December
15, 2004 - First Ride
Traditional home in Takarazuka I passed on the way to the shop. I like the way the rain has lightened the grey plaster.
Mitsu brought the bike out for me...
High above Kobe
Sample of the roads above Kobe... Oooo la la!
Climbing artwork on the side of some silos.
Well, there I was, two and a half months of effort, a mountain of paperwork, $2000 in cash, and nothing but open roads and possibility in front of me. I clicked the bike into gear and timidly rolled onto the street. Hot damn, here we go...
20 minutes of travel on some busy streets put me at the start of what would be a grand return to Kobe via the beautiful and very twisty roads of the Rokko Mountains.
I turned off the highway to a narrow mountain valley road and all traffic disappeared. It was just me, the trees and the sunshine. The road was spectacular, it wound steeply up a narrow valley and at every switchback there was an astounding vista or a small village tucked into rice terraces. My timid and quietly muttered, "oh my gods!" quickly became shouts, "OH MY GOD!!!" The shouting sounded somewhat muffled and removed inside my helmet, almost as if it were someone else calling out. It seemed to come in waves and was laced together with uncontrolled giggling and the song of the engine. I was creating a breezy din of human joy that I floated into the trees as I rode by. My mind was saturated with possibility, not only did I have alternative transportation, but it was clear that my Kobe home was immediately adjacent to a motorcyclist's nirvana.
In the states I would ride hell bent for two days jacked on caffeine and a lust for fine pavement just to ride a stretch of road that, by any measure, would pale in comparison to the road I was now on. The shouting and incessant giggling turned into the singsong babble of a madman that lasted for a full two hours as I wound my way up and over the mountains and down into Kobe. A final road, so twisted that it looped back over itself, so steep it would throw any truck driver into a fear induced coma, plunged me off of the highest ridges to the front door of my Japanese class. Literally - my building was less than 100 yards from the road I had taken down. I stumbled into the classroom just on time, cold to the bone and in possession of a glow that is very out of place on a person who is about to be tortured with cruel abandon for the next hour and a half.
