In the summer of 2000, I went for a long motorcycle ride. Really long. Well, while traveling on I-80 in Utah, I came up behind a lone Harley Davidson rider. He was wearing a helmet, so I was impressed, the bike had California plates, and the Harley rider was wearing a "Frisco Cycles" t-shirt. San Francisco was my destination as well. I thought that maybe if he was wanting to travel 5mph faster, we could ride to San Francisco together, but after riding behind him for about 5 miles I pull out to pass.
Usually, when people are passed, they tend to speed up a little bit while you are passing them. I've aways wondered if this was a macho thing ("No one is better than me and therefor no one can pass me"), or a conformity thing ("I must travel at the same speed as others"), or whatever, but I've always thought that it was a subconcious act. This Harley rider was different. He allowed me to pass, very friendly of him, but then he returned my pass and sped up a great deal. So I go about maintaining my speed and I find this Harley rider falling back until he's close in front of me, and he's traveling slower that I would want (by only about 5mph, same as before). So I travel behind him at his speed for about 5 miles and all seems to be going well except that I don't really want to ride with anyone else at the moment. I accellerate to pass him, and like before he hit's his throttle as if he's trying lay rubber on the interstate. I don't want to play his game so I keep on my throttle until we've probably exceeded 110mph (I only wanted to travel at 75-80mph). Then he disappears in my mirrors and I think maybe I've seen the last of him. I travel at 85mph for a while just to keep good measure between us. Another 100 miles and I stopped for gas and a rest.
Getting back on the Interstate, I thought maybe I'd run into him again. Maybe I took too long of a break and I'd be behind him again. After only a short few miles, there he was, The Harley Rider.
"Maybe the first exchange was to negotiate weather or not we wanted each others company" I thought to my self. "Maybe now he knows that I don't want to ride with anyone else." So, I try to pass him again, and like before he lets me pass, only to race forward wildly and then slow down again to his original speed. Again, I was following the Harley Rider, traveling 5mph slower than my liking (if the law would allow it and the traffic was favorable, I'd cruise at 90-100mph). I thought the Harley Rider and I had negotiated our riding styles and found ourselves to be incompatible. He still seemed to think we were compatible.
In Reno, I rested a while, ate a candy bar, made some phone calls, then got on my bike. Up in the Sierras, traffic was bad, well... not stopped, but both lanes were 50mph and less for as far as I could see. I really don't like to pass on the right lane, it's unsafe, I think illegal, and not polite. So I bided my time in the "Number One" lane (that's the left most land), wishing I was going faster, but trying to enjoy the scenery. It's dangerous, though and requires a great deal of concentration due to the many angry motorists who will weave in and out and in and out between the two lanes, risking their lives and the fancy paint job on their SUVs just to get one more car length ahead of the rest of traffic. Then, on a long straight away, I saw what was holding us up, the Harley Rider.
I thought about pulling over and waiting a couple hours, but that would mean driving in the evening, which is also dangerous. So, I weaved my way carefully through traffic up to the Harley Rider. It's really pretty easy for a Motorcycle to make it through traffic, as long as the tempers of fellow travelers don't flair. Now I was a couple cars behind the Harley Rider. He was pacing an old Dodge truck, the Harley Rider in the left lane, the Dodge in the right. Some of the turns marked for 50mph, the two of them would take at 40 or 35. Sat in my traffic slot, waiting for one to overtake the other, but it soon was clear that it would never happen.
A straight presented itself, two miles long. And then a passing opportunity, a time when the Dodge and the Harley Rider were not equal with each other (was the Dodge slowing down to rediculous slows in the hopes that the Harely Rider would finally pass?) I passed them, and, like before, the Harley Rider kept on my tail. We approached the end of the straight, I knew my rubber was good, I knew my chain was good, I knew my suspention was good. I hit the turn at slightly over the reccomended 50mph, and the Harley Rider kept with me.
Were we racing? I didn't want to race, but I also didn't want to have a bunch of pissed off cars weaving back and forth all around me. On a lighter bike, I am able to double most of those reccomended speeds, on this bike I can take most 50mph turns at 80mph without much effort. I was not afraid of losing it in the turns. But the Harley Rider, how was he going to be able to manage these speeds? I didn't want the Harley Rider to wreck, partly because I would never wish harm to anyone and partly because I didn't want him to blaim it on me, saying that I was terrorizing him and ran him off the rode or whatever. But then I thought, if he really wants to try to make these turns with that Harley, that's HIS business. All this was thought in the few seconds the two of us travelled the next straight, speeds exceeding 100mph. I checked my mirrors, braked for the next turn, and leaned the bike over for a smooth speed limit tight turn. Accellerated, checked my mirrors again and there he was, but smaller, braked hard for the next turn.... etc. The roads were clear of other traffic, the Harley Rider and Dodge saw to that earlier.
Finally I found the commeradery of other traffic. Semi's, slowly motoring up steep grades, SUV's with ski racks even though there would be no skiing any time soon, moving vans. I took a traffic slot behind an SUV and followed it all the way through Sacramento. Stopped for gas, got on my bike and rode again until I wound up in San Francisco, the destination.
What was with this Harley Rider? Is there something I don't know about motorcycle ediquite? In Nevada I was not so unhappy traveling behind this fellow, but in the Sierras following him was unsafe. Well... If you are an officer who might be reading this, please substitute all speeds with half their value.