Common Sense, Ain’t So Common


Common Sense, Ain’t So Common

So this week I had to get my new bike from Louisiana back to Dallas. Simple, right?

No problem I told my wife, I’ll drive it there.

The small voice in the back of my skull whispered, “You’ve not been on a bike in over 20 years.” I dismissed that little voice.

It then said, “It’s about 525 miles, and it’s already 3:00 pm,” pesky voice spoke out. So what I thought.

That little voice tried again, “It’s getting cool out and you don’t have the proper gear.” I’m tough, I shrugged.

“Suit yourself,” that voice jeered and wasn’t to be heard from again.

So I wedged the half-faced helmet over my head and grabbed a borrowed jacket to head out on my maiden voyage. About 10 miles west of my start, I felt the first sting of what would become millions of sharp-as-arrow rain drops. The helmet did nothing to block their assault.

Soaked to the bone, I slowly swung around the longest exit ramp in the world and eased onto a water-logged gravel shoulder. The new rain suit I should’ve had ready was shoved under a ton of junk in the saddle bag.

Over the next 515 miles, I eventually dried off once the storms ceased. And the little voice’s weather report came to mind as it grew steadily cooler until the uncovered tips of my half-fingered gloves felt the chill.

I had also borrowed a full-face helmet that was two sizes too small. Out of desperation, I squeezed my noggin inside that shell and drew relief that I’d escaped the wind-whipping massacre that an 85 mph average brought.

Over eight hours, a Snickers and a Milky Way bar later, I sent my wife the most treasured message of our entire marriage, “Open Garage Door”

I parked the bike and eased into the bedroom without much more than smiles and groans. She just looked at me like an intruder had invaded our home. I couldn’t have been more proud at that moment for having just completed the adventure. Not because it was over, but despite the sensible alternatives, I set my mind to something and no matter how uncomfortable it was at times, I persevered.

The last thing I heard was her saying goodnight. But then I listened through the buzzing of my ears, and heard it again. It was that same small voice from earlier in the day.

I tensed for the taunting I told you so.

Instead, it laughed, “Good journey, dude. I knew you could do it.”


10 replies »

  1. Glad you made it back safe! You should be proud of yourself! Have a great evening! xoxo

  2. As I looked at the pic, then read the first few paragraphs my eyes opened wide…nearly as wide as my grin…my mind echoing these key phrases….not been on a bike for over 20 years, 525 miles, late afternoon, RAIN!!
    Then my twisted brain pictured a drowned and shivering bow-legged John Wayne dismounting slowly after arriving back at the homestead and announcing his arrival while trying to grin like a hero while the voices inside whisper “dude just make it to the bed without whimpering and NEVER listen to the inside voices again fool!”
    I’m glad you made it home safely, and I thank you for amusing my twisted mind! 👍

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