Where's Shakepeare?

 

Where’s Shakespeare? Or shall I say, wherefore art though, Shakespeare? It has been one year, two months, and twelve days since I last posted in Iron Side Up. 439 days of writer’s hibernation. Perhaps it is time to turn in my name patch. Where has Shakespeare been? I could tell you but I do not want to elicit the ‘Ah, poor Shakespeare, we knew him well’ responses. Do not pity me as pitiful as I can be at times. Instead, let us see where I have been today and take joy from that.

I took the long way home from church, first stopping for fuel because I did not want to be forced into gassing up if I was in a great riding zone. On this mild day in the lower seventies, I took Foothill Blvd. out to Oro Vista Avenue and up on to Big Tujunga Canyon Road. That’s right – twisties galore for Shakespeare to lean one way then another and then a little more and I was in heaven. Well except for one thing, the road surface on this road sucks. It is pitted and rutted and pot-holed and still the road was unable to quell my enjoyment of the moment.

I went on to and along the Angeles Forest Highway northbound on a better surface, more twisties, and some competition along the way with sport bikers that I encouraged to pass me and made room for them to do so. It is not about the speed for me, it is about moving along, one with the bike, and working toward excelling at a solid tactical ride. For such an old rusty dude I came close.

The Angeles Forest Highway gave way to the Sierra Highway for a short jog to the Pearblossom Highway and I reached Palmdale where I tooled around and used dead reckoning in search of the All-American Dog. That’s right, I did not use my GPS in my quest for the elusive All-American Dog (note that the dog is capitalized and therefore a title of an actual menu item).

Of course, I failed at locating this dog and retraced my steps to the point that I rejoined the Sierra Highway heading south. Please note, I did not see the Sierra Nevada Mountains from the Sierra Highway. Shucks. When I reached Crown Valley Road I pulled in to settle for a surf and turf lunch and at that, below standard. Still, 65 or so miles of riding can overcome nearly any sort of average meal. And not one mile on the freeway.

I jumped on Highway 14, my first freeway of the day, and skedaddled home to do something I had not done in several weeks, write for fun. One hundred and seven miles can give one a wonderful perspective on the road and oneself.

Keep the Iron Side up and stay in perspective.

Jerry ‘Shakespeare’ White