Sharif
Well-known member
There was a fair bit of fog this morning when I woke up. The sky was looking more optimistic by 9 or so, so my plan to take Mom for a short ride was looking good. There was a chance of scattered showers, but they were pretty slim. A short ride indeed, up to Buchanan, Michigan, in search of cinnamon roll perfection.
Now, Mom used to say "over my dead body" when it came to motorcycles and me. She has evolved, and I've given her short (4 mile) rides before. Buchanan is about a 20 minute ride. I planned a route along back roads where we could just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.
I buzzed over and picked up Mom. Being slightly claustrophobic, getting a helmet on is one of those things that sort of freaks her out. I have to say, I am super proud of her - she didn't faint, not even once! Here she is, all geared up and looking ready to ride. Notice the smile. Nothing brings out that smile in people better than a motorcycle.
After flipping the rear shock to firm, we saddled up and rolled out. For me, this wasn't about lean angles or acceleration, iron butts or riding in the moonlight. It was about smooth shifts, low revs, and surfing the torque of that big 1300 cc engine while enjoying the sunshine, tall corn, low beans, and absence of traffic.
A short hop later found us in Buchanan, safe and sound:
My wife told me about a place called the Coward Café, which is supposed to have amazing coffee and cinnamon rolls in the morning, with pizza available in the evening. It seemed as reasonable a destination as any for a Sunday morning putter.
The place is pretty nondescript from the outside. Inside, true to its spartan appearance, is a spartan menu:
Mom was surprised - she thought we were going out for breakfast and was all excited to get a waffle. Instead, we rolled with it, ordered a pour over for her and a cold brew for me, a pair of cinnamon rolls, and sat down at the long communal table:
Oh my goodness, what a treat for the senses! To call these cinnamon rolls is borderline insulting. Made with croissant dough, they are flaky, caramelized, triangular points of buttery perfection. Absolutely incredible. So good, in fact, that I ordered a second one...
The coffee was top notch as well - my friend Blake would love this place:
After an unhurried hour or so, it was time to get on with our Sunday. We suited up:
Saddled up:
and were ready to roll out:
We took a different route on the way home, and on the way, saw a turkey vulture wheeling and a VHF Omnidirectional Range Ground Station in a field. There is so much to explore, even on short rides!
I must be the luckiest man in the world. Not only do I have an amazing wife and kids, I have an amazing Mom who is willing to just get out there and experience the joys of motorcycling. We had an absolutely great time together. I'm so glad I suggested it, and I'm so glad she accepted!
Mom's smile of pure joy, of child-like wonder, of being alive is one I will remember for a long time. I have to say, I have one cool Mom!
Now, Mom used to say "over my dead body" when it came to motorcycles and me. She has evolved, and I've given her short (4 mile) rides before. Buchanan is about a 20 minute ride. I planned a route along back roads where we could just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.
I buzzed over and picked up Mom. Being slightly claustrophobic, getting a helmet on is one of those things that sort of freaks her out. I have to say, I am super proud of her - she didn't faint, not even once! Here she is, all geared up and looking ready to ride. Notice the smile. Nothing brings out that smile in people better than a motorcycle.
After flipping the rear shock to firm, we saddled up and rolled out. For me, this wasn't about lean angles or acceleration, iron butts or riding in the moonlight. It was about smooth shifts, low revs, and surfing the torque of that big 1300 cc engine while enjoying the sunshine, tall corn, low beans, and absence of traffic.
A short hop later found us in Buchanan, safe and sound:
My wife told me about a place called the Coward Café, which is supposed to have amazing coffee and cinnamon rolls in the morning, with pizza available in the evening. It seemed as reasonable a destination as any for a Sunday morning putter.
The place is pretty nondescript from the outside. Inside, true to its spartan appearance, is a spartan menu:
Mom was surprised - she thought we were going out for breakfast and was all excited to get a waffle. Instead, we rolled with it, ordered a pour over for her and a cold brew for me, a pair of cinnamon rolls, and sat down at the long communal table:
Oh my goodness, what a treat for the senses! To call these cinnamon rolls is borderline insulting. Made with croissant dough, they are flaky, caramelized, triangular points of buttery perfection. Absolutely incredible. So good, in fact, that I ordered a second one...
The coffee was top notch as well - my friend Blake would love this place:
After an unhurried hour or so, it was time to get on with our Sunday. We suited up:
Saddled up:
and were ready to roll out:
We took a different route on the way home, and on the way, saw a turkey vulture wheeling and a VHF Omnidirectional Range Ground Station in a field. There is so much to explore, even on short rides!
I must be the luckiest man in the world. Not only do I have an amazing wife and kids, I have an amazing Mom who is willing to just get out there and experience the joys of motorcycling. We had an absolutely great time together. I'm so glad I suggested it, and I'm so glad she accepted!
Mom's smile of pure joy, of child-like wonder, of being alive is one I will remember for a long time. I have to say, I have one cool Mom!
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