This is the first year I get to show my support for 2-wheeled commuting, and I’m proud.  This is going to be kind of a rough one, because it’s my first ride on a dangerous interstate, the first where I am carrying a load (loaded backpack) and it’s going to be about 200 miles round-trip.  But that’s ok, because on Ride To Work Day, I’m going to be out with bunches of bikes and it’ll be safety in numbers.

So imagine my distress when I roar out onto the interstate at 75 mph and there’s no other bikes out there.  I counted two on the trip out and three on the way back.  That was a real disappointment.  But, I still remained focused on getting to work and back alive.

So first, riding at 75 is nothing like riding at 55.  I had heard stories that as a vehicle approaches 70, the wind resistance increases at an exponential rate.  This, I discovered first-hand.  It was extremely similar to my experience doing indoor skydiving, except instead of 15 minutes in the wind tunnel, it was an hour and a half.  I could not have done it without my CrampBuster.  Although my hand did get a little cramped anyway, the ride would have been impossible without being able to relax my grip occasionally.

So midway through the workday, clouds gather and thunder sounds.  No rain, though.  The storm just passed to the south of work.  I checked the radar before leaving work and saw I would pass between two strong storm cells on my route home.  More good luck.  And my luck continued until I reached the final waypoint.  I had travelled too fast and caught the tail end of the one cell.  Merging into traffic, things suddenly slowed down to about 30.  That either means there’s an accident or a downpour brought traffic to a halt ahead.  Noticing the shoulders of the road changing from wet, to puddles, to pools I guessed which one happened correctly.  I also relegated myself to getting drenched yet again.  And it happened.  A good 20 minutes of steady rain compounded by semi trucks passing by with their excessive road spray.  But still made it home in one piece.

Post-trip evaluation, I was soaked (nothing new there), my hands were numb (that’s new), and I was pretty exhausted.  I cleaned up and went out for dinner in the car.  After riding the bike exclusively for four days, the first thought I had when I pulled out of the driveway in the car was “This car is HUGE!”  And it looked huge.  The far corner of the hood looked like it was a mile away.  It felt huge.  It was like floating in a boat, where the motions I made on the steering wheel were disconnected and delayed.  It is unreal what a perceptional difference there was.

Riding the bike to work every day is completely impractical for me right now, but if I lived closer to work, it would be a easy decision.

I figured this trip I would find out how long it would take to get to a local attraction via back roads and motorcycle.  This whole week has been rainy and miserable and a ride was just the thing to improve that.  That’s what I planned for, but not what I got.

Looking at the map, it looked like a straight shot on three different roads.  There was a connector from one roadway to the next, but I figured that would be obvious when i got to that point.  That was a very poor assumption.  Not knowing the name of that road cost me probably 45 minutes of my route and returned to bite me in the ass again.  But when riding, you don’t get so worried about taking the long way.  That is, until you realize how badly you want the short way.

I hit the first waypoint and began the straight shot segment.  I got caught in a little rain.  At the time I was unfazed.  I got a little wet, but started drying right away from the heat and wind.  If you’re not from FL, you won’t believe the rain patterns.  It can be pouring down rain, but across the street, it’s perfectly dry.  I have seen a downpour about the size of a couple parking spaces.

When I got to what would be the second waypoint, I didn’t recognize it.  Primarily because the intersection had a lot going on: a red light, train tracks, and a steep drop-off.   Secondly, because I didn’t know the name of the street I wanted.  So I kept going straight and ended up somewhere else.  Then the rain began for real.

It was my first rain ride and I was unprepared.  I have no luggage, so I wasn’t hauling my mesh jacket’s rain liner.  The downpour got me pretty good.  I took shelter for a little bit at a gas station until some vehicles wanting gas pushed me out from the canopy.  Riding less than a mile down the road, the rain stopped and the roads were dry – go figure.

I finally reached my intended destination and turned around to head back.  The sky ahead looked like dark slate.  I considered my options over a meal: try and wait it out or plow through it.  Waiting it out could mean sitting until dusk and possibly the storm would come at me anyway.  I finally decided to bite the bullet and head into the maelstrom.  With thunder and lightning all around, a fogged-up helmet, a significant drop in temperature, and an uncertain route, I adopted a steady mantra of "This sucks.  This sucks.  This sucks."  I can only hope the people in cars were sympathetic to my situation as I slowed them down quite badly.

I had to make another safety stop at a gas station.  The counter person was kind enough to point me the right direction to get back home.  It happens I was at the intersection I needed to be at.  I got a lucky break for once.  On the positive side, because of my ill-planned route, I had to make a couple very quick decisions in turning and braking, which I pulled off without issue.  Being a new rider, I am pleased by this.

I eventually made it home, stripped off the water-weighted jacket and jeans, wrung out my socks (literally) and took a nice, long, hot shower.  After getting my sanity back, I was able to go back outside to dry and polish up the bike before putting it away.  I’ve made a mental note that I will not leave the house without the GPS in my pocket.  In fact, I will probably be ordering a trunk for the bike this week and maybe a GPS mount for the handlebars.

Today I got new tires installed on the bike and thought it would be a good idea to break them in.  So what better way than riding to work.  That would also be a good test to see if riding to work is feasible (it turns out it’s not).  My daily commute is about 3 hours roundtrip on the Interstate.  Not being comfortable at speeds over 60 on the bike, I chose an alternate route through secondary highways.

I left around 11 AM and tried to keep track of the waypoints where I would change roads.  The first checkpoint was at 20 minutes, the next was at 60 minutes, then I didn’t really know what the next road to use was.  So I wandered around taking roads that sounded familiar to me and eventually ended up on the right one.  Total trip time: 2.5 hours.  I was squirming pretty badly in the seat from saddle sores.

I stopped for food and then considered the fact that the PM storms were coming so I’d better get back home.  The thought of another 2.5 hours back was disheartening, but I sucked it up and headed out back the way I came.

That’s when things changed.  I missed my turn, which is not surprising since the road I took to get there was the first time I’d been on it.  Ended up in a city I’d only been to once before and knew I wasn’t supposed to be there.  On the way out, a road had caught my eye as a route I had taken before in the car.  When I turned around and was on the way back I saw the same turn and figured, “why not?”

Now I’m in unknown territory.  At this point , the only thing I was really scared of was my stamina.  I don’t mind being lost – and this was really the definition of lost.  I drove through a city I’d never heard of; drove on routes I’d never heard of; took a two lane highway to a dead end (who ever heard of a highway just ending?) and had to backtrack twice.  I figured if I was on a road that went south or west, I’d have to hit a major highway sometime.

Finally, I saw a sign with a city I knew on it and was thrilled.  But I was also exhausted.  Once I hit the familiar roadways, I stopped at a gas station and got a snack and a drink.  While there, I assessed my physical condition.  My knees were so sore I could barely stand.  My back was pretty ok, which was a surprise.  My throttle hand was in sad shape – very cramped up.  My butt was a lost cause.  I had about an hour left of riding to go (this was waypoint #2).  Hopped back on and went for it.

The physical problems began taking their toll.  It was hard to concentrate.  There weren’t many stops to allow me to rest my throttle hand and air out the sweat on the seat of my pants.  My right hand starting turning to fire with piercing pain when I would try to stretch out a couple fingers at a time.  My knees would throb on occasion.  Cars and trucks behind me were getting pissed because I couldn’t keep a good speed going, so I got passed a lot.  Finally, I made it back home.  A 150 mile, six-hour journey to get lunch.

In retrospect, I think everything happened probably as would be expected.  Many riders take a break once an hour or so and maybe I should have budgeted more stops.  I’m still new and I know I have too tight a grip on the throttle, which is having a negative effect.  I didn’t plan my route, but it would have been enjoyable with the exception of fatigue.  When getting the tires changed, I saw a product that allows you to hold the throttle without gripping it.  At the time, I thought I should get one.  Now, I’m kicking myself for not getting it then.

I have a ride planned for tomorrow, so I need to rest up tonight to do it all over again.