Little bitch. Since I’ve exhausted all rational possibilities, blame falls on the newcomer, our dog Sofie. My motorcycle keys have disappeared. I wasted much of the day tearing the house apart looking for them. Had them just a day or so ago. Used them to pull the GPS off the bike so we could find our way to a Christmas party. Got that secret tool on the key ring to remove it from the bike. That was the last known contact.
My wife thinks she saw them the day after, put them on the key rack. They’re not there now. I had plans to explore some roads today to confirm I’d not missed any for my motorcycle maps. I was ready to leave before the sun came up, but no keys. I searched everywhere, then growing impatient, I attempted to convince my wife I might use her bike to “make sure everything was running OK“.
“My bike’s fine“, she retorted.
“But you know the battery needs a good charge in it with the cold weather” I alluded.
I don’t know if that was the trump card or not, but she was in a hurry to leave for work and I didn’t hear anything that countered my extremely plausible and rational argument before she left. I’m pretty sure it would hold up in a court of law if it came down to that. With permission essentially granted, once she left, I grabbed her keys and headed out on the road.
Jackie rides a Beemer. I could write pages about it. So different from my snarling Triumph Tiger, yet with a character all it’s own. It’s not just any BMW, it’s a rather unique, if not exotic model, an F 800 S. I’ve never seen another one on the road. I could be convinced she owns one of the few in the country, if not the world.
Tall gearing means it’s not likely to lift the front wheel with a roll of the throttle or an eager exit from a turn like the Tiger. In the saddle, it feels small compared to the roomy Tiger, almost toy-like until you glance down at the speedo. The riding position is comparatively cramped, though it’s probably ideal for my wife outside of being typically Beemer tall for her shorter legs. It is deceptively fast, so composed you don’t realize how quickly it accelerates. The twin cylinders are barely burbling at highway speeds, yet a roll of the throttle has it surging ahead with electric smoothness.
The mystery road was a good distance from home which meant the most practical approach was via the Interstate. While I hate the four lanes, this bike is so at home on it. It feels as if it were built for the Autobahn. Solid, planted, stable and in control, bumps and potholes disappear through the plush Germanic suspension as if they only existed visually. It didn’t seem fair to limit it to the posted speeds, it was a long way from it’s happy place where the speedometer would be recording triple digits and the engine would sing with Wagnerian enthusiasm. This bike can tour with a passive comfort that comes from the Teutonic drawing boards of it’s BMW heritage and meticulous design.
After an hour or so of resisting the urge to roll the throttle to nirvana level, I pulled off the Interstate and started clipping down the back roads to reach my goal. I was barely getting a feel for the wet roadway when it turned to gravel. As feared, I’d not missed a great ride in my previous mapping explorations. I’m used to this, another mountain road that starts out with so much promise then half way in the paving crews just packed up and went home. Why bother with the first half? Your hot date disappears mid-prom when she catches you checking your wallet for the prophylactics.
I paused to mark the spot with spent coffee like the big dog I pretend to be, pulled up my hoody under the helmet as I’d misjudged how the day would warm once the sun came up, and spun about for the ride home. I distracted myself from the urge to really ride this bike home by methodically supposing all the potential places my keys could be hiding, a mental logic puzzle that worked for the most part. There would be no challenges for this bike that wouldn’t risk a day in the pokey, at least on the highway.
The dogs were enthusiastically waiting at the end of the driveway when I pulled in and if those keys jingled as Sofie pranced about I couldn’t hear them through my helmet. I went back to searching all the places I now knew they must be to no avail.
I’m pretty sure that one ride was inadequate to fully charge the battery against the winter chill and riding some twisty roads might do the trick. There’s only one way to be sure…
Wayne@americaridesmaps.com
>> Go To America Rides Maps.com – http://americaridesmaps.com Cross-posted on The Cultivated Biker Blog
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