I needed a ride. I called my ex-wife to tell her that I would come pick up my daughter’s stuff as an excuse to get a ride in. You know how we do. So I slung on my backpack and took off down 66. I was in the second lane from left and came to a stop at one of the many lights in downtown Garland. Pretty quickly, a guy on a tiny little sport bike came rushing up to stop in the left lane beside me. He then turned and pointed at my bike and gave me a thumbs-up. Then I heard rumbling on my right and looked over to see a woman on a purpled-out hog come to a stop in the right lane, one slot back from me. I thought surely she was with the guy to my left. Then he turned and did the same thing to her. What are the odds that three completely separate bikers on three completely different trips end up right next to each other at a light? Maybe it’s pretty high. But it was my first time experiencing it, and it was pretty cool. It’s always cool to roll out a little blacktop next to a stranger.
He took off pretty quickly, but I ended up behind the woman for a couple of miles up 78 before she turned off. There’s no doubt something different to the feeling of riding with a group – even if it’s just two of you. Number one, there’s the safety-in-numbers thing. You’re more visible – and audible, in fact – than when alone. But it also feels better. It’s a nice camaraderie. A starling is gregarious, after all.