Yesterday I got myself all worked up over this bike I wanted to buy. I try not to want things too much, but once I actually decide, this, I want THIS, I am incredibly impatient. So I had it all rolling around in my head, I could smell this bike and feel it between my legs, I had envisioned bringing it home, stopping by the SFMC to show it to the Limey, who’d gotten excited with me about each of my bikes, one by one, as they each rolled into my life.
Boo, hiss, I did not get to buy the damn thing. It was all I could think about all day. I got giddy, then deflated, then sad, then antsy as the excitement had gotten me all worked up with no where to go…
And went on a ride which a friend of mine is trying to start up in the East Bay. I’ve been trying to find roads in the East Bay, so this seemed like a good idea. Also, there are people I like to see no matter what. So, Thursday Night Ride, how does this compare to Monday Night Ride?
Well, Monday night riders don’t scare me as much. I know most of these people, and most are competent riders. We all seem to agree on a certain level of safety, not riding above your head, etc.
Thursday night ride was a surprisingly big group. And there were a few really bad riders. I scare easily, so I was terrified of riding with these people. Two stood out quite a bit, including the fat guy on the FZ who I followed for a while, looking for a corner where he WASN’T going all over, so I could pass him. I did, and I think he was watching me, because later I saw him trying to take corners like I do. Don’t do it! “This is not for you!” I’m 140 pounds on a dirtbike, you are like 275 on a little old sportbike. I got, like, MAD suspension for DAYS, yo. You have… A sad little thing that wants you OFF of it. Do NOT get on top of the bike and push it down under you. He also dropped his bike while we were all standing around waiting. It was hilarious. I have no idea how such a big man could drop such a small bike. I mean, you would think he’d have had to pull it out of his ass first.
Stood around at the wall while somebody decided where we were going. I am the only girl. That’s normal and wouldn’t merit mention, except that I think it explains the comment some guy made while we were standing there. Fast guy on an XR comes railing around the corner past us and gets me all excited. Could I get my helmet on and catch up to him? Nah. I am not even on my bike.
Some guy standing next to me says “Those bikes will make ANYONE fast.” As far as I can tell he doesn’t even have a bike.
“What, an XR?”
“Just, any dual sport. It’s like a dirt bike. Ride one for a few months, it will make anyone fast.”
“Huh. That’s a good idea. I think I’ll TRY that.” (put key in [my dual-sport] bike and start to put helmet on) “It’s kind of a girls bike, don’t you think?”
I don’t even understand why some people open their mouths.
At any rate, the police followed us. In Santa Cruz hills, I know which roads to take to avoid this; there are so many options. But apparently there are only like three roads in the East Bay. So the ride became an exercise in, well, boring-ness, and we decided to turn back. Someone is out of gas. We have gone, like TEN MILES, and this numbnut is whining about gas. Who shows up to a ride with 10 miles of gas? None of this is doing anything to combat my view of SF/East Bay sportbikers as a bunch of posing idiots. “Hey baby, I ride motorcycles” is about what I think these bikes are for, to some of these guys. I’ve had this feeling about SF bikers in general for a while. My friend Zeke flatly admits to it regularly and tells me I’m one of the few real motorcyclists. He says he’s just an image-biker, but I know that’s not true. I’ve ridden with him, and he’s tons of fun to ride with. But, yeah, there seem to be a lot of those guys around here. (and girls, whoa, don’t even get me started on some of these girls! Wait, no, I must, but it’s another journal entry, for sure.)
Anyway, after stopping for gas (grumble grumble) we headed back in to town to convene at some bar, where I ran into a friend who has not been riding his DRZ. I chastised him and poked at him for a while before heading into the City to stop by the SFMC, where I had a pizza delivered and complained loudly about the lack of Guinness.
Everywhere I went, plans were discussed for Easter Morning. We’ll see.
OH! and I saw goats! That almost redeems the crappy East Bay roads.