I was listening to some of my buds talk about Harleys, and I started remembering that summer Sunday that my wife and I rode north on PCH all the way to the Ventura County Line and beyond. It's really very beautiful along that section of the coastline. Well, long story short, after a great day antiquing and on the beach, a great meal, and a great time, we headed back south on PCH.
Do I have to tell anyone about the traffic we encountered along about where Trancas Canyon comes in? Solid. But just as I was downshifting my brain from a laid-back cruising gear to the hunched over lane-splitting gear that I'd need for the next 20 or so miles back to Santa Monica, a flock of angels in the form of a Harley group swooped out from the canyon and headed south on PCH.
I immediately formed up with them, naturally.
What a difference a Harley makes! Twenty or so old-school full-dress Harleys in loose formation, splitting lanes on PCH, each rider enjoying the patented sound of that exhaust and making sure the people in cars knew they were coming through makes for a very wide passageway between the lanes. At the tail end of that formation, my wife and I couldn't hear much besides the sound of those V-twins. But we sure could notice the ease with which we were moving south, slipping through that bumper-to-bumper traffic like a greased pig at a high school prom.
I never did find out who they were or where they come from. But I was and am very grateful for their willingness to let me ride with them, and for their ability to open up the gridlock and get my wife and me home in time to watch the sunset from Palisades Park, right here in beautiful Santa Monica.