It’s getting warmer, and you know what that means. Time to get out there for some two-wheeled insanity that only motorcycling can provide (though I must admit that hearing my brother’s stories of tearing down the Blue Ridge mountains on a mountain-bike might compare, though his several knee surgeries are enough to make me pass on that sport). So, the sun’s coming out, the temperature is starting to rise to that beautiful high-60’s, low-70’s mark, and the bikes are begging to be let loose.

I’ve started commuting on mine. I know, I know; “Eric, what are you doing riding your bike on a freeway? Are you nuts?!” With gas prices skyrocketing rapidly to the $2.00 mark for a lot of the country, riding my 2001 Blue SVS has become more of an economical assist than the recreational activity it was. Even though my car gets 27 mpg, nothing can beat flogging the hell out of a 645cc engine for an entire tank of gas and still pulling in 45+ on the gas economy.

I get up around 8 in the morning everyday for my job(s). The mist is just starting to burn off up here in the mountains and I get to inhale the intoxicating smell that must be patented by mountain terrain (and, no, it’s not the paper mill right up the road from Asheville, you smart asses!). There’s a crispness to the air that actually cuts through the lining in my jacket some mornings. Mountains always have that extreme temperature adjustment problem – low 50s and 40s in the morning, high 70s in the afternoon. All in a single day. It makes for some interesting attire choices, let me tell you.

I walk down the three flights of stairs from my apartment nearly stumbling a handful of times – partially because I’m still a little sleepy, and mostly because I keep looking over the railing at my bike parked below (still tucked in under its form-fitting cover). It doesn’t matter how many times I execute this same routine, the excitement, anxiety, and complete arousal is always there. Get your mind out of the gutter, too, I’m talking mental arousal (though sometimes the vibration can be kind of interesting… AHEM).

I gently pull the cover off the bike revealing its gleaming blue half-fairing and body panels. There’s something about the combination of the tube-metal center chassis with the brightly covered fairings on the SVs that just takes my breath away. They’re gorgeous bikes and there are simply no two ways about it. In fact, just last night at a friend’s house, I was complimented several times on how good my bike looks. It’s amazing what kinds of compliments $6k can bring in. Such low investment for a bike that gets more attention than the myriad Honda CBR650s, Yamaha YZFs, and Suzuki GSXRs that are out there. Sometimes rarity can be a very good thing.

I get on the bike and pull the choke on full. I know that my baby could start with virtually no assistance (another of the things I love about these bikes), but I figure she deserves all the help she can get. After all, I know that I can wake up in the morning without a cup of coffee, but it’s so much nicer on my system to wake up with some assistance.

I throw a leg over the bike, kick up the stand, flip the on switch, push the starter, and gently twist the throttle. Sometimes it’s so much like foreplay that I feel I should censor the way I think about it. She kicks on and settles immediately into a purr. How can you knock that? Always ready, willing, and able, and so easy to handle. There are always a few seconds when she first wakes up where she’s a little drowsy, but then the choke kicks in and she warms up to a gentle hum. I punch down the kickstand and throw the cover into the trunk of my car (there’s simply nowhere else to store the thing). I finish getting ready; zipping up my jacket, putting on my summer gloves, and tightening down the helmet. It’s time to fly.

My apartment complex is cursed with five separate speedbumps before I can get out of it. FIVE. The first couple of times I rode in and out of here, I forgot that I had a large piece of equipment between my legs and gave myself quite a … surprise… going over the said speedbumps. Word of advice to all the male riders out there – be very, very careful going over speedbumps. Getting bumped out of the seat may be a little unnerving, but it’s nothing in comparison with what happens on the way down. I’m sure to the spectator watching me rack myself full on with my motorcycle as I rode by was quite an amusing sight. Thinking back on the experience, I can imagine that it looked funny, but it sure wasn’t funny from where I was sitting!

I get out to the entrance of my apartment complex and hang a left. The first road I get on is 45-mph, and I find that’s pretty good to get my baby warmed up. A few short miles later, I’m on the freeway. The superslab, as so many of us are fond of calling them. I know, I know – it’s straight. What are you going to do on straight roads beside running the risk of getting the speeding ticket of all time.

I tell my friends that I’m not going to get a speeding ticket, I’m going to get the speeding ticket. Y’know, the one where the cop pulls you over and asks, “Do you know how fast you were going?” and you answer “No! Actually, I kept hitting the rev limiter in 6th gear and would really appreciate it if you could tell me! I don’t really know how fast my bike can go and I was trying to figure it out!!” That’s what I’m talking about!

At any rate, I pull on to 240, the freeway that gets me to my first job of the day and turn a corner. The vista is absolutely breathtaking. A gorgeous mountain backdrop laced with morning fog and the sun’s just starting to reveal itself in the nooks and crannies. A beautiful orange-red light is glancing off the clouds that are overhead, and the birds are starting to gently chirp to welcome the coming day. And, being on the bike, I feel like I’m a part of it, not just a spectator but adding to the symphony of the morning with the gentle thrum of my exhaust as I speed down the freeway.

Commuting on the motorcycle isn’t simply a way to save some pennies on gas, it’s a way to wake up in the morning. Caffeine ain’t got nothin’ on this. I’m up, I’m ready for the day, and nothing… nothing… can make me feel this good in the morning.

About the author: Eric Jacobson lives in Asheville, North Carolina. When he’s not out trying to see what the maximum velocity of a SVS is, he’s either working public relations for local businesses or running one of his businesses. You can reach him at owner@irxproductions.com or through his website http://www.computermechanix.com