By 9AM on March 4th, Saturday morning, all four (4) T Riders
were present and ready to ride... except for TRider, who had
forgotten to get gas. So the rest of us (DPSSPY, Bolt Catcher,
and DaveFash) patiently waited by the service station driveway
with our engines running -- ensuring that no one else would be
buying any gas until we departed.

Since we were about to head-out onto Spy's stomping grounds,
the DPSSPY was the obvious leader. We headed out Alt-90 toward
Richmond and turned north onto FM 359 and as we got closer to
Foster, Texas, we started to see bicyclers by the hundreds.
Pulling to a stop sign right after passing a Prison Work Farm,
we looked into our rear-view mirrors and saw about 20 Harleys
that had the same idea -- Winner-Foster Road Riding.

So with Spy leading this convoy of about 24 motorcycles, we
turned left onto Winner-Foster Road -- where we saw the other
few hundred bicyclers that had the same idea everyone else had.
You should have seen us snaking in, out, and around these packs
of puffing, sweaty, colorful, riders. Seemed to me that the lady
riders tended to ride in the middle of the road and caused us
to take some extraordinary measures with double-yellow lines.

When there was a lull in the traffic, one could get a sense of
why everyone wanted to ride on Winner-Foster. The peace, the
quiet, the beauty, the smells, the crops, the animals, and yes;
more bicycles. Crossing double-yellows and revving a few engine
rumbles to get bicyclers attention, I really and truly wanted
to try out my brand-new Truck Air Horn. I so wanted to do that.
But alas, it would have broken the rest of whatever peace there
was left on Winner-Foster Road.

When we got back out into the country Farm-to-Market roads, we
started the "leaning thing". Where one encounters roads that
were modeled after a string of spaghetti. It was great, lean left,
lean right, lean left, lean right -- hey I am doing pretty good
on these curves. Then I look up front at Spy, he is doing better
that I am, but doesn't even have his left hand on the handle bar.
I like resting my hands from time to time... but not when riding
on a piece of pasta.

It was good, except for the time I looked at an on-coming pickup
truck. There is some stupid thing in your brain that it wants to
go where you are looking. Don't stare at an on-coming vehicle as
your are approaching it on a curve -- it may be hazardous to your
health. Note to self... keeps eyes on the group of bikes in front
and ignore that rusted pickup that seems to be heading for you.
That worked much better -- lean left, lean right, hey I think
I've got it now!

The part I liked the best was when we were riding along in the
country; warm sun, cool air, fresh smells, great motorcycles
sounds of pipes breaking the silence. That was it man. That was
my most satisfying ride ever...until next time.