Norm
Senior FZ6 Advisor
I feel like a bear hibernating. All except that I am awake, left to experience the long and lonely hours from inside the house having been robbed of 4 months of blissful sleep. During my winter incarceration I long to ride the Fizz. I visit him often but he, it seems, is in full hibernation mode. He looks peaceful, happy even, dreaming I'm sure, of long rides through the New hampshire back roads. Places we've been too. Places we haven't. This long respite is not good for me. Somehow, I have become a Petri Dish that cultures bad motorcycle stories. People tell me bad stories. I read bad stories. Things are happening round me that auger bad for motorcycles. Like the accident my wife and son were in. If that was me on the Fizz, well, I'm trying not to think of that for now; "trying" being the operative word.
So as it would happen I am lying in bed last night but can't fall asleep. Nearly 6 weeks of no riding has taken its toll as all the negatives surface and not a single little ride to remind me why I engage what Consumer Reports tells me is a vehicle that I am 37 times more likely to die in an accident. And suddenly a thought enters my mind. It's a new thought. A new wicked thought! It's Friday night. No work tomorrow. What if? Those two dangerous words. What if I wake the Fizz and take him to the highway. Route 95 is only 5 miles away. The road there looked OK today. I'll go super slow till I get to the highway. Then...Well then I'm off! Free! The wind blowing us both. The brisk night air taunting us to go home and sleep, but me and the Fizz will be laughing. We'll be happy. We'll remember why we ride.
So I get dressed quietly and head for the garage. Putting on layer after layer is laborious and I already have begun to contemplate the absurdity of my midnight ride. But ride I do. Having been on the tender, Mr. Fizz wakes in an instant.
Mr. Fizz: Is it spring already?
Norm: No, my friend. But I must ride. You understand, don't you?
Mr. Fizz: Hop on!
And off we go. There are more ice spots and sand traps than I remember but I go slowly and the Fizz never loses his grip. I'm already exhilarated. I can't believe how great I feel. Norm you're a genius, old chap. We hit the on ramp and 95 is quiet. Too quiet really. I don't see one single car in either direction. I bring our speed ever higher as my confidence gains on this cold winter night. I can't feel the cold at all. I just feel happy.
Soon I see lights in the distance. They are massive lights and they are lighting a massive area, a city maybe. But as I get closer I don't see buildings, or cars, or houses. All I see is what looks like the biggest runway I have ever seen. And there are no planes on it. No people, no vehicles. It exists, it seems, for me. It is a the biggest playground for the biggest kid. Hugely wide and never ending it seems and the next exit should put me right next to it, if not on it. Off the exit I go and Lo and behold I am on the runway. The stadium lights have this so lit up it feels like daytime. A weird daytime no doubt.
I cannot believe my fortunes. There are no guards, no blockades, and the exit put me here so even if someone of the Leo persuasion were to stop me what could they say? "Who told you you could take that exit ramp." Ha! So off I go down the runway. It is long and bright. It is heaven. The fact that I continue to see no one emboldens me and I pick up speed until the Fizz reads 100 MPH! The road is never ending. Where does it go? Why have I not seen this before? WHo cares, just ride Norm, ride the Fizz coaxes. Now, ahead I begin to see the road veers off to the right. I slow a little, tentatively, gauging the arc. A nice wide turn I see so I hold at 90 MPH. I lean a little. I'm worried about snow and ice and sand. But there is none. This road is clean and the Fizz grips. The turn becomes a little sharper and I lean some more. Sharper still. Lean some more.
Suddenly the turn arcs so sharp I am in danger of going off the road. The sides of the runway had been snow over what I presumed was a field but without me realizing it, the sides were now huge stone walls with jagged edges. I had already let go of the throttle and was using some back break. I did not want to use the front break for fear of standing us up. Now I was dangerously close to this wall of death.
Norm: Can we go lower?
Mr. Fizz: We're out of options Norm. Bring us down!
I push with my right hand and sport bike style pull with my left and bring my right knee within an inch of the ground. I long ago realized this ship is going down and am planning my slide. The Fizz is a goner.
Norm: It's been nice knowing you pal.
Mr. Fizz: What are you talking about? We're doing fine.
Norm: We are? YES, WE ARE!
My most daring move yet and we're going to make it. The wall begins to move away and we slow to a stop and just as I hear the Fizz scream:
AGAIN; LET'S DO IT AGAIN!
I bolt upright in my bed! My heart is pounding and my forehead is sweaty!
It was a dream! Wow, a dream! But it felt real. It felt like I rode. I walked downstairs to check on the Fizz. Fast asleep. I smiled. I had my ride, my fix, and my vitamin with a dream. And I remembered! I remembered why I ride. I remembered what one of my good biker friends told me the last time I doubted: The turtle can make no progress if he does not stick his head out.
(I really did have this dream!)
So as it would happen I am lying in bed last night but can't fall asleep. Nearly 6 weeks of no riding has taken its toll as all the negatives surface and not a single little ride to remind me why I engage what Consumer Reports tells me is a vehicle that I am 37 times more likely to die in an accident. And suddenly a thought enters my mind. It's a new thought. A new wicked thought! It's Friday night. No work tomorrow. What if? Those two dangerous words. What if I wake the Fizz and take him to the highway. Route 95 is only 5 miles away. The road there looked OK today. I'll go super slow till I get to the highway. Then...Well then I'm off! Free! The wind blowing us both. The brisk night air taunting us to go home and sleep, but me and the Fizz will be laughing. We'll be happy. We'll remember why we ride.
So I get dressed quietly and head for the garage. Putting on layer after layer is laborious and I already have begun to contemplate the absurdity of my midnight ride. But ride I do. Having been on the tender, Mr. Fizz wakes in an instant.
Mr. Fizz: Is it spring already?
Norm: No, my friend. But I must ride. You understand, don't you?
Mr. Fizz: Hop on!
And off we go. There are more ice spots and sand traps than I remember but I go slowly and the Fizz never loses his grip. I'm already exhilarated. I can't believe how great I feel. Norm you're a genius, old chap. We hit the on ramp and 95 is quiet. Too quiet really. I don't see one single car in either direction. I bring our speed ever higher as my confidence gains on this cold winter night. I can't feel the cold at all. I just feel happy.
Soon I see lights in the distance. They are massive lights and they are lighting a massive area, a city maybe. But as I get closer I don't see buildings, or cars, or houses. All I see is what looks like the biggest runway I have ever seen. And there are no planes on it. No people, no vehicles. It exists, it seems, for me. It is a the biggest playground for the biggest kid. Hugely wide and never ending it seems and the next exit should put me right next to it, if not on it. Off the exit I go and Lo and behold I am on the runway. The stadium lights have this so lit up it feels like daytime. A weird daytime no doubt.
I cannot believe my fortunes. There are no guards, no blockades, and the exit put me here so even if someone of the Leo persuasion were to stop me what could they say? "Who told you you could take that exit ramp." Ha! So off I go down the runway. It is long and bright. It is heaven. The fact that I continue to see no one emboldens me and I pick up speed until the Fizz reads 100 MPH! The road is never ending. Where does it go? Why have I not seen this before? WHo cares, just ride Norm, ride the Fizz coaxes. Now, ahead I begin to see the road veers off to the right. I slow a little, tentatively, gauging the arc. A nice wide turn I see so I hold at 90 MPH. I lean a little. I'm worried about snow and ice and sand. But there is none. This road is clean and the Fizz grips. The turn becomes a little sharper and I lean some more. Sharper still. Lean some more.
Suddenly the turn arcs so sharp I am in danger of going off the road. The sides of the runway had been snow over what I presumed was a field but without me realizing it, the sides were now huge stone walls with jagged edges. I had already let go of the throttle and was using some back break. I did not want to use the front break for fear of standing us up. Now I was dangerously close to this wall of death.
Norm: Can we go lower?
Mr. Fizz: We're out of options Norm. Bring us down!
I push with my right hand and sport bike style pull with my left and bring my right knee within an inch of the ground. I long ago realized this ship is going down and am planning my slide. The Fizz is a goner.
Norm: It's been nice knowing you pal.
Mr. Fizz: What are you talking about? We're doing fine.
Norm: We are? YES, WE ARE!
My most daring move yet and we're going to make it. The wall begins to move away and we slow to a stop and just as I hear the Fizz scream:
AGAIN; LET'S DO IT AGAIN!
I bolt upright in my bed! My heart is pounding and my forehead is sweaty!
It was a dream! Wow, a dream! But it felt real. It felt like I rode. I walked downstairs to check on the Fizz. Fast asleep. I smiled. I had my ride, my fix, and my vitamin with a dream. And I remembered! I remembered why I ride. I remembered what one of my good biker friends told me the last time I doubted: The turtle can make no progress if he does not stick his head out.
(I really did have this dream!)
