As I mentioned, I often ride to Laguna Seca for the MotoGP from Seattle. I think it is about 1,000 miles if you take the freeway, but the way I go it takes me 3 days or more, and it is about 1,500 miles.
Northern California has some great roads between Highway 101 and Highway 1 that are fun to explore. One year, while on my return trip, I was riding my modified Triumph Daytona and after looking at the map found some nice little county roads in the Sacramento valley that paralleled Interstate 5. (I hate riding down the freeway). It is a nice day; the sun is shining, its 80 degrees, and no wind. The road surface is not great (which is typical for California) and there a lot of rodents out, chipmunks and the like. I felt kind of bad because at this point I had actually run over two who had poor timing while trying to cross the road.
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The road is not too tight and most of the corners are fast sweepers and I was cruising along enjoying the day thinking how much I like ‘work days’ like these. As I came out of a wooded area onto a straight stretch, I glance down at the gauges to see if all is OK. I noticed I was motoring along at 80mph, not accelerating for the straights, just a nice pace considering there is no traffic on the road at all.
At the end of the straight was a hawk eating some road kill on the left shoulder. I was confident by the time I got there that he will have taken off. Without backing off the throttle I start getting closer, watching him all the way. First he turns to the left and crouches down like he is going to take off. I’m thinking great, no problem. At the last minute he turns right and takes off right in front of me. OMG! I try to tuck in behind the fairing as much as possible but he hits me in the head (gotta love a full face helmet). As I looked up for the corner I started seeing stars and had a little tunnel vision that was short lived.
I glanced in the mirror to check on my feathered friend and he is ‘spread hawk’ on the road, not moving. His wingspan appeared to be about 4 feet and I was thinking he could’ve knocked me out or off the bike. I never stopped as I figured there was nothing I could do for him and there was probably someone from the Sierra Club or Park Service hiding in the bushes that would want to pursue criminal charges.
The helmet only had some feather dust on it so it was a shame to throw it away – but I know I had collapsed the liner some. This is not the only bird I have killed on my bike. Once in Eastern Oregon with the ‘molar rollers’ I was going through a fast (100mph?) right hand sweeper and a blackbird came out the bushes and I got him with my right knee. I think I will start painting animals on my fairing like they did on WWII airplanes.
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