Sunny skies and the soldier

Abe and Rowe had it in their minds that early Sunday morning to ride from San Marcos to Santa Monica.  A road trip of a mere 120 miles.  The weatherman reported sunny skies at their destination.  They longed to spend the afternoon riding alongside the coast, soaking in the sun's rays, relishing the ocean breezes.  As they looked up at the gloomy, gray sky though, the ride ahead didn't seem as tranquil as they had hoped...

Blurry...helmet visor fogging up...Rowe strained her head upwards, hoping to catch a glimpse of the wet road as she rode.  Abe's facemask was soaked, and rain droplets fell from the edges of his helmet.  At 60 mph, the raindrops felt like miniature needles, piercing their skin from all angles.  Soggy socks, swishy boots, soaked jeans.  One minute, the precipitation was a mild irritation, but once the downpour arrived, increasing anxiety ensued.  "Now I really can't see," Rowe thought as she blindly rode, "this is just plain dangerous.  I'm scared!"  Cars zoomed past the duo as they rode, splashing them with water.  Rowe prayed for Abe to read her mind and get off the freeway.  As if on cue, Abe's right blinker went off, signaling that they were exiting...

What kept Abe and Rowe going on that rainy ride to Santa Monica, was the promise of sunny skies.  After several stops along the way, they eventually reached their destination.  While hardly an accurate comparison, rain riding is a little like serving in the military.  Abe and Rowe remember the challenges of being soldiers.  Today, their son is a soldier himself.  Our service men and women weather the storms of injustice to fight for those that can't.  But unlike rain riding, they don't have the luxury of "pulling off the road" when they are scared.  They persevere, even when they can't see through their "foggy helmets".  With their boots soaked and socks squishy, they push through the storm.  Some never arrive at the "sunny destination".  But they "ride through the rain" so we may.  On this Memorial Day, aHbe Racer humbly thanks our military for their bravery while the wheels are spinning...

Monkey butt

7am, Sunday morning.  The phone rings...a pause...it rings again.  Abruptly awoken from his slumber, Jay B. peers drowsily at his cell phone.   The caller is Cristin M.  Still half asleep, he lays his head back down on his pillow.  "If it's an emergency, she'll call again," Jay B. tells himself as he slowly starts to drift off to sleep.  A few moments pass.  Sure enough, the phone rings once more.  "Yep, it's her again," Jay B. mutters as he sleepily answers, "Hey girl, what's up?"  A muffled noise from the other end.  "Jay!  I'm so sorry to wake you.  Can you please come pick me up??  I've been plagued by monkey butt!"

Team aHbe Racer had been riding all day Saturday.  After Abe and Rowe met up with Sammy in San Marcos, they continued on to Poway to pick up Cristin M.  She rode on the back of Abe's bike all throughout North San Diego County: up the 15 freeway, back to San Marcos, across the 78 freeway to Oceanside, then finally down to Carlsbad.  To clarify, the seat on the back of Abe's bike isn't the plush, comfy seat found on the back of touring bikes.  On the contrary, it is a bare-bones, poor excuse for a seat: rigid, uncomfortable, with no back support whatsoever.  Needless to say, Cristin M. could barely walk the next day.

Cristin M.'s mom, who also rides on the back of her husband's bike, characterized her daughter's condition: monkey butt.  According to the Urban Dictionary, it's "a term used in the motorcycle world to define what your butt looks like after a long ride..."

So on that early Sunday morning, Cristin M. could not fathom the thought of riding the nearly 100 miles back home on the back of Abe's bike.  Team aHbe Racer came to the conclusion that help was needed from their church family group.  "What's he saying??" Rowe anxiously inquired as Cristin M. awaited Jay B's decision.  "Wait...he's thinking," Cristin M. replied, still on the phone.  A brief interlude ensued as Jay B. weighed his options, groggily sitting on the edge of his bed: should I just sleep in, tell her to find another way?? or drive the 100 miles to help my sister in Christ from impending doom??  "Okay...give me a few moments to get ready," Jay B. acquiesced.  "I should be there in an hour or so." 

Jesus says, "Love one another...put your life on the line for your friends."  Sometimes this means foregoing sleep, driving far away early in the morning, to save a sister from monkey butt, as the wheels are spinning...

Bullets

The high-pitched engine shrills of two sportbikes and the deep gutteral roars of two Harley engines.  Yaaaoowww, pop-pop...pop-pop...yaaaoowww.  Like bullets shot from an assault weapon...the motorcycles blast off...

The aHbe Racer crew: Abe on his Harley Deluxe 1584, Sammy on his Suzuki GSXR 1000, Jay W. on his Honda CBR 600, and Rowe on her Harley Iron 883.  Out for a leisurely Easter ride.  Abe, leading the ride, takes the crew through the country roads of San Timeteo Canyon to Beaumont.  The crew had been riding in cruise mode.  Upon reaching a wide-open stretch of suburban road though, Abe slows his bike to a crawl of about 30 mph.  Confused, Sammy, Jay W. and Rowe slow their bikes to an excruciatingly slow pace as well.  Then, like a loaded cocked pistol, Abe tucks in, positioning his upper-body parallel to the gas tank (kissing chrome).  He revs his throttle several times and blasts off.  Pop-pop..pop-pop..sccchhhooommm.  From a crawl to flying in seconds.  Realizing that the race is on, Sammy flattens himself parallel with his handlebars.  Flying past Abe in seconds.  Yaaoow...yaaoowww...sccchhooommm.  Going so fast he inadvertently clips a bird as it swoops down from the sky.  Jay W., giddy at the chance to finally ride his CBR the way it was meant to be ridden, also shoots off.  His peripheral vision blurs beyond his helmet visor.  Yaaaoowww...yaaaoowww...YAAAOOWWW...

In the rear of the pack, Rowe leisurely maintains her relaxed ride.  She observes how the three bullet bikes up ahead resemble tiny little dots, spots on the horizon...

For the loyal followers of the aHbe Racer blog: you may have been wondering about the lack of blog posts these past two weeks.  Your blogger, Rowe, took a semi-sabbatical:  a moment to reflect during Holy Week...a chance to catch up on bookkeeping...and to be honest, a chance to just do nothing.   Newly rejuvenated, the time for a slow crawl is over.  Our speedometer awaits to blast off yet again.  The aHbe Racer crew, faster than speeding bullets, on the ride He leads, while the wheels are spinning...