motorcycle diary

MAKAPUU LIGHTHOUSE

Every Monday should start with a ride through Waimanalo and around Makapuu Point and home to Diamond Head.... even though this morning started in Traffic Court:

Me: " No Your Honor, I did not have insurance on my bike, Yes Your Honor, I have insurance now but only for 3 months because I'm skipping the country so please just sentence me to the gallows now...."

His Honor: "OK, send me a postcard, this job blows....wish I was going around the world!!"

"THE MOTORCYCLE GRIMACE"

The wind is in my hair, the salty sea spray on my face, the thwop of wind and bike in my ears....*bliss*.... as a grin creeps across my face, I realize that the grimace I see on the faces of other motorcyclists is actually a smile, cleverly designed to keep the mouth closed, and flying bugkill out.

I pass through 'Nalo town and fill up my $3 tank at the gas station while a busload of tourists wanders around the parking lot, clutching their McDonald's coffees and looking for an authentic local tourist experience in the parking lot of a strip mall in Waimanalo. It is surreal.

The road stretches out long and straight along the beach as I clear the town and head towards Sea Life Park. The wind is blustery, the ocean is grumpy and the salty gusts blow the bike all over the road.

The fun begins at Makapuu Point, where the road starts to twist and wind its way around the coast.... I round the lookout point and stop for some pics, then hit the blacktop again towards Sandy Beach, where the road gets really fun:

"THE LONG AND WINDING ROAD"

-JOHN LENNON-

On a clear day, you can see clear across the channel to the shadows of Molokai and Haleakala looming even larger on the horizon behind, but today the horizon is a haze of whitecaps and seamist.

I crest the hill near Haunama Bay, and the swamplands of Hawaii Kai stretch out before me, now a concrete suburbia crowded around the man-made marina and back into the valleys and ridges of this ahupua'a. Give me the wild, windswept landscapes of the coastal road anytime over a return to civilization and homogenized Costco parking lots.

The rest of the ride home is an asphalt tunnel surrounded by rows of stucco houses and standing seam rooftops hiding behind rock walls with ornate faux hawaiiana gates, Hawaii's own concrete wetlands.

As I pull into the driveway, my welcoming committee scratches at the door to go pee... and then claim his rightful throne.

POOTIE TANG ONLY RIDES ON HIS DAYS OFF