I'm working nightshifts this weekend. This means that my typical day consists of working 7pm to 7 am running the crane, or hefting around lumber for railcar blocking. Afterwards it's a 15 minute ride home, and a long hot shower, which is followed shortly by passing out to awaken around 4 or 5 and do it all over again. This weekend however was to be a little different. I'd been previously contacted by BuzZz letting me know that he'd be in town, and he was interested in getting out and about for a bit. Definately a great opportunity to go riding.
I was expecting a phone call on Sat around 2 or 3 which wakes me up a little early, but would give us more time to ride around. Being something of an insomniac I woke up at 1:00 and waited for a call. The appointed time came and went without a phone call, as I watched storm clouds mass in the distance. By 6:30 when I was getting ready to leave for work it had started pouring, so I didn't feel to badly about it.
Work was the usual, I spent about 10 hours throwing 30lb 4"x4"x8' s into railcars and then positioning them so that the steel could be chainslung out of the railcars when it gets delivered. I REALLY wish more places had electromagnetic cranes. Anyways...
Sunday I was rudely awakened by the sound of my Dad beating on my door bellowing some nonsense about my friend wanting to talk to me. All of my friends know better then to call me on a day like today (nightshifts) so I was curious and a little warry, but I answered anyways.
"Did I wake you up?"
"yes"
"do you want to go riding?"
"Yes"
"how long do you need?"
"1/2 hour"
"Mee at Sorentino's in 45 minutes then"
Frantic rush to get my gear, pack food for work that night, and cram some of the same down my throat. It's 3PM, last time I ate was 3 AM, and I manage to eat a small container of applesauce and an old dry cornbread muffin. Today is looking good. I make the rush across town getting there two minutes early. BuzZz of course arrives 10 minutes late, with a buddy in tow. It's okay though, I passed the time trying to figure out which of the 5 or 6 cruisers wandering around the parking lot belonged to him. Turns out that the answer is none of them, but I see one in his future.
Watching the road I see a couple sportsbikes headed my way... a Fj1200 (BuzZz) and a Gixxer 1000 (his friend whose name I forgot...). I can tell that I'm in trouble.
I should clarify that statement. All of my past riding experience has been with my friends and Aunts/Uncles riding club the Retreads. This means I typically ride with cruisers and tourers. A far cry from the liter bikes I'm facing now. I've typically taken a lack-a-dasical approach to riding as a slow start for me is the same as a fast start for my friends. My biked is named the Hornet and aptly so... it handles like one. But I'm facing a pair of torque monkeys, this is going to be tough.
So anyways, I'm now faced with a couple of true supersports, though I don't think that anything that's purple could truely be called sporty... And I just went from the fastest in the group to the slowest and I know it. And they are determined to show me.
We talk for a couple of minutes, and decide to head down to Hawrlack Park. So they take off, and I play catch up. Out onto Sherwood Park Freeway, and I can already tell what kind of a ride this is going to be. I round the right hand corner, and they're already 2 blocks away. Throttles twist for a reason, so I hammer into mine, and discover the true powerband. Not the sedate one I've been riding, but the POWER BAND. And I take off. I catch up and notice that the Gixxer's left turn signal is on. Turns out it's almost always on, and that's more then a little distracting. Seems we cannot remember how to turn it off.
We take off down the freeway passing what few cars there are and weaving around the slow moving traffic. *All at the speed limit of course, obey the law kiddies*. We get up to Whyte Ave, which is pretty much totally shut down for some street sale thing. And end up in the wrong lane of stopped traffic. BuzZz's friend gets in, in front of a big yellow truck, BuzZz gets his wheel in, and I prepare to follow. Traffic starts, they go, I get moving, and the truck guns it. Stops about... 2 inches from my elbow. But I don't get smeared so it's okay... I guess.
We weave around Whyte Ave for a while, crossing and recrossing it until we find ourselves on Groat Road. We take Groat to the park. And circle around looking for a spot to stop. Stopping in the shade we "sit and talk." Which really means watch all the scantily clad women, and laugh at the guys driving by. High points included a blinged out hummer, several white boys in trucks blasting rap, an old guy doing the same. Tons of ugly sports cars. a purple V-max, some guy on a Harley in a fullface, full leathers with a woman on the back in a skull cap, tank top, and sandals. Asian guy on a v-star wearing a harley jacket and more that I'm sure BuzZz will pipe in about.
The high point of my day was pulling up to a stop in which BuzZz indicated I should take his spot and stop at the Gixxer's right, instead of behind them. He stops, and looks to his right to talk to BuzZz but I'm there... confused look, and a glance to the left. BuzZz is RIGHT there! Flicks off his turn signal and yells, "Use this RIGHT! It's pissing me off!"
After he pulled away, I had to say, "that was awsome!"
"We've been riding together since we were this tall, we "fudge" with each others bikes on the highway."
*nervous laugh* no touchy *point at my bike*
All in all one of the best rides of my life, as I had to actually use my bike close to its potential. Watching those bikes power out of the corners makes me understand why someone would want a liter bike. Though BuzZz looks like a toy sitting on his... soooo small
All in all I cannot wait to go riding with him again.
I made it home with enough time to eat a sandwich and get to work. I did make a point of letting you know I was heading home at the stop light. You pretended you didn't know me 
