I don’t know about you, but, it takes me a good solid hour of riding before I can shake off the brain. All the thoughts, stresses, at first they’re on me like a bear. That is, until I get about an hour away from everything. And today, all the memories, all the people places and things, they just all keep rushing back. Reminding me that sometimes, some things, well, they just end.
And in their place? What goes in their place?
So what goes through your head when you ride? Do you think about a person? A place? A thing? Or do you not think at all, and just be?
Settling into a fast quiet ride. Trying to get far away. Yet there is nowhere that I can go here that doesn’t seem to remind me…
Getting to Diamond Jims is easy. Just stay on 108/120, you’ll hit the place at the top, on the right, just before 395. Funny, every time I walk in, the guys sitting at the counter look around as if they’re waiting for a man to walk in, maybe with or behind me, I don’t know. Or like they just saw a ghost. Whatever. I try to strike up conversation; great weather, awesome out, hey nice bike-is that your sweet Glide? Nada. The bartenders recognize me by now, so they’re all welcoming and sweet. But the customers at the bar? They don’t know what to do with a chick in leathers that plops down at the counter, solo, especially after hearing that bike I guess. Ha fuck it, I give, place my order and move over to a booth. That’s better. I put my feet up and watch Bob through the window.
And, oh oh, here comes trouble, hehe. It’s the 85 year old flirt; George. At least he’s good company, bring it.
Hey George, how are ya? I say. Hey honey, long time no see. May I? George asks. Yes please, signaling him to join me. George hasn’t been up to much lately, he says. Doing an occasional job here and there. Says he’s happy to see me, and was starting to worry since he hadn’t seen me around in a while. Awww George, you know the way to a girls heart, hey have you got email? Nope, says George, I don’t touch that shit. Ok, well then here’s my number, if you ever need anything or just want to check in you can call me, ok? Sounds good little lady, he says.
Thank goodness for George, he’s good company, talking shop and of his riding days gone by. I feel for him. That glimmer in his eyes, I just know he wants to come ride. Hmmm, I wonder if he lives close enough to the bar that he's watched for me?!? No issue, whatever the case, I’ve enjoyed his company while it's lasted.
George hangs out while I finish up, gear up, and head over to bob. You sure I can call you? He asks. Yes George, I would like that.
Wondering if I’ll hear from him or see him again, I decide to make it a short exit and leave. Appreciating the time he gave me.
Sometimes some things just end.
George didn’t call. And he didn’t show up out of the blue at the bar, like he always had before my most recent ride up. Flashing back through the window at what was, looking out at bob sitting quietly, waiting patiently for me, I said goodbye to George. We’ll meet again. And as for now, I know, he's now another one of my many gravel ghosts…