
2004 Honda 599
Today I was treated to one of the most satisfying lunches I've had in ages. And I'm not talking about the Chinese chicken salad. No, when you're on a motorcycle, it's all about the journey, not the destination.
These days, I don’t ride nearly often enough. With a full-time job, travel, my husband (who doesn't ride), my son (who's too young), I’ve allowed myself to slip into an unintended motorcycle riding hiatus, brought about by circumstances rather than any sort of overt choice. So I'm slightly embarrassed to admit that for more than 10 years, riding has been a once-in-a-while thing, usually at a work-related press function, or when I’ve been lucky enough to snag a new model from one of the manufacturers for a test ride, which was how today's lunch came about.
It wasn’t always like this. For years – back in the San Francisco days – it was a passionate obsession, and I rode almost daily. (That's me circa 1984 on my Honda VT500 Ascot.) From the flat I shared on the corner of Union and Steiner in Cow Hollow to my job at an art gallery on Sutter Street.