THE TIMELESS APPEAL OF TWO WHEELS
P80
FEATURE
was to get some quick photos and
video clips in the late afternoon light,
but I caught myself zipping straight
past every perfect photo op. This was
too good; it was simply time to ride.
Time to let this idiotic grin on my face
grow wider as the turns grew tighter,
and let the stress of my week flutter
away like the brittle oak leaves on
the side of the road. The pavement
shimmered in the late light, framed
by the occasional patch
of poppies while wafts
of sea air became more
detectable as the hills
rose beneath us. The
little Royal rocked side
to side, dipping in and out
of turns that banked at just
the right angle—I have to
believe a motorcyclist made
this road. After a few miles at a "sporting
speed," I rolled off the throttle. Only at a
slower pace was I able to detect the tiny
white flecks that sparkled in the air be-
neath the shade of the trees. I wondered
if they were tiny bugs or floating seeds,
and suddenly I felt it—that soul-affirming
tranquility that only comes from the Central Coast.
I was officially unwound.
We only had enough time for a few miles
(and eventually a handful of photos) on Friday
evening, but it was an excellent preview of
our weekend ahead. I washed down my
first taste of Peachy Canyon with a pint
of Firestone Double Barrel Ale that
night and went to sleep dreaming of
more Central Coast miles.
The next two days were filled
with more epic roads through
the hills of the Central
Coast, undulating like a
Onlookers
approached us
all weekend, and
we could never
be sure which
bike they would
gravitate to.
