Twisting Asphalt - A SoCal Ducati Motorcycle Blog

[Photo by Rick Clemson]

The sun is well past its prime and I’m feeling unbelievably angry — angry at the motorcycle, angry at the mountain, angry at myself, even angry at the new CRG levers…

Because I waited to long to get on the bike and just go…

I let the day slip past me under the false pretenses of a cloud-covered disguise and a morning filled with wasted time. Now halfway through the ride, my penance seems to be a road that’s permeated by an apprehensive collection of near constant tension.

It’s the kind of strain I try to avoid by going for a ride in the first place – but today it lurks under the asphalt like a hunter stalking its prey. Holding low, hiding out, just waiting to see your weaknesses. Waiting for that one single mistake when it capitalize and take charge for the foreseeable future.

And I can feel it bearing down… With each flick of the front end…

The strain of its eyes. The heat from its breath. The emotional turmoil it creates within. It’s the kind of foreboding thought-process that somehow ensnares you - traps you in a self-fulfilling circular prophecy written in your own continual failure.

Worst of all, you witness at each bend in the road; within a missed mark or an overtly loose line or that one stone that somehow stand tall right at the apex… And right now I find myself feeling this amazingly powerful sense of internal rage – the kind of raw, bitter, unrelenting anger that I haven’t felt in ages – because I can’t shake this feeling, I can’t just enjoy the ride, and perhaps most importantly because I – and I alone - created it in the first place…

I decided far to late in the day to go for a ride when I clearly lacked the mental space to enjoy it, and now I’m paying the price, one corner at a time.

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It’s been a rock’n few weeks for riding — With the weather turning, the skies clearing (relatively speaking) and a bit more free time then usual, I’ve some how managed to rack up just over a 1,000 miles thus far this month. While that’s just a drop in the bucket for the high mileage crowd, for me it’s historically quite good. Also probably explains why I’ve felt rather relaxed - even on days when the weather went to hell and the bike got tossed about, because there was always ‘tomorrow’ or the ‘next ride’… There’s simply something quite comforting about knowing that you’re actively - and perhaps excessively - engaging in the sport of riding and doing it with a regular consistency… Of course from my perspective, the best part is that there’s still thirteen days left on the calendar So a really good month might become a really great one rather quickly…

As some of you might have noticed, while I’ve been racking up the miles, they’ve been almost exclusively on the ST3. There’s a good reason for that - The 1098S had it’s first real mechanical mishap since I got it last year. Air managed to seep into the clutch line and while I’m mechanically inclined, it seemed like a better use of time to let the boys at Pro Italia deal with it while I got some much needed riding in. I suppose that’s one the strange contradictions of owning multiple bikes, if it’s a beautiful day and one of the bikes is down for whatever reason, I’m much more apt to get out and ride the other one then fret over what’s wrong with the bike in question… And while the 1098S was in the shop, I had the PI boys install some new bling that MotorMilt (aka the old man) had picked up for me over the holidays; a pair of brilliantly gold ’shorty’ CRG levers. While I totally dig the ‘look’ thus far I’m not sure if I’m sold on them or not - perhaps it’s just that I’ve gotten used to the standard Ducati lever set and they feel ‘comfortable’ to me. Time will tell I guess… I figure I’ve got thirteen days to see how they get going

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Darks clouds hang overhead with a clinical like mortality that seems to last forever. It’s a void of color floating with soulless conviction and it somehow seems capable of penetrating even the most hopeful thoughts and feelings. And there’s no escape. No relief. No sunshine to save the day. Nothing but doom and gloom and uneasiness to shadow your every action. The kind of internal turmoil, which got me on the bike in the first place.

Consciously I try to ignore the apprehension and quell the internal shuffling of the deck as I charge up the face of the mountain. But the hills, which are normally inviting, docile creatures, seem shallower and more confined. They spread their brash pessimism over the open road. Covering the correct ‘lines’ with doubt and confusion while leading you astray. They gnaw away at your sense of conviction. Hunting down that elusive sense of release and relaxation bit by bit. Instead offering nothing but a platter full of antagonism.

When the backend steps out for the third time, it’s clear that the dark, dangerous, forbidding clouds are signaling their dominance over the day at hand. The more you push, the more they tighten their grip, until eventually you come to realize that no matter what you do, the fate of the ride rests in their hands. They are the ones that are in control.

And yet there’s an odd harmony to the day.

Once you make the jump and stand back, it becomes obvious that while it’s not an optimal day for a ride, you’re still directly connected to the surroundings. You’re feeling their emotions, capturing their glances, chuckling at their misfortune and still availing yourself of a sensory experience. It’s not the affair you’d hoped for or even the one you planned, but it’s still real and truthful and uncompromised nonetheless. A slice of life that’s far from perfection but still contains the tenants of breaking away from the ‘norm’ and perhaps on a day like today, that’s just good enough to live with, because let’s face it, you really don’t have a choice. It’s up to the clouds.

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The helmet visor has been faux painted with enough insect innards to keep an entomologist busy for weeks. The leather jacket desperately need an extra long deep-tissue massage session. And the bike… ahhhh, the beauty of the bike… It looks, and smells, worse then a survivalist student after six weeks in the outback without running water… Yet all of that brings a smirk and a smile to my face… Because I was there. I saw it. I savored it.

Looking at the screen while pondering the next words to choose, there’s a residual sense of ‘peace’ that’s so blatant, and so calming, and so carefree right now that it’s scary just how relaxing it feels. Every ride ought to end this way. Shivering somewhere between the reward for an I-can’t-believe-I-just-experienced-that mecca moment and the long, slow burn of a lengthy workout that leaves you feeling completely spent but smiling.

Glancing at the clock, it’s somewhat stunning, perhaps even startling, just how fast the hours can pass when you’re enjoying jockeying in the saddle amongst the grandeur of a vibrantly living, breathing and blooming desert.

I have to admit that I had no concept of how fantastical this part of the world could be during this time of the year. Twelve months ago we were running around the globe shooting Twist The Throttle and I completely missed the spring season in the Southern part of Southern California. Yet after today’s ride it’s clear to me, that was a scheduling mistake to the nth degree.

Because I missed out on a masterpiece of living artwork.

There is something surreal and yet quite riveting about blasting through an endlessly scenic sketch where the landscape looks as if someone has painted directly onto nature itself. From the kaleidoscope of flowers that are roaring to life to the brilliant depth in the greenery, there’s a remarkable image at work here - a picture that captures so much of California - and it’s begging to be seen, asking to be cherished, and perhaps wondering if you’ll remember it because of its limited shelf-life.

In a month or two around this part of the world it’ll be a hundred degrees outside and what looks like it’s living today will surely perish - at least visually. Yet this feeling, this moment of imagery needs to remain. I have to remember it. Because it’s so remarkably luminous, so immense, and so meaningful in all its glory that to forget it would be to lose something truly special. A part of the greatness of California.

More Picts after the jump… Continue reading ‘Unwound’

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The bike is bending in the corner as I fight an awkward mental state that stands somewhere in-between both today and tomorrow. So much seems perfect; The roads are relatively clear, the traffic is amazingly light, and the bike seems be to revealing in the fact that it’s out for a joyride. Yet I still can’t seem to allow myself to let go. I can’t disengage. After years of riding, one would think that by now I would have learned how to set aside the mental energy to simply enjoy the ride. For the first time in weeks there’s no pressing deadline, no heavy lifting to be done, nothing looming over my head. And yet I still can’t allow myself the freedom to be me. Or more to the point, the ability to enjoy the moment for what it is and not what it isn’t.

Coming around the next bend, I find myself wondering if I’ll ever master the skills involved in compartmentalizing the various facets of life. Will I ever be able to both consistently carve out the time to ride and the time to enjoy the moment? Today is the type of afternoon where I should be deriving a great deal of pleasure from the bike — A certain moto-satisfaction — however it seems damn near impossible to just ‘let go’ and enjoy the empty space between Point A and Point B because my mind seems to be traveling well outside the boundaries of my soul. Focused on the possibilities and not the practicality of the here and the now.

Part of this mental conundrum no doubt stems from the fact that at the moment I find myself in-between projects, a vast wasteland of wonder that seems rife with options but also filled with little to no certainty. After eleven broadcast spec projects one would think I would have come to grips with this sensation by now - of course it’s part of the intrinsic deal you pen when you sign up for this sort of life and lifestyle - and while I certainly deal with it better then I used to, I still can’t seem to escape the emotional turmoil it creates nor the sense that there’s something else out there that I ought to be doing at the moment…

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