From an old newsletter inspired by The Don himself:
Cheese, Crackers, and Old Whine
Russ Weik
I arrived at STAR 2011 too late Monday to connect with friends for a community ride. Tom was making a last minute repair to his bike in the parking lot so we joined forces to explore some local roads. Twenty miles into the ride, I’m feeling very familiar with the roads. A rest stop at Shady Valley and it all comes together. I was here twenty years ago and had spent the better part of a week riding “The Snake,” although, they had not attached the name as a marketing tool to hwy 421. I slipped into reminiscing about the fun of my younger days, strafing these curves with little traffic and uninterested police. Those were some good ole days. I was wondering if this would be my last time to come to Tennessee. I have enjoyed so many of these great roads and yet feel there are so many more just over the mountain. Was I running out of time?
For our evening meeting the Executive Committee went over the details of our club. I would have excused myself, slipping out for a beer, and never returning had Michael not mentioned the Garmin door prize at the end. I stayed. Choon is up next with his demographic power point presentation about MSTA. My mind centers on a graph that looks like a pig-in-a-python of our member’s ages. I’m there, right in the middle, right on the high point. The future looks all down hill run from here, for me. One hour later, I find that the Garmin drawing was rigged. Isn’t that what all losers say? So, I step outside to nurse the last of my beer. It’s only 10:00 PM, I am about ready to turn in, when I find Greg holding court in the drive. No one can tell a story like Greg. I’ve heard some of them and been a part of some of them, Riders of the Corn, Keith Submarining his BMW, Dracula’s Sprocket Teeth, Greg’s Record Fifty Yard Crawl, and How Not to Patch a Tire. Each time, some of the perpetrators are present to defend their positions and embellish the stories with semi-truths. I will miss hearing those stories.
Tuesday morning arrives and with the help of some Aleve, I stumble down to the nearest caffeine fountain to begin the awakening ritual. The breakfast conversation quickly turns to; who has had the latest by-pass surgery, who has been through chemo this year. So many of us have had a round of skin cancer, it no longer drums up sympathy. My mind turns to years when we talked about faster bikes and the hot waitress at the pub the night before, but not this year. We pack up for our day’s ride and I wonder how many more times, if any, will I get to ride these roads?
I ride the day in a lethargic mood wondering how all this fits together. My Gixxer is in her element on the twisty pavement, yawning at my inputs, as if to ask, “Is that all you have old man?” Will this be my last sport bike? Should I reconsider the sports car mentioned in the “Seasoned Rider Seminar?” On returning to the hotel I sponge a beer to ease the kinks in my muscles. I like to think it is healthier that Tylenol. I see Don Clark in the lobby and ask about the weather in California, how’s the wife and kids, grand kids, and great grand kids. The small talk is going well when he says he just made his reservation for STAR in Avon, Colorado next year. “What?” I say to myself, trying to keep a good poker face. This guy is 95; still riding coast to coast, drinking like a teenager, buys green bananas, and shows no sign of retiring before midnight. The thought occurs to me to break into his room and steal his drug pack, but if he found out, I think he would whoop my arse.
I have a good night’s sleep. In the morning the arthritis is manageable, the sciatic nerve is dodging the herniated disc, and the motocross shoulder has locked in like a Snap-On socket. My joints still sound like a bag of marbles but life is good. We saddle-up for a new road called the Dragon’s Back. (Some people have no shame.) Choon is a magician with a Garmin and 30 minutes later we are in the curves. Things are going so good, even a hay baler waves us around. Then we come upon the sign, “15 MPH curves next 3 miles.” Gixxer looks over her should to see if the same rider is on board today. “Yeah, it’s me, girl.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her I had dreams about an S1000RR last night. After lunch, Choon dials up more good roads, although I am a little worried about that contraption we blew by that looked like a speed camera. Wow, I could do this all day. Let’s do “The Snake” on the way back to the Holiday Inn. At dinner, I’m selling a side trip to The Tail of the Dragon, Cheroholla Sky Way, and the Devil’s Triangle. And next month I should dust off the BMW and pay a visit to daughter in San Fran. Maybe I can get my Texas buddies to do an Iron Butt ride when the temperatures ease up. I think I need to come back to this area in a couple years, after all, Don convinced me I have another 30 years to ride. Hopefully, I can be a role model for those on the left side of Choon’s chart that they have much more time to ride too. Just about every medical report says, “Close relationships lengthen your life span.” MSTA, “They are my kind of people.”
