I am Molly’s wingman. From a moto enthusiast perspective, we are an odd couple: an Italian naked street bike and a high-performance motard. From a rider perspective, we are cut from the same cloth, seeking a safe and exhilarating ride while improving our skills and confidence.
We have had two great excursions on our motos. During an unusually warm spell in January, we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge together, riding safely in formation to appear as a “unit” to other motorists. We toured the Marin Headlands and looped back across the GG Bridge for a delicious lunch in the Avenues.
Our 2nd excursion to Moss Beach Distillery included many microclimates relatively short trip. We experienced calm sunshine in the Avenues, blowing fog on Skyline, crosswinds near the beaches, heavy overcast at Devil’s slide. I noted the lowest temperature at Skyline, about 52 degrees, much cooler than I expected for July. The ever-changing lighting, wind and road surface conditions offered many opportunities to be a better rider. Even though traffic was not particularly heavy, we had an ample supply of drivers with poor judgment to keep us on our toes anticipating our next defensive maneuver.
After a wonderful lunch in the City and time spent reflecting on the day, I headed across the Bay Bridge toward home where I knew it would be much hotter. The temperature in San Francisco was in the low 70s mid-afternoon, and by the time I reached the Bay Bridge the air temperature had dropped to the 60s. Approaching the Caldecott tunnel which connects the cooler Bay Area to the warmer inland Diablo Valley, I noted the gage read 72. Exiting the tunnel, my air temperature gage behaved more like the second hand of a watch as the indication read 80, 81, 82, 83 and kept going. In less than a mile it read 90, 91, 92, 93 and by the time I reached my exit at Lafayette, the reading peaked at 103 degrees.
The effect of dry, hot air on my body was powerful, even through my protective gear. I realized how quickly the moisture was leaving me, and that soon I would be a mummy if I didn’t reach home to rehydrate. The last temperature I saw was 105 degrees when turning into my driveway, relieved to have made it. So in a mere 30 miles, I drove out of the fog and into the frying pan.
We have had two great excursions on our motos. During an unusually warm spell in January, we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge together, riding safely in formation to appear as a “unit” to other motorists. We toured the Marin Headlands and looped back across the GG Bridge for a delicious lunch in the Avenues.
Our 2nd excursion to Moss Beach Distillery included many microclimates relatively short trip. We experienced calm sunshine in the Avenues, blowing fog on Skyline, crosswinds near the beaches, heavy overcast at Devil’s slide. I noted the lowest temperature at Skyline, about 52 degrees, much cooler than I expected for July. The ever-changing lighting, wind and road surface conditions offered many opportunities to be a better rider. Even though traffic was not particularly heavy, we had an ample supply of drivers with poor judgment to keep us on our toes anticipating our next defensive maneuver.
After a wonderful lunch in the City and time spent reflecting on the day, I headed across the Bay Bridge toward home where I knew it would be much hotter. The temperature in San Francisco was in the low 70s mid-afternoon, and by the time I reached the Bay Bridge the air temperature had dropped to the 60s. Approaching the Caldecott tunnel which connects the cooler Bay Area to the warmer inland Diablo Valley, I noted the gage read 72. Exiting the tunnel, my air temperature gage behaved more like the second hand of a watch as the indication read 80, 81, 82, 83 and kept going. In less than a mile it read 90, 91, 92, 93 and by the time I reached my exit at Lafayette, the reading peaked at 103 degrees.
The effect of dry, hot air on my body was powerful, even through my protective gear. I realized how quickly the moisture was leaving me, and that soon I would be a mummy if I didn’t reach home to rehydrate. The last temperature I saw was 105 degrees when turning into my driveway, relieved to have made it. So in a mere 30 miles, I drove out of the fog and into the frying pan.
(A rare fogless day from the Marin Headlands)
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