Finally, I was off of work. It had been a long day and I was pretty tired. Shuffling papers and tic tacking at a computer keyboard has a way of slowly dulling your senses until there is nothing but exhaustion, but today was different. Today I had an extra shot of energy spearing me forward to the end of the day; the prospect of arriving home leathering up, and taking a ride on my 2005 Suzuki Hayabusa energized me.
When I arrived at the house I ran into the usual distraction that always seem to hit when you are looking to do something; chores, grandpa wants to talk to you, and dad wants to tell you about how awesome his 4X4 old ass Jimmy is. Makes me wonder why I don’t live in an apartment… Oh yeah, rent.
So after some conversation and other distractions I finally sit astride my baby, Temeraire. I turn the key, hit the ignition, and feel the bike roar to life. Sweet!
I hit the street at a novel pace, going around the block so I can hit the road that heads out toward the industrial section of town. I pass by the house where the guy with the orange R1 lives, I don’t see him around though, and so I turn off into the industrial park. The warehouses and mills hum as I pass, but I can’t hear them, the snarl of the busa’s engine drowns the white noise out completely.
Soon I’ve passed through the warehouses and past the football stadium, now I’m on the highway. I just wished it was a little sunnier, the gray clouds were a bit of a downer but this is Texas and it’s summer, so it was either clouds and cool or sun and scorching. I was suddenly happy I had nice cool clouds in the sky.
I hit 45 toward San Saba, a nice ride considering; a smooth curve here and here, the rolling hills and then the straightaway at the valley floor. I had been riding my bike extra careful since the day I first bought it, I understood motorcycles are and always will be dangerous death machines, I also understood that my Hayabusa was one of the most powerful of these death machines, and so I’ve always ridden with an pair of shackle around my ego. When I reached the valley floor straightaway I noticed something, I was alone.
There was no cross traffic, no cars behind me or in front, and I could see on for a few miles. I’ve known this road all my life, I am intimate with it and the fact that there are two country roads that feed onto this stretch. Both of those roads are unpaved, so I would be warned of oncoming unseen vehicles by large plumes of orange dust. The skies are clear, no dust just gray clouds thousands of feet up. It was time to stretch Temeraire’s legs for the first time.
I slowly put on more throttle, the growling engine roared, the road flew by faster and I could hear the wind buffeting my helmet, so I tucked into the bike more. The world is jetting by so fast, I checked the speedometer, I’m over 150 mph! I put my eyes on the road and felt the road as my bike feels it. The thrumming beat of the gravel that intensifies the faster I go is reminiscent of the times I’ve taken my mustang to its highs, but this is different. I don’t feel this much when driving the Black Mage, I don’t have to work for every ounce control, not like this.
Before the instant is up I notice the first curve coming, and I know that I have run Tem as fast as I’m probably ever going to run her on a normal road. With the curve fast approaching, and no time to look down at my top speed, I back off the throttle and brake; nice and steady. Before the curve can jump out and grab me I’m back at the speed limit and taking the twist with ease.
Before long I find myself nearing the Colorado river, and my real destination on this ride, for there is a highway that intersects with 45 before the river. It leads to Goldthwaite, but most people use it to get to the famous Regency bridge, however I know… I know that if you follow this road all the way to Goldthwaite it twists, and turns and bucks all the way.
With a smile I took a left hand turn and began. I twisted left and right, up and down. I rolled throttle and pulsed brakes. I leaned in, I leaned out, I stood, and I pushed. My young legs pulsed and throbbed as fire ate through them and as I pushed down and up on the pegs the balls of my feet quaked like the surface of the road as Tem sang her throaty song.
On the way I saw another road, and couldn’t help but to think, that road looks fun, I wonder if it leads to Austin. Someday, possibly soon, I’ll come back and find out, but for now I coasted into Goldthwaite and turned onto 183 for Brownwood. I was on the homestretch and facing the biggest challenge of my ride.
The nice gray clouds had turned. No longer were they nice, cool, and docile. They had billowed into thunderheads with flashes of red and blue lighting up patches here and there. I was a little worried at first, I had looked at the radar before leaving home and all the storms had been well north of Brownwood. Was it possible that I was seeing those clouds now?
I had looked into the Texas skies before and seen huge storm clouds that were hundreds of miles away, but these weren’t those kind of clouds. I could see dark patches of rain off in the distance, and that meant that these storms were close. It was time to get back home and fast.
Nothing too fast, I determined I would stick to about 80 mph, which was about 85 on my speedometer considering I didn’t have a speedohealer to correct the lagging needle on my gauge. I carefully passed slow moving vehicles, usually when there were two lanes for one direction of traffic, and soon I was noting the progress of the rain.
There was a band that looked like it was stretching for the road. I had just left the little road town of Mullin and knew that I had less than a quarter of my entire trip left to go. Then the drizzle started, it was my first rain while riding. I was both exhilarated and nervous, I was now facing a new challenge that I had never faced as a rider, so I slowed down and redoubled my caution.
Soon the drizzle stopped and I regained full visibility. I sped back up and thought to myself how lucky I was to face my first rain with no mishaps. If only I knew…
I could see the next band of rain after I had passed through the last town till Brownwood, Zephyr. I could tell that this band of rain was definitely south of home, so I sped up to beat the arm of water. A stroke of lightning flashed to the ground as though the storm was accepting a challenge to race. I tucked up to my bike, feeling her growl like a tiger, and using the same rules as before I sped up to 80mph.
The football players at the nearby high school stadium waved as I revved past them. They were happy to be playing their beloved sport underneath the Friday night lights, until a flash flood warning cancelled their game less than five minutes after I rode by. Oh yes, this monster of a storm had accepted my challenge, and I guess I should be grateful. For instead of doing what most Texas storms do, and plop a tornado down less than a mile away, this storm had decided it would try to drown me.
I went down the road, not as fast as I could go but still pretty fast. It was hard to resist the temptation to break out at 150 mph, I had already done that once this ride, but there was traffic now and people. I wasn’t so arrogant as to risk them and myself over getting wet. I came around a bend after a few minutes and looked to my left; the arm of rain I was trying to out run was now behind me. I breathed a sigh of relief, that bands of precipitation had been much thicker than the one I had passed through outside of Mullin.
It’s smooth sailing from here on out, I thought, and then I passed the rest stop less then ten miles from town. I soon wished I had gone to that rest stop.
The storm had not acknowledged my victory over it. Oh no, it had only gotten pissed. About 5 miles outside of town I saw a wall of water. No warning drizzle, no buffeting winds, just a drop in the temperature, and a straight line draw on the road. I had little choice by this point, the arm of rain I had beaten had expertly cut off my escape route, and so Temeraire and I bravely sailed head first into the wall of water.
The first thing I remember thinking after the shock wore off was, my balls are wet, that’s not good. The rain poured, and visibility shrank away. The turn for my house was coming up so I braked, but I didn’t stop. In nanoseconds I realized that I was sliding, but how, my brakes hadn’t locked up. Then it hit me, I couldn’t feel the road anymore, I was hydroplaning. Instinctually I pumped my rear brake and extended my turn angle. Without the merest of shuttering the bike came to a stop, and I turned for home. That wasn’t the hard part.
A truck pulled out in front of me, a wash of blinding mist trailing it. I backed off as much as I could, and prayed that he would turn onto a side street. He didn’t, instead he pulled into the courtesy lane and let me pass. I was so happy to pull ahead.
I was just a little ways from home when out of the pouring mist I saw red tail lights, another truck. I slowed up right in the knick of time, no hydroplaning this time, but now I was trapped. There were two tons in front of me, and two tons behind! I gritted my teeth and started flashing my lights, maybe this one would pull over too. It was no good, the driver stuck himself in the middle of the lane and cut off my visibility while getting me even more wet than I already was.
There was no passing because there was too much water on the road to get the grip I needed. I couldn’t see past this truck’s taillights on any side, and I had another truck behind me so stopping was a “no go” as well. I hunkered down into a small pocket of wind behind the truck and road it to my turn off. Soon I was free and clear from the other truck as it turned left and I turned on the next road leading home. Finally I was clear all the way home in a driving downpour… that was until I reached my street.
The neighborhood was flooding as I pulled up. The street was full to and over the curb and the backwash from my tires was too heavy for me to downshift. Slowing wasn’t helping the situation so I coasted and prayed. My house came into sight, the waters receded, and I finally popped Tem down into first gear. I coasted up the driveway and sang a little ditty when I saw the garage door was open.
Once I parked I said a little thanks to god right before my mother rushed out of the door and yelled, “Your little brother’s dog is stuck in the doggy door!” And so I rushed to the rescue of 80 lbs of spotted Dalmatian ass. There’s a reason I don’t have to pay rent in this house.