Triumphrat

Gdsila · 04-19-2008

As many people here know St Patrick's day is the "official " end of "Drinking Season" and the beginning of riding season.
I have (due to illness) only 1 bike on the road. My Legend. Needing only a front tire and brake pads it passed inspection 2 weeks ago. I rode 150 miles one Sunday to scrub in the tire and bed in the brakes. though that day was cold and the ride "cruiser-y" I managed to at least begin the process.
Early last week I received a missive from a boardmember...and not just any boardmember but SlowPocono..
"Hey its getting warm enough to ride"..."and I know some roads"...
When Master Chuck says he "knows some roads" indeed it strikes to the very heart of a motorcyclist. A siren call that cannot be ignored.
We begin too finalize details.
It will be Saturday. 4/19/08.
My day begins at 6:30 am. I awake happy and excited but beneath it ..slightly anxious. The question I cannot ignore lingers in my mind..."Do I have enough bike" I chastise myself for choosing to get the Legend going first. My Speed Triple would be much better suited to a day following SlowPocono.
At 7:15 am my pre-ride checks are done and I head out. Wearing a solid leather jacket and leather pants. The morning is cool and I know the afternoon will be hot. But I have made my gear choice,and will live with the consequences. I ride. West to wards Pennsylvania. 82 miles later I arrive ,on time at the Delaware Water Gap Welcome center. as I ride across the ramps over the hi-way I see a black sportbike parked ...waiting. Its Chuck and he's brought the 1200 Daytona...
We meet shake hands and chat for a bit. I sheepishly apologies for not bringing my S3.
"That will make it easier" says the Master, "for me to stay in front of you"
I laugh and mention I need fuel both for my bike and body.

So moments later we fire them up. The Daytona starts and the air is sliced by a menacing howl. My Legend by contrast burbles, almost inaudible.
This is starting to look like a Looong day for me...

My body will have to wait an hour and a half for food. The fueling of the bike however is done in minutes.

Moving now, the air still cool...warming the tires...keeping a safe distance.
And trying NOT to think of the threatening Black Beast in front of me.
The road undulates and snakes in front of me. Ahead is the Mighty 'Tona piloted by a man I know to be a bloodthirsty madman at times.

I am losing ground. Fading in the 1st 10 minutes of the ride...NO! I will not!
Angrily I crush my knees against the tank, lean forward ...open the throttle and pushing thoughts of the 1200cc demon aside as I seek the Vanishing Point.
I find it shortly and my lines begin to smoothen. Less brake, more engine braking. I let the Legend spin up a bit. No longer burbling now it too growls..
I have the Daytona firmly in my sites.
Soon the air will warm and I will be in the groove.
An hour and a half later in a town named Jim Thorpe we stop for breakfast
The waitress seats us, And asks how we are. "Fine" we say. Chuck asks the waitress how she is..
"I'm peachy" a perfect pause later she adds "And when it rains I'm Ducky!"
I try to be bold and order Scrapple ,I find the flavor agreeable but the texture just wrong.
I mention an observation at breakfast. that many of the roads we're riding
are so steeply crowned that all the left hand corners are off-camber.

We leave the restaurant, now its warm too warm in fact I'm sweating in all this leather. The ride continues. Over breakfast Chuck explained I'm riding with the "New Chuck" saner more responsible...a madman reformed if you will.
Back on the bikes I find this concept almost alien and spend the afternoon waiting for him to cut loose and fly along the tarmac like the days of old.
I am convinced it will happen soon. what I am not convinced of is my ability to keep up. I find myself pining for my Speed Triple.

We ride, roaring over one-lane bridges, through valleys and along streams.
At some point we stop at Hermy's Triumph on Port Clinton. After wandering around and looking at some bikes..disagreeing on the acceptable colors for a Thruxton, Silver is a good color for that bike especially with the red stripe down the middle. But I wont argue with the Master.
Chuck gets the dealer to give me a free Triumph T-Shirt which he holds as we ride.
"You must see Cabela's" he says. its just 3-4 miles down the road.
Its an outdoor sports place of sorts. Let me say first that should any of our European cousins ever set foot in there they would faint dead away.
Its giant and full of Guns. Guns, guns, guns. 3 sections. 3 BIG sections Enough guns to make a Delta Force soldier feel right at home.
Its mind boggling. And fishing gear,camping gear. Camouflage EVERYTHING.
But the displays are what get you. Like a museum of Natural History there are displays of stuffed trophy's including Polar bears (yes you read that right) dozens of Deer many that graced the covers of hunting magazines. Mountain goats, bears, wildebeests and I swear ...an elephant. Giant fish tanks like an aquarium. A seaplane hanging from the ceiling. But the ultimate for me was the .22 cal rifle with the bright PINK stock. The prize accessory for the little girl who has the " Barbie Goes Postal" play set.
My brain after this is truly in overload mode.
Outside in the parking lot we spy a Yellow Daytona Super 3. with all the carbon fibre bits and a quick examination of the tires shows the owner recently did a track day or two.
We ride on unfortunately some of the best roads have traffic and the "New Chuck" does NOT overtake. He does not cross the double yellow and fire off twoards the horizon. Odd.
At some later point he pulls over and says he heard me ask to ride the Daytona. I am puzzled. No I didn't. yes you did. I don't think so chuck.
Yeah your right , your probably not man enough anyway. probably cant get it off the kickstand.
Now dear reader you can call me a chicken all day long..you can call me a p*ssy as many times as you'd like. But No-one and I mean no-one calls me a "Fraidy Cat" and gets away with it.
We switch bikes. the pace actually heats up. At one point I'm well into triple digits chasing my own bike!
We stop for lunch at 4:30. And chuck seems interested in my impressions of the Daytona. Well I say it has 2 obvious flaws off the bat. Oh really? what are they?
First I say it has no discernible "buzzy spot" in the powerband. It really does pull smoothly right up to redline. And secondly, it makes "Bad Music" the type of music sportbikers know. that exhaust note that wakes the lunatic in you.
The lawbreaker. It reminds me in spirit , of my S3. Not feel or sound per se, but spirit. That is why the Daytona 1200 is such a dangerous machine.
Chuck said it feels as heavy as a Dump truck. I agree. But it shivers with power.
Chuck said he liked my Legend, thought it was a fun bike. and could see why I've kept it so long.
All rides must end and ours did after lunch. Amazingly I remembered to take the T-shirt. At 6pm I was on I-80 heading east to wards home. At a stop for gas I noticed the sky had some thin high clouds and decided to remove my sunglasses, and put on my Hermy's t-shirt. This would prove prescient.
As I ground along the super slab I no longer felt sweaty, in fact I felt a touch cool. and noticed the sun was no longer bright. I saw few other bikers,and they seemed to be hurrying home. i didn't think too much of it. But as I neared the Jersey Turnpike the air was distinctly cool and damp. even with my leathers. By the time I crossed my last bridge home the sky looked gray and cold. The air was COLD. The clouds looked like ski slopes in the sky. as I parked my bike and walked to my apartment I was struck again by this. "Who turned off the F#cking Sun"? I thought.
But I didn't care at that point. I had a great day on my bike with my friend SlowPocono and I will sleep tonite knowing I took the first " Ride Of Spring "