I used to ride with a guy 1990? 1989? who rebuilt old airhead BMWs; we used to go fishing after work up the Cache La Poudre river outside of Fort Collins, or up the north fork of the Big Thompson river that ran down from Estes Park Colorado. Gary was a non-drinker, like me, so we got along great, not needing to suck down beers to have a good time; In those days, that was a rare find, someone who was not a tea totaler *******, but simply chose not to drink. We were not too popular because of it.
At that time, I ran a 750 Yamaha Virago, and thought I was pretty hot stuff! Gary put an end to that on our first fishing trip setting on a BMW slash ( /) something whatever he was rebuilding at that time. Although I could out run him on the straight aways, where we fished was full of tight s turns carving up a canyon along the river (s), and he showed me how little I knew about how to execute a turn. I fished with him about three summers, maybe once a week we would go casting for brook trout, so a lot of what he knew rubbed off on me. Over the years of riding with Gary, I found out how to ride a motorcycle; the "hotshot‘«ō Yamaha dude, HA! Gary moved on to Phoenix AZ the following winter, and although we promised to stay in touch, we never did.
One of the things this guy taught me during our rides together was to warm up a bike before going. NEVER blip the throttle, start it on a slow idle, and take 3 minutes to let the engine wake up before going. Gary used to say that how people tore apart engines is start em, throw it in gear and drop the clutch without letting the bike warm. H said the oil needed a chance to lubricate everything, and by ripping a start, you really hurt your ride. He knew; he was the bike mechanic.
We would set there in the parking lot, me on my Yamaha, him on his BMW / something, poles sticking out the back, waders bungeed on the rear seats, and wait, as the bikes warmed up.
This morning when I rolled the bike clear of the garage, started it up, I was looking east towards the Mississippi , about 35 miles as the crow flies. Rice and Goodhue county Minnesota is pretty clear of any houses, and the ancient riverbed starts sloping off big time at my house, so the view of the eastern horizon is not marred by city lights, and at 5:45 AM, the pre dawn light begins to trickle in across the farmland and trees, as I gazed out, waiting for the bike to warm up; just like Gary taught me 20 years ago...
I could see the horizontal line of the clouds building down by the river, with dark early morning blue sky above me, a few stars still twinkling out over me. The pink of the early dawn was just beginning, and the clouds were bubbling like bath bubbles, accentuated with the pink color of the dawn. I finally put the bike in gear, and crawled out my driveway, visor open, feeling the coolness of the 37 degree on my face.
By the time I got to work in Saint Paul , the day was overcast.
Just thought I would pass this along...