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As the sun shone upon us on the most perfect Saturday afternoon, 15 bikes, some with passengers, ripped through the highway and cottage country traffic. The Pack swarmed around cars en masse, devouring pavement and laneways like hungry wolves feasting on fallen prey. We cut a swath of motorcycle terror through the forest paths that were one called Brent st., but now has been redubbed the Fun Run.

The leaders led, being familiar with the roads helped. The hanger-ons hung, sometimes by their fingernails and/or knee sliders, always seeming one turn too slow, but never out of sight. The stragglers and first timers (unfortunately, that would be me) rode at a brisk clip, sometimes almost catching the heads of the Pack, but never ballsy enough to run at the front.

The turns were blind and road conditions weren't optimal, but that's what made it fun. While the sun struggled to filter through the thick trees to reflect off our helmets, the roads and bikes asked us to push. "Come on," it taunted. "Ride the next turn a little faster."

And so we did. Seemingly as a collective whole, we surged ahead, uncaring for the sorry few who couldn't or wouldn't keep up with the Pack. The force of that many bikes at once was immeasureable, as they bruted their way past cars, passing on double yellow lines and opposite sides of the highways. It was as mere mortals say, "Cool."

Of course there were scary moments, anyone who pilot land-jets around corners are sure to encounter some. As I apexed a sweeping left, the bike drifted over from the left side of the groove made by cars to the right side. my eagerness to nail it WFO* almost befelled me. While topping over the crest of the road, I gave a good twist of the throttle and the rear slid out. Panicked, I slammed the throttle shut and the bike bucks, much like a cowboy being tested by a wild horse. Luckily, I held on.

Goes without saying that I didn't learn to slow down.

....And that's how we pass our Saturdays.

* Wide Full (or F-ing) Open. posted by losir at 12:49 PM