60 mph makes the 58 degree temps feel much colder. I had packed my heated jacket but wasn’t sure if I wanted to put it on since I was betting it would warm soon and I wouldn’t be able to take it off. I decide to leave it in the saddlebag. The fog lifts in about an hour or so but where is the sun? Nowhere to be seen! As we snake our way through the countryside highway signs warn of sharp curves or hidden entrances. Most riders have a CB but there is no chatter other than the occasional “got the light” or “we all cleared the intersection”. I’m listening to the best music I know; the hum of the V-twin engines and the rumble of the “bad boy pipes” on several of the bikes and the shifting of gears as we climb and descend the hills. The smell of sweet wild flowers and trees mixes with the earthy smell of the farms; manure from the barns; chemicals being applied to the fields and the smell of the earth being turned as an Amish man works with his team of mules. The fields are so organized; I know why they plow and plant in plots so the dirt doesn’t wash away on the side of the mountain but how do they plow and plant each plot with such straight edges? And the clothes hanging on the line are organized with all the dresses together, then the shirts, the pants next and so on. All of life seems to be in order today. The route Glenn has picked is not the fastest or the most direct but that’s exactly the way we want it as it wonders beside Wolf Creek or other rivers and streams. We top a mountain to see a couple dozen windmills slicking the air in a slow rhythm planted on the ridge like tall, straight soldiers guarding the mountain.

We pull into the restaurant parking lot at 12:30 and the sun is now shining. By the time we mount the bikes I debate if I should wear the black leather jacket; yes I’ll put it back on. Just 30 minutes later I realize this was a bad choice. As we pull into a parking lot to regroup I shed the jacket and the gloves like a snake sheds its skin. Back on the road the wind whips around my arms and face while the sun warms my skin. A small drop of rain hits the windshield then another; a quick glance at the sky reveals a very dark cloud just ahead of us. Then we turn right and leave the cloud behind us as we climb higher on Gordon’s Mountain.

We arrive at the hotel by 5 p.m. the odometer registers 202 miles; dinner at 6 at the restaurant next door and the lighten flashes and the thunder rumbles while the rain pounds the pavement. Our prayers were answered today; no rain while we were riding.