Riding in a winter wonderland.

By Eric Jacobson

A few weeks off of the motorcycle due to inclement weather can make a rider wonder what it is that makes us all do what we do.  Here in Asheville, a few weeks ago we received what's considered a "big" snowfall for this area - a couple of inches.  Of course, being high and mighty from my time doing grad work in upstate New York made me cocky.  I decided to go out and meet some friends for a drink and imagine sunnier times.  I didn't make it.

Northerners speak of the ridiculous driving nature of Southerners, a remnant of times of aggression long since past, but to be truthful, people from the Great White North have no idea what it is like to drive down here in the snow.  Up north, there are these strange mechanical devices called salt trucks and snowplows that will drive up and down the streets of the fair cities clearing off the hazardous materials.  In the south, we have none of these devices.  Why should we?  It snows twice a year.  Everyone rushes to the grocery store to buy milk and bread (I'm still trying to determine why there's the need to purchase these two particular items) and then we all huddle in our apartments and houses until the weather improves.  Having lived here for seven years taught me to look for these strange events when the weather goes downhill.  You'd think I would've paid attention to my lessons.

So, there I was heading down the road like nothing was wrong, mocking the cautious drivers tiptoeing through the snow in their cars as if the road would slip right out from under them.  I know to take things slow but smoothly.  Execute every command as if entering a telegraph with plenty of time in advance so that you can get through pretty much anything.  I thought I was doing pretty well at about the same time I turned a corner to go down a fairly steep hill.  Down the hill, a group of good ol' boys was out helping innocent travelers who had wandered into unknown territory and they were turning a minivan around in the middle of the street.  I tapped the brakes.  My car started sliding.  I knew I had two alternatives ≠ head into the van in the middle of the street, or go for the small ditch at the side of the road.  Hating a collision almost as much as I hate dental work, I opted for the ditch.  Five minutes later, I was helping the guys guide other motorists.  Granted I was doing a good deed, the reality of the matter was that I was looking out for my poor car which had now been turned into a tasty bull's-eye.

I'm happy to say that both myself and my car came out of the evening unscathed.  However, as I stood on that hill for well over an hour waiting for triple-A to come save my butt as they so often have in the past, I wondered ≠ if driving in the snow and ice is this treacherous on four wheels, how bad would it be to drive on it in two?  I would find out a couple of days later.

I moved into a new apartment and ran into that age-old problem of how exactly does one get a motorcycle from one place to another?  Well, I have a younger brother to solve that conundrum who drove my car while I rode my blue SVS.  Before you start wondering why I decided to turn myself into a popsicle for the sake of moving my bike, remember that Asheville has the most screwed up weather patterns in the country.  It was in the low-60s mere days after the snow fell.  It's always an interesting experience to be wandering around, perfectly comfortable in just a t-shirt with no jacket, when there's still snow and ice patching the landscape.

I was pulling my SVS around a slight corner when I rode over some icy snow still on the ground.  The closest I can describe my experience as I slid through it was that it was something of a cross between skiing, ice-skating, and skateboarding, none of which I am any good at.  Believe it or not, I made it through without putting the shiny parts down, but it was quite ä invigorating.

When I finally got out on the main (and dry) roads, I kicked the bike into third, gave the engine a good pump from the throttle, and remembered why I love riding.  It's amazing how just a few weeks of not riding at all can teach you that riding a motorcycle is a lot like, well, riding a bike.  It all comes back. 

However, the thought kept ringing in my mind ≠ I'm on two wheels.  That means I have half as much traction as in a car.  Even on dry land with no slippery stuff in sight, how safe can this really be?  I'm not an idiot.  I know that a fender-bender on a bike virtually spells certain doom for whoever is so unlucky to be on the bike, but one near miss can make me rethink my entire outlook on a hobby.  As I once again got more familiar with bike, I fell back into the love of riding.  It was a beautiful day.  I could watch as the snow-covered scenery flew by and breathe in the crisp, fresh winter air.  Ah, how I love the thrill of the ride.

But, as I write this, the snow is falling once again on fair Asheville and as I gaze out at my covered bike, I have to think to myself, how crazy are all of us to be taking these two-wheeled monsters out on the roads?  My answer?  Just crazy enough.

About the author: Eric Jacobson lives in Asheville, North Carolina.  When he's not out trying to get himself killed in a snowstorm, he's either working public relations for local businesses or running a computer servicing company.  You can reach him at irx@computermechanix.com or through his website http://www.computermechanix.com.