This morning started like most, rolling out before dawn on a crisp Southern California day. The air bit back at a cool 40 degrees, the kind of chill that wakes you up better than any cup of coffee. By 5:30, I was straddling my bike, starting my 80-mile haul to the southern edge of California, where the state kisses the border.
Nothing unusual for a Monday morning—same old grind, same stretch of blacktop. I’ve got my tunes cranked, my head in the ride, and I’m splitting lanes like a scalpel through butter. The cars move like cattle, slow and oblivious, shuffling along with no sense of urgency, no awareness of the world outside their tiny metal boxes.
And it doesn’t matter that I’ve got five Baja Design lights blazing like the surface of the sun, cutting the dark with streaks of white and yellow. They still don’t see me. It doesn’t matter that my two-into-one exhaust roars loud enough to wake the dead. They still don’t hear me.
Most of these drivers are trapped in their own little terrariums, focused only on what’s inside their bubble—texts, FaceTime calls, even full-blown movies playing on their dashboards. You’d think they were parked in their living rooms, not hurtling down the 15.
So what do I do? Glare at ’em? Flip ’em off? Wave like some maniac trying to say “WTF”? Nah. Doesn’t matter. Won’t change a damn thing. The best I can do is keep my distance, pass ’em by, and move on to the next zombie in line.
It’s miles of this—lines of cattle crawling along while I weave between them, one car at a time. But here’s the thing: if you’re reading this, take a hard look at yourself. Get off your phone. Yeah, even us bikers aren’t saints in this department, but out here on two wheels, one second of distraction can be the difference between making it home and not.
Whatever it is, it can wait. Trust me. Put the damn phone down. Keep your eyes up and your head in the game, because out here, every second counts.Ride safe, keep it rubber-side down, and for the love of the road, stay aware.
- Mushu
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