Chilly Morning for the Roadrunner

The road runner is clearly a desert creature. My little motorcycle did not want to start today. It’s 40 degrees out, self preservation would tell you “if it doesn’t run right if it’s too damn cold to ride it.”

After about 30 kick starts and a few choke adjustments the motor turned over and I heard her unique yawn rattle and purr. I let her sit and idle while I changed my outfit several more times. I had worked up a bit of a sweat kicking the starter, changing my clothes and rushing around the house all bundled up. Since I was hot I thought I may have been overreacting to the frosty morning air, so I removed my hooded sweatshirt, opting for just a long underwear top (finally, a use for all my ski clothes in Texas, yay!) and put on my mesh motorcycle jacket with the liner. I got back on the warmed up bike and made it around the corner to the alley, in which time I realized I needed a sweater, and a scarf and different gloves. Then with my boy friends helmet on (which I know is too small) I realized, if I couldn’t see the bike in the alley from where I was standing unlocking the door, I probably did not have sufficient peripheral vision to take this set up to the streets. I unlocked the door again, went back inside again and changed to my usual speed racer set up (70s scooter helmet, fake designer sunglasses with purple rhinestones).

Ok. Finally ready to go. Get to the corner zip up jacket. Next stop light, squish knees against the tank to warm up? Ha! tiny…engine…not producing… heat …equivalent to air temperature while zipping down 45^th street. Not … warming … anything. Stopping and starting keeps my fingers nimble until I hit the stop signs on Shoal Creek. Must move fingers, very pink, possibly frozen to clutch. I want to malinger at a stop sign, basking like a lizard in the warmth of the heat from a UPS truck idling behind me. Make all subsequent lights, over Mopac and up Spicewood, even downshifting to pass some old person, before arriving at the office.

In my office of six people, three of us commute on motorcycles, my boss stuck his head in when he arrived, and said “You must have frozen your ass off this morning.” His props and acknowledgement, of my foolishness (read toughness) made my ride to work all the more worthwhile.