Much of my motorcycle riding the past several weeks has been relegated to the core of San Diego, mostly the downtown areas and the immediate neighboring communities.
I haven't done any joy riding in a while.
For one, I've spent a lot of time working on our Internet business. But two, I've been fighting off a flu bug the past 10 days.
But overall, my life has really narrowed down to working all day long and then hanging out at the bar at night. I haven't spent much time riding motorcycles with friends, not like the way I used to a few years ago when weekends seemed made for riding with friends.
I don't even pay much attention to the newest motorcycles out now. A fellow rider could talk about the newest sportbike from BMW or Yamaha, and I would nod my head as if I knew what they're talking about, but yet I wouldn't know a thing. I don't really care about the latest in motorcycle technology right now. I just want to talk about the deep philosophical stuff that only makes sense to a motorcycle rider.
Riding through the big city is a challenge enough. The traffic, the potholes, the tight turns, I never seem to get the Honda ST past 3rd gear. You can't think like a joy rider in these parts. You have to be more aggressive. You have to see yourself as having the advantage of two-wheels and then exploiting it. Otherwise, the cagers, the truckers, and cab drivers can sense the fear in you, and if they sense it you're dead.
For one, I don't seem to ride with gloves anymore. They're too bulky. I need to feel my fingers on the grips and levers, it gives me better control. I can fine tune the braking and clutching. Even when it rains, I still find it better to go without gloves.
Why I feel the need to have such fine control, I don't exactly know. Somehow, the steep hills and aggressive driving in the city just made me want to be that way.