I start heading up the hill and for some reason the “ICY” sign at the bottom catches my eye. Could it be more of those voices in your head that Arizona Harley Dude hears? After all, 40 degrees in the valley, rain last night, several thousand feet up the hill might be different. Never noticed that icy sign before.
I had two reasons for taking that ride: 1) Because I’m stupid and like to freeze my ass off. 2) If you get up there before the Sun is up you can get above the clouds that blanket the valley this time of year. Just about at the top of the Grade I run into an old friend I remember from the East Coast: “Black Ice”. I didn’t like the SOB then, and I like him even less now. Going into a left curve the ass-end started to fishtail like a baby seal that just saw Jaws. Crap, this thing’s going down! Or option number two: Screw trying to make the turn and go straight into the dirt pullout. The drop-off on the other side can’t be more than a few hundred feet. Throttle up, pull the front-end up straight, hit the dirt and stopped the wayward bike, upright. Hey, this is a good place to get a picture with the clouds over the valley!
Judging by the fresh skid marks in the dirt, I’d say that a small car hit that ice just a few minutes before I did. If they had hung around for awhile bet I could’ve got them to take a picture of me next to the bike with crap running down my leg.