Nothing left to prove

There’s a club meeting today at the BMW dealer in Cape Girardeau, but I’m staying home.

I like Herb and Reno, who own and operate the dealership. Their place is where I take my bike for service. They’re great hosts and work hard to support the BMW Motorcycle Riders Association of the Mid-South.

But the temperature is 100 degrees with a heat index of 115 this afternoon.

And I ran out of motorcycle things to prove to myself a few years ago.

I’ve ridden in blazing heat – hours in the saddle in a steady blast of air so hot it feels like someone is ironing my shirt and pants with me in them – crossing the Mojave Desert in July. Twice.

I’ve ridden in rain and sleet and snow and sub-zero cold.

I’ve never done a 1,000-mile day, but I’ve ridden 900+ miles from Goodland, Kans. to Carmel, Ind. and felt like I had at least 100 miles left in me, but I was home and it was time to stop.

So I figure I’ve earned the right to hole up in the air conditioned comfort of my home on a day like this and let the bike sit in the garage. Besides, I’m riding up to Cape Girardeau on Thursday to get my defective right combo switch replaced.