Cards Bike one year later, FORR Leather and lace ... - The Biking Life

My friend Linn (who had been riding her own bike
since the late 1960s) came by my house about 7:00
AM. Linn had her 16-year-old grandson (the only
male on the ride) behind her on her brand new 2003
Road King. We were going to meet up with a group
of women riders and friends who have an annual
girls’ weekend out. Linn and I had rode together
many times, but never with this group of gals. We
had picked Springfield, Missouri, as the final
destination for the ride. Linn was moving to Branson
to open a bike repair/sales shop, so her hubby was
going to hook up with us in Springfield and pick up
the grandson. We headed off on the 25-mile ride to
meet the rest of the gals. From our meeting point we
hit the highway, all 16 of us—10 on bikes and six
others in two vehicles that followed behind. I like to
ride toward the back of a group (an old habit from
when I rode my trike), so I was second to last. We
rode about 25 miles on the Interstate and then got
off on a two-lane back road for a more scenic route.
About an hour and a half into the ride, we stopped
for gas. The weather was warming up, so the caps
and leathers came off. As we were getting ready to
roll again, my friend asked if I would change
positions with her because she had stock pipes on
her bike and she didn’t like the sound of the pipes
on the gal’s bike in front of her. My pipes are very
loud, so I said “Sure.” Now I was riding on the
outside, third from the last.
This group of gals liked to ride in a staggered
formation. We couldn’t have asked for a more
beautiful day to ride, and I was thoroughly enjoying
it. As we passed through all the little towns, I
noticed a town called Gerald. That brought a smile
to my face: Gerald was the first name of a dear
friend who had hand-built my trike and loved to
ride. Gerald passed away years ago, but I thought of
him (as I often do when I’m riding) and felt he was
riding along with me. Suddenly, a bird flew into my
chest and knocked the wind out of me. “Wow, that
was weird,” I thought as I rode on, trying to catch
my breath. In hindsight I should have pulled off the
road then—it was a warning sign. However, we
continued the ride and a few miles up the road we
found ourselves in the middle of a long group of
winding, twisting turns: right, left, right, left. The
gal in front of me was struggling to find her gear in