Bikes, Beach Boys and the Summer Sun
(Simi Valley, CA)
The summer sun is calling, just weeks down the road. The prissy girls are already starting their silly diets, working themselves down to skin and bones so they can fit into bathing suits that they are going to cover up as soon as they get to the beach! The daytime hours have been warm enough for a few quick rides, just around in the neighborhood right now, of course, but the sun is hanging out in the turquoise sky for longer and longer, warming the asphalt and turning it slightly soft beneath your rumbling tires.
You didn’t even realize how long, how brutal, how icy cold the past winter was until you heard it on the radio, a Beach Boys song that got your toes tapping and suddenly the need for the bike, the beach and your best buddies hit you like a craving. All you could think of was the tingle of the lemondrop sun hitting your skin, the kiss of a very light breeze prickling the hairs on the back of your arms. You could see yourself pulling into the beach parking lot, shucking out of your riding clothes and running through that blazing hot, sugar fine sand, giggling like a child until you hit the shimmering blue water, icy cold and refreshing all at the same time. You all plop down on your towels, exhausted and exhilarated and talk about everything except for work or anything else that is not summer friendly. You talk about men, of course, but only the ones that still make you smile. Antonio Banderas is a good lying on a beach blanket topic; the man who broke your heart and stole your GTO is not.
You giggle, you tease each other. If you have not been friends forever, you share stories about the first time you got on a motorcycle and compare your war wounds. If you have been, you revisit these very same stories, reminding and replaying each detail, adding new flair to them as you laugh and call each other out for the moments that are not exactly true.
The aroma from the food other people are cooking starts to gently waft around your head and you realize that you are starving. It is time to pack up the gear and head for the bikes, looking for a place to eat, maybe some where with good pasta and great red wine and if you are lucky, a cute waiter to ogle while waiting for the dessert cart. Then somewhere in the distance, very softly, you all hear the strains of the Beach Boys and you decide to stay for just a few minutes more.