It’s beatiful in West Chester

It’s beatiful in West Chester today, and all the motorcycles came out of their garages, like oily, dusty daffodils. A bright red Honda CBR followed me for two blocks this morning, the left-turn signal blinking on and off, on and off. You can’t hear a turn-signal clicker inside a full face helmet, and the indicator light is way down outside your field of view, so forgetting to cancel your turn signal is the first sign of rustiness. Little signs like that (along with putting both feet down at a stop light), are normally what separate weekend hobbyists from real riders. This weekend, though, everybody’s rusty, and there’s a spirit of bonhomie and forgiveness in the air. I even saw a skinny young Suzuki rider in neon green Joe Rocket leathers talking to a grizzled Harley rider, which normally never happens. Both of them were leaning up against their bikes in the Burger King parking lot, basking in the thin spring sunshine.

It’s beatiful in West Chester

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