Virgin Biker Poetry

Huge and exciting trip planned for next month; I'm euphoric, scared, expectant, worried, plan-mad, hopeful, pensive, anxious, way behind, and looking forward.

I'm all alone so far.  My friend hasn't committed - others friends have skirted the issues.

Of course, there are the usual mundane normal everyday things of a household, family, services, vehicles, etc., etc., etc., to be dealt with that are normally worked without the extraneous pressures.

It's impossible.  I just have to shut up and go forward.

It's a transition.  Oh, sure.

It's an experience.  I'm too old for that shit... dope!  I'm a child of the '60s... Seattle, Jimmy, Janis. No wait, that's not what this is about.  Although I have a minor longing and wish for the LSD of yesteryore.

I'm actually longing more for the promiscuity of yesteryear... but that's even more impossible these days... no - can't begin to recount the reasons I don't want to be bothered with condoms and worry about worse STDs than what we lived with in the 70s and 80s.  We were so naive.

My plan is to revert to the poet I was in the early 70s... I have more than enough to offer, at least 'experience' against the naive and passionate horny female I was then.

I actually thought my rabbit hornyness was my most attractive feature when my woman-self emerged in the presence of my magnificent and lovely bosom.  I parsed then.  Perhaps now, I can integrate the poet and her infinite, lovely, deep and hot rocking sexuality.

No Matter What You Think

No matter what you think, choices can be nearly zero.  I like choices in any situation.

I'm trained, highly trained, educated, drilled, practiced, experienced in emergency response, but today, it was different. Very different.

In the early morning hours, somewhere between dusk and dawn in this Alaska summer on a rural highway, a young moose stepped out from side of the road perpendicular to me, onto a guard-railed bridge over a creek, leaving very few choices for her and me.

Going the distance

I've been an endurance rider for many years - formerly on horseback, now on a motorcycle.

The formal name for my participation is 'Ironbutt' and the two categories I've accomplished are Saddlesore, a 1000 miles in 24 hours, and Bunburner, 1500 miles in 36 hours, in 2007, 2008, and 2009. I didn't ride that much last year but I did a Bunburner in July and I want to do a Saddlesore this weekend before it is too cold to ride.

What, you wonder, is the attraction to ride like that, besides the obvious, the rumbling between my legs?

O-O-O shall I wax poetic? Simple. Personal best.

We don't have superfreeways here, so this project is more difficult than it appears - you have to average at least 50 miles per hour to make the time cutoff. You have to plan carefully. You have to have some discipline to not take more than 20 minutes per stop. You have to create your own level of comfort, staying warm, hydrated, alert, and fueled to make the schedule.

I live in a very vast and rural state, and Oh, the Beauty. It is absolutely breathtaking sometimes - from riding through glacier ridges with a full moon rising in front of you, the surprise of nocturnal birds rising from the dark road at your approach, the stretches of wildflowers, occasional wild animals, birds and hares and moose and bears, even unexpected snow.

I'm excited - but this time I don't have a partner to ride with, so I'm a bit worried but anticipating this challenge. I've ridden alone before.