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The alarm rings. Exactly five o'clock in the morning, this rude, repetitive reminder ends his peaceful slumber. He kills the alarm and rolls over, wondering when, if ever, he would catch a fucking break.
Another twelve hour shift was looming large, with naught but a mere one hundred and fifty minutes to become alert enough to prepare himself for the ride. He fights the desire to to stay withing the warmth of his bed covers, same as yesterday, and the day before. Four days a week, despite the intensity of weather, he loses the battle.
Winter sucks, life sucks
Per the weather channel, twenty-one degrees was the expected temperature this morning, a step up from yesterday's bone-chilling sixteen degrees. Of course, that was only on the way to work, it was a much warmer twenty-nine degrees on his way back. For a displaced Floridian, weather like this was hell, and if he happened to also be a biker, it was nothing less than life threatening. Fortunately, it was here where he learned to ride, so at least he had that going for him. And now, the time had come to do it all again.
Fuck Winter
Reluctantly, he throws back the covers and heads for the shower, taking care not to wet his long, sun-bleached hair in the process.
Wet hair, freezing weather... hell no
At the ripe old age of twenty-two, he's still paying on the Sporty he purchased off the showroom floor when he turned nineteen. Less than a week before his 22nd birthday, he took out a mortgage and purchased his first home. Days like this remind him to be thankful he has a garage this winter.
For three consecutive winters, with nothing but his Harley for transportation, he's worked to perfect his safety routine. This year, he believes, he's got it down to a science.
Still, it's gonna be a bitch out there
Refusing to let his parents down after losing everything they had worked so hard for to the recession, buying the house was more for them than for himself. As long as he could hold onto it, none of them would ever find themselves homeless.
Family is everything
College be damned, in this economy, where CEO's are either flipping burgers or donning golden parachutes, a college degree seemed pretty damn useless. Out of necessity, he went to work to keep his family together.
Missing even one day of work was not an option, and lately, he was feeling trapped... and much older than he should.
Something will break, keep moving
The heater was working and the house was comfortable, still he shivered as he stepped out of the hot shower. Towel drying his hair and beard, he then twisted locks into braid, brushed teeth, applied deodorant, and started his morning ritual.
Breakfast is a bowl of hot cheese grits, an egg and one cup of coffee, while watching the weather channel and perusing social media.
Same ol' shit, day after day
Taking a moment to enjoy his Christmas tree, he reminds himself it would be stripped and gone before he returns tonight. The next few days the world would seem a little more bleak, without the colorful lights.
If that were even possible
Looking out the window sent a chill through him. It was going to be a dark and dangerous ride, but his burdens outweighed his fears. Bills were mounting, taxes were due.
Instead of enjoying the twenty-three mile ride to work, now he dreaded it. Friends, most of them bikers themselves, tell him he's nuts, they wouldn't even attempt to ride in this shit. But they have the luxury of choice, he does not. Until he does, he'll continue to ride the frozen asphalt, surrounded by warm fucks in heated cages who have no clue he's even on the same road.
Unobservant assholes
Throughout last year and the year before, he had tried to buy a cheap truck to drive on days like this. Having a second vehicle around would help his parents out as well, but nothing panned out. Apparently, there was a fuckton of old farmer's who felt the need to add yet another truck to their ever-growing stable. They had more cash than he could come up with, every single time. No way he could afford another monthly payment until the bike was paid off. The fact that his safety hung in the balance was something he just had to deal with.
Maybe next year
His first winter on the bike, he had only lived seven miles from work. That was definitely a cold-ass winter, but thankfully, it was a shorter ride. Back then, he didn't even own winter riding gear, just his leather jacket and a cheap pair of gloves.
When spring finally arrived he bought a pair of chaps from a pawn shop, but he had also moved again, this time even further from work. Seven miles became thirteen, with the only route forcing him to cross over two rivers, and an overpass, adding frozen bridges to his list of obstacles.
Two months into his second winter he had the good fortune to find a used, full-body Carhartt, and a neoprene skull mask. For Christmas that same winter, he received a multi-functional head sock to cover his head and ears, and two pair of soft gloves to layer.
The only day of work he missed that season was due to an icy sleet raining down on previously iced roads. He put forth a valiant effort to ride to work that morning, but when he nearly laid it down as he approached treacherous, ice and snow covered railroad tracks, he turned it around. The bridges he had to cross would be worse. To date, this was the only time he ever had to give up, turn around, and call in.
Presently, from his new home, he now has a twenty-seven mile ride to work. And although he's better prepared, it's a hard and dangerous ride. The new gauntlet gloves and activated hand-warmers make a difference. Despite the gear, the fact remains he must continue to endure an extremely dangerous, physically demanding ride.
Yet still, I ride
He leaves earlier than normal now, to stop at a convenience store half-way to work. There, he gets a coffee and allows himself to warm up for a few minutes, before heading back into the icy wind.
The Almanac advises the next two months are going to be the worst in recent years, and he has to remind himself how much he loves life in the wind. He could always sell the bike and buy a cage, it's paid for now.
Not an option
Getting up from the breakfast table, he goes out to the garage to warm up his Harley, returning to his bedroom for the life preserving 'layer-up dance'.
Placing an extra pack of hand-warmers in the inside pocket of his leather jacket, he finishes his morning ritual by going through his mental check list.
Thick Jeans
Undershirt
Two t-shirts
Button up shirt
Cotton Socks, Thermal socks
Riding boots
Carhartt jumpsuit
Leather Jacket
Bandanna over ears,
Bandanna over forehead and hair
Head sock, Neoprene face mask
Soft gloves, Second pair of soft gloves
Gauntlet gloves
Activated hand-warmers between the gloves, socks, and boots
Skid lid
Assured he's good to go, he grabs his lunch box and heads to the garage to fill the saddle bag with edibles and check his tools.
Brace yourself
He pushes the button. The large door begins to lift, instantly engulfing him in bone-chilling air before he can throw a leg over and plant his feet.
Maybe next year
Aware of what awaits, he does his best to steel himself and slowly rolls out to greet the harsh winter wind.
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Fuck It, Just Ride!