Old Blastard: Too old to ride in cold, to young to die

I was about to mock R.P. for taking a truck down to Daytona, putting his old school Magna in the back of a trailer for the long haul down, by calling his bike "Queenie," when I realize that he, at least, went.

Then he reminded me of all the cold days that he rode old Queenie to work while Thumper sat at home. It wasn't that Thump wasn't running. It was that I wasn't riding.

I've been commuting to work as often as possible since 1989 and have enjoyed the hell out of the work to ride, ride to work ethic. I've ridden in snow storms, picking up a youngun from middle school on the Old Wing, an 82 Aspencade, after school let out early for an oncoming event.

I've been caught in freezing rain in Barboursville on the Blast. For many years I'd cruise the Blue Ridge Parkway on Christmas Eve on the Sportster, freezing my arse and my hands and learning first hand of the joys of hypothermia.

This year, for some reason, I just didn't want to do it. I have the clothes for it. I have the gloves and all that. I just didn't want to do it. When RP would come in to the office on a cold morning, I'd just look at him and think to myself, "been there, done that."

I guess I should have bought a t-shirt. I wonder if they come in black?

I've never been much for cold, anyway. The idea of riding in it just put me one or two or maybe three steps ahead of the weirdos who buy a bike and spend all of their time polishing it, afraid to ride it lest it get muddy. I'm afraid to leave mine out in the rain lest it get clean. But that's just rooster calling. The fact is, I wimped out and I felt fine about it. I didn't want to ride. It didn't feel comfortable. There were lots of excuses that flew well with the uninitiated, but not with the hard core.

Maybe, at 52, I've given up the ways that once won me the coveted icy wing patch from a North Carolina Harley shop. Maybe I've given up the ways that won me a nickname of Rain Man.

Or maybe I just got tired for a few months.

I'll be sure to take more naps this summer -- at my age, I might need to do that -- so that I'm rested for the upcoming winter. I'll take a little Geritol with my Woodford Reserve and extra vitamins at the Coors banquet and see if I'm out in the cold more.

And RP, I won't pick on you about Queenie. Not, at least, until next year.

Rainman