Sunlight streamed down onto the sleeping man’s face causing him to awaken and greet the new day with a squint. The man stood, stretched, and wiped away the remnants of a deep sleep from his eyes. He stepped away from the tree that he’d been sleeping against and viewed the landscape before him. Like the day before, it was breathtaking. The bright blue sky above met a mountainous horizon in the distance. Between him and the mountains lay many miles of perfectly smooth but curvy highway. And he was all alone. No traffic. No people. No animals. The man walked to his motorcycle, and throwing a leg over the saddle, turned the key and thumbed the starter, bringing the engine to life. A minute later he turned onto the highway and headed toward the mountains.
The man loved to ride. Working the clutch and shifting gears was as natural to him as changing thoughts. Throttle control and braking were as automatic as scratching an itchy nose. The sound of the exhaust was like a voice whispering in his ear. The steady vibration of the engine comforted him. It was like the heartbeat of a living thing, and as long as he felt that heart beating, he would never be alone.
The road stretched out ahead in a series of S curves, some tight, some pitching up or down with the changing terrain. All of it made the man smile as he playfully counter-steered the big machine through each curve. On the apex of a down-sloping right-hander, the man looked out and below him to see a dark sky. Intermittent flashes revealed lightning in a strengthening storm. The man slowed his bike to a stop and listened carefully.
Through the muffled rumble of thunder he could hear the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle engine. That sound was soon followed by a voice in his head telling him he should see if the rider needed help. He kicked his bike back into gear, let out the clutch, and drove off the road down toward the storm clouds below.
Breaking through the clouds, the man was immediately drenched in a downpour of rain. The motorcyclist he searched for was ahead to his left, still riding the twisting mountain road. He gently nudged his left handlebar and accelerated to bring him alongside the rider. The man looked through the rider’s face shield to see the scared but determined face of a young woman.
The man could see that she was determined to ride through the storm, but he could also see that she was riding too fast for the conditions, and by the way she entered and exited the curves, he surmised she must be very inexperienced. It was time for him to do what he was sent there to do.
He had to get her speed under control so she wouldn’t need to brake so hard in the turns. Given the wet conditions, it wouldn’t be long before the back tire broke loose and lost traction with the road, possibly low-siding the rider into a fatal crash. He was there to prevent that.
As they approached the next curve, he reached over, and placing his hand over hers, twisted the throttle back slightly going into the turn, allowing the bike to roll through the apex; at the same time, he placed his left foot under the rider’s rear brake pedal so as to reduce the pressure applied to the brake by the rider. As they exited the turn, he throttled back up. The woman, concentrating intently on the road, suddenly became aware that something was different. She had taken that curve much smoother than the others, but how, why? It was as though her motorcycle suddenly had a mind of its own.
She approached another curve. Again, the man reached over, throttled back, feathered the brake, and gently counter-steered the bike into a better line through the turn. Again, the woman realized something was different. “How did I do that?” she wondered. Then she thought, “What did I do?”
A sudden flash of lightning lit up the sky. In that instant of light, she saw her shadow cast onto the side of the mountain, her long matted hair streaming out beneath her helmet. But she also saw what appeared to be the shadow of another rider beside hers. She quickly checked her mirrors, then glanced over her right shoulder, then the left. No one was there.
She started into another curve. As the man reached for her throttle, he noticed she was already beginning to throttle back. He placed his foot under her brake pedal and waited for the pressure to build, but it didn’t. She was feathering the brake on her own. They entered the turn together, the woman counter-steering her bike on a perfect line through the apex of the turn, and the man riding alongside just in case she needed help. As she throttled up to exit the turn, she smiled inside her helmet. She knew she had done it right that time. It felt right. It felt good. It wasn’t something she would forget.
The man also saw her smile. It told him that she had learned. He rode alongside her through several more turns. Each time the man leaned over and softly talked her through each part of the maneuver, rather than take the controls himself. Each time the woman improved a little more. She was talking herself through each turn, or so she thought.
The rain soon slowed to a trickle, and the clouds gave way to rays of sunlight. When they reached the top of the mountain, the road was dry and straight. From here on, the woman’s ride would be easy and relaxing. She was very pleased with herself and beamed with self-confidence. That was a ride she would never forget.
The change in the rider’s body language and riding style were obvious to the man. She no longer needed his help. He waved an invisible farewell, and pointed his bike off the road, pulled on the handlebars, and rode back up to his own stretch of highway.
The end