The Dance

At our next stop Carol mentions that we still have a ways to go. Being a good ride leader, she enquires as to our state. Do we have the energy/desire for merely twisty or do we want obscenely twisty roads. :)

We unanimously vote for obscenely twisty and off we go.

As the road wends its way into the mountain, it progressively tightens as elevation changes become more rhythmical. The road snakes up, down, left, right, and around in varying degrees of radii. Most corners are less than ninety degrees and many are hairpins going up or down. The temperature is now cooler but with plenty of sunshine to provide good illumination. The forest smells good.

Carol is on home turf (her back yard really) and she sets a brisk tempo. Reveling in this type of riding, I keep pace with her.

"Scotty, lock tractor beams on SKERTS license plate"

"Aye captain"

The road here is as tight as Deals Gap and some parts more so. But this is not Deals Gap in perception. Riding here does not stimulate the same hormones, and so, does not present the same danger. We can more safely abandon to increasing intensity.

Though the K12 is powerful and quite flickable, it is also a heavier bike, but Carol's riding is smooth as malted milk.

As the miles pass, I surreptitiously close the gap with her. Soon we are moving in close unison and begin to enter synchronous movement. What follows next I can only describe as I have felt it. As a rhythmical dance, a tango of the road, replete with slow, sensual moments, counterpointed by dynamic and vigorous thrusts as we accelerate out of slow hairpins.

My roll-offs and roll-ons are like a split-second echo of her own. At some points we eerily upshift at the same rpm's as our engines adopt identical pitch. At no point do we increase the speed on any straight section. Nothing here is about going fast. Everything about this rolling tango happens in the corners ahead. All is about smoothness and rhythm. Point and counterpoint. Ebb and flow. Soon, like a gradual intoxication that overcomes me unexpectedly, I am fully in the state of flow.

As we crest the top of the hill Carol comes to a stop in the middle of the road.

I pull up beside her.

She flips up her shield, looks over.
Her eyes are gleaming as I know mine are.

I sound off, "thanks for the dance!"

She bursts out in a gleeful giggle. Shield down, and off she goes.

I follow in close pursuit.

Bruno
Montreal, Canada