Curves

Anyone who knows me, knows this had to show up. I can hear Sherrice Croft (my oldest friend) say “Seriously Reiswig?” in her, “I knew you would say that, but really!”, tone of voice as she rolls her eyes. But I like curves. No, I LOVE curves! Different shapes and sizes of them excite me. Sometimes I can’t help but run my hands over them. Other times my body aches to drag a knee around them!

I mean seriously, who can keep their hands off of the front curves of a 1971 Alfa Romeo 2000 Spider Veloce, or resist the urge to caress the back side of Kevin Schwantz’s 1993 Suzuki RGv500? Who doesn’t desire to experience the Corkscrew at Laguna Seca or to carve up the Tail of the Dragon at Deals Gap in North Carolina?

Old cars, new cars, pretty cars of all ages have curves! I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for the 1967/68 Camaro’s and Firebird’s and early ’70’s Corvettes just drive me crazy. But some of those European cars can take my breath away. The Mercedes Benz 300 SL Gullwing and any Porche 911 wide body have curves to die for! My latest object of desire is the sensual Alfa Romeo 4c Spider in the stunning color Giallo Prototipo. Be still my beating heart! There are curves and color enough to ignite a wildfire in my soul!

Then there are bikes! I enjoy the visual elements of everything from cruisers to sport bikes. Japanese, Italian and American makes all have their own flair. Of all the beautiful bikes that I have seen, there are two that will forever be etched in the pleasure center of my memories. The 1987 Honda Hurricane 600 had curves aplenty. It was love at first sight! But the first Ducati 916 I saw, at the Rock Store on Mulholland Hwy, took my breath away. It was pure lust! Oh how I wanted to twist her throttle and carve through those Southern California canyon roads! Pictures were great, but that first view in the flesh was worth the time spent on the detour to that famous destination.

The fascination with curves didn’t stop with cars and bikes. I needed curves and texture in my world, and I needed to touch them. One day I walked into a new, hip sandwich shop in Spokane Washington, and they had sculpted curves and waves into the walls. I was almost embarrassed as I stood there running my hands over their walls. I just couldn’t help myself, much to the amusement of the owner. When I apologized for fondling his walls, he said all was well, as he understood my impulsive behavior.

I cannot forget those twisty ribbons of pavement that undulate over the earth, begging me to go faster. Sunlight and shadows dancing along the way, adding their own texture and flair. The little yellow signs entice me as I wonder if I can really triple this one or that one. Smoother, faster, bring on the pleasure overload. Yes, curves and speed are a lethal drug combination, but such a wonderful combination they are!

These primal desires came naturally to me. My family had a storied history with fast cars, fast bikes and, well… pretty girls. And I embraced that heritage with gusto, like the addict that I am. They say the first step to recovery is to own your stuff. Well, I like curves, but I don’t want to be cured!

And yes, there are other curves I love too!