Carrie's Last Ride

The Way the Wind Blows

The song to go along with the story is "Harder to Breathe" by Maroon 5.  

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“Who’s going with us?”  asking Eric how big our crew is.  

It’s a dream-like summer day with a clear sea-blue sky and fluffy white clouds dotting the azure sky.

“Looks like it’s just the four of us this time!” he declares with a wink and a smile.

His wife’s friend from Washington State climbs up behind him on his red and chrome cruiser “Jenna”.  Eric’s brother swings his leg over “Scabs”, with band-aide looking tape holding her together, rolling the throttle to warm her up.  While next to me a flat black Harley gives a deep throaty roar from her hallowed out pipes.  I relax on my baby, “Carrie”, push a button, and bring her to life after our seven month separation.  Everyone has their baby warming up and we start to dawn our gear, jacket first, helmet next, then gloves, clearing the mind and starting personal riding music play-lists.  Today mine is Maroon 5.

Eric starts out leading our ride, out to the end of his street, right on to another side street, at the light we make yet another right and we’re out of his corner of the military housing complex that is our normal meeting place.  We get onto the 94 south bound then exit Friers Rd taking the backside, with all the hills and sweeping curves leading into the valley.  Going up the hill, gliding through at a steady 45 mph, I see a cop coming toward us, no lights on, and doing the speed limit at an easy 30 mph.  In the lead I tap the back of my helmet, telling the three riders behind me we have 5-O coming.  I slow down and around me I see the rolling hills with evergreen and palm trees covering it, while to my left is an isolated miniature industrial area.  Giving thought to the days of the gold rush, because of the type of equipment that mares the hillside.  Reaching the top, at our sedate page, the lightly populated valley spreads out bellows us.  The road carves and “S” through the valley, and I speed up to get a lean going thru these soft easy curves.  It’s a good warm-up for my tires and I will soon be whipping my bike around harder bends and reducing radials’

Through the valley, in our constant staggered formation, we roll.  The rumble of our bored out pipes the only disruption to mark our passing.  I can see on our right and left the shops, stores, cafes and steady movement of “caged” animals that surround us, as the sun glares down tanning our skin and the wind burns the hair off our bodies, we steadily pass it all by.  We are riding to the 125 to catch the 8 east, and it’s still a few curves away as we weave in and out of traffic making our own path through the streets of San Diego County.  With the weather making the day a dreamy soft and cool July day coming to the end of summer and the middle of the “regular” riding season for Southern California.  We are sitting at a light watching cars make a left in front of us going into the last curve before the entrance to 125.

We enter the start of the 125 there are jersey barriers lining the construction site in the middle of the freeway, creating a directional switch-back curve that leads into a tight “S” curve before opening onto the freeway itself.  I take this at an easy 55 mph on my blood red V-twin Suzuki SV650s.  She hugs the curves like a black man holding tight to my Puerto Rican dimensions, with ease and familiarity.  The group splits traffic lanes by going between the cars in the two fast lanes on our way to the 8 connector.  It’s been a freeing ride so far and it’s only 15 minutes into it with plenty left on the backside of the trail.