The Night Patrol

I remember meeting John early in my motorcycling career. We met through the San Francisco Bay Area Kawasaki Vulcan Riders Owners Club. While a handful to type and say, we just called it VROC. I’m sure there were other Vulcan chapters, but as a new rider in a far-off land from my native southern roots, the Bay Area was huge, and there were plenty of people to meet nearby.  I didn’t need to find a national organization as there were plenty of people to meet in my backyard.  Although being fresh out of college seems like a lifetime ago, some people I’ve met through the club have become lifelong friends.

John lived in Sacramento (no, not that John).  I lived in the South Bay at the time. We both rode a Vulcan 750. This particular bike rolled off Kawasaki‘s production lines in the 80s. While novel at the time with its gas gauge, shaft drive, and hydraulic valves, the bike didn’t age so well from a fashion standpoint. I bought mine new in 2001 for just over five grand. The motorcycle was unchanged since the mid-80s. It was a technology and price point decision for me – especially as a new rider. John also had the same bike. He worked the very early shift with a long commute. He got up early, hopped on his motorcycle, and rode the 60+ miles to work well before dawn. He nicknamed his motorcycle “The Dawn Patrol.” I always saw his bike’s nickname in his signature and always smiled. I think about The Dawn Patrol even decades later when I have an early ride – especially for the Easter Sunrise Ride. I believe a 4:30 AM departure may even beat John‘s daily commute.

But today’s ride is different. It’s The Night Patrol. To put it simply, today was effing hot. Temperatures were in the high 90s at home and over 100 in the valley. Work was piling up for me, and the demands weren’t easing. I didn’t want to join the rest of the Bay Area, grinding out to the Central Valley in the heat of the day with full gear on black tarmac.

Why? Randy and I did that last weekend on a Thursday at noon in the mid-80s, and it was miserable. I don’t want to add 15° and all the challenges of commute time. I couldn’t take the day off, so I did the next best thing: The Night Patrol. I needed to be in Jackson, two hours east of the Bay for the Pit Ho BARG rally.

Work has been challenging the past couple of weeks with standard corporate stuff: deadlines, new people, new ways of working, and trying to figure it all out. Part of me wanted to bail this weekend, but I knew two-wheeled therapy would be good for me. As an aside, I’m trying to keep Diet Coke out of the house – but I needed some caffeine to ensure I was performing at my best for this ride. I rode my bicycle to the local Rite Aid in 85° weather to pick up a few Cokes. It seemed like inventory at the Rite Aid had been dropping over the past couple of months. But I knew something was up when I saw they had no Coke. What!? No Coke?! This southern guy was distraught. The cashier informed me that the store was closing. No way! I enjoyed this location as their pharmacy was fantastic. Well, Pepsi, it is – and cheers to you, Rite Aid. You’ve been good people for the time that I’ve been here. Thank you. I’m bummed that this store is closing its doors.

When I got home, I saw my neighbor’s son polishing his bike. Over the past few years, we’ve become friends. He’s in his mid-30s and mostly rides a sport bike with occasional rounds on the Harley Davidson. He was extolling the benefits of using tire cleaner to polish the plastic parts of his motorcycle. I’ve never seen that technique, but it seems to work. I wonder if it works as well in German plastics as in Japanese ones!

I threw a leg over my bike at 9 p.m. It was time to roll. Temperatures had dropped to about 80°, and without the sun, the ride should be pleasant. I decided to take the freeway through Pleasanton to minimize the complexities of riding at night, although I much prefer Highway 4’s casual, winding nature through the Sacramento River Delta. It was late. It was dark. It was a long week—even four days with the Memorial Day holiday on Monday.

I got this. 110 miles, 85 of which are on the freeway. Leaving the Bay was surprisingly painless. 680 blended into 580. I saw a flash on the changing message signs that said to slow down due to wind across the Altamont Pass. Traffic was moving at a pretty good clip, and I didn’t think much of it. About 10 minutes later, we all started climbing the pass and still didn’t think anything of it as the air was mostly stable. Because it was dark, I couldn’t see any movement from the windmills either. However, as soon as we went over the summit, the wind said hello. Faaack! The downslope winds were something else! I got knocked around a bit and focused on the lights glittering across the horizon throughout the Central Valley to keep me balanced.

Before I knew it, I was merging onto the 5 and heading into Stockton. Interstate 5 is a motorcyclist’s snore, but I always find it intriguing every time I ride this piece of pavement. Why?

It’s the Golden State Freeway. Interstate 5 crosses the entire state the long way. Nothing is more California from a pavement perspective than this freeway. I’ve come to love California‘s car culture. As I’ve grown older, I’ve truly become a vehicle guy. Gas? Yes. Electric? Yes. Four wheels? Yes. Two wheels? Heck yes! The 5 Starts at the Mexican border and winds through Southern California’s sun-drenched and ocean-tickled megalopolis. It bumps over the southern California mountains and crosses a long narrow valley. It makes its final debut in California’s volcanic country before yielding to Oregon. Nothing says road trip like a stay on Interstate 5. For me? This freeway connects me and my love 1000 miles away. However, the Canadians call it BC 99 after a lovely conversation with immigration officials. 

My time on Interstate 5 was short, at just 15 miles. Now, the journey was all about back roads, and I welcomed the change of pace. It was 10:30 PM, and the temperature had bounced from the high 80s to the mid-70s. It always surprises me how unevenly the earth cools. Tucked-away valleys can be in the mid-70s, and open stretches of highway can be 10 to 15° warmer.

I reached out to my buddy Nate, with whom I rode quite a bit on the last Rydethr Rally to Hawthorne, Nevada. When I pulled up at that rally, he handed me a beer and said welcome. I asked him if that beer was still available. He laughed and said, “Of course!”

Kickstand down was right on time at 11:15 PM, and Nate was there with a beer. The conversation ran well past 1 a.m., which surprised me, given my long week and rough sleep.

It all goes to show that good people, good places, and good motorcycles do a body good. So, John, I am not sure where you are these days, but the Dawn Patrol was with me disguised as the Night Patrol, wandering across California from one adventure to the next.

I hope you are doing well, buddy.