Drivers by Category

Image via WikipediaUntil now, I haven't thought of my motorcycle riding as individual events, but as one big picture.  This blog will then start out with the larger picture, kinda like a Monet painting (though I in no way equate my petty talent with such masters as he), then eventually will boil down to details-- kinda like boiling a wart to break down the grains into sugars when creating a fermented masterpiece.

I wish to address the personalities of the drivers of the world, from my limited world view.

Driving, and drivers, are different all over the country, all over the world.  I started categorizing drivers and their habits by regions when we moved from Germany to Georgia, USA.  By nature I am an analyzer: why did that happen this time and not last time? What will happen if I change this aspect or that aspect?  The driving habits of others, and myself, naturally lent itself to this sort of analysis.

In GA, we lived in a rural area and this is where I first learned and was licensed to ride my motorcycle.  Back then, 2005, I was riding a 2002 Harley Davidson Sportster 883.  This was a great place to learn to ride in my opinion, as I have witnessed other areas since then. The riding was laid back, and I had time to analyze each situation and come a rational logical decision as I was learning how physics apply to motorcycles.  But when the Army moved us to Columbia, SC, we sold my Sportster and I rode pillion on Chappy's 2005 Softtail Standard.

The drivers in Columbia, SC were labeled by me as "inconsiderate".  Not rude, not stupid. Simply inconsiderate.  Did they let you in when it was time to merge, no.  Not because they dislike or hate you, but they simply didn't look to even see if you were there.  Inconsiderate.

A year later, we were relocated to the Puget Sound area of WA state.  Um yeah.  Chappy often lamented over the fact that I would not even consider buying myself a new bike.  I would just shake my head.  When I witnessed the aggression on the roads out there, I fully understood the phrase that was coined in the 80's: road rage (that and it really does rain too much to justify another $250/mo payment).  I did NOT want to be the one to have to make decisions with such drivers who did not only not care that you were there, but would muscle their way in anyway.  So they were labeled "aggressive" drivers.

Not long after that, three years to be precise, we found ourselves soaking up the sun in El Paso, TX.  We fell in love with the area-- pretty easy to do with a place nicknamed "The Sun City".  The sun shines in El Paso as much, or more, than it rains in Seattle.  We could, and did, ride all year round.  The joy of the wonderful riding season was tempered by the "lawless" drivers, however.  Apparently there is no such thing as a "stop" sign or light in El Paso-- they are "gas it" lights and signs.  Switching lanes from three lanes over and turning right in front a motorcycle is as common as tortilla dishes in El Paso and surrounding areas.

All the faults of the drivers of El Paso did not hamper my decision to buy my 2004 V-Rod though.  One afternoon, as we hung around Barnett's Harley Davidson in Las Cruces while a fellow rider had repairs made to their bike, I came up to Chappy and said, "We need to see if we can get financing.  I found my bike."  He didn't hesitate.  He looked at the bike, agreed it was good, and sat down to wheel and deal.  I didn't go home with the bike that day, but by Tuesday (two days later) I followed Chappy home as he rode my new bike.  For the next few days, he rode me over to a lesser used area and let me practice riding, familiarize myself with my new bike and remember how to ride.  Soon though, I was chomping at the bit-- I needed speed.  He decided to take a day off of work and we rode the 2.5hour trek to Silver City.  I loved my bike.

I still do.  I will periodically go out to the garage and caress and whisper to my bike.  I thank God for the joy of riding.  As a mother of four, I cherish the quiet time, where the only voices in my head are mine and God's.  I love the way my rear nestles perfectly in my seat, how the bars fit my hands, and how I can steer with my hips as much as my upper body.  The vibrations of the ride and noise it makes brings me an instant peace.

I love my bike.