* * Social responsibility and my motorcycling

One weekday recently, I went motorcycling with my friend Margie. Like most of us during this pandemic, business was slow and I had free time to spare. Our plan was to head up Big Walker Mountain on the Wythe/Bland County line and take in the view, carrying a picnic lunch in anticipation of the General Store at the top being closed.

We met at the NRV Mall and headed west on Peppers Ferry Road to Fairlawn, then through Dublin and Pulaski, cresting Little Walker Mountain on the wonderfully sinuous Robinson Tract Road. Motorcyclists live for curvy roads like this!

Continuing west on Little Creek Road, the western skies darkened and spits of rain splashed against my face shield. By the time we passed under Interstate 77, rain was heavy and we decided to retreat, heading back to Pulaski and pausing for our delayed picnic on the Draper Valley Overlook. It was a grand sight, leaden clouds resting just above, painting the landscape in a palette of grays, blues, and earthen browns, with brief, warming sun-breaks.

Margie and I talked some about the pandemic and how it has affected her work and mine, and the economy of the region. She’s a Tech professor of microbiology, and she understands COVID-19 at a microscopic, cellular level. Her informal teaching has increased my knowledge, especially as it pertains to the way the disease spreads.

Motorcycling is an exercise in social distancing, because both face and hands are covered in protective gear. We were careful at the gas pump to keep our gloves on to protect from germs on the handle. We kept our distance from each other and others we encountered at our stops.

I’ve been a devoted motorcyclist for decades, riding both for work and utility transportation, including my daily commute. It’s always been thrilling for me, a spark lit during my teen years and never diminished. It’s my refuge, my quiet, private space, just me and the bike, the road, and nature. It is a special privilege to have owned capable, fast and efficient motorcycles and these amazing southwest Virginia roads upon which to ride.

It’s an understatement that the pandemic has dramatically altered our world. We believe the doctors and scientists, at least most of us do, that the virus is pernicious, sometimes fatal, and easily spread. And we’re cooperating, again at least most of us, to follow the directives of our national, state, and local authorities to avoid contact with each other, practice strict hygiene measures – Wash your hands! – and stay at home if possible.

Here, we’re not there yet, but many countries and some states are literally confining people in their own homes except in emergencies. It’s maddening to me, and I’m sure to most of us, to see photos of people still gathering in large groups, partying at Florida beaches, and attending churches, in defiance of public officials and of common sense. But in particular in defiance of the shared responsibility we have to each other. Because the fact is, the better we isolate ourselves, the faster we can stem the spread of the disease and the sooner we can resume daily life.

We continued our ride, back through downtown Pulaski, then over Cloyd’s Mountain into Giles County, where we caught the timeless view of the New River at Eggleston.

Back home, I posted a trip account on Facebook, sharing my photos. While most comments were positive, one friend, ironically also a motorcyclist, wrote, “I understand you are alone and this is “social distancing” ...but what happens if you crash....or someone runs into you and you need to be hospitalized?”

Fine. I get that. People have been pounding into my head the irresponsibility of my hobby for decades. But I do not intend to stop riding. In 50 years of riding, I've had exactly one accident that sent me to the emergency room. That was in 1977 when I did something stupid. I do not consider my riding to be a risk to me or anyone else, any more than driving my car or pushing my lawn mower.

My last emergency room visit was 3 years ago when my gallbladder erupted. Should I stop having gallbladders?

So far, there are no shortages of hospital beds here. I am not depriving anyone in need of care. If the governor tells me to stop riding, I'll stop riding. Otherwise, I feel no shame in it.

This pandemic will bedevil the world for months if not years, and the world will be changed medically, economically and politically as a result. Those of us who survive the toll will tell our children and grandchildren about living through it the way my mom talks about the Great Depression and World War II. In the meantime, while we follow best hygienic habits and governmental guidelines and restrictions, we still need to eat as well as we can, exercise regularly, and do the things – like motorcycling for me – that nourish our souls.