I’m quite the butterfly stag where social media is concerned, so I belong to a whole slew of forums and groups and membership sites. I can’t tell you what this does to my inbox, so I must confess I have to pick and choose what to read. Yesterday I saw a forum post that I couldn’t help reading from someone declaring they “rode today”. I couldn’t help myself from trying to live vicariously through someone lucky enough to live in a more forgiving climate.

I’m in Northeast Ohio and we were having a booger of a snow storm today, lingering here since last night. Schools were closed; businesses were letting out early, and just south of here, down Akron way, everyone was urged to stay off the roads entirely unless it’s an absolute emergency. So, I was curious when I saw that someone else was able to get their bike out and ride, even though I knew it had to be down south somewhere, or perhaps even out west. Didn’t matter. The motorcycle masochist in me had to know more.

It turns out that this rider was doing some things out in the garage and decided to fire up the bike. She had moved it out of the way of something and when she had to move it back, she threw a leg over and rode it. I know some would scoff at that, but I knew exactly what she meant. You get to feel the bike running under you. You get the slightest touch of that “free” feeling, even if just for a fleeting moment. The thing I couldn’t understand was why she didn’t back up and do it over and over again. I would have.

Yeah, it sounds silly to most people. It’s something only a rider can understand. Those of us who experience winter, suffer so much time not on the bike. Not being able to ride for so long, we’ll settle for anything. Anything! Oh yes, I can relate, because there comes that time in late winter or early spring when I start getting things ready out in the garage. Maybe there’s still some snow on the ground, and likely some ice or slush still hanging around in the driveway, but then there’s that clear stretch of a few feet, plus the length of the garage. So you start up the bike, whether to make sure it starts or just to hear the sound. Then, without premeditation, you find yourself throwing a leg over. Next thing you know you’re “riding” the bike to the back of the garage. Sure, you barely have enough room to get your feet on the pegs, let alone let the clutch out all the way, but it feels great. The exhilaration lasts the evening, even when you’re watching the news and ready to turn in for the night. Been on my bike! The feeling is indescribable.

We endure a long time with no riding weather, but as winter starts showing signs of fading, it feels so good to experience that bike again, even if just for those few fleeting moments. Of course it’s no comparison to being out for the day, seeing the sights twice, once going away from home and again coming back, provided you actually come back the same way. And burning up that first tank of gas, you know, the one that clears out all the cobwebs, feeling the rush of wind in your face and the warm sun on your arms, leaning into the curves, and smelling all the smells, like being a kid again, playing outside.

Still, those first few desperation rides of the spring, after being idle and antsy all winter, bring it all rushing back, and all you can do is smile because you know what’s ahead. A new season, a season that starts with the first warm (or warm-ish) day. No, I take that back. It starts with those first few feet in the garage or driveay, as you look down at the gas tank and say (or think), “Hello bike, it’s good to be back.”

Yup, I’m hopelessly completely obsessively hooked on riding. Lucky me.