Freeway Speeds

Last Friday found me on the freeway going South.

Yes, the Rebel will go freeway speeds. (Isn't it neat how they let motorcycles that small on the freeway?)

So, I was on my way to Eugene to visit my sister and attend a Party-Lite party. That is where we ladies get together and take in lovely candle fragrances and chat about the things that ladies talk about.

I had gotten the time wrong and needed to take the freeway to be on time.

Yes, I could have taken 99 and gone through Junction City, but since the candles that are passed around rarely get past me, I was not about to deprive myself of any missed opportunities.

So I opted for the freeway.

I had not been on the freeway for a while and welcomed the opportunity.

I don't know about freeways elsewhere in the US, but in Oregon, they are really not a problem. Traffic is usually pretty mellow.

Folks who are not motorcycle oriented tend to worry more when they find out that I take my 250 on the freeway.

I don't know how to explain to them that the freeway is actually safer than surface streets in towns.

Here's why:

• No cross traffic. All traffic is going only forward.
• No stopping and rate of travel is consistent.
• Not as many distractions. In a town, there are pedestrians, lights, Taco Bell, going-out-of-business-sign-guys, Starbucks, ect.
  

So I found myself on the freeway on my way to a plethora of candle scents.

I won't tell my dad that I got my motorcycle up to 80 mph, in the fast lane even. He worries.

After returning a few waves from passers by (people tend to wave at the ears), I ended up in Eugene safe and sound.

I must have had a bit of the freeway still in the system, because yesterday found me on the way to Green Peter Reservoir, and where I usually find myself going just below the speed limit, I found that I was tending to exceed it.

Except for the one time that I looked away.

I think that the car in front of me was in the process of stopping when I looked away, because when I looked back a moment later, it was almost stopped (sweet pea, 4 lanes of traffic and no light, the pedestrian can cross when it's clear).

I wasn't following very closely, since I had spent the miles in between Lebanon and Sweet Home practicing following for more than 2 seconds.

But I was a little curious to know if I would stop in time.

I was delighted to discover that without squealing tires and not very much pressure on either brake, I stopped in plenty of time. All those quick stops paid off.

I don't think I will be telling Dad that either.

The last time I was up at the Green Peter Dam, I actually parked my motorcycle in the road and took pictures. The only traffic was me.

This time it was actually quite busy. I was surprised.

I took one crappy picture of my motorcycle, and returned.

I was delighted to discover that my subconscious was not obsessed with speed anymore because I had no problem whatsoever keeping to the speed limit.

I think that next Sunday, I am heading to the coast for some clam chowder.


Ta!

Balisada

Need Not Apply, Sort Of

I don't know what it is about exclusive clubs that annoys the living daylights out of me.

Usually, I have no interest in the club at hand, but the fact that the club states that I cannot attend annoys the ever-loving-daylights out of me.

So, I am getting my netbook ready for notes at church today and I realize that the announcement is about motorcycles.

Men's prayer breakfast and motorcycle ride immediately following.

Fine.

I didn't want to be in your dumb club anyway.

Just remember that I still have more miles than you this year, and I did it on a starter bike.

And I am a woman.


Ta!

Balisada