Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V
A ride between my parent's house and mine can take two hours, but it can take all day if you plan it right. They live in Morgan Hill, so I ride north hugging the hills, passing Uvas Reservoir, skirting South San Jose and Los Gatos to catch Highway 9 at the beginning from Black Creek Road off Highway 17. From there it's a winding path of dappled sunlight to Alice's Restaurant, where it's always nice to take a break and watch the parade of bikers buzzing around the place like bees in late summer. Then it's down to Half Moon Bay, up the coast, through the city via the Grand Highway by Ocean Beach, through The Presidio, over the Golden Gate Bridge, through Sausalito (another potential break), and finally over the Richmond Bridge in the cool orange sunset. The C14 delivers me home in an extremely contented state of mind. Yep, it can take two hours, or it can take all day if you plan it right. (See the map.)
Jacques met me on his '75 Norton at my parent's house and we set off together early in the morning. Late summer in Morgan Hill is hot and dry. The golden hills are studded with ancient green oak trees and brand new McMansions. The reservoirs shine an impossible blue, jewel-like in the morning sun.
Monday morning there's no traffic on these byways–everybody's on Highway 101 east of us trying to get to work as fast as they can. Except for the guy in the red Ferrari who gets a kick out of passing us on a straightaway by the reservoir. He knows a better way to work or, perhaps, with that car, he's done working!
We stop for gas in Los Gatos and head up on Highway 9, enjoying the solitude. Even though I'm the one with the zippy sport bike I don't have the nerve to follow Jacques as fast as he wants to go, and every once in a while I find him waiting around a bend for me to catch up. When I'm close behind him I see sparks as he scrapes metal on the turns all the way to Alice's where we stop for lunch.
When the Norton is near, nobody looks at the Kawi or, in fact, any other bike in the parking lot. We're interrupted several times at lunch answering questions about it. It's a '75 Commando, in original condition. It's beautiful, pristine.
Heading down 84 to La Honda and San Gregario, the C14 is in its element. The road is clean and wide with sweeping curves. A gang of three gonzo sportbike riders pass us like we're standing still, and I take their cue to lean into the corners harder. It's a thrill, but I know if I owned a bike like this I'd have to go to a couple of track days, learn how to use it to its full potential. This ain't no beginners bike.
At 650 pounds with a throttle that does exactly what you tell it to, you'd better know how to ride. That's more apparent when I take Jacques for a spin on pillion. It seems to set the bike's center of gravity a lot higher. Usually, I suppose, the pillion rider is lighter than the rider, so maybe that makes a difference. Jacques is about 30 pounds heavier than me, and an inch or two taller. He complains that his knees are bent in an uncomfortable position over the saddlebags, but then, he's just plain uncomfortable (as I am!) riding pillion. And, for me, it seems like a huge responsibility.
Sure, I rode my friend Marcia across India on an Enfield, but somehow that seemed a lot more manageable. Maybe because top speed was about 45 mph on Indian roads (that was back in 2000). Or maybe because it was light, and didn't have a whole lot of throttle response. Loaded up like that, and with all the stuff Marcia kept buying at the temple shops, we were as sluggish as anything else on the road.
I hit the Richmond Bridge at sunset, my favorite time of day anywhere in the world. I love living in Point Richmond. Competing with the Golden Gate, this bridge is quite under appreciated, stretching as it does across the water from San Quentin to Point Molena, with a view of Belvedere, San Francisco, Angel Island, Emeryville-Oakland-Berkeley, Point Richmond, and Point Molena. It's like being on a Mediterranean Island.
I park the C14 next to the BMW in the driveway and just sit in the quiet as it gets dark. I'll unpack tomorrow, and see who wants to go for a ride next weekend.
Read my formal review of the Kawasaki Concours 14 in WomenRidersNow.com.
Warm and insightful, Carla. It’s very interesting to read about a bike trip from a woman’s perspective. I felt like a bug-covered biker tip-toeing in my muddy boots through the ribbon aisle at Michaels. LOL.