[Jeff Higgins]

Yesterday was looking like the last nice day up here for awhile, so a buddy talked me into playing hooky and going out for a ride. He mapped a route on one of the internet mapping sites that totaled about 375 miles.

Monday night was decision time for me. Road King or 900 Super Sport? The choice was obvious... at least to everyone but me. The sheer distance involved, coupled with the fact it was going to freeze overnight and be foggy in the morning, indicated the weather protection, comfort, and ability to store layers (as I peeled them off during the day) of the Road King only made sense. My wife and kids assumed I would take the big bagger, as did my riding buddy. Good common sense would have pointed me towards the Harley, but then again, I've rarely been accused of that.

So, "oh dark thirty" dawned, and found me suiting up in the Dianese's, rather than the Motor Clothes. Trying to layer enough to survive the morning, but yet not roast in the afternoon. What I was wearing was what I was wearing - all day, come hell or high water.

So, I froze my ever living ass off in the morning. It did freeze overnight, and the fog had settled in as predicted. "Really cold" on a motorcycle is achieved in a wet fog, at about 35 degrees, with no heated gear or wind protection. By the time I got to the Denny's 35 miles north to meet my buddy, my hands no longer functioned. I was using them like hooks, with shoulder muscles providing the oomph, to pull the levers. It was nice to warm up a bit while having breakfast.

Leaving Denny's into the fog was a bit chilly once again, but at least the sun was coming up. Within an hour, hour and a half, it was actually getting "warm" - a relative term. At least I could use my hands again...

So, we spent the rest of the day bombing the backroads of northwestern Washington. My buddy on his brand new, whisper quiet Yamaha FJR. Heated grips, heated vest, big tall windshield, iPod plugged in and rocking out. In the lap of luxury. Then me behind him, valve gear and clutch a-rattling, barely muffled Termi exhaust cans booming. Good thing I was in a full face helmet; I can only imagine how the look of agony and determination on my blue face/purple lips might have frightened other motorists as I thundered past them...

Anyway, I had a blast. I learned the limits of my newfound motoring relationship. Yesterday was admittedly a bit of a stretch, milage and weather-wise, for that bike. I wound up getting home long after dark, long after another cold, wet fog had rolled in. I was well and truly spent.

Luckily, my loving wife had left the garage door open for me, so I could roll right in. She found me about an hour later, leaning up against the wall, still perched on the bike, unable to move. She was kind enough to put a space heater under me and let it run for about an hour before she sent the boys down to pry me off... Just kidding, of course, but I was one cold, wet, sore guy by then. But I had a ball...