A day in the life of an R850GS – Part 2
We continue our journey towards the big road. On weekdays it’s a crowded place, but on Sunday morning it’s as peaceful as a dewdrop. Straight ahead, at 90km/hour, we cruise along. The world is silent. Slowly I’m starting to think that maybe she doesn’t know where she’s going. Maybe she’s just driving along towards new horizons. She does that sometimes. Then right, then left, then another left and so it goes until she’s completely lost to find a place she’s never been before. It’s pretty fun, but she asks a lot of my balance talents while she makes up her mind at every other crossroad. Ohh, that looks good! A little unpaved forest track! It may not sound like much, but here in Belgium there aren’t many of those lying around. And it’s even got some bends. Perfect! Suddenly the guy she’s on the road with flies past. He probably thinks he can outdo me. As if age says everything! I may be old and my bones may be brittle, but my heart and spirit are strong. And did I mention my stubbornness? I can race him! Come on girl, open that throttle! We glide past the trees. Me and my girl, together against the world, united by a love for adventure. Suddenly there’s a car ahead. We slow down. Apparently, it’s a humongous slug, not a car. At least that’s what it seems to be. In the middle of the track as to ensure that nobody will pass. King of the road. A bit like politics. Slow, inefficient and intolerant to anything a little different. Luckily, I’m pretty good at low speed riding. Sometimes she calls me her little tractor. Maybe in the end she has a point. I probably weigh about the same.
It’s starting to get rainy, dark and cold. Shouldn’t we start being a little less lost and a little more, well, at home? Every time she loses track of time! Seriously, I even have a clock on my dashboard, what’s the problem? Okay, she never changes it with winter- and summer time, but I’m sure that she’s capable of some basic math. Probably she’s now realising she hasn’t got any food for dinner. We’ll first have to rush to the shop. Told you, there we go, she’s pointing at the shops we pass by. How do I put up with it! Nothing to do I suppose. At least she takes good care of me. She feeds me in time, provides a dry roof above my head at night, tries to protect me from that filth they splash on the roads during winter and now and then gives me a sponge bath. After all I probably shouldn’t complain too much. If I don’t get my food in time I also start opposing everything she asks from me.
There, she found something to eat. Let’s go home! By the time she’s unlost I’m sure it will be quite a bit later. It was a lovely day and it seems like she agrees with me. I hear her singing while we ride along. Singing in the rain. We’re soaked. Luckily roads are starting to look familiar. Not that I want to see that goofy red fellow in the garage again, but after a day like today I won’t mind that much.
We made it. Home sweet home! Goodnight beautiful! Is that me talking or her talking to me? I’m not sure. Maybe it doesn’t matter.
On a day like this men and machine become one.
