Dale Lumovic, President, DRILL Like many of you, I have an interesting commute to work every morning. I travel from my home in central Lake County in Illinois to my office about 15 miles from my home. The road I travel is one of favorites in the county. Slightly hilly, curvy and with a speed limit that makes the trip enjoyable even when I’m not on my Ducati or any number of other bikes at my disposal. Something I’ve noticed since moving to this area is that other motorists are too busy with other things in their vehicles to enjoy this route or their own commute to where ever it is that their travels are taking them.  Often times during what should be the “morning rush”, they’re fussing with electric shavers, applying makeup, checking messages or simply playing with their personal electronic devices to take in the beauty of this road and make the most of this moment in driving pleasure. Have we lost touch with immersing ourselves in what cars and bikes bring out emotionally when we get behind the wheel or throw a leg over a saddle? From my experience I believe we have.  It’s become a chore more than a passion. The speed limit in this area is posted as 50 miles per hour, yet many times I’m trapped behind a column where the front car is driving at 10 miles per hour below that limit even when the road is dry and the morning sky is crisp, sunny and beautiful.  In this two lane roadway, other motorists can’t even manage to keep their vehicle between the lines although they’re traveling at much less than the limit, because they’re distracted by doing something other than focusing on driving.  “Arrgghhh!  Com’on now people,”  I find myself screaming inside my helmet as I observe bad behavior day after day from a wide range of drivers from many age groups and both genders as I try to enjoy this short jump to my daily druthers at my job.  What is the point of this rant?  Well on the weekends it’s not a lot different except that I get the joy of seeing many groups of riders out with their buddies and significant others enjoying this stretch of road in the same way I do, and as much as seeing their rush of riding being impeded by the mindless drones. After all the sensation of flying just above the pavement  is what makes me love riding and those that chose to limit that joy that comes in riding at the posted speed limit (and perhaps occasionally above it) is what brings many of us to riding in the first place.  I’m not suggesting that we do anything illegal, but what the @$%*! …But I digress. How many of you have lost a riding buddy to “love”?  I can recall on a quick audit that I have lost too many to be happy about.  We’ve all been there, riding on the weekend, was the first thing we thought of as we punched the clock on Friday to once again enjoy our weekly two day holiday.  Ringing up all the guys to plan a trip to…anywhere our collective noses were pointing.  Sharing this time was the thing that made the prior five days tolerable.  Getting out on the road with these guys was like the time we were kids getting everybody from the neighborhood out for a pick-up game of football or baseball except that we’ve exchanged those sporting goods for leathers, helmets, and boots. Then out of the blue, love steps in the way. The kind of love that does not share our passion of riding. The kind of love that convinces us that riding is a dangerous pursuit and it would be wiser not to ride, than to get out and fly by the seat of your pants.  The kind of love that takes that buddy away from us and what we thought was his infinite love for being with us and watching the odometer count up higher numbers with every passing minute. The kind of love that shouts, “it would much safer to go to Bed, Bath and Beyond to shop for towels.” Arrgghhh! “ Com’on now people!!!  Are you kidding me?  I too was one of these folks. Until I saw the errors of my ways and came back to what I knew was my passion.  I’ve never looked back.  Thanks to riding, I’ve had the pleasure to meet and become friends with folks that I would not have were I not part of this community.  Not had adventures,  good and bad, that we look back on and laugh about today.  Not seen places from the saddle that can’t be mimicked behind a steering wheel or postcard. Why not work to convince the “loves of our lives” to share in this joy and if not in the saddle with us, on their own rides.  I’m convinced that once they’ve had a chance to see what we see and feel what we feel, they too will become intoxicated by its ability to make you feel like nothing else does.  I’m working on my wife.  She’s reluctant, but when I point out how many other ladies ride with great pleasure and little danger, it makes her do a double take and consider perhaps it’s the correct choice if she wants to be with me and our friends on certain weekends. It takes the right kind of bike, but there is something out there for everybody and their individual tastes. Riding is life, and life is not always meant to be taken in, by small sips from it vessel. Sometimes it’s good to take it in with big sloppy gulps. This is what riding means to many of us and I welcome it with a healthy dose.  But I digress…
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