Thursday afternoon I heard thunder. I ran outside to ensure my rain water catchment system was in order. Luckily, it was – all five of my 25-pound cat litter buckets were placed appropriately on the drip line of the house. (Yes, Mother, because of the drought, your daughter is now the official definition of white trash.)

The thunder crashed again. I looked up and was surprised to see nary a cloud in the sky. I did a quick 360 just to make sure as the thunder got louder and louder. And suddenly it hit me – the noise I kept hearing was just the beginning of a weekend of rumbles – 5,000 bikers were back in town.

I wish somebody would have mentioned the soil full of rocks and the plethora of motorcycles before I decided to move to the country.

Unfortunately, when you live in a very beautiful spot, everyone who resides in a cement city insists on visiting. I don’t mind tourists – they are good for the economy. What I mind is when noise ruins our perfect silence. We’re so content with quiet that when the occasional siren is heard, we all race to call our neighbors to speculate which person in town just got hauled off in an ambulance.

When the silence is broken by the noise of 5,000 Harley riders, you can bet we notice. Most tend to hide in their homes until the herd has left town. Unfortunately, My Crazy Cuz decided to visit at the same time they did. And on her agenda was heading to town for shopping.

Being a nice hostess, I smiled weakly and agreed to go. As she backed her car out of my caliche driveway, MCC casually mentioned, “Boy, there were so many motorcycles on my way here, I’ve never seen anything like it.” I scoffed, “Just wait – you ain’t seen nothing yet. You’re about to head into the belly of the whale.”

When we hit town, it was at a standstill. Every gas pump was surrounded by Harleys. Cars were backed up for blocks at their turn to pump more than the biker’s typical two gallons of gas. There was no parking anywhere. Did you know that you can park 75 bikes in the same space it takes to park six cars?

We slowly made our way to our shopping destination. Inside, I queried the owner. “Say, do all these bikers increase your sales for the weekend?” He scoffed and said, “Look around little lady. When’s the last time you saw a Harley with a six foot tall bottle tree lashed to the back of it?”

Personally, if I was planted on the back of a motorcycle holding on to some man so I wouldn’t fall off, I’d still insist on shopping. A smart woman knows about shipping.

I know everyone is free to have their hobby of choice. Mine is gardening. I realize there are many people out there who prefer to hop on a large engine sitting on two tires. I only wish that Harley had heard of something called a muffler.

Mostly, the bikers are friendly – to each other – and tend to ignore the rest of us. But it seems it’s much harder to ignore them with all their noise.

 When the Sunday afternoon rumble finally arrives, I breathe a sigh of relief knowing they’re leaving town. I’m not certain, but I think all that noise pollution just might rattle my vegetable plants into growing a little bit bigger. Probably it’s just another lesson at how we should learn to all exist together in harmony.

Spreading laughter throughout the world…one vroom, vroom at a time.

Mikie Baker
www.mikiebaker.com