Every Thursday night, around 8:00pm, in the parking lot of Mira Mesa Market Center, on the corner of Westview Parkway and Mira Mesa Blvd, is the Mira Mesa Bike Night.
It's probably one of the only bike nights that gathers around a Starbucks and Cold Stone Creamery.
Bikes park in the parking lot under an amber-colored parking lot light and folks just stand around and talk about the motorcycle life. You can go in for a hot Sumatran Roast or an ice cold chocolate chip waffle cone, but most seem to be fine standing with the bikes, lighting up a cig, and reenacting a more miniaturized version of Zorba's on a Thursday night.
But then again, Southern California is full of competing bike nights. On the same evening, Cycle Gear runs a bike night at their San Diego and San Marcos locations, which tend to draw more people due to free food. After the weenies and Mountain Dew have been depleted, many riders gather at Mira Mesa for the night cap.
Sash was a little spoiled because her only two bike experiences were in Tulsa, OK, which was medium-sized, and the big one in Memphis, TN at Beale Street. Mira Mesa Bike Night is rather small, albeit it was only April, and bike nights usually don't get going until the Summer months.
We met up with an old counter-part of mine from my earlier days of rolling with indie riding clubs, Alex. Alex had been the VP of the California-chapter of Twisted Riderz, while I had been a co-founder of Heatwave RC. In those day, we had kept track of each other and our respective RCs. There were times when our clubs joined up on some outings. As the years went by, Alex left his club while the Heatwave kinda languished into hiatus. I had lost touch with Alex until I had crossed paths with him at a Cycle Gear one afternoon.
Since then, we're back to keeping an eye on each other, though still only hooking up once in a blue moon.
|Sash is in the lower-right while Alex is seen deep into the lower-right corner.|
For Sash and I, hanging out at a bike night is like taking a break from our work, getting out of the apartment, and getting some of the local motorcycle culture back into our blood.
Somehow, seeing all the sportbikes in the parking lot and the guys wearing various sportbike club colors, makes me want to get a little 600cc rice burner and roll with them. But they're all in their 20s, and I'm now in my late 40s. To them, I'd be like the Piney lugging around an oxygen canister.