The Comfort of an Old Friend

 

STICKII at Triunfo Pass

True friends are gifts from God, blessings given sometimes when we least expect it or feel we deserve it. They come in dressed up as best friends, BFFs, Best of Friends (if you are so lucky fortunate as to have more than one), sisters/brothers from another mother, pals, chums, homies, four-legged friends, any number of other terms, or one of my favorites – ride buddies. Some might be new, some old both in age and term of service.

A hallmark of a true friend is the ability to pickup where you left off even if it’s been months, perhaps years, since you’ve seen one another. Once you are with each other, the talk might seem as though you are catching up with each other but the flavor of it is that of reminiscing. It is uncanny. Indeed, it can be unsettling and can leave us with thoughts of why we let so much time go by without seeing our friend.

I am fortunate to have true friends within all the above listed categories and some of these friends fit nicely within more than one. Regarding the term ‘fortunate’ and my strikeout of the word lucky – I had the occasion to discover the difference when someone I love and care about made some poor decisions and paid a dear price for them but recovered over time. Someone said he was lucky but I thought he was fortunate. Luck would have had him found passed out on the couch. Good fortune got him to the ER instead of someone finding him when it was too late.

I’m writing this because one of my Old Friends is an inanimate object, allegedly. STICKII, my Victory Cross Country is certainly an old friend to me and the two of us reconnected today when I rode her church. Also, I am writing this because I feel like it and all these thoughts about friendship crossed my mind as we rode along. Names and faces flitted across my memory pages and each of you made me smile. True friends.

As planned, I took the long way home, the route unplanned with the exception of the first leg which was through La Tuna Canyon to a good lunch stop, Yoshinoya in Sun Valley. Once there I was regaled by the symphony of laughter and voices from a family gathering, better than any piped in music the restaurant good of put out. Most Sunday rides home are a simple run up Sunland Blvd. and across Foothill Blvd. to home but I hungered for more and chose a nice little route – up Sunland, over Foothill to Oro Vista Ave. and then up to where it ends at Big Tujunga Canyon Road which I took on up to the Angeles Forest Highway and then down Angeles Crest Highway to take Foothill and on home.

That made a nice loop with plenty of juicy twists and turns. On any given Sunday I would normally avoid this route because there are too many people out challenging their riding or driving limits on bikes or in cars of every description. With the exception of one pack of sport bikers and an irritating Hummer H2, it was pure pleasure with perfect weather and clear roads.

This being late Spring, the chaparral is now ablaze with blooming Yuccas, scientifically known as Hesperoyucca whipplei. Colloquially, they are known by many names like the chaparral yucca, our Lord's candle, Spanish bayonet, Quixote yucca or foothill yucca. Mostly, they look like giant Q-Tips stuck in the ground with a fan of spikes guaranteed to remind you of why they should not be run into, I can attest to that from personal experience but it is a tale for another telling. The shapes of some reminded me of the Grinch’s hat or giant lollipops. The size of their blooms is impressive, some that would be as tall as me. Okay. Maybe not as tall as me but certainly as tall as Shawn.

It amazes me that I can throw my leg over STICKII and feel right at home as though it hadn’t been weeks since my last little ride. I’ve been fortunate like that since the day I first rode after my quarter of a century fast from riding.

So, get comfortable and connect with an old friend today, maybe more than one.

Keep the iron side up.

Jerry ‘Shakespeare’ White