How I Put Our Lives In Danger

I'm sitting at the computer thinking of how I put my life in danger as well as my wife's.

Four years ago we set off on the Harley to go to the Oregon coastal town of Newport. We love it there for the small town feeling of being on the edge of the mountains spilling in on the Pacific coast with it's thunderous waves that when they fall, actually shake the ground.

There is a particularly small motel that we love to stay out right on the beach where we throw open the sliding glass doors facing the ocean and enjoy the sound of the surf along with the cool temps during the summer. Also, it's within walking distance to some awesome pub where I actually met a graduate from the college I graduated from, Mexico City College. He was a successful and prosperous grower of Marijuana in the mountains of Oregon. We've gone to Newport about four times before and enjoy the heck out of it. I don't know why they don't change the name to Newpot. That's the biggest farming industry there.

Anyway, as we rolled through the western part of Utah on the bike, we have to cross the Cascade mountain range to head to the coast.

The way I go is through the roads least traveled and so they are two laned and not very straight. As we were crossing the Cascades on a twisty narrow two lane, a Corvette was tailgating me. The roads were wet due to the high altitude cloudy mist and it was about eleven in the morning.

The corvette was pushing me. I reacted in a stupid Neanderthal way by thinking to myself that this guy is not going to pass me. Mind you, Carmen was in the seat behind me as well as about 35 lbs of luggage on the rack above my rear compartment. On a motorcycle, this affects your handling and this is besides the stuff we had in the two metal saddlebags and rear compartment.

In thinking back, I get scared. Why did I do this. What is it about a man at my age then of 63 that would have the competitive urge to risk his wife's life as well as his own at this particular point in life. I don't have an answer. I suppose it's tucked away somewhere in each of our particular genes.

There were times in these wet curves that I thought there was no way I could make it without going down. I could out accelerate the corvette after the curves as I have the big bore kit and cam in the Harley. But , I would slow down more in the curves. Anyway, this went on for an hour or more till we reached the crest of the Cascades and then began descending. At this point, I let the corvette pass me and waved him goodbye and he acknowledged the wave with one of his own. All I know , is that I was not about to let the damn corvette pass me climbing up the Cascades. I was totally honed in and focused on that one small goal at that particular time.

I have no explanation for this except to say, that we are limbic driven creatures no matter our education or upbringing.or age. It's imprinted in us and to hell with reason and logical thinking. We're just flesh and blood as the saying goes.

I think of this all the time and I still get goose pimples. If we were to go down on the wet road , we could have fallen thousands of feet and if the driver of the corvette wouldn't have told anyone about it, we'd still be missing. I remember vividly, that so many times ,I just knew we were not going to make it without going over the side. If you've ever ridden a motorcycle , you can feel when you've gone beyond the limits in a curve at high speed. It's not a good feeling at all.

Would I do this again? Sitting her thinking rationally, hell no. But given the same situation, who knows?

Bob White