My V*Star 650 Gracie loved the road, chewing it like a baseball player with a new pack of bubble gum. The music of Bob Seger roared in my helmet, his words driving me as it has done so many riders over the years;
Roll, roll me away, I'm gonna roll me away tonight
otta keep rollin, gotta keep ridin',
Keep searchin' till I find what's right
And as the sunset faded
I spoke to the faintest first starlight
And I said next time
We'll get it right
Gracie began to vibrate fiercely as I reached 80 mph, rolling that throttle back. My ass buzzed in her seat as I roared between the concrete walls of the Express Lanes, completely alone in my section of freeway. Over the concrete dividers buzzed the swarm of red tailights off to my right and white headlights off to my left.
The overpass I dreaded lie just before me; an S-turn that crossed sharply over Interstate 15 to dump me onto Highway 163. With the suggested speed of 30 mph, this set of turns spooked me every time I had to take it.
"This time, we'll get it right," I told Gracie.
I kept her in 5th gear and kept the throttle steady, refusing to give into the fear. In the past I've always slowed to either 3rd or 4th gear, and stressed taking this interchange, but tonight was our night. I situated Gracie in the outside of the turn and rolled in at 70 mph.
The first turn was a breeze and I caught sight of the horizon directly ahead of me. We were headed into the sunset and for a few moments it felt like we were floating. The second turn came, this one longer and wider than the first, but with a tricky switchback at the end. We cruised through at 75 mph without a hitch.
Perhaps the sunset, with the twinkling of the first star out to the west winking at us, was a magical as it appeared, sprinkling Pixie-Biker Dust on the riders of the evening. Perhaps this was something I could do all along, had I only let go of the fear sooner. Perhaps this was just our time to get it right.