Old guys and dirt

Now, I don’t mean to sound too much like a guy who just can’t stand riding bitch because he’s too manly for that, but… It’s HARD passengering when you’re so used to being the rider. I mean, I like riding on the back. It means I get to drink. But after 100-some-odd-thousand miles of my own riding, I find it more challenging than I used to. Early on, the first few times I got on a bike, it was someone I knew, who rode a motorcycle. Now, it’s got to be someone I know and TRUST. Which gets a lot more selective as I get more experienced.

Paul is a very good rider. He’s a better rider than I ever was, even when I was a better rider. He, uhh, maybe likes to enter corners a little hot for my taste when I’m on the back, and I can never tell whether it’s on purpose or he didn’t know where the offramp turned.

We ride a lot, as in “how about we go to Reno to watch a few hours of racing and then come back this evening?” And I am poor, so a couple of weeks ago, I pointed out that those long boring freeway slogs were giving us shit mileage when we rode separately. I can’t gloat about my 50mpg if between the two of us, it’s really cut to 25mpg by bringing two bikes. That doubles the money we’re spending on gas. Which adds up, when you’re the kind of people who ride to Reno for lunch.

So, two up, we’ve been doing for some of these freeway slogs. Which brings me to Saturday morning.
Things I thought about while sitting on the back of the FZ1: (not really in any particular order)
1.) I am a shitty passenger. I have to try really hard to remember NOT to do a head check when I know Paul is going to change lanes.
2.) That hot pink lowrider full of ghetto boys is the funniest thing ever. They look like they are having a lot of fun. Yay!
3.) Concord is NOT the East Bay. It’s, like, the South Delta, or something.
4.) What IS that other dirtbike park that is right next to the freeway just before the pass?
5.) When it’s windy, I try to duck down behind Paul so I don’t give steering input.
6.) Making a conscious effort to look into the turn and lean slowly slightly into it with him.
7.) Oh, hey, that’s the spot where I got pulled over that one time. The one time a CHP officer WASN’T a dick to me.
8.) I can’t believe Jason actually moved out here by Mills. It’s like a million years away from everything, what was he thinking?
9.) Paul is the Best. Thing. Ever.
10.) We are going to die.
11.) Hah! This is the commute they wanted to make me do, if they moved to Tracy! Fuck that!
12.) Cop. Does Paul see him?
13.) Those cows look happy. Where is the goat I saw last time?

So you can see, it was a nice ride for me. I’ve offered to trade off, so Paul can passenger half the time. But I’m not sure he really wants to. For one thing, his legs are longer, and probably wouldn’t be happy on the back of my SV. Plus, you know, most guys don’t want to ride on the back. Even I have to struggle with it.

We were going to Carnegie (Tracy) to watch vintage and sidecar motocross. I have watched vintage motocross, but never sidecar motocross in person. What fun! I took a whole bunch of pictures of weird bikes in the pits, and even a few of the races. Highlights posted here for your total amusement. The crowd at vintage motocross is not as mullet-y as the past few races we’ve gone to see, but more of an old-guy-with-family crowd. It was fun, and we were home in time forPaul to wash his vintage Yamaha MX, and for me to drink beer and get sleepy and too lazy to go to the party we intended to visit.

I can’t imagine it would have been any better than watching sidecars amble around a motocross track though.