Blues began the morning. Joe Bonamassa cried to me, “he hated to see me go”. But I went anyway.

My first group ride and I was ready for it, I had my coffee and a shower and was just about to gear up when I woke “da man” to see if he wanted to join the ride. A motorcycle ride usually abides an easy morning routine and within a short time we were on our way. The sun was screaming after being gagged the previous few days and the roads were relatively dry. It was going to be a great day for riding, although there was an amazing chill in the air. The weather had stopped raining but the temperatures had dropped below the usual spring warmth. I thought by dressing in layers and wearing my new heavier gloves I was ready to meet the ride, but the cold slapped me and wrapped its icy hands over my entire body. I was not nearly as warm as I would have liked.

Our route to the group meet proved to be quite scenic. We went through some small towns teeming with action. A horse show, a boy scout rally, a dirt bike gathering, all this and it was only 9am.
We met the group at 9:30 at a gas station in the middle of the valley. There we could gas up, chat , use the restroom and set a pace. Now mind you this is my FIRST group ride among people I had only just briefly met at a monthly meeting. It seemed odd to me that no one came and asked who I was, or my husband or gave us any sort of “hey, welcome to the club, this is how we organize our rides!” Instead they mulled around the weather, the last ride, and a various plethora of subjects. I went around and introduced my husband, to as many as cared to listen and me.

The time came for us all to listen. The ride coordinator was telling us that this was going to be a s-l-o-w scenic ride with a stop to gas up, lunch and return. She asked who had maps and who would “sweep” the ride. I stood like a deer in the headlights then asked the woman next to me exactly what that meant. She smiled and said that it was the final map clad rider sweeping up the debris that had fallen off the previous rider’s bikes. Gotcha…newbie.

Well, sadly no one gave us much more direction. I felt that there should have been some sort of mentor offered by this decent sized group of experienced riders. That someone could have placed me in the nest of knowledge. After all I was a hungry yet inexperienced newbie flyer. Nope, didn’t happen.

Gentlepeople, start your engines. Without further adieu, bikes began moving. People file in when it was comfortable, or so I assume. I file somewhere in the middle of the group. As the leader pulled onto the road, she promptly hit 55MPH. She hadn’t read at what speed it takes the 10 or 12 riders to try and catch the group at that pace, So, what happened to slow and scenic? I was able to keep up, but was not feeling like I could do much sightseeing except for the back of the rider in from of me, that happened to be my husband.

Husband or not, I am leery of “closing the gap” too close…sheesh maybe I should have gotten a map and been the sweeper?? I kept my “safe” distance and could see that the rider behind me was falling behind; I think he was waiting for his wife to catch up. Behind me there were 4 other riders. We were pretty strung out on the road but as curves approached we closed up most of the gaps.

The group in front of me looked beautiful. They seemed like a perfectly spaced show parade, but too close as far as I was concerned. Mental note: check Proficient Motorcycling regarding group ride formation, paying close attention to spacing. I rode as close as I felt comfortable, after all this was also my ride, but took careful note not to gap too far.

At a stop sign the group broke into small groups getting into the flowing traffic as able. To me it was obvious that we were a “group”, however, as I began to pull left into the roadway with 3 other motorcycles, a woman across the road decided she had waited long enough and cut me off. I swerved to avoid her but was close enough to read her lips. It wasn’t poetry. Hmmmm….ok, I rethink my action, SUV vs motorbike …now who is gonna be hurt here? I had made it unscathed, but a bit ruffled.

We all stopped at the gas station. Several people mentioned that the SUV was certainly not cutting me any slack…yep, she sure wasn’t. Glad I had my wits about me, even with my seriously chilled body and hands. We were climbing in elevation; the chill was truly just beginning.

Most the group was ready after a short time began to take off. Not everyone was geared up so the gaps were great. The last four of us tried to merge onto the road only to be stopped by a line of traffic. By the time we were on the road the other riders were merely a phantom of taillights. Now one would think that in a group ride, the whole is greater than the sum, however not in this group ride. We were left without even the slightest clue of route other than the “map” that the sweeper held. We stopped to view the map only to discover that the information was inaccurate and we were thus…lost.

We motored on. The road was amazing, glowing green from the recent rains and flowers peaking out over entire hillsides. We were enjoying the ride, nevertheless. We found the covered bridge and trailed our way to the highway. The sweeper was now the leader, after telling us this was not uncommon for this group to lose a party or two. Oh ya, and whose idea was this??

We swung right at the highway and headed up…note I say up, into higher elevations. I was find until I spotted fresh snow along the hilltops and sealed the deal on frozen hands. There were tunnels on the highway, several of them, plus the added element of lights stopping traffic due to bridge construction. This ride has now taken a turn into….the twilight zone.

The first tunnel was a flashback to many days ago and too much of a good time with Dr. Leary. I totally lost my sense of orientation. I could have been riding on the ceiling of the tunnel….hard to say. Part of the problem was that I had clip on sunglasses over my regular glasses which are not easy to remove. I had to deal….onward and upward.

We climbed to 2500 ft. And found a delightful single lane bridge going right off the highway to a small bar and restaurant. Da man and I pulled in while our other expatriates pulled out a cell phone to call the group. What??? There was number to call someone and we have been riding to no man’s land for over an hour??? I remind myself, whose idea this was.

The group was happily eating at a chosen restaurant exchanging pleasantries. I was freezing my ass off, in freaking Timbuktu with my husband and two strangers that seemed to blame one another for the error in events. Gee, what a fun afternoon. Since leaving at 8:30am we had accumulated 200 miles into snow country probably 75 more miles that the rest of the group, searching for said group. There was no blame to be assigned. I was now a wiser rider with a new knowledge regarding riding with strangers.

The ride back to civilization was almost as humorous. After admonishing his wife, Mr. decided he would lead and promptly led off at a brisk pace of about 60 MPH. His wife not comfortable with this speed, went 40mph and wound her way to the bottom of the hill with us riding behind her. I was amazed how discourteous this was of Mr. however maybe they have an understanding regarding speed, of which I was unaware. My husband is not always happy with the pace I choose, however he will, out of patience and love stick with me unless he knows that there are some fun twisties approaching that he really wants to RIDE. Then he signals me and off he goes waiting for me at the other end. Mr. would sit on the side of the highway, and when Mrs. was in sight he would again zoom off, never quite waiting for her. I didn’t quite get it, however possibly there was a silent language being spoken.

When we arrived at the town in the valley below, he promptly told us that he needed to return home at a fast pace so he bid us goodbye. We weren’t sure what that meant. He now thought we were holding him up?? We were just riding with his Mrs so we wouldn’t appear rude. Ok…so much for group anything. I shook my head, exchanged glances with my husband and went to lunch. I needed to decompress. I really needed several beers, however knew I had to wait until our arrival home.

I pulled my cruiser into the driveway, Guinness in hand. 300 miles registered on my speedo, 300 miles of experience. I opened my beer mentally planning our next voyage as a duet.

The Blues opened the day and closed it as well.