Running Against the Wind

By Olaf Wolff
AllAboutBikes.com Sr. Staff Writer

Editor’s Note: This is the first installment in a three-part series of Wolff’s travels.

Now and again, when all circumstances, for reasons beyond my understanding, collide onto exactly the same point in time – life throws me a bone. This wasn’t just any bone on this run though – I’m talking more like that massive dinosaur shank that toppled Fred Flintstone’s peddle-mobile.

It started with a great big notion bouncing around my noggin. I worked that over for a spell with sensibility and rationale, and when nothing chipped it away, or even scratched a nick, I figured this might be important, so I paid attention. Then I came up with a plan. What is it they say about plans and making God laugh . . .?

I’d ride to Ennis, Texas, 45 minutes southeast of Dallas. I have friends there I hadn’t met that ride. They’d show me around the back hills. I’d take pictures, chronicle some Texas history, kick it for a few days, and cruise on home.

I’m finally finishing a book that started as another one of these big notions a long time ago, only I was too young to understand it was important then. Enter – Susan Mary Malone, novelist, respected book editor, peacemaker between agents and writers, and breeder of first-class Labrador Retrievers.

Susan lives in Ennis. Eleven years ago, she was the one voice that convinced me I had this book in me. For nearly a year we worked together via email. One week before meeting for real, at a New York literary conference, life stepped in and sucker-punched me. That big book notion got shelved for the next ten years, and life rolled forward.

So now, with the book nearly finished and Susan back in my corner, meeting the e-mail Yoda that’s been my creative beacon became the driving force to motor across four states.

How better to sweep the cobwebs than a long motorcycle ride and a loose itinerary – besides my birthday was racing up. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy as hell to qualify for Denny’s 55 and over breakfast discount now. Never given much thought to going backwards anyway. But my birthday is September 11. I sucked it up the first few years. Felt it was my duty. This year I’d try something different though. The road would redirect my focus elsewhere.

In the early ‘80’s, with the ‘70’s still ringing in my ears, I’d knock off a few hours of work on a Friday. By 4:30, I’d have on my surplus store genuine Aviator Jacket, button-fly jeans, Ranger jump boots, Army issue leather gloves, and my orange Bell full-face helmet. Twenty hours to Portland, Oregon on my CB-750 for a week was nothing.

I made this run on a ’09 Yamaha FJR, with side-bags and a trunk. My riding gear kicked up a few notches too. But I made a point of keeping the spirit of this ride in line with how it used to feel – when I was still fearless and invincible.