JaysMotorcycle

2007-12-10T14:27:00.000-08:00

I appologize. Thought I had published this to the blog from Google Docs.

James Ford's Rider's Workshop proved to be of great value to me. After being rear-ended a year ago and going through fairly extensive back surgery that was still painful, my riding had become increasingly timid. I felt like I was riding more and more like a beginner. Signing up for two days under Jim Ford's supervision, proved to be the cure.

He gave us radios with single earpieces to listen to him. We met in Thurmont Maryland then a small group of us rode, with him coaching, to Wellsboro, PA. He showed us how to find "invisible" roads: beautiful local roads that are invisible to most motorists, who take faster through-fares. My confidence came back quickly once I learned to keep my RPM's up closer to the range of maximum horsepower. After that I could concentrate on lessons and learn to ride with even more skill, smoothness, and safety. Explaining how I felt after the class may give you some insight into it's benefits.

First Day after the Rider's WorkShop:

As I rode to work this morning, gradually the lessons of the last weekend returned. Even before getting on the bike, I started it and turned the electrics on high to get seat and grips warmed. It is the first sub-50-degree day of the Fall. On the road: practice discipline, don't just ride, plan where you want the bike to go and PUT it there. I look down at the two stars on my instrument console and remember to relax and work on smoothness. Traffic is slow, but I pre-load to shift up to second and a few seconds later pre-load to shift down to first, slowing for an upcoming stop, minimizing brakes. Off again; a corner approaches and I make a point not to "bust" the "double yellows" after another pre-loaded down shift and controlled acceleration through the corner. It would have been better if I had turned my head more and LEANED even for a slow speed corner.

As the ride to work continues, I continue to re-adopt improvements. I PUT the bike in the left-hand mini-lane, look for the vanishing point, clear the view then roll. I'm in no hurry as I turn down Quackenbush and pick my line through the pot holes. Providence give me a break in the traffic and I'm quickly across 16th Street, one of DC's main ingress routes, and descending on the S-curves of Joyce Road into Rock Creek Park. I keep the rev's up in first gear, watch for the vanishing point in a tight S-curve, and my peripheral vision spots a deer standing at attention a few feet from the road. It is watching me. Intuitively I make eye contact and realize the deer knows it is safe where it is. We've met before, further down the road and even raced together side-by-side a bit. As I continue, I meditate upon the deer -- this time so serene -- having grown up on venison, I can only hope fate doesn't bring us together in less pleasant ways.

More tight S-curves below the Ranger Station that I've seldom done well are no big deal. Same for faster curves as Rock Creek Parkway approaches Georgetown.

Getting on the bike later that day, for the ride home, my trip meter says 88.0 and I remember Highway 880 during the workshop. I recall the gas station where I refilled and last set the trip meter to zero, near the completion of the rider's workshop. I have a feeling of amazement that such roads, such riding as we saw after that gas station, are less than a tankfull of gas from downtown Washington, DC. This gives me a powerful sense of my motorcycle's reach.

Two weeks later:

My cornering skills have improved further as I'm getting the habit of leaning, and not having to think about it so much. When I'm not doing anything else, I practice shifting with pre-loading while riding down the road. That will take more work to become a habit, but I'm getting better and now know what Reg Pridmore means by the "blip" that you hear when racers shift although I do not hear it as often as I would like. I've found my magnifying glass. It does make map reading easier. Now I await my Delorme Pennsylvania Atlas and wonder what maps I'll use for the upcoming Void Endurance Rally.

The Riders Workshop proved to have great value. My riding skills probably doubled, and likewise my safety margin. There was also great pleasure to be found in riding great roads under the watchful eye of a master, listening to his coaching on upcoming sections of road, and the question & answer sessions between segments. At a more practical level, since I'm keeping my engine in the range of it's optimum performance, my mileage has improved by about 20%.

I look forward to taking the Total Control class as well. I've seen them working at Frederick Community College, while I was teaching a BRC nearby. Total Control teaches different things and maybe sometimes different aspects of some of the things we learned in the Rider's Workshop. Probably most of us would do well to take both classes. Probably, I will take the Rider's Workshop again in the Spring to sharpen my skills, further perhaps, at the beginning of the next riding season.

A quote for long distance riders.

2007-11-27T06:42:00.000-08:00

"Coming home from very lonely places, all of us go a little mad: whether from great personal success, or just an all-night drive, we are the sole survivors of a world no one else has ever seen." - John le Carre

Bob Dylan "Forever Young"

2007-11-22T02:40:00.000-08:00

May God bless & keep you always,
May your wishes all come true,
May you always do for others
& let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars
& climb on every rung,
May you stay forever young,

May you grow up to be righteous,
May you grow up to be true,
May you always know the truth
& see the lights surrounding you.
May you always be courageous,
Stand upright & be strong,
May you stay forever young,

May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
May you stay forever young,

Bob Dylan "Forever Young ('73) The Band
Last Waltz Nov. 25 '76 @ Winterland Ballroom in
San Francisco

A quote for an LD Rider

2007-11-20T05:00:00.001-08:00

Paul or Voni Graves posted this quote to the LD Rider's list:

"Coming home from very lonely places, all of us go a little mad: whetherfrom great personal success, or just an all-night drive, we are the solesurvivors of a world no one else has ever seen." - John le Carre

Roadsideamerica

2007-11-05T12:50:00.000-08:00

Reminder to self: Check this link before any planned long trips.

http://www.roadsideamerica.com/

A splendid Fall weekend

2007-11-05T05:32:00.000-08:00

This was a most satisfactory weekend.

Friday night, my landlady who loves motorcycles, Susan, and I met motorcycling friends Todd & Christie Sudda for grog and bison burgers at Silver Spring's Piratz tavern. We made plans to ride to Deleware for Sunday's "Pumpkin Chuckin" contest. Saturday had a very slow beginning due to the grogg of the night before. Grogg, our waitress dressed like a pirate wench explained to us, is basically rum, rum... more rum and a touch of ginger beer. She explained what real grog used to be and we were glad that we were enjoying the modern-day variety.

The cats were glad to have me for a Saturday morning. By noon, however, I had to ride. So, I had been inspecting the roads around Mercersburg, PA and happened to run into a couple who lived there via the StumbleUpon (SU) social network. We ended up meeting for bugers a Murphy's tavern then went next door to Buchanan's Birthplace Restaurant for desert. I had met the owners of the restaurant on a previous ride through there and wanted to check it out. We enjoyed cheesecake with blackberry sauce that they made on-site, along with New Orleans coffee, something I acquired a taste for years ago at Adams Morgan's now defunct Franklyn's Coffee Shop and Restaurant (once the center of my universe). As we enjoyed our desert we got to spy on what was arriving at the tables of other diners, and we agreed to return soon for more visiting.

You never know what you might find, meeting strangers you've met on-line. This encounter was a testimony to the strength of being able to find some with whom I had a surprising number of things in common. Brian is a motorcycle safety instructor and has a collection of over a dozen guitars and other stringed instruments. He lived in Billings Montanna and is one of the few people I know who knew who Kris Kristopherson is. He was able to tell me some of the story of Johny Cash discovering him and bringing him to fame -- something I had not known.

Sherrie and he have been married only since last Summer and it was obvious that they had done a good job of finding each other over a long distance. An Internet success story.

Pumpkin Chuckin was pretty awesome, also. There was some drama as my bike developed some brake problems. A warning light came on and it took me a some time after pulling over to realize it was not the oil indicator and to determine that it had to do with the brakes. The rear brake light wasn't working and if I used the rear brakes, all power assisted braking would fail. It took some observation to figure out that I could get by if I only used the front brake. Inspection tells me that the culprit is an improperly routed wire from the brake switch that got too close to the cylinder heads. There are some recent graduates working at my dealer and perhaps they were in too much of a hurry when my fluids were recently refreshed.

The bike has over 76,000 miles on it, almost 77,000.

A visit to the Chromeheads web site shed more light on the problem and the likely fix. So, the bike is at the dealer's as of late last night and I'll have to get by until Wednesday without it, given my work schedule, teaching Microsoft classes Tuesday & Thursday nights, and needing to meet Todd for his initiation into the masons at lodge, tonight.

Waterproof Paper

2007-10-29T11:16:00.000-07:00

If you need to print maps or directions for a ride that is apt to become wet. This company markets water resistant paper and special pens for writing on it.

https://www.riteintherain.com/

The Void Rally

2007-10-16T17:28:00.000-07:00

I want to take a few moments to record my thoughts after the third annual Void endurance rally.

First, these endurance rallies are a bit like a mini-Christmas in the way that they create excitement, involve weeks of anticipation and preparation, an in the way that they bring good people together. It is fair to say that the “bar” of Christmas itself, however, has been set fairly low. Rare is the family who actually employs a critical eye reviewing the merits of those who will be rewarded. While the endurance rally system of bonus points and how they are earned results in nothing of tangible value, the emotional and psychic value is a whole different story. Whether you end up with one point or thousands of points, you pretty much know that you’ve earned every one.

At the scoring table, after a hard day of riding in pursuit of bonus points (bonii) at various bonus point locations, there can be some real disappointments and sometimes some hard feelings. It appears to me that well organized rallies anticipate this. Both rallies I attended, organized their volunteer staff in a way that permitted appeals all the way up to the main organizer, an individual thick-skinned by necessity who is referred to, not always affectionately as the "Rally Bastard" or RB for short.

Scott LaShear was the RB for the Void 3, along with Gary Stipe. In the weeks leading up to the Rally, I frequently saw Scott's name in my mail and on the signature line of e-mails of the Void's listserver clarifying one point or another. I also saw others of his volunteers, particularly Jim Bain who I had met when he was the RB at the Cape Fear Rally, my first long distance (LD) rally. Although I came in too late to be counted a finisher at the Cape Fear Rally, it did get me interested enough in endurance rallies to try it again and I endeavored greatly to finish this one, learning a thing or two about myself in the process.

The Void was really four rallies in one. There was a ten-hour rally that began and ended in Lynchburg, and three 24-hour rallies that began from different locations in the Eastern part of the U.S. (Altoona, PA; Dothan, AL; and Owensboro, KY) and ended in Lynchburg, VA. All 24-hour riders had the same set of bonus locations, but obviously had to be scored separately. The 10-hour riders had another set. I had ridden the 10-hour version at Cape Fear. Starting from Altoona, this was my first 24-hour rally.

Soon after I registered, wondering whether I was being vain, stupid, foolish, or a bit of all three to presume to do this, the first packet arrived in the mail carrying my rally flag and some guidance that hinted at other mysteries. Why was the rally flag printed on paper that would dissolve if it got wet? Some of the old-timers chatted things up on the listserv, discussing various bonus locations, creating a variety of alarms in my mind as to why I had received nothing yet concerning bonus locations. It was in good humor. Kevin Craft clued me in quickly enough as to what the game was, when I took the bait. Later I learned that Kevin was the Rally Master for the new Rendez-vous Rally in Quebec, Canada. Hint: I now want to experience the added challenge that the French language and the metric system might present.

The first packet is kind of a teaser. Once you have your flag, you can't wait to get the book of bonus locations and begin planning your route. It arrived a couple weeks later, Monday night the week of the rally. Needless to say I was up late a few nights after that. I told myself that since the rally would not actually start until one in the afternoon that I would be able to use the hotel room that I had reserved for Thursday night to sleep in and catch-up on sleep right before the start. Sure.

My uninformed approach was to key in all the bonus locations that I might remotely want to consider into my Garmin's GPS's Mapsource software. This would prove useful, but in the future I will spend five bucks for a Rand McNally regional map and plot them so that I can more easily see the big picture. Color-coding them for high-value, medium-value and low-value also makes sense. I also printed a second copy of the rally book's bonus location then cut it up so that each bonus was on a separate 3 X 8.5 inch strip of paper. Later I would organize these according to my chosen route and staple them into a kind of booklet that I could keep on the top of my tank bag and use as a reference for each bonus stop. When I remembered to use them, they kept me out of trouble.

While waiting for the packet, I speculated about possible routes between Altoona and Lynchburg. Ordinarily it is a good plan to try to plan a series of loops that have good bail-out points if one runs into time trouble and needs to just get to the finish line. When the rally book arrived with the real locations, my reading of it led me to believe that this rally would not lend itself to such a plan. Anyway, I arrived at my hotel room in Altoona, on Thursday night and still did not know for sure what I was going to do the next day. At the same time, I wanted to meet some of the other riders, if possible. Should I order pizza and work on my route or should I socialize? I decided to compromise and do a bit of both. I might gain more from what I could learn from more experience riders than struggling on in my own ignorance. I figured that other riders probably would not want to make a late-night party of it. Working late then sleeping in the next day was a possibility.

This proved to be one of the first great decisions of my weekend. From the listserver, I knew some riders were staying at Motel 6. It was already a waypoint in my GPS and only a short ride from my room at the Econo Lodge. There I met two riders just arriving on bikes with Canadian plates. They turned out to be Cameron Sanders and Peter DeLean who I learned the following week had placed first and third, respectively, in the Rendez-vous Rally. They said that they would probably have dinner at Hooters. I told them that if they did they would find me there.

When they did show up, they went through a couple of pitchers of beer -- they had been able to walk from Motel 6 -- while I stuck to diet cokes needing to ride several blocks back to the Econo Lodge. This worked to my advantage as they gave freely of their advice for the rally (not because of the beer, but because helping other riders and especially new riders is pretty much the spirit of the LD Rally sport and they the very personification) and I probably remembered much more of what they said.

The two of them instructed me to use color coding on the map so I could naturally see the highest value route, then to work backwards from the end how much time I would need to hit each stop and figure out my decision points. Following their advice, in my hotel room later, I was able to put my entire route plan on two diskette labels that I would temporarily stick to the top of my tank bag. This served me well. Despite a couple of mistakes and near mistakes, I would be able to get back before the DNF deadline because of the evaluation done for each bonus location.

We happened to meet again the next morning at Denny's. I woke up at 7, tried to get back to sleep, but gave up and got up twenty minutes later. By nine we were wondering what we might do with the remaining time until one o'clock. I put down a "lumberjack breakfast" knowing it would be my last good meal for a while. We ended up scouting out a laundromat and the Salvation Army before heading up to Home Depot, where we would each buy a 1/4" bolt. The time on the receipt would be our starting time once we called it into the Rally Masters.

I will leave the recounting of the rally for comments that I will add to the pictures as I add them. For now, I need to report that most of what I've just written was jotted into a notebook at my next good breakfast. Returning to home in Takoma Park, Maryland after the rally, I found myself riding up highway 29. I had a thought of stopping in Charlotsville, but on the way I passed through Lovingston, VA. Lovingston has a special place in my heart because of a wine that Mountain Cove Vineyard produced many years ago. I liked it enough to seek out the winery and buy more while traveling with my wife when we were married. We still travel together occasionally, but get along better together not being married. Anyway, I saw a sign directing me to a side rode and the Lovingston Cafe. It gave me time to collect a few of these thoughts.

It is also one of those funny things in life that when I arrived at the Econo Lodge, I saw that its office shared a building with a Chinese Buffet. This was the same restaurant a group of friends and I had eaten at in 2003 on our ride to Toronto. The leader of the ride, Norm, died last spring while getting ready to get on his bike one morning, in Nevada. Norm was a character who tried not care whether others liked him, but he stuck to his own principals, and he seemed to know all the roads and their numbers. It felt good to be walking again in a place he once brought me, although unlike him I had well forgotten that it was Altoona where we had stopped for lunch.

At the finish, I knew it was close. Still, I took a moment more to take a picture of my GPS's status screen. It showed an average speed overall of 61 mph and a top speed of 137 mph. Garmin's are known to get that last bit wrong. I can guarantee that my ride never reached triple digit speeds. I removed my helmet, pulled my ball cap (for the fashion bonus), grabbed my six-pack beverage bonus and headed inside the hotel. I was shocked that there was nobody to check me in in the lobby. Other riders pointed me to the arrows on the wall. Woops! I had to do some walking. How close would I be to DNF'ing again? Rats!

Down the hall... I started to trot. At the end a turn and there was Karla to log me in. Time? 2:47. I was four minutes from DNF'ing. Not bad, considering the wrong turn I had found for the last gas stop and a number of other "mistakes" I could think of. Later, at the scoring table, I met Verne Hauck who led me through my first experience at the scoring table. He went down the check list and I seemed to have everything needed.

"Proof of insurance?" he asked.

I put my hand in my left pants pocket where I had been sure to put it for scoring, but it was not there. Without proof of insurance, there would be no points. I would be disqualified. Talk about panic. Verne called Scott over and explained. I told them both that I had been careful to fold it up, like a letter, and put it in my pocket and that it just was not there. Scott was not happy. You can tell that he wants people to get it right and to have a good time.

"Stand up and take everything out of all your pockets," he instructs me.

I do so and there is not much in my pockets.

Nobody's fault but my own. No point in getting mad about it. I just should have been even more careful about that document. I put everything back into my pocket, back away from the table, push the chair back under the table, and there to the left of the chair is my insurance document lying on the floor.

From there on out I was a very happy individual. Yes, I lost points for not taking a couple of pictures with my rally flag showing in them, but I had finished and actually had a score. Hopefully I will live long enough to apply the lessons of this rally in future rallies and do better, but I had done well enough for the moment and would enjoy hearing the stories of others for the rest of the day.

At the next table, a rider is recounting... "I ran out of gas on the Blue Grass Parkway..."

That was a bind that I had been in, myself, but some road magic had saved me. More about that later.

Pictures here.

Link to the Void Web Page here.

Packing up

An early review of the R1200 CLC fuel = 4.5

2007-09-21T05:23:00.000-07:00

http://www.motorcyclistonline.com/escape/motorcycles/123_0304_ultimate_touring_cruisers/

Iron Butt Rally Ride Report

2007-09-19T10:41:00.000-07:00

A very well written report full of good tidbits of advice.

LINK

James Ford's Rider's Workshop - the week after

2007-09-19T07:43:00.000-07:00

I'm still in awe of this past weekend with the James Ford's Rider's Workshop. I am working on a write-up and will post it when it is complete rather than piecemeal.

Last night, I filled the tank up for the first time since the weekend and doing the math see that my mileage on it was 36 mpg. That is about a 20% improvement. Interesting, since I know that the engine is running at a consistently higher RPM.

Campmor Catalog & First Aid Kits

2007-09-10T11:48:00.000-07:00

Campmor Catalog & First Aid Kits

Aerostich has a good first aid kit, also.

Pictures from "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance"

2007-09-07T04:49:00.000-07:00

tI had no idea there were pictures!

LINK

Toolkit

2007-09-06T10:30:00.000-07:00

CycleActive & Tourtech provide a very good deal for a toolkit.

link

All I really need is a set of stubby wrenches and small sockets 9mm to 19mm. Amazing how so many tool vendors do not include the top or bottom of the range in their sets.

Bicycle Trailer

2007-09-06T08:00:00.000-07:00

Cool bicycle trailer with tent. Has potential for a motorcycle?

link

Discounts for MSF Instructors

2007-08-22T06:08:00.000-07:00

This page has a summary of companies that provide discounts to MSF certified instructors.

LINK

Photos from 4-Winds Rally

2007-08-21T08:18:00.000-07:00

...and others are at this LINK.

Schuberth J1 - webBikeWorld

2007-08-21T00:43:00.000-07:00

Schuberth J1 - webBikeWorld

Interesting new helmet, but not DOT approved.

Works Performance Shocks & Bob's BMW come through!

2007-08-16T17:54:00.000-07:00

Tonight I'm back in business.

Sunday night I discovered my recently repaired shock was leaking. Monday I put calls and e-mail into the manufacturer, but they were too swamped to get back to me right away. I called Madigan at Bob's BMW and he saw there was one remaining shock for a BMW R1200CLC left in the country. He wasn't optimistic that it would not already be sold, but asked to have it sent and said if it was still available he would get it overnight in Tuesdays shipment, or on Thursday.

Next, I heard from Ned of Works Performance. He took a look at the situation and asked if he couldn't build me a shock and send it to me as a replacement. So, we ended up with two candidates. Bob's called me at work today to say they had the new shock in, and I could pick it up. Susan met me at the White Flint Metro station after she got off work at 5 and got me to Bob's with about a minute and a half to spare. I had called to let them know I was on the way and to go ahead and roll the bike out for pickup.

I'll have to get a picture on here to show you the new shock. Ned sent me something considerably more sophisticated than the last one. I'll have to find the manual and study it to appreciate what I have to work with, now. Saturday, I'll be able to get to the Four Winds Rally in Pennsylvania. I've scoped out some roads that should be a lot of fun.

Motorcycle Cool Bag - Cool Shirt

2007-08-12T05:02:00.000-07:00

Air conditioning for motorcycles.

Motorcycle Cool Bag - Cool Shirt

Welcome to Holdup.com where we feature Patented suspenders manufactured by Holdup Suspnder Company in Southfield Michigan.

2007-08-12T04:50:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Holdup.com where we feature Patented suspenders manufactured by Holdup Suspnder Company in Southfield Michigan.

Living in the Tunnel

2007-08-12T04:44:00.000-07:00

Living in the Tunnel

This is a blog of an Iron Butt Rider. Well worth the reading.

Which Bike is Best for a Beginner?

2007-07-31T13:03:00.000-07:00

Here's a great link to a discussion about which bike is best for a beginner:

link

The Surgery

2007-07-04T12:14:00.000-07:00

I found a good doctor, a neurosurgeon, who knew that I wanted to be fixed and not scared about all the details. His first plan of attack was some micro surgery to eliminate the sciatica problems. He told me to plan on a five-day hospital stay.

Friends at work, who had recently had back surgery, clued me into things to do to make it go better. I got a grabber to pick things up off the floor without bending over, got all my laundry and shopping done and generally made sure I would be able to live at home for a couple of weeks post-op.

Washington Hospital Center was about as good as it gets. In pre-op, a nurse named Aggy (real name Angie) instructed me where and how to change into the gown. When I returned to climb onto the gurney, I was very pleasantly surprised that the blanket she brought to cover me had been pre-warmed in a heated cabinet. Her good humor and attention to details set the tone and forestalled anxieties.

The operation started about 7:30 and I woke up in post-op at 11:30. There is not much of that I remember, but I enjoyed being rolled through the hospital to my room.

Several people stopped to check on my condition. "Squeeze my fingers," I was told. "Lift your legs. Press down with your toes." ...and so on. After several tests, I could see relief and even some pleasure in their faces from their findings.

The doctor visited and explained to me that they had found things to be more compressed than his own MRI had shown. They did a multiple-level lapinectomy, removing the dorsal bones from several of my vertebrae so that they now resemble a 'U' more so than an 'O' in order to relieve pressure on nerves and my spinal column. I had a six-inch incision in my back held closed by staples and tape. Indeed, I spent five days before going home, and a good thing they didn't discharge me the morning of day four as I developed a fever of 103+ that afternoon.

In hindsight, I'm very impressed with the quality of care I received in post-op and the nurses. Not all of them were very experienced, but the confidence of nurses who I knew to be experienced and quite competent went a long way in dispelling my many anxieties about the trainees. I also appreciated the amount of diversity in the nursing staff. One young nurse was from Trinidad. I enjoyed her accent although I had a difficult time understanding her and communicating with her: difficulties that caused me to feel distrustful needlessly.

The business of learning to get out of bed, learning how to sit, and stand from a sitting position took place over the post-op period. Several friends came to visit. At home, the lessons learned from the occupational therapist were very useful: how to log-roll to the edge of the bed, use my arms to sit-up sideways without bending, then stand up with out bending the back, keeping myself rigidly vertical.

At a follow-up doctor's appointment 11 days later, Dr. Levine removed the staples and answered questions. I learned that there was no limit on how long I stood or sat, but that I needed to take a 15-minute break each hour.

"When can I go back to work?" I asked.

He asked what kind of work I did then told me that I could go back to work the next day if I took it easy.

"When can I start riding my motorcycle again?"

"As soon as you can get off the pain killers," was his answer.

That was Tuesday the 26th. I have not taken a pain killer since. I switched to Advil. The following Saturday, I got a ride from a good riding friend to Bob's BMW to pick up my bike.

From Bob's, in Jessup, Maryland, I rode to Upper Marlboro where a masonic brother was hosting the Grand Lodge's annual crab-fest, and later home. It was a short two rides and I was very cautious about many things. The next night, after resting all of Sunday, I rode to a fair in Columbia, MD to help at the BOB's BMW booth. I didn't know how long I would feel up to it, but was able to sit on my bike when I got tired. I was back in business!

I've been off-line for a while.

2007-07-04T11:42:00.000-07:00

The place I'm living lost its RCN ISP account when someone in management stopped paying the bills and departed and nobody else picked them up. No way that I'm blogging from my job in the State Department. Then, on June 11th, I went in for back surgery.

At least I had the presence of mind to turn on the wireless features on my cell phone before the hospital stay. It was primitive, but I could follow the http://www.bmwbmw.org forums and post, and get gmail while on my back in the hospital bed.

The surgery was due to an accident, last year. I'm sure I've blogged about it before; if not here, then certainly at my http://jaysmotorcycle.blogspot.com blog. Briefly: May of 2006 an aggressive, foreign-born motorist piled into the back of my bike as I was doing a decel looking for an entry into a merge lane to access a freeway on-ramp. I think he came from two lanes out, trying to beat the cars catching up to me after cars between us had peeled off for an East-bound on-ramp, or to beat a red light.

Nationwide accepted fault and had to pay for my emergency room visit, but expenses stopped there. The emergency room failed to do a MRI, despite my complaining of a stiff back and headaches, probably because insurance companies are aggressively denying such expenses to contain costs, prescribed pain killers, and told me to see an Orthopedic specialist.

The specialist office they referred me to never returned my calls. Nationwide refused to pay for the prescriptions for pain killers unless I cam into the office the next week to sign a waiver. Then they would "give me a little money to cover expenses."

I was ticked that they were forcing me to hire a lawyer, and went back to my own company, GEICO. The GEICO rep was very supportive and helpful and offered to let me go through them for better service, but as Nationwide had already admitted fault I was reluctant to incur costs upon my own insurer.

In the end I was fortunate that a friend suggested a good lawyer who was willing to take me on contingency. I got orthopedic and neurological care, but still no MRI. Maryland Orthopedics apparently was willing to wait a year or more to be paid after any settlement. I went to physical therapy for about six weeks and was returned to light duty, whereupon I gave up working for myself and accepted my current full-time position. Six weeks-or-so later they put me on full duty, and I returned to teaching motorcycle safety classes for Maryland MVA at Montgomery Community College. The first day back on that weekend job, after about 80 minutes of walking, standing, and teaching on the blacktop, I doubled over from pain shooting down my left leg.

With these new symptoms, I was able to get a MRI. Apparently, they needed some indicator that the MRI would find something and risked not being reimbursed by a court if it could be construed that the procedure was simply to aid in diagnosis. Maybe this could be construed as an attempt to unethically inflate claims if it were applied to everyone with a stiff back after an accident.

They found a lot of problems on the MRI with discs. Bone fragments were floating in the spinal column, I was told. This caused inflammation of nerves and the sciatica-like symptoms that I was experiencing. New medicine helped, but as I tried to return to my normal life and to "remain active" as the emergency room doctor had instructed me, the problems continued to progress.

My new job turned out to be a major benefit. The employer provided unlimited sick leave and medical benefits that eliminated the financial risk of surgery, should a settlement not go my way. Probably it was the affect of depression that often follows accidents that I remained preoccupied with potential negative outcomes and accepted considerable pain and inconvenience to keep costs down just in case I might someday get the bill, myself. I don't think that this pleased my attorney, particularly.

New face shield

2007-07-04T05:57:00.000-07:00

My last entry described the extent I went to in order to minimize the eye-glass/helmet hassle. Yes, this is because I prefer a full-face helmet and have yet to pony up the dollars for a flip-up, hearing that they are even noisier.

The next issue of Motorcycle Consumer News (MCN), on it's back cover, describes a new light-sensitive face shield that will auto tint. It is manufactured by Scorpion Sports.

That must have been the June issue... no, it was the July issue and I received the August issue in time to read it at the Forth of July picnic!

MCN is a great publication that every avid motorcyclist should subscribe to and support. They survive on subscription dollars alone and take no money from advertisers. So, their reviews are pretty unbiased... at least by advertisers.

That same issue has a letter from a reader, Gerald Bertinot of Lafayette, LA, describing a disadvantage of half-helmets you might not have thought about previously that he discovered for himself when a bug flew into his ear and found itself trapped alive.

No More Glasses!

2007-06-08T12:36:00.000-07:00

I want to describe, for you, some of the benefits of replacing your glasses with contacts or laser surgery.

If you wear glasses, then you probably share my love/hate relationship with full-face helmets. Not only do you have to take your glasses off to don or remove the helmet, then put them back on; but you need something for sunglasses as well. Exposure to light, especially UV, causes the lenses of your eyes to yellow and is one of the things that reduces night vision with aging.

I still love the full-face helmet for its complete protection. In winter they keep me warmer. If I am riding without a faring, I appreciate the improved ability to keep dust and bugs at bay that comes with wearing a full-face helmet. While I’ve learned how to hold my glasses with a few fingers while dealing with the helmet so that they can be replaced without needing to be set down somewhere, the drill is always a humbug. Never mind the time it took me to become good at changing shields.

My eye doctor, a few years ago, asked me how old I was. When I told him, he asked me if I worked outdoors a lot. After I explained, he cautioned me to get sunglasses as well as UV protection.

If money were no object, I might have just ordered some of those automatic tinting glasses. However, with me, money seems to always have places to go and generally goes there before it goes to such luxuries. Instead, I purchased a tinted visor and began changing the visor on my Arai helmet. Fortunately, a spare visor fits easily into my tank bag and somewhere I read about the use of the protecting cases that are sold by many dealers …well, many BMW dealers, anyway. I do not remember seeing any during the few forays that I’ve made into forbidden pastures.

Last month, a few years later, I was finally ready for self-tinting lenses. It helps to work for a corporation that provides a medical plan with vision benefits. When I explained all this to the doctor, however, his suggestion was to try soft contact lenses. Not all doctors are willing to go to the extra trouble to fit them to people with astigmatism, but this one was. Moreover, because my benefits year ends within a few weeks, I can get soft lenses in this year’s plan and still get some auto-tinting lenses with next year’s benefits, in a few weeks.

A few days later, I visited the doctor and received the trial lenses. I looked forward to being able to use ordinary sun glasses. He informed me that about anything plastic, polarized, and with UV protection would be sufficient, and that I need not pay a lot for such glasses.

The last thing he told me was that I would need some reading glasses, since I normally wear bifocals. That was a surprise. My next stop was CVS and reading glasses ran between ten and twenty-five dollars. A friend, who I refer to as “the Takoma Park pet-rescue lady with the Prius,” since tells me that I can get reading glasses at The Dollar Store.

I thought I also needed some of those tight-fitting glasses to keep dust out of my eyes. Such was one of the concerns that I shared with the doctor regarding wearing contacts on the motorcycle. The Aerostich catalog had WileyX goggles that looked like just the thing, so I called around to see who had them. Battley’s did. Sabrina was most helpful. I told her that I would be by to see her later and learned that they closed at seven. Madigan, at Bob’s, suggested that I try the Bobster’s. While I chuckled at the coincidence of the name, I learned from the Internet that they might be a better choice: nearly as good and they cost less.

Bob’s closes at 6, so I went by there, first. I was riding John Galvin’s motorcycle and did not realize that its clock was an hour and ten minutes slow. I knew its time wasn’t right, but figured it was only off an hour because of daylight savings time.

Arriving at Bob’s, the bikes were already rolled into the store. I was able to put the side-stand down just a few feet from the door and without removing my helmet went to check to see if it was still open. It was.

Inside bikes parked closely together slowed my progress. The sales manager, Rick, was at his desk and looked up.

“Are you closed? Is it past six o’clock?” I asked.

“It’s six-ten,” he answered, with a chuckle. “What do you need. If it’s something small we can probably take care of you as the cash register is still open.”

“I was just going to look at sun glasses,” I said as I began to remove my helmet.

Once I got my helmet off, Robyn looked over and in mock surprise says, “Oh, its just J. If we’d known that we would have told you to get out of here.”

Several of us got a chuckle from that.

Once I navigated through the bikes, Madigan met me at the counter. He showed me the choices and had me on my way with a new set of Bobsters in a short time. I was amazed at the low price.

“Are you all trying to ruin Bob’s reputation?”

Riding out from Bob’s, I did not feel like going home. John’s Rockster is a fun bike to ride. I dawned on me that I could still get to Battley’s and see what the expensive glasses looked like. I did tell Sabrina that I would see her that evening, and I might want a more expensive pair of sunglasses as an addition, someday. It might also let me enjoy a few back roads. First, I checked John’s clock against the time on my cell phone so I would know how far off it was: one hours and nine minutes.

I really couldn’t waste any time and got to Battley’s with only a couple of minutes to spare. A sales clerk standing by the door hurriedly locked the door upon seeing a last-minute rider approaching their loading dock. I circled a couple of times, laughing at my urgency to get there and headed to Starbucks.

It is now a week-or-so hence. I have to say that soft lenses work just fine with motorcycling. Even without the tight fitting Bobsters, I get along fine in a full-face helmet. This I discovered on a ride with Chris Zink, a riding companion who has been living with soft lenses and pushing their limits for years. The feeling of freedom in not having to mess with glasses as I put on or take off a full-face helmet still feels rewarding days later. There is also another benefit.

When it gets wet out and lens surfaces fog up, you have one less surface to worry about so visibility is immediately 50% better in such situations. Instead of having to open a face shield to dab at your glasses in the hope of some partial improvement, you just blink your eyes.

Olympia AirGlide

2007-06-07T09:51:00.000-07:00

I thought my new Olympia high-visibility jacket WAS the AirGlide. It is every bit as cool as the ancient Joe Rocket that served me across the country over the last ten years. Tuesday, I stopped in at Bob's and Madigan, one of the sales staff who handles the clothing and accessories, greeted me:

"Hey J, aren't you hot in that AST jacket? Don't you want an AirGlide?"

Ever adept at pretending I know what I do not, I did not admit that I thought what I was wearing WAS an Airglide.

He needed little encouragement to enlighten me further. He gladly showed me the AirGlide and in the process the difference, pointing out... "The AST is a great three-season jacket for Fall, Winter, and Spring. The AirGlide has mesh with a removable waterproof liner that makes it three-seasons: spring, summer, and fall. Some people even use a Garmin liner underneath to make it work for four-seasons."

Ah! So Olympia has more than one bright idea for better riding apparel.

Madigan then pointed out their new hi-viz vests with useful pockets, including one waterproof pocket in the back, and another that could be used for an ID card or an E-Z Pass on the front shoulder. We chatted about weather and E-Z Passes before he went back to work. I took a look at the AirGlide pants. My Joe Rocket pants were purchased in 2003, and while they have served well for the most part, have a few holes from the muffler, Velcro that does not wish to stay sewed on, and never mind when last washed.

Olympia products certainly seem to be attracting my dollars. It dawns on me that the first non-motocross motorcycle gloves I purchased for summer riding were also made by Olympia and served me many years until I discovered my current BMW summer gloves.

No doubt an AirGlide jacket and pants will soon be added to my riding gear. The improvement that good gear makes to the riding experience always seems worth the expense as the weeks, months, and years roll by.

Lucky

2007-05-20T14:13:00.000-07:00

John Galvin, at Bob's BMW, says he's giving me a new nickname: "Lucky."

Well, I'm getting tired of Drifty anyway although it has a meaning in submarine tactics that is somewhat different from the word's civilian connotations.

What a perfect weekend we've had. Nancy and Blaster and some others were commenting about it, yesterday, while enjoying good meat sandwiches from the barbecue coach. The forecast said the weekend was going to be the pits, but instead it seems to have been redeemed by some grace and a good thing for the folks who put on Butler's Orchard--where I did not get to, today.

I had decided to go to Bob's, yesterday morning, to get a donut and see who I might run into for a ride. A block down the road, I noticed that the bike was riding very hard. Remembering that I had cranked up the shocks a couple of nights before for a rider and not cranked them back down, I reached down to back the dial off five or ten turns. Imagine my horror when the valve turned freely with no resistance.

Good thing I discovered something like this on my way to Bob's instead of last weekend on my trip to Asheville and back.

It turns out that the new Works shock blew a seal. Bob's did not have a replacement shock, but removed the shock and is keeping my bike while I send the shock back to Works for repair. So, I'm without a bike... again. Grrr.

Not the bike's fault. Nothing to do with what kind of bike I have or how many miles are on it, as this IS a relatively new shock. Just one of those things. There've been a few of "those things" in my life, lately.

I'm fortunate that such things happen while the bike is sitting at the curb, in my home territory, most of the time. Still, the feeling of bad luck is pervasive. Where is my karma these days? I've learned the humility lesson over and over. I just want to ride like everybody else and have a good time. Let's see four weekends ago, I had that flu illness that knocked me out for days. Three weekends ago, I went to get on my bike to go to teach a Saturday morning motorcycle safety class and the rear tire was flat. I took my friend Susan's car to the range to teach. AAA towed the bike while I was teaching (I have an operator with them who really knows how to tow bikes, Independent M/C Transport 301-946-5412, who alerts me that I only have one tow left on the AAA RV+ policy) . Nevertheless, I could not pick the bike up until Thursday, the next week due to schedules even though they had a new tire on the bike, the same day. The next week, two weekends ago, as the weekend approached, I feel a sore in my left elbow that turned into a swelling that turned into a general infection (that urned out to be staph) that put me into the hospital for surgery over the weekend.

It seems like a miracle that nothing happened to interfere with me getting to Asheville for my Nephew's graduation, last weekend. The Sunday morning ride north from Weaverville, beginning before sunrise, was one of those rides that made me feel a part of eternal moments of perfect beauty, as if for an hour or two I existed apart from my own mortality and a part of the timeless universe.

Then, this weekend, this. I only have three weekends before I go in for back surgery which will be followed by three weeks of doctor ordered "no motorcycling." Just what is providence trying to teach me, I wonder.

If there is a lesson, it may be that I'm overly dependent upon my motorcycle. I've come to absolutely depend upon it for my mental health. Perhaps because I grew up in the country... Mt. View, Wyoming near Ft. Bridger; then Thermopolis with its incredible hot springs raising steam for miles around in the Winter; then Weiser, Idaho; and spending summers at my grandfather's lake, Naylor Lake, in Colorado just below Gunella Pass.

Ft. Bridger, Wyoming

Weiser, Idaho: Gateway to Hells Canyon

Hot springs of Thermopolis, Wyoming

Naylor Lake

Gunella Pass

...perhaps because I grew up in the country, my mental health requires getting back to the country. ...or at least trying to find parts of it that do not too often remind me of the problems of civilization.

I read Bob Higdon, writing in the recent issue of BMW RA's "On the Level," and he talks about consuming Prozac like it's candy, and I can relate. I generally go off my med's when I'm on long trips, and perhaps it is one reason that I enjoy long trips so much.

Still, perhaps providence is trying to teach me that there are simpler and less expensive ways to pursue my mental health. Neal Peart, in his book "Ghost Rider," talks about his discovery that hiking is every bit as therapeutic to him in working through the grief of major personal losses as riding the motorcycle was. Even, perhaps I should say "especially," when he had to worry about bears--something other than ones own usual preoccupations.

As I sat at Bob's, I enjoyed the usual parade of visitors. There was one man who purchased his first bike, one of the new F800's. He had just completed the motorcycle training course. He stalled it three times before getting out of the dealer lot, and once more as he made a left into the road. In some ways, it is better for new people to be stalling a bike than over-reving and popping the clutch. Good that he was erring to the side of caution. Finding himself stopped in the road, below a rise that prevented him from seeing well what might be coming seemed to give him enough adrenaline to give it a little more gass, and he was off.

Another gentleman had a brand new K1200GT and was looking at what bags might fit it. Easier to farkle a GS, I think.

Bob's had a line-up of classic bikes that various customers brought in. One with a sidecar took the prize for the day, but Bob made a point of making other customers with notable bikes join the center-stage. One bike, a K100, had a sign on it's front: "Silver Spring to Fairbanks in 18 days" ...or was it 13 days? A scrapbook sat on the rear box full of pictures of the trip. After I finished looking through it, the owner of the bike approached, a woman who I recognized from the pictures in the scrap book. She volunteered answers to several questions I had about the trip. For one, I had presumed that you need a GS to manage those roads.

"If I can make it on this, you can certainly make it on yours," she said nodding at my cruiser.

As much as I like looking at new bikes, I enjoy more examining the bikes that are being ridden long miles, as she had ridden hers. The longer they've been ridden, the better. The many small things people do to make the ride easier are interesting to me. Especially those things they think of that do not cost a whole lot of money. For example, she had installed a CB radio and antenna rather than a Autocom. Her husband's Harley Davidson, on which he had also made the trip also had a CB. It was enough for them to be able to talk.

Well, after my operation, I'll be up to walking and hiking. Maybe I'll get a bicycle again. There is a part of me that wonders whether I might not be happier touring on a bicycle than a motorcycle.

Cape Fear Rally

2007-04-23T05:31:00.000-07:00

I spent the weekend in Wilmington, NC and participated in my first rally event, the Cape Fear Rally's ten-hour mini-rally. My first posting to the bmwbmw board follows. Some of the names mentioned are other members of the BMWBMW club.
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Made it home in 6.5 hours despite a bit of a slow down on 95.

I'm feeling better after a couple of beers and a Chili Bubba at Hard Times, and the benefit of somebody else driving there and back.

As I said at the event, it will take me a while to figure out that endurance rallies are not RTE events, but anybody who tries the barbecue at Speedy's in Lexington, NC will understand that it was a goal well worth the risk.

Lexington had not been in my plans until Friday night when Jim told us how good the barbecue there was. It was also beyond the map coverage in my outdated GPS V and I can see several things I might do in the future to reduce the risk of last minute changes and how I might build maps for each segment to back-up the GPS.

I found the best roads, shortcuts through the mountains, using maps. GPS, even on direct routing, kept giving me routes that would have taken longer.

As we started, I was sure Mark was blowing it driving faster than I was, in town, and then turning too soon and missing the Wilmington bonus on the way out of town. I had no idea he would finish in first place and did not understand why he seemed less than happy with my sticking with him for the first few blocks. He later explained that he was just busy focusing on his plan.

At the Wilmington bonus location I met Tim, just packing up.

"Is that the plaque we're supposed to take pictures of?" I asked.

He gently reminded me that the rules forbid one rider assisting another with finding the bonus locations. I could imagine someone getting caught answering such a question and will take that lesson to heart.

It was nice to get a look at the Wilmington waterfront in the early morning. I got several pictures and enjoyed a short conversation with a city worker who was picking up litter.

I took the warning about the rally bosses checking our speeds on each leg seriously and never drove so slow for so long in as long as I can remember... until Asheboro cost me an hour. All the way back from there I worried that if I made it in time I might have to lose my log book to prevent getting barred from future events. I was still 47 minutes late, but in Asheboro, at one point it told me I would be x and x/y hours late.

One other place I lost time was in on the way North, in Albemarle. The GPS got me there just fine, but I was thinking so much about Lexington, the following stop, on the way there that by the time I got to Albemarle I had actually forgotten that I was supposed to stop there and get a receipt. I didn't understand why the GPS kept looping me back to Albemarle instead of taking me on to Lexington and Speedy's. About the third time I saw the city limits sign I remembered that there was a stop before Lexington where I was supposed to simply get a receipt, and it might be Albemarle.

The rules say that you'll be disqualified if you fail to render aid to a fellow contestant or a member of the public in distress. Soon after leaving Wilmington, and leaving the main highway, I rode past a man leaning against his car on the other side of the road. I doubled-back to see if they needed assistance and quickly saw that my slowing to stop brought a look of alarm. The man held up a very large cell phone or two-way radio and pointed at it, and then I saw another man in the driver seat also on a cell phone. I quickly concluded that I might be interrupting a drug deal and decided against stopping.

There were some good lessons about riding. It was pleasing also to note some of the things that did work and challenges that were managed better than in the past. There were temptations I did not fall prey to and one or two hunches that would have saved me some time had I believed them.

Stopping for ice cream was a temptation to which I did succumb. An older couple didn't know that BMW made motorcycles. That turned into a bit of a conversation, and I told about our club attending the rally, and all about the Rally raising funds for the Victory Gang. While I was talking to them, Chaz drove by looking very business like and appearing to me to be maintaining the speed of the rest of the traffic, in no big rush. A while later I caught up to him in Eberle.

The conversation explaining the rally was repeated in Luberton, at the Performance Shop where they wanted to know why somebody else had duct taped a towel to their sign on the side of their building, just a few minutes earlier, and taken a picture of it.

Forgot to mention that on the trip down to Wilmington, on Friday, while passing Camp Lejeune, I had the treat of seeing an Osprey flying overhead. Years ago, I spent a many hours playing with a Helicopter flight simulator that could simulate the Osprey. I developed a real appreciation for its ability to withstand small arms fire better than some of its faster & lighter cousins. It was a treat seeing a real one in service.

It was great seeing so many other people enjoying themselves. Dukr was smiling every time I saw her. It impressed me willing more experienced competitors seemed to be to to share their secrets of success.
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Check out this picture from my ride down to Wilmington.

After I took this picture (note minister's name), a man whipped his car off the road, into the parking lot behind it and drove over the grass, doubling back, and offered to take a picture with me in it.

First stop in Wilmington: The BMW motorcycle dealer. They provided a much needed rest stop and free coffee. Of particular interest, to me, was their Royal Enfield motorcycle with side car.

Next morning, at the first bonus location, I could not resist taking a few extra photos of the waterfront.

Here's the USS North Carolina, across the bay.

The view South. I would be riding over that bridge, in a few moments. By the time I took this picture Mark, who would later win the event was miles to the West.

Ice Cream Stop

The view behind a gas station. There were wild geese on the ground eating in that field impervious to human presence.

Another stop...

Eberle Springs Inn:

Speedy's in Lexington. Never had barbecue like that, before. Carolina barbecue might be a new favorite.

Efforts to pass new helmet laws intensify - USATODAY.com

2007-04-04T10:58:00.000-07:00

Efforts to pass new helmet laws intensify - USATODAY.com

My comments posted to this article on-line:

There are some aspects of this we are missing.

One is that the number of motorcycle fatalities has increased despite the overwhelming number of riders wearing helmets. Using the death statistic to justify legislation is a lot like blaming the victim. Because we have criminals who are motivated to rape, should all women be required to be kept safe under the supervision of a father or husband protector? No, we know it is better to go after the criminals. Saying that we need a law requiring helmets because of this statistic is blaming the victim.

Second, the issue of costs associated with accidents should be contained by the liability of the party at fault regardless of the type of vehicle or amount of armor the victim purchases. Part of the problem is our "no fault" culture which allows the amortization of the consequences of irresponsible behavior across the entire population and increasingly fails to penalize poor drivers or reward better drivers.

Third, and maybe most important, what is being missed is that the motorcycle numbers are "the canary in the coal mine" telling us that something, not related to whether helmets are worn, is wrong. Legislators jumping on helmet laws are simply ripping off the public by trying to make it look like they are doing something to address the problem, when in fact they are lacking in wisdom and in denial about their ignorance concerning the real underlying causes.

I work and live in the DC area. I ride a motorcycle. I was rear-ended last May. I can tell you a lot about the travesty of how the legal system and insurance industry works to contain costs by withholding medical care while at the same time increasing the compensation of their leaders and executives. If you do not have medical insurance and can't afford a lawyer or are not so clearly the wronged party as to invite one, you will not receive adequate examination and treatment. Doctors are discouraged from performing MRI's on head injuries unless symptoms are severe. You can have head and spinal injuries that will not show up until long after you have been financially pressured into a settlement. Thank heavens, the other party was clearly at fault and I found an attorney.

What I also learned from this accident an another I witnessed when another aggressive drive rear ended a friend on the same street just a few blocks south a few months earlier, was that both the offending drivers were immigrants. I think it is clear that a key to highway safety is better education. Before we inflict upon the victims of these crimes additional legal requirements, let us examine how governments have been negligent in providing driver education and assuring that other drivers are taught the aspects of safe and courteous behavior that we want to expect on our roads.

I don't mean to pick on immigrants specifically, but anyone who has driven in as many foreign lands as I have knows that there are vastly different levels of acceptable behavior. Before foreigners drive on our highways and streets, we need to be sure they have been instructed in what we expect of drivers who we entitle to conduct vehicles on our public roads. That means that we must have such standards and teach such standards and enforce them.

The fact is that formal drivers education is not a requirement of public education in this country. Neither is it a requirement of licensing (except for additional endorsements). It needs to be.

Moreover, highway safety enforcement assets need to be redirected away from revenue generating activities such as speed limit enforcement that do not always correlate with safety (when the flow of traffic averages ten to fifteen mph above posted limits, legal behavior increases risks) and begin enforcing better standards of conduct: right of way violations.

I guarantee you that if we begin putting camera-equipped police on unmarked motorcycles who hand out hefty tickets for aggressive and discourteous behavior, people will have no trouble spotting motorcycles in the future.

The bottom line is that we have more people on the roads. Our culture is increasingly tolerant of irresponsible and disrespectful behavior and the notion that might makes right, so motorcycles lose. Change that trend and you have a solution to many problems.

Dr. Joyce Brother's

2007-03-12T17:56:00.000-07:00

Here is what Dr. Joyce Brother's says about submariners. Stands to reason that I should be a better rider than I am.

http://members.aol.com/brittvanm/ssn596/drbrothers.htm

Snow still melting

2007-03-11T18:29:00.000-07:00

Mental Fitness

2007-02-28T05:01:00.000-08:00

Part of the preparation process for riding that the Motorcycle Safety Foundation curiculum teaches is asking the question as to whether one is mentally ready. Generally this means to make sure that we are clear-headed and not mentally preoccupied; free of the influence of drugs as well.

When I consider this point, sometimes I don't know whether I "should" be motorcycling, even as much as I enjoy it. I am getting older and accidents matter more. Even a non-fatal accident has the potential not only to reduce ones lifestyle, but shorten ones life. With every accident I question more whether I am as mentally capable as I should be. The importance of long distance, high mileage riders to me is that they generally serve as good models for what a more successful attitude and philosophy toward motorcycling might be.

The biggest benefit, for me, of motorcycling is that it gets me out into nature, and it does so faster and better than other forms of transportation. One can stumble around the question of quantity versus quality until one is sick of it: How do you want to balance between quantity of years and quality of years? ...quantity of miles or quality of miles?

I've clipped a posting from a "CityCamping" newsgroup on Yahoo (below or on my blog, http://jaysmotorcycle.blogspot.com if you're reading this in print) that sums up some of what I set my own internal compass to. It describes the kind of lifestyle that someone, like myself, who grew up in Wyoming and Idaho may come to honor and desire even though the cares of life lead East and into the city. Clearly, one does not require a motorcycle to get close to nature. There are pets, parks, trains, and even hiking trails in the city or your easy chair can suffice. Still, I think the motorcycle gets me to nature faster and better than other forms of transportation.

I'll bet I say that again.

The problem I often grapple with is the fact that I come to nature for time to contemplate. Doing so on a motorcycle is not always safe. One must watch the road.

How often have you caught yourself thinking about something other than your riding, told yourself to pay attention, then almost immediately have something arise that required your attention to see and avoid?

It seems to me a paradox of adventure riders. I envy them because I know how much I have enjoyed the long rides that I have taken. Yet, I recognize that those who do it successfully over the years must be much more safety minded than I am. How often they must make good decisions, deciding correctly, when alone in some remote place, in order to survive to tell us their tales. I do not therefore envy them the necessary trade offs between enjoying the ride and attending to the business of the ride for such long periods of time. Howbeit, it may simply be that one must allow oneself to stop with some frequency to enjoy the view.

And so I see that as I grow as a motorcycle rider, I must mature further, mentally.

That sucks.

At 53, with 39 years of riding behind me, I was of the illusion that I had arrived at that point, already. The discovery of this notion prompted me to ask whether I am really cut out for motorcycling. I mean, if I've been doing it this long and still don't do it well enough to avoid stupid accidents, maybe I should not be in the business?

Last May, an aggressive driver rear-ended me. The damage was bad enough that I should have had the bike towed to the dealer and ridden to the hospital in an ambulance. My reflex, however, is to be optimistic. Moreover, I believe in the magic of "speaking what I want." I do not talk of flat tires in remote places. I enjoy the scenery and look forward to the next stop for rest.

"I will be fine," I kept saying.

As I rode off, not realizing that the rear tire was flat, the thought that came to me immediately was whether the accident was a sign from heaven telling me to stop riding motorcycles. The answer that quickly followed focused upon the value of my own life being largely dependent upon how much it contributes to the world around me and the lives of others. The sharing of what I learn in motorcycling, and the effort to guide others toward safe riding is probably one of the more valuable things I can do with my life.

Yet, I have so much more to learn about that topic, myself. At times the job of learning seems so daunting, as my own capacity for stubbornness and foolish stupidity constantly surprise me.

What are the keys to thinking the right thoughts?

Rider safety programs teach a variety of acronyms for the jobs of Scanning, Analyzing what you see, Planning possible escape and survival tactics, and Execution of the plan when it becomes necessary. I know riders who say they barely see the scenery as they are so focused upon this mental drill. I'll admit that I have been aghast at such declarations. Now, I realize that more of such a basic discipline will improve my own riding. Can I do it better? When I think about it, I know it is not difficult. Long ago I learned that such vigilance can become a habit and adherance to vigilance can become second nature.

As a battle stations helmsman on a nuclear submarine, I was taught to routinely scan gauges and instruments without fixating on any one, and to take correct actions. Of course, I had a Diving Officer sitting behind me making sure that I did not miss anything. Nevertheless, I know that I can be competent in such work, and that most any other person can acquire such competence as well. That means that I can become a better and safer rider, but I may have to dispense the notion that miles in the saddle make this automatic.

That said, I also need to remind myself to turn off inner dialogs that distract me from thoughts about the road and the ride, just as I have learned to distrust people who distract themselves with cell phones, I need to distrust thinking that is not about the ride. Perhaps the time for communing with nature is when the bike is stopped.

Come to think of it, I am a happier rider when I am stopping frequently to take pictures, and when I have no schedule to discourage me from taking my time. It also dawns on me that some of the more experienced riders in the BMWBMW club have been running contests that encourage us to take photographs during our riding. That may be a reflection of an attitude that has helped to keep them riding for so long.

Hmmm... Stop, take a photograph, admire the view.

If I'm not distracted by the chores of riding I may appreciate more what I see if I can dwell on the scenery while at a stop. Instead of thinking as I ride, why not stop and use the notebook in my tank bag to jot down thoughts? The times that I have taken notes or photos, have proven useful. I am sometimes later amazed how a photograph or a few words in my notebook do bring those moments back... In this way I may have more fun while riding better and there will be time for contemplation in safety and comfort later.

Bush Living

Posted by: "sail4free" sail4free@yahoo.com sail4free

Tue Feb 27, 2007 9:15 am (PST)

==========
Forty years ago (during my formative years) I lived with my Grandpa
(just the two of us and one dog) for a spell up in the mountains of
northern Idaho. It wasn't uncommon to have 4' of snow on the ground
during those winters which seemed to run on forever. We lived miles
away from our closest neighbor and it was 16 miles to town. Somehow
we both survived the experience . . . an outcome neither of us could
have predicted at any point during our year and a half together.
Fiercely independent and stubborn to the core, I certainly met my
match -- and so did he. His nickname for me was "Hard Rock" -- no
doubt some insider commentary on the tenacity of my young spirit --
as if "Rock" wasn't quite enough . . . the descriptive had to
be "Hard" -- even as rocks go. [Sorta' like "stubborn ass" (do
mules come any other way?) which I've read is God's own analogy of
the nature of man.] On two or three occasions -- certainly no small
measure of our collective desperation -- we even resorted to fists.
I've never been a great fighter but I grew up scrapping in the
streets of Long Beach and San Pedro, CA so it's probably fair to
note I got a few licks in of my own . . . fortunately youth and
speed where on my side in those days.
==========
Even with all the years of tempering since then, there remain a few
enduring quirks in my behavior which make life harder than (or at
least different from) what otherwise might have been. These include
my inclination to isolate and pursue solitude . . . that leaning I
always thought must be kinda' anti-social but, in fact, (as I've
just learned) is more accurately described as Asocial. Desiring the
company of others but not desperately NEEDING it as so many do, I've
been mostly content to be the "lone wolf" although I'm still
learning ways to enjoy my own company more. I've also had this
strident aversion to letting anyone help me do whatever it might be
that I'm perfectly capable of doing by myself. I don't regard their
offer of help as a threat, but I'm annoyed by it -- as if I'd like
to say "can't you SEE that I don't need any help right now?" OTOH,
I have tried to let others help me when it's something I can't
safely do alone . . . but more often, I spend way too much time
figuring out some way that I can do it alone . . . safely . . .
hopefully.
==========
After reading Sharron's article below, I have a better understanding
of what happened . . . and when. Not that it was all bad; surely
that isn't true -- it was just different and that is all. (In
keeping with my oft-repeated slogan, "There's the way things should
be (or should have been) -- and there's the way things are.") My
favorite line in the whole piece is: "The wilderness, not the nation
that manages it, evokes their allegiance."
==========
BUSH LIVING by Sharron Chatterton
==========
[Intro by Cliff Jacobson -- included in his book "Camping's Top
Secrets -- a lexicon of camping tips only the experts
know"] "Sharron Chatterton is a retired wilderness canoe guide,
college instructor, and writer who lives a contemplative life in a
lakeside cabin near Teslin, Yukon, Canada. Here she explains how
the solitude and demands of bush living shape the personality of
those who live and work in wild places."
==========
"The wilderness promotes traits that encourage survival. Surrounded
by the unpredictable and beyond rescue, wilderness travelers
safeguard unknown outcomes against disaster. Their goal is safe
arrival to their destination, not arrival by some time or date.
Some "great feats" are simply their cautious journeys."
==========
"Wilderness makes an individual self-reliant -- able to function
alone, to perform all tasks independently, and to know the adaptive
capability of every tool. To the bush traveler, rescue is an urban
myth -- there are no buffers against irresponsibility! Wilderness
dwellers accept what is, not what was or ought to be. They plan
carefully and they don't take chances. Actions are purposeful;
tasks are always completed. To use energy on valueless projects or
to leave important work undone is unthinkable. There is too much to
do to get bored."
==========
"Long periods spent in silence creates an ease without talk, value
for the understandings that flow without language, and a need for
silence. Silence conserves energy, frees ones attention for more
important work and, lacking confrontation, creates gentleness.
Simple wisdom breeds in silence."
==========
"Wilderness travelers become hyperalert and observant. The land
exhibits what happened, is happening, and might happen next to the
ears, eyes, nose, and skin. These sensors function in overdrive,
constantly receiving information."
==========
"Some believe that wilderness living breeds antisocial behavior. In
truth, the wilderness man or woman becomes asocial -- he or she has
a lingering love of society but little need for it. The wilderness,
not the nation that manages it, evokes their allegiance. This
alienation from political boundaries and reassociation with the
natural world defines the "wilderness heart."
==========
"Survival is the hidden foundation of bush morality. It is what
allows one to kill animals to eat, blaze trees to mark a return
trail, or sidestep a slipper orchid. An experienced bush dweller
learns never to interfere with another. To pass without offering
help is a cardinal sin. To solicit help unnecessarily is another.
Survival encourages cordiality among neighbors -- you might have to
depend upon one for help."
==========
"There are deeper effects of wilderness than those on human
personality: There is a growing need to reduce belongings, to hunt
and gather, and to be nomadic. Nature -- not other humans --
controls the routine. There is a growing intimacy with animals and
with death. Consciousness passes old barriers and metaphysical
experiences occur. Wilderness rearranges behavior, reconfigures
mental constructs, and transforms the inner self forever."
==========
"Yet personality change is what we first perceive in committed
wilderness travelers. We see it in epic soloists, long-distance
trekkers, and in those who work in wild places -- guides,
researchers, and itinerant wanderers. In fact, all of us, even we
who paddle a simple slough alone or walk a dog along the bluffs --
even farmers, loggers, and deep sea fishermen whose wilderness
experiences we consistently deny -- have personalities deeply marked
by wilderness."

Blake on Motorcycling

2007-02-17T07:13:00.000-08:00

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in Eternity's sunrise.

– William Blake

A Better Class of Customers?

2007-02-07T04:43:00.000-08:00

I run a blog on technical stuff at http://technicalworker.blogspot.com. It isn't much fun to read. Mostly, I just post technical information that I want to remember. The blog then provides me a place to point to in other writing that puts the information into better context. I can also point students to specific entries that pertain to courses I have taught.

On the metro ride to work, this morning, I was thinking about correlations between BMW motorcycles and Apple and Microsoft. Correlations in aspect of pricing. In BMW related magazines, readers frequently write in and point out the premium price we pay for BMW motorcycles. The price of using Microsoft products has not declined despite "open source" competition that increasingly provides comparable products for free. Apple, also, has been charging a premium for its products, surviving against the lower-priced PC industry's entry point.

How does this make sense, from a business standpoint? Well, I think of Warren Buffet, who Bill Gates cites as a mentor, and the price of Berkshire Hathaway stock. Mr. Buffet has declined to split his stock. The price of a single share, as I recall the last time I looked, was somewhere north of twenty-thousand dollars.

Splitting a stock doubles the number of shares each investor owns while cutting the price in half. It has the effect of making a stock more affordable, which stimulates trading.

Mr. Buffet has been quoted as saying that by not splitting his stock he assures himself of a higher quality of investor.

Perhaps BMW motorcycles thinks similarly about its buyers. People who can afford to pay more may be easier to support. They may also be less litigous when things do not go as hoped for.

Radar Detector for my wishlist

2007-01-27T18:13:00.000-08:00

http://legalspeeding.com/

Who's Where?

2007-01-27T18:04:00.000-08:00

https://star-traxx.com/

This isn't cheap. I followed the last Iron Butt competition using the web interface, and my fellow students got a lot out of following the routes with me. We might have given birth to a few new riders, that week.

The advertising hints that this might be useful in helping to recover a stolen bike. I'll have to check again to see how big this thing is.

What's with the back?

2007-01-26T05:22:00.000-08:00

Probably there are other motorcyclists who have back issues. It helped me to read in one of the magazines, a columnist who mentioned that he was going in for his fourth back operation.

My doctors have questioned whether riding the motorcycle is good for my back. My conclusion has been that it is probably better than riding in a car (that may depend upon the car), and certainly better for me than commuting by public transportation where I must walk and stand and wait a lot.

This week, as I wrote last night, I took the bike to Bob's BMW to add some new rear lighting. That was Tuesday, after work. I picked it up, last night and rode it home. Today, is Friday. I have plans in town that may involve a beer or two after work. So, I'm on public transportation, again.

I can report that while I feel the strength of muscles in my back improving, and am gaining the ability to walk further without immediate consequences, that while sitting and working, the pain is pretty much the same whether I've commuted by bus or by bike.

I will increase the use of my pain pills. Even though I have non-narcotic medicine, I prefer to limit the masking of symptoms so that I may better pay attention to what is going on. ...I meant, with my back, but realize that the pain pills do cause drowsiness as well.

As the back interferes with my sleep at night, the last thing I need, during the day, is something to make me drowsier!

Snow

2007-01-25T18:51:00.000-08:00

Put a rack on the top of the top box. It has lights on the back. It's kind of funny that I put so much thought into not getting hit at night from the back but got clobbered by an asshole during the day.

Anyway, it had been snowing earlier. I had to brush ice off of the seat. I thought about whether I needed to hook up my Gerbing gloves for heat. About that time it started to snow, again. That answered the question.

The clouds had been looking mighty. I kept admiring them as we rode up to get the bike. They reminded me of storms that we use to watch rolling up across the plains in Colorado. I knew they meant snow, but couldn't help relishing the reminder of places West.

By the time I got down 95 to the beltway the pine trees in the median were topped with snow, as was the grass. It doesn't take much snow to change the whole picture, and what color there is stands in dark contrast to a landscape that is almost black and white.

Snowplow crew waiting on a cut-over in the median probably figured I was some fool city kid on a new bike.

I opened up my face mask to see better, despite the bite of the cold.

"Damn, I'm glad I plugged in those gloves, but it hardly feels like they're working!"

The radio mentioned that the roads would be wet because of anti-icing chemicals laid down last Sunday. That explained it. The pavement stayed sharp, but I stayed cautious and slow on the ramps.

Sure was good to be home at last.

She's sure a good looking bike.

Where I've been on my cruiser.

2007-01-23T16:31:00.000-08:00

create your own visited states map

Freedom

2007-01-21T04:35:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was cold. Lucky I had the Gerbing heated clothing plugged into the bike. I rode to the doctor, to Bob's, to the Dutch Farmers' Market on 29 & 198, and then to the BMWBMW club Tech Day where I stood around mostly outside, before returning home. All the time, I don't think the thermometer on my fairing rose above 30 degrees Fahrenheit.

It was a pretty day though, for riding. The clouds were fluffy and did not hide all the blue sky. My bike is big enough that the 30 and 40 mph gusting crosswinds only make it interesting. Still, when they talk about wind chill factor on the news, they are thinking about people standing still, not cruising down the freeway at 65 mph.

At Bob's I wanted to pick up a grommet that I had misplaced during my assembly after the welding a couple weeks ago. I was not disappointed that the wrong part got ordered. What they had for me was a metal insert for a grommet -- nothing I recognized for my bike. I was not disappointed as I did not really relish the idea of doing any maintenance in the cold at Tech Day. Now, I could just drop by then skidaddle.

I already have an appointment for next week to get a rack with additional rear lights added to the top of my rear top-box. They can have a grommet here by then. To be sure, I went back to the service department and set the planned maintenance back another day.

There, I mentioned to John, as I munched a chocolate iced chocolate donut along with a cup of coffee -- both provided free at Bob's BMW every Saturday -- that the doctor had just impressed upon me the need to eliminate such delicacies. He reached under the counter and produced a bag of nuts.

"Yeah, the doctor has me on medicine for high blood pressure and high cholesterol and I'm about to rebell," he said.

"My Dad had the same problem on that kind of medicine and did rebell," I allowed.

"He's not alive anymore, huh?"

"Yep."

Daryl, two seats down at the service counter razzed John about his eating habits.

John got a bit feisty with his reply: "I'm sitting six feet away from donuts and you don't see me eating a donut."

Daryl nodded.

John turned to me. "I switched to these nuts so I won't eat donuts."

"Interesting timing. My doctor also recommended nuts, this morning."

In fact, he had recommended unsalted peanuts after confirming that I do not suffer from diverticulitis, but I will gladly broaden that behavior just a bit.

John gave me directions to the Dutch Farmer's Market and the vendor inside who would sell me a weeks supply of "dieter's nuts" for five dollars.

Somehow in the course of the conversation John let slip that he had had a bought with cancer, recently. I had known that he had some health issues with his back, and more recently missed work due to some problem with his knee, but nobody had clued me in that it was anything to do with cancer.

I had mentioned, to Mark the welder who I had been told was a friend of John's, that he would not be able to reach John, on the day that I dropped my bike off.

"He's out sick today. He is having some trouble with his knee."

"That is the least of his troubles," Mark replied.

So, I guess I did have a clue.

I enjoyed how John and Mark told good stories about each other. At Bob's, John told me how he wanted to modify a bike so that it looked like a factory racer. He asked John to remove the brackets for the center-stand and to do what he could to disguise the fact that they had ever been there. It was something of a prestige thing among the racers. Well, the work was done so well that there was no way of telling at all.

When John asked Mark how much the bill was, Mark's response was, "You can't afford it."

"He never gave me a bill," John told me. I could tell by his smile that he still appreciated the help.

At Mark's, Mark allowed as to how John was a stranger, when he first came to the East Coast. "John had a lot of friends out in California, and everybody knew him there. Here, he had to start all over. He brought me some work. Then, later, when Bob's needed some work done and nobody else was available, he brought me some of their work. I did a good enough job that I've been getting their work ever since."

Both of them would switch gears and start describing their current interest in the hot rods. If you were to build your own hot rod, knowing a machinist who likes hot rods also could be a really good thing.

This morning, the next day, I woke up thinking about playing my guitar. My friend Susan has been after me about the fact that I've not been playing. She knows that, like the motorcycle, the guitar has a special place in my heart. Somehow she also knows that it's a matter of mental health and personal happiness to enjoy such things.

So, I woke up with the words of the easiest song I know going through my head: Kris Kristofferson's "Me and Bobby McGee."

"Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose"

Then I guess it was only proper that on a Sunday morning, Bob Dylan would next come to mind, singing, "I will be released."

Now, to install updates, virus protection, and all on my laptop that went South, yesterday. Better the laptop than the motorcycle.

Watching the Back

2007-01-17T05:36:00.000-08:00

Martin Luther King weekend, being a federal holiday would normally be a three-day weekend. It turned into a four-day weekend, for me. Friday morning I woke after a very restless night. My back was already aching and my legs feeling the kind of shooting pain that I had not felt for many weeks -- since my third epidural. So, I called in sick.

I did not get to stay home and rest all day, though. My landlady's car was in the shop, and she needed to get to the bank to cash a check to pay her mortgage. I also had a doctor's appointment at 4:00 PM. I put her on the back for the trip to the bank, brought her back home, then headed to the doctor's appointment. Still I managed to spend most of the day catching up on the sleep I had missed the night before, napping in my easy chair.

Saturday I got a short ride in, but Sunday and Monday I was not up to it. I commuted the five-or-so miles to work and back, on Tuesday. While I was not feeling comfortable at work, back pain was not unbearable. I called my doctor and asked whether they could send a prescription to a drugstore near my home, but they prevailed upon me to pick it up at 4:30 in Laurel. After the ride out there, I knew it was as short a distance to Bob's BMW as to go home. Knowing there was a Ride-to-Eat with the BMW club in Elicott City, just a short ride from there, I planned to take a long sitting break at Bob's then get to the restaurant.

On the way up Highway One, from Laurel, after stopping for the medicine and resting for many minutes in the waiting room, I noticed that electric gear was not working. I switched accessory jacks, but it still was not working. Good thing I was going to Bob's.

Indeed I had blown two fuses, one for each outlet. The first was a fifteen-amp fuse. The second was only ten amps. I had two 15-amp fuses in my tool bag in the right saddle bag, so replaced both fuses with 15-amp fuses. Next week I may upgrade them to 20 amps. I only had 10 amp fuses for back-ups left, but did not want to spend even two dollars for more fuses.

After an hour of rest and a warming cup of coffee, I headed to Elicott City by back roads. The GPS does a good job of finding them if I set it to give me the direct path instead of the fastest. I noticed, however, that my GPS kept losing power and switching to its batteries. At one point, I had to stop and replace the batteries. I had some rechargeable ones in my tank bag.

Arriving at the restaurant early, I took out my flash light and took time to investigate the trouble. The repairs to the bike, the last week, had apparently pulled the new fuse box that I installed a few months ago loose and the power wire was only making intermittent contact. I completely disconnected the power, and decided to wait until Saturday's tech day to fix it.

I had a bowl of vegetarian chili and several coffees while chatting with other riders and enjoyed some budding friendships. Then I beat feet home and went to bed. The temperature was falling and by morning was at 27.

At work, my back immediately started complaining, and the pains frequently shot down my leg. It is weird, but riding the motorcycle, I seldom notice such pains. However, there is a pain that hits me in my right hip that mostly occurs while riding.

More than one friend has speculated with me that my riding days may be numbered. I suppose that is a good excuse for being a bit grumpy, lately.

Back together

2007-01-11T16:51:00.000-08:00

It was one thing to get the bike to the welder's shop and take it apart so he could do the necessary welding. It was another thing to put it all back together.

I was definitely worried.

Josh, at Bob's BMW, had given me the directions to Metal Specialties, in Spencerville. The last thing he told me was, "remember to disconnect the battery." So, of course that was the foremost thing in my mind when I got there, Tuesday night at 4:30. I parked outside the shop, broke out the allen wrench and started dismantling. By the time I got the top box, seats, and tank off, and the battery disconnected, it was getting pretty dark. I tried not to think about how much harder it would be putting it back together, the next day.

To get to the battery of the R1200 CLC cruiser, you have to remove the gas tank. I had done it once before, so was a little more confident. I wondered why I had not remembered to have the tank near empty after the last time, however.

Mark Bailey, the owner, came out to see how I was doing. There was one screw I could not get out on the right-hand side saddle bag. It was stripped. The rest was done.

"I should have brought the cover for the bike," I said.

"No need," he replied. He offered to help me push it up the small rise and into his garage and work shop. Most of the the parts fit into the top box. I loaded it, the gas tank and the seats into a friend, Susan's, car so they would not be in the way at the shop, and we stopped for pizza on the way home.

The next afternoon I didn't get off work quite as early. Susan picked me up at the Metro. Traffic wasn't great. We had to stop for gas. I forced myself to stay calm and bought a bottle of water to make sure I wasn't dehydrating -- thus preventing additional irritation. On the way out I tried not to think about the task ahead and silently said a prayer. It was colder, and I would have less time.

The bike was sitting in the driveway, so I got to work. It was not easy remembering what screws went where but I organized them as best I could. Lining up the gas tank, I realized that I was missing the grommets that held its rear mounts away from the frame. This scared me. I remembered what they looked like from the last time I had removed the tank, but I did not recall seeing them this time, and they were not among my parts.

It occurred to me that before I put parts into the top box, I was using one of the saddlebags. Mark had asked me to leave him the left one so he could line things up, and the right one he still had because I could not get all the screws out. So, they were already back on the bike. I looked inside and there was one of the needed grommets. Not seeing the other and not being able to go much further without it, I finally went looking for Mark.

The sign on the side-door to his garage said "OPEN." I opened it and hollered.

No answer.

He might be in the house?

I went through the shop to the door to the house and knocked.

Again, no answer.

I checked the door knob. It wasn't locked. So, I figured I would open it and holler.

Still, no answer.

I started to to worry that he might have had a stroke. What if he was inside on the floor?

Then he hollered back. Whew!

I waited and he came out. I showed him the grommet.

"Have you seen another one of these?"

"Yes, I found one and put it in your saddle bag."

"Ah! Yes, that's where I found this one. I'll have to keep looking.

It was clearly getting dark faster than the motorcycle was going together and the temperature was dropping. The weather forecast promised low 30's. I was therefore very grateful when Mark again suggested that we push the bike into the garage.

Once I had the side stand down, I asked him where he had found the grommet. He pointed to the flat part of the rear suspension.

"It was sitting on top of the swingarm."

That made sense. I went around to the other side and looked. There the other one was! Now, I could get started.

His shop was heated and well equipped. It turns out that he had lots of experience with motorcycles as well as helping people build hot rods. While I worked on reassembling my bike, he worked on an exhaust manifold that he had create by welding together steel tubing. It would be for a '32 Ford, he told us.

He thoughtfully provided a small jack that got the bike up-right and off the ground so that I didn't have to work so hard to keep the top-box and its mounting bracket in place atop the rear fender, while screwing it down. A drop light, held by Susan, helped me line up the screw holes for the gas tank so it went back together more easily than than the last time I had to do it. This time I found a way to use a screw driver as a lever to push the tank forward and up then hold it where the holes lined up as I got the allen screw started. That held it steady and more precisely than I could have done with just my hands. Once I got both screws tightened, I realized that I had used the wrong set of screws, but swapping them out with the correct set with the larger washer went quickly.

"You sure are sweating," he pointed out.

I had taken off my riding jacket, the Garmin liner and my tie but was still sweating profusely.

"Are you okay?"

I told him that I thought so.

"Well, I sure don't want you to have a heart attack and have to haul you out of her."

Only later did I realize, with a chuckle, that I had had a similar concern about him moments earlier.

As I went to seat the bracket for the top box, I found myself missing another grommet, one that I had just seen and wondered where it went. It never did turn up. Not a major problem. It would be okay with grommet for only five of the six mounting screws until Bob's BMW could get me another. More disconcerting was discovering that I was missing four screws to hold on the side vanity flanges, under the seat. They weren't really functional except that they would keep some of the elements away from some of the wiring. I realized that I had been careful to set the flanges down on the ground with the screws still in them, during the disassembly, but had at some point turned the flanges over to use them to hold other screws coming out of the bike.

Bob's would have to provide me replacements for them as well.

I asked Mark whether I should push the bike outside the garage before connecting the fuel quick-disconnects. At times, they release a bit of gasoline.

"I'm not worried about that."

It turned out that they snapped together smartly, not leaking a drop.

That done, I turned the ignition on, put the bike in neutral, and pressed the starter as he watched. He wasn't surprised, but I was greatly relieved when my reliable bike came quickly back to life.

Susan said that she would meet me at home.

"How many girl friends might you go through before you would find another one with the patience to watch and try to help in this cold?" I wondered.

I turned the bike off, then held the bike as Mark lowered the jack.

We opened the garage door and he guided me in backing down the driveway. I thanked him again. He reminded me again about the temperature and told me to drive safely. Then he said good night and went inside to his dinner.

Alone in the dark, despite the cold, I took my time putting on my gear, then when everything felt right, again pressed the starter, turned and rode out his gravel driveway to the street.

I was almost all the way home on New Hampshire when I realized that I had hit nothing but green lights all the way.

Thinking like a Woman

2007-01-05T04:42:00.000-08:00

The Venus and Mars book is full of concepts that have become cliche's. Fact is, the title of the book is pretty much a cliche'. You can be in a discussion with someone else and regardless of your respective genders, one of you can say, "Oh, yeah. It's like in 'Venus and Mars' and the other will more often than not nod their head in emphatic agreement.

Of course, generally, the book over generalizes. Either gender can say things like, "You never listen to me" or "Why can't you learn?" and errors of thinking occur regardless of whether one is motivated by logic or emotions. The stereotype is that men are better at logic, and women at emotions. One good thing, however, is that we can all (generally) agree that it is good to have a diversity of people with diverse skills in our communities, and that it is good to have people skilled in either logic or emotions: science and art. Not that any of us can't be in a different frame of mind on any given moment of any given day.

Pre-checking a motorcycle for the ride is important. If you relie upon your dealer's maintenance to catch everything, then you're tires may not be at the best pressure for the riding that you are doing. The book number is merely a suggested starting point. Your weight and payload, weather conditions, the type of ride planned may all call for some deviation from the recommended pressure.

I'll admit that I don't check pressure as often as I should. My goal is to do so at least once a week, and for me it is more difficult due to the permanent, hard side bags and position of the disc brake on the BMW Cruiser. So, it was probably two weeks out of the dealer's last maintenance... okay, maybe three or four, before I checked my tires and found that the front one was about six pounds high. This would make sense if you looked at my waiste-line, my most-common rider, and all that I keep in the side bags and back box. I don't doubt that a helpful technician added those extra pounds out of thoughtfullness. Problem is, what if, for this bike, the manufacturer saw people like me coming and the recommended number is THE number to use? Well, it is.

With six fewer pounds of air, handling improved considerably. This is funny because I was having all kinds of mental drama about why handling had recently been so... problematic. More on that some other time.

At the same time that I corrected the tire pressure, I noticed that the left hard bag was loose -- jiggley. I checked the right bag. "Yep," it was secure. "Jiggeliness" was not part of the manufacturer's design. Long story not-so-long, the braces that held the bottom of the bag had broken off of the frame. More acurately, the part of the frame that connected to the braces had broken. Not the best design, the way screw holes weakened the frame instead of the braces. There were screws fixing the top of the bag to the frame, higher, so there never was any danger of the bags falling off, and the fact is that I could probably of put the bag back on without the lower braces and just not used it for anything, but Bob's pointed me to a good welder whose advice I will head so that the bike will end up good as new.

Meanwhile, the cruiser is missing the left side bag and I did not feel like riding an obviously-injured friend. That is why I was riding the Metro to work, this morning and found myself thinking: "Boy, the people who run this Metro system sure don't care about the needs of people who use it," thus extrapolating a brief personal annoyance into an extreme thesis.

(more to come....)

1-13-2007

Of course the people who run the Metro System care about some people. They probably care some about all of the people they serve. Still with millions of people riding and paying one or two dollars each going each way, I have to be critical about those many important people who sat in conference rooms a few steps from adequate rest room facilities, but fail to provide the same for residents and visitors to our nation's capitol. Anybody can become ill, get hit with a flu bug, anytime.

"How much do any of us think about each other?" I wondered.

I chuckled to myself as the cliche, "You only love me for my money," came to mind. How true that is, sometimes. Hotels that need to make a profit in a competitive market make sure there is are rest rooms available to guests and generally there is one a few steps from the entrance. Who hasn't hurried home with that the first order of business.

As the day moved on, the cliche stuck with me. I sat at my desk, looking out over the Kenedy Center with it's grand American flags to Arlington Cemetery and a lone flag on the hill. Do we only honor the memory of our veterans because their lives afford us comfortable living, a modicum of wealth? Do we only love our country for its money?

Winter

2007-01-03T05:13:00.000-08:00

How many times am I going to sit down after a ride to work and feel like I just have to share the beauty of the morning's short ride? Today was no exception. Perhaps I need to note the time of sunrise and time it so that I hit the same period of the day more often. The morning light, reflecting off the awakening sky, kept pulling colors out of the barren trees and their remaining leaves. First, a range from pink to dark burnt umber; then as the morning progressed the light found resonance with orange tones in the foliage. Had a couple of nice days of Winter riding up to New Jersey and back, this last weekend. Pictures at link. Found a reasonable route past Philadelphia to the Northwest in 222 to 30 to 113 to Frenchtown, NJ then 12 North to Round Valley Rec Area.

I can't remember when there has been a winter so colorful. Perhaps it's me? They say that one of the things that many people treated for depression notice as they improve is the reappearance of color in their lives. Perhaps, if we make a point of SEEING the colors around us, it will help prevent depression from creeping up on us in the first place.

The Rock (take two)

2006-12-17T16:02:00.000-08:00

Chris Zink and I got out for a ride, today. Thurmont and then to the Rock. Anybody who hasn't made the trip up to the Rock is in need of it!

There were lots of motorcycles. Right after we got parked and dismounted, Chris spotted a Harley with a Santa and Christmas decorations. We walked over to take a look and a whole crew of riders streamed into the parking area, behind us.

Here's the Santa Clause

I took a few pictures to try to capture the effect of how the rock sits so high and overlooks so much.

Chris is helping a group of cyclists get a group photo.

Standing atop the rock and shooting down into the valley. Those are fairly big barns, down there.

There was an Aprila and two KTM's that we admired at some length. One had a great camera mount. Darned if I can remember what he called it, but I NEED one of those! He described how he could take still pictures running down the road, but because of vibration might get two or three good ones out of ten, but those were two or three he would not have had otherwise.

This sign provided me some insight into the how hang gliding is becoming a more regulated and safer activity.

A bit of the scenery before lunch.

I bought a Bob Dylan CD at the Starbucks on the way home after Chris and I parted near Emmitsburg. First song, and his guitar is out of tune. Things don't always have to be perfect to be perfect -- the opposite of my thoughts during the ride that I shared with Chris: how virtue seems to disapear if one looks at it too closely. Humility is something we appreciate in others, but as soon as we see it in ourselves and say, "Hey, I have humility!" the spell is broken. George Soros tried to interest philosophy professors in his pursuing such a notion as a course of study. They failed to appreciate the proposal, and one of his greatest disapointments, he says in his book, is not having become a philosopher.

Now, of course, he can endow a few institutions for such purposes, if he wants.

Guess we might invite him to take a motorcycling class.

Nice Day, but no Riding

2006-12-16T13:58:00.000-08:00

My friend, Mindy, needed a ride to the Baltimor/Washington International Airport, this morning. Well, she needed me to drop her off and bring her car back as it's cheaper than paying for parking. I had stayed up pretty late, last night, so slept in then did not get ready until just before she came by.

After dropping her off, I went to breakfast at Daniel's, a biker hangout next to Speed Cycles on Highway 1 in Elk Ridge. The Highway 1 exit was very convienient to BWI airport. I order, and open Niel Peart's "Ghost Rider" to continue reading, while sipping a diet coke and waiting for my food.

The book tells about the author's travels across Canada, and in the part I'm reading now, he is in the North-West of the United States. He describes spending a pleasant afternoon and night in Boise, then getting up the next morning, eschewing the latte places with parking lots full of pickup trucks, and heads out.

He ends up eating, and I can't believe my eyes, at a family diner in Weiser (pronounced wee-zer), Idaho.

Well, that was where I spent many years, growing up -- a hometown to me a friend who I often visit in New Jersey. He didn't name the restaurant, but he said it was just outside of town, so that narrows it down to either the Beehive on the South East, or May's Shack on the North East, at either end of the where the truck Route cuts across the eastern part of town -- East 7th, if I remember correctly from my paper route days, delivering papers in the winter on an 80cc Yamaha with knobby tires.

I have a coffee cup, purchased from the Beehive, during one of the high school reunions. May's Shack was redone, and I remember a very good meal there. It was hardly the dive roadhouse that I remembered from high school days when we use to spend hours drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and occasionally playing guitars to Seranade Edna, an elderly waitress who was always good-humoured and a friend to many, who in later years found themselves with bad habits and less and less oportunity.

I turned to the guy next to me, at Daniel's. "What a coincidence," I told him. Then I explained about the book and Weiser. That turned into a pleasant discussion of our own about the dream of having enough money to just go riding -- and the notion that some people get around the world on motorcycles without much money.

I dropped by Bob's BMW on the way home, bought a bulb for my rear brake light. I've read that one should always have a spare. It was a small thing -- less than $2.00 -- but a positive step toward the next time when I can go down the road with no fixed end date.

Second trip to the doctor

2006-12-14T07:11:00.000-08:00

Epidurals are not as bad as you might expect, but they're no fun. The second one went quicker than the first one. Afterward, I sat across the Street at the Something Special Coffee Shop, in Laurel and spent an hour observing the soreness in my back. It wasn't improving fast. Nevertheless, I made a short hop up highway-one to Bob's BMW and then West to the Four Seasons Restaurant on 70 for lunch, before heading home.

This time I remembered to take pictures of the great lunch. It came to $12, including a two-dollar tip.

There were two other riders from Baltimore who were excited to learn about Bob's BMW and the Saturday activities.

In trying to avoid high-conflict routes where there is a lot of traffic, one sometimes... well, ones GPS sometimes provides a different kind of conflict: End of pavement!

Turn around? ...or move forward hoping that it will be short and not too bad? Actually, I had driven the road many years ago and didn't remember it being that bad.

It took two days before my back started to feel better. This morning, three aspirin seemed to end the complaints.

BMW HP2 Baja

2006-12-07T13:30:00.000-08:00

If I hit the lottery, there will be a place in my garage for an HP2. I somehow think that I could ride the Baja even though I've not been on a dirt bike in years. Also, I envy those journalists who get paid to cover such things.

http://www.motorcycle-usa.com/Article_Page.aspx?ArticleID=3962&Page=1

blogmonks.gif (GIF Image, 438x700 pixels)

2006-12-03T14:42:00.000-08:00

Army-Navy Saturday Ride

2006-12-03T08:58:00.000-08:00

December 2nd, and the weather is absolutely beckoning! I wasted no time, after waking up, getting dressed and out for the ride. Where to go? Bob's for a donut? Going out the door, I spotted a bottle of S100 that I use for cleaning the bike, when I do wash it. The last weekend, I had finished one of Chris Zink's bottles. I could take this to her place then decide on what next.

A new member in the BMWBMW club recently posted a ride report that reminded me that one of the things I like almost as much as the ride is writing about the ride. Today, I would look for photographic opportunities.

I like to begin my weekend rides with short hop up Sligo Creak Parkway. It gets me warmed up with a few tight turns as it follows the course of Sligo Creek. It was a beautiful, crisp morning.

Sligo Creek Parkway is not a path to follow when it is or recently has been raining. The creek quickly fills and overflows, knocking down bridges and trees.

The sun was going to be bright. I needed to change my visor to the tinted one. The normal process for doing this was taught to me by Coleen, at Bob's, back when she was working in the accessories department. I remember her well because she reminded me of my great aunt and my first wife.

Meeting Coleen opened my eyes to the fact that I had first married a woman who reminded me of my Great Aunt, Clara Hatton. I had not considered the resemblance until Coleen reminded me of both of them. Coleen did not seem to appreciate knowing that she reminded me of somebody two generations older.

I actually proposed to auntie Clara, asking her if she would marry me, when I was five or six. She never married but had a very successful life as a college professor, becoming the head of Colorado State University's art department for many years. The exhibit gallery in their new art department building bears her name.

Clara taught me pottery in a studio behind her house that she had converted from a garage adding a kiln, a work bench and a pottery wheel. After much begging, she got me started on oil painting, and this is a story I remember with some humor -- her telling me, "I will teach you what I can, but if you want to know anything about modern art, I'm sorry, I can't help you. I just do not understand it." She repeated that phrase twice. I never forgot and wondered for many years why she felt it so important to say that. It was not like her to belittle the tastes of others. Years later, as I prepared to teach a particularly challenging technical class, it hit me that even though her student was only 5 or 6, her integrity required that she provide some disclaimer concerning the limits of her knowledge and ability to teach.

Well, the upshot of this is that she fought for many years for a new art building. After she retired, the department finally got one. She was invited to the opening and the dedication of the gallery. I think that I was in the Philippines and could not attend. Years later, after she passed, I was in Denver with my family for Christmas at Grandmother's: her surviving sister's. My Dad and my brothers hopped in my rental car and made a pilgrimage North to Fort Collins to visit the neighborhoods where he grew up, the house his mother (a third grade teacher) had lived in and where I had spent a semester of High School while attending Poudre, and we visited the art building. It tickled me that it was a very impressive and very functional bit of very modern architecture.

Anyway, when Coleen showed me how to change visor's, I might have detected a hint of good-humored condescension that she had to show this guy how to do something so basic. The process I repeated ever since went pretty much like she showed me. I would find a flat place to work, or get off my bike and use the seat, setting the new visor aside, and the felt holder/protector aside, then pulling the visor of the Arai helmet up so that the tabs popped out, lifting them, then removing the visor. I place it in the protective cover, then went through the gyrations of installing the replacement visor. The installation, for me was the hard part, and I had managed to break some of the plastic parts more than once, prompting another visit to the parts counter at Bob's.

More lube might have been a good idea.

Because the Winter days are so short, I need to change the visor more frequently. I'm more apt to begin and end the riding day while it is dark. Earlier, last week, I tried changing the visor without removing the helmet. Removal went well, but not the replacement. Maybe with practice...

Today, I sat in a parking area near Sligo Creek and decided to try it without dismounting. I removed the replacement from the tank bag, and took off my helmet. I faced the helmet away from me the way Coleen had taught me, removed the replacement visor from its protective sleeve and balanced the sleeve easily enough on the instrument console. Then, holding the replacement visor in one hand, I lifted the visor of the helmet until the tabs popped out with the other hand, then without setting the replacement visor down, with the free hand I lifted the tabs then lifted the visor out of the helmet. Still holding the removed visor in one hand, I found I was able to align and install its replacement from the other hand without having to set either one down and risk their falling off or becoming scratched. Big improvement.

Still, I'm going to practice changing visors with the helmet on my head.

I set the GPS to take me to Chris Zink's house by the "shortest" rather than the fastest route.

Continuing up Sligo, the GPS soon prompted me to make an unusual turn. Usually I go to Colesville Rd, Maryland Rt 29, and take it to the freeway -- avoiding Georgia, where I and another experienced friend both were rear-ended by inattentive, immigrant, middle-eastern drivers. The GPS said to take a right on Worth. Realizing it was a short cut that I had seen others darting into, I tried it. It took me to a left on Franklin and then to Colesville, giving me an easy right turn and missing the more congested light where Sligo crosses 29. Cool.

Later, on my return, I enjoyed catching a left on Franklin, while the light on Sligo held up oncoming traffic.

Don't you just love it when life presents you with ways of doing things more easily?

I figured I would find breakfast along the way. McDonald's was tempting. I continued up 29, then North on New Hampshire through Cloverly. I had never noticed the name of that neighborhood. I noted a parking lot full of police cars and was tempted to see where they were eating. As I was already moving past, I decided to save that location for a future exploration when I did not have a destination, already.

It was pretty cold. 30's? I passed a guy jogging with loose-fitting shorts over his tights. It reminded me of ladies at the Peace Corps that invited me to go running in the cold with them. I was shy about running in tights. This guy had that solution. But as I rode on I inwardly chided myself on the need for modesty.

The GPS gave me a right on Ednor -- another new turn and a new road that proved to be a real pleasure. I rode past great houses, many for sale signs (have I missed a bet, not trying Real Estate sales?), and many of the houses had garages for more than one vehicle. What else does a motorcyclist look at first?

I saw through some trees a sun-lit picture of horses grazing in a pasture. Riding a motorcycle, I had no trouble making a couple of U-turns, then pulling into the narrow grassy area next to the fence, out of traffic on the narrow two-lane, to take a picture.

The road took me over a bridge with a pretty view of Rocy Gorge Reservoir, past a bow hunting area...

"Gee," I wondered, "I should probably be alert for deer."

Rounding another curve the pavement turned red. Somebody earlier hadn't been looking out for deer, it seemed. I saw a house setting on a hill behind the bare trees -- a view that the foliage of other seasons would have hidden. Neat place to live.

The road changed it's name to Brown Bridge Road. I knew I had passed that road riding to another destination, but when? Then, a left on Scaggsville Road. I remembered my GPS telling me, more than a year before, to use Scaggsville Road on a trip to Gaithersburg from Bob's and eschewing it for 32 to 108 never dreaming there could be such a scenic route closer-in to the beltway. Scaggsville Road quickly took me to a right on 108 at the intersection where I have often enjoyed shopping in Boarman's Market, a rural grocery store with a great butcher who reminds me of the wry wit of Mr. Adams, back home in Weiser, Idaho.

108 took me North for a gas stop at the Exxon station, in Clarksville, at the Hwy 32 interchange. There, I called Chris and made sure I could drop by. I always enjoy the next two legs of the trip to her place from 32 -- North to a left on Sheppard Ln, and Sheppard to a Left at a traffic circle on Folly Quarter Rd.

My bike manages traffic circles so much better with a new shock!

I thought about visiting the grass air strip and the private single-engine planes, slowed for a car coming out of the Franciscan monastery estate. The wooden fence did a good job of blocking his view of the road. Passing a few bicyclists, I was soon at Chris's. She was packing for a noon flight to Tucson, AZ.

"I looked at the weather report. It's all 67 and sunny until Wednesday when it gets cloudy and goes up to 71," she would tell me.

She would miss her motorcycle and her doggie-family while she was gone, however.

In one of the pictures, you can see the obstacle course that Chris has set up in her back yard for agility training. It surprises me the number of motorcyclists I've met with connections to agility training or other competitive dog events.

Chris is something of an authority, having written a book or two. Never mind being selected to be the head of her veterinarian Medicine department at Johns Hopkins. She was even invited to an ocean cruise, once, as a guest lecturer for a cruise with fellow dog enthusiasts.

"What are you up to?" she asked.

"I don't know. I need to get some breakfast. Maybe McDonald's... maybe the Four Seasons."

Leaving, I continued up Folly Quarter, enjoying the scenery so much that I had to double-back for a right on Walt Ann Drive, a short cut to Tridelphia Road, then a left on Rosemary to 32. I liked getting to 32 without having to double back on my path to 108. I thought about taking 144 to the Four Seasons restaurant, but hunger was getting the better of me. It was only 10:30, but I had not had breakfast.

Perhaps 70 would be leisurely on a Saturday morning? Not!

I about got iced out by an unyielding semi (Maine plates on trailer; Frederick, MD address on its cab) at the on-ramp. Falling in, behind I found the center and left lanes full of tailgaters. I watched the semi, at 80 mph, jockeying for positions, alternating through each lane, ahead of me and decided to let some time build between us.

I couldn't remember which exit it was, but knew that I would see the Four Seasons Restaurant on the left. I did not remember that there had been advertisements for the Four Seasons on the freeway, but as I neared the exit to Highway 27, they were advertised. I noted signs that would have got me to the restaurant even if I had not remembered the location from a poker run a couple of years back and occasional return visits, since.

The parking lot was full, but I got lucky with a space in front so I could watch my bike from a window while I ate. I noted a Japanese crotch rocket parked in another space and a helmet with a BMW rondel on it, but never saw the rider.

I had a very good and reasonably-priced meal: ham, eggs over-medium, toast, homefries with onions, and coffee & orange juice that with a two-dollar tip only came to $10.00. I ate it all then wished I had taken a picture to share what a good meal it was.

After breakfast, I rode West on Penn Shop Road to a right on Kemptown and an immediate left on Clarksburg. All most pleasant roads. More horses in pastures and I could see they were wearing their heavy winter coats. I figured to find my way eventually to the Muddy Branch Starbucks, in Gaithersburg, before getting to my American Legion for the Army Navy game festivities. I took Clarksburg Road past Bethesda Church then doubled-back on a beckoning single-lane Barnes Rd. that, before it was done, brought me into some new housing. A left on Browningsville Rd. took me past a number of economical looking hilltop homes. I wondered at their winter heating bills given their exposure. A left on 75 took me to 355 which I took South until reconnection with Clarksburg Rd. Highway 270 then let me fast-forward to Sam Eig and the Starbucks.

At Starbucks, I got a cup of tea, scored a stuffed chair, read a chapter of Niel Peart's Ghost Rider, and took a short nap. After the nap and a bit more reading, I was off to the Legion and the game, where for a small donation I enjoyed the benefits of a potluck provided by the past-commanders of the Post.

I don't watch a lot of sports on television, but think that I'll make the Army/Navy game at the legion a tradition.

Red Bull

2006-11-30T06:45:00.000-08:00

Never tried it before. Now, I'll find out. My back sometimes prevents me from getting a good night's sleep. Then, the pain medication tends to make me drowsey. Part of being ready to ride is managing one's alertness. While I know better than to depend upon caffiene for any long ride I'm going to be interested in how this product works, or might work, for a pick-me-up on the last leg of a ride. Is there a short term benefit?

Conclusion? Maybe. I felt a bit helter-skelter, however. Better to plan ahead and take frequent naps. I have no trouble catching a nap anytime on the road. I can put the side stand down, set my wrist watch alarm for 20 minutes, fold my arms and lay my helmeted head upon them on the tank bag. Ear plugs help. Rest stops, behind MacDonalds, next to gas stations... I've learned that rest stops at night are not always the best idea, however.

Riding the GT!

2006-11-28T17:14:00.000-08:00

Well, I had a couple of doctor appointments, today. My back is still bothering me, from the accident last May. A few months back I started having problems and thought that I just needed to pay more attention to my PT exercises, but when the pain came home to roost, one morning while teaching a motorcycle safety class, I went back to the doctor and got a MRI that found bone chips off of disks in my back that are floating in the spinal column.

Anyway, I dropped by Bob's BMW to make sure that I had the dampening of my new shock correct.

Carter saw me and asked, "What bike would you like to ride, today?"

At first I deferred. We discussed my thoughts on new bikes.

"At some point, I want to ride a LT just because I've not ridden a K bike," I allowed.

He suggested the K1200GT. I told him that I thought that was temptation with at capitol 'T' but decided to take him up on it.

Wow!

What a truly nice motorcycle.

Smooth, well mannered, superb handling, and increadible power!

I want one!

Not only does it have the power and handling to get you out of trouble with maximum dispatch, should you need it, but it also handled wonderfully at low RPM's and low speeds.

I had no trouble riding it through a couple of slow figure 8's with the handle bars hard right and hard left. That was a first for me on any bike.

In fourth gear at about 55mph, I caught up to a very slow driver and decided to scoot around him. Adding a bit of throttle after changing lanes like I reflexively would on my cruiser, resulted in a surge of acceleration that was eye opening. I'll admit that I had a hard time keeping it down to posted speed limits and was more comfortable riding on slower streets where other vehicles helped me maintain a reasonable pace. It just wanted to fly!

Brakes are not only powerful, like those on my cruiser, but they seem much smoother both getting on them and getting off. Also, the mirrors provide much better visibility than any bike I've ridden, previously.

I didn't get a chance to play with the adjustable shocks, but Carter set them for a single rider before I left, and I must say that they handled bumps very well -- exactly what a doctor might order for my back!

I brought it back and as I stopped, putting my foot down for the first time since departure, I felt as if I was being transformed from a creature of flight back to a clay-footed human being.

Walking back into Bob's, I looked at Carter and seeing his knowing smile I just had to laugh. The experience was great fun and the ride was truly inspiring.

Nice classic BMW picture

2006-11-27T18:50:00.000-08:00

Nice classic BMW picture that I ran across on the web...

http://home.att.net/~jeff.dean/weiss.htm

Motorcycle Birthday

2006-11-25T08:45:00.000-08:00

Well, not exactly its birthday, that would be in May, but I discovered that I had just passed 60,000 miles on the odometer. Probably it was sitting on 60K as I gave it an infrequent bath at BMWBMW club member, Chris Zink's.

That's Chris's Norwich Terrier, Vespa, in the foreground.

Riding the GS

2006-11-22T04:08:00.000-08:00

Perhaps it is this time of year. If you're a dedicated rider, when is there a better time to look at new bikes? The less dedicated, while doing less riding, are looking at budgets and holiday expenses. Maybe they decide to redirect recreational activities toward something less expensive that can be done indoors. Chess or Bridge, anyone? They put their motorcycles go on the market at a time when the number of new riders entering the market is at a seasonal low. Those of us who would never think of giving up riding are stimulated to think about the next year of riding, maybe while we are putting repairs on the current steed. In the worst of weather, we can catch up on our reading of motorcycle magazines, and there we see coverage of new models.

My 2003 R1200 CLC is a few hundred miles shy of 60K miles and has been in need of a new rear shock for a couple of years, truth be told. Early in the year, the techs assured me that the current one was within spec's," but added that an aftermarket shock would improve performance. Improved performance, in shocks, translates into improved safety, so it's time to make the improvement. The price of a new shock, it's installation, and other needed work (60K service coming up) adds up to an amount that would make a good down payment on a new bike. So, like many others, I deliberate as well.

The CLC was not the most popular model BMW ever developed. BMW decided not to make them any more. Motorcycle Consumer News has echoed the opinion of many, chalking up BMW’s decision to curtail the model to the lack of a larger engine to put into it, and a conviction that BMW needed a larger engine to compete with the larger displacement cruisers from other manufacturers.

I disagree. I think that the 60 horsepower engine is a better choice than larger horsepower choices. The BMW cruiser does not need to conform to the mold of other manufacturers. As it is, or was, it served well for someone, such as me, buying a first 1200 cc BMW. It had the boxer engine. It had comfort and luxury features of larger models. It provided a great seat for a significant other who might also be new to the idea of motorcycling. Sixty horsepower is enough to get the job done, but not so much that power alone might get you into trouble. The new rider really has to push it to “push it.”

As my riding ability matures, there are two or three things that I now find limiting, with the cruiser. One, it is not the best vehicle for off-road use or even for unimproved roads. Two, it is not as stable at speeds above 80 as I would like – probably because of the amount of cargo I gratefully carry in the two hard side-bags and the back box. Third, it does not have a very ample fuel range. At 110 miles on the trip meter, the gas light generally comes on – not that it isn’t a good idea to take a break every couple of hours.

Many people in the Baltimore Metro Washington BMW riders’ club (http://www.bmwbmw.org/) ride GS motorcycles. They advocate the model. Jim Von Baden is a particular advocate and I know he is a considerate and good rider with experience that includes other BMW rides. Jim was one of the first to admonish me to get new shocks, and having seen my cruiser arrive with tell-tale bits of mud, suggested that I look at a GS. I’ve also seen a few Iron Butt riders, one parked at Bob’s BMW on recent Saturday and others at the Finger Lakes Rally, riding GS’s.

Discussions with Daryl and John in the service department yielded two very different opinions. Daryl felt that I would enjoy riding more if I rode a sportier bike. John hinted that what mattered most was a matter of the heart, and I had to agree that I was pretty much in love with my cruiser.

The other models on my radar are the LT and the new K1200 GT. When I purchased my cruiser, I didn’t buy a LT because I wanted a boxer engine. Even though the LT might not be any better on dirt and muddy roads, it might not be any worse. Its added comfort and range are still attractive. Never mind the picture of Don Arthur’s odometer reading 300,000 miles that is tacked up near the coffee pot at Bob’s BMW. There is conjecture that the next model of the LT will have the new GT’s engine. That’s an attractive idea. As you’ve probably read the same reviews that I have about the GT, I’ll not go through my thinking concerning it, but a GT engine in a LT might be something that I might want to look at when I have a budget, down the road.

In the end, I decided to keep my cruiser, get a good set of after-market shocks, and put another 40K miles on it if I can. It deserves to see a hundred thousand miles. More to the point, I know that if I were to ever part with it, I would regret it as it has been a part of so many memories in these first few years of my riding BMW.

Henry Winokur, my boss in the Maryland Motorcycle Safety Program, ordered Works Shocks. Knowing Henry, I didn’t have to do the price/performance calculations myself. I called them and asked for the MSF Instructor/BMW club discount (which turned out to only be $10) and ordered their best rear shock, grateful that somebody was finding enough business manufacturing parts for the cruiser. I scheduled the replacement at Bob’s then called Carter and asked about doing a test ride on a GS.

What I left out of this story was a recent weekend ride with other riders of the BMWBMW club after the monthly ride-to-eat breakfast. I followed Jed, a more experienced rider on a LT. Stopping for a cup of tea, at his place afterward, he pointed out that I seemed a bit “tentative” in my riding. Not knowing about my need for shocks, he suggested that I might enjoy the business of riding a bike that handled better. That underlined, in my mind, the need to at least find out what I was missing.

Carter pointed out the features of the GS. He showed how to start it then turned on the heated grips to get them ready for my ride home. Then he spent a few moments describing other features like the brakes, how to use the center stand, and hard bags that could be expanded with a neat lever to hold more cargo.

I appreciated the idea of “partially linked brakes.” A rear brake that only worked on the rear wheel and a front brake that added in some rear brake sounded like a good arrangement.

“Have fun,” he said. “Call if you have any questions.”

With a wave he headed back inside, out of the cold.

I put on my helmet then walked around the bike a couple of times looking for the accessory jack to plug in my Gerbing Winter gear. Not finding it, I decided to look for it later and call if I needed to do so.

Taking off, the bike had a very different feel to it. I tested the brakes and was relieved to find in them the same kind of performance I get on my cruiser. Turning was different. I made a couple of U-turns in the parking lot to get the feel of things before deciding to head toward the road. It would take a while to adjust counter weighting skills for slow turns. It was more than the fact that the head light was not attached to the forks. Stopping at the entry to the road before turning right, the height of the bike required tip toes, and I’m taller than a good many of those I see riding the GS. The right turn was still disconcerting so I rode just a bit before finding a parking area to experiment. After a few more tries it started to feel manageable. Still not entirely comfortable, I rode on.

First just a short hop, then a bite to eat, before moving on. Dorsey Run had no traffic. It was a good place to feel a bit of the power and enjoy the throaty sound of the well tuned boxer engine. It went well in a straight line. The shocks handled train tracks in a way that started to give me a sense of confidence. As a few small curves fell behind I got an idea of something that was bugging me. The bike felt like a precision dirt bike. Although it has been many years since I’ve ridden a dirt bike, I kept thinking that I had knobby tires, and that was not the case. I was off balance because the bike was trying to perform better than I wanted to let it. Later, coming to some tighter corners, I realized that it would also take some time to get use to the extra power of the engine on the chassis so much lighter than my cruiser. I had to be more on the throttle to prevent too much deceleration as the GS not only has power to go, but the power to slow down, and at speeds and in gears that I did not expect compression to be in the picture. Gearing down to second for a corner, I particularly had to be careful not to close the throttle all the way. Riding a higher performance bike requires skills that one can forget riding more forgiving bikes.

After a quick barbeque sandwich and a coke at Daniels, I called Carter and he clued me in to where the accessory jack was hiding. While I had been around the bike three or four times without finding it, knowing right where to look (under where your left hip would be on the seat) made all the difference. Route 100 took me to 108 then more two lane corners on Sheppard’s Lane to Foley Quarter. Still I felt the bike trying to brake on me in the corners. It was most noticeable when I tried to idle through a corner instead of accelerating. A few more corners and I realized that it was also the position of my head relative to the front tire, and the steeper rake of the forks that was adding to the sensation.

I turned and headed for Takoma Park, making a point to ride Sligo Creek Parkway down from 29, just inside the beltway. By the time I got to the South end of the parkway, I had throttle control in the corners down a bit better and I was beginning to trust the fact that the bike had good street rubber on the tires.

Now, let me hasten to say that what I’m describing are mostly the feelings of reflexes inexperienced with the GS trying to acquire familiarity, not any actual defects in the bike. This is useful mostly if you are interested in how it feels for someone relatively inexperienced to ride one for the first time. The bike felt impressive in not only its power but also its precision. Sometimes, at higher RPM’s, it reminded me handling a good electric razor. Other times its sure-footedness reminded me of a Jeep CJ5 negotiating dirt roads, in Idaho. Its shocks gave a protective feeling of deep cushions protecting me from hazards in the road the sense of protection reminded me of a SUV. I might not have the protection of a SUV, but I felt as tough as one for dealing with challenging terrain.

I pondered how to describe the overall feeling of riding a GS. Not everyone will understand how the GS reminded me a helicopter simulator that once conveyed to me how an Osprey has more armor to protect pilot and crew from small arms fire than a Night Hawk and the power to quickly jump vast distances. Maybe a more useful analogy is that of a heavy-weight fighter who can jump rope faster than anyone you’ve ever seen.

The next day was cold and rainy. I rode to work in DC then up to Bob's, near Baltimore, in the Thanksgiving holiday traffic. I rode without the Gerbing gear turned on and was impressed with how warm the heated grips alone kept me. The concern had been that I might be less comfortable without a heated seat. Still, about a mile before the exit of 32 -- I had already explored 29 and Hwy 1 North and found them to be worse than 95 -- but about a mile before the 32 exit traffic came to a halt. As we inched past the rest stop, I was tempted to ride through the rest stop to get ahead an eighth of a mile, but passed the entrance. Slowly the rain soaked through my unheated Gerbing pants and suddenly I realized that there were parts of me that were cold that were not use to feeling cold. Note: remember when leaving your bike at a dealer to grab your rain gear! I hoped the drivers in the cars understood as I slowly rode up the shoulder the last quarter mile to the exit. It was time to stop standing on ceremony.

I apologized to Carter for getting the bike wet and bought a rainproof Olympia Jacket for the return trip. Riding my bike cruiser home with new shocks, it felt very different from the GS. The handlebars were too high. I think I figured out what people meant by the word "flickable" and it wasn't a flickable. But I was glad to have my rain pants on and did the heated seat ever feel good! Moreover, the sound of the boxer engine, and it always sounds better after Steve gets done tuning it, was a reminder of what I like most about both bikes.

Someday, I will have a GS for a ride to Alaska then South America. Meanwhile I have another 40K to put on my current odometer.

Things I liked about the GS:

Height
Shock travel distance
Fuel capacity (the gas light went on, so I filled it and have never put that much gas in a motorcycle before).
Shift lever no longer depresses once you're in first gear.
Instruments that show gear & fuel level
Power!
Performance over speed bumps.... What speed bumps? Were those speed bumps?
Great brakes and their partially-linked feature.
I found the seat comfortable despite the lack of heating.
Heated grips did a good job of keeping my morale up in the cold & wet.

Things that I did not particularly like:

Lack of heated seat
Small wind screen
I kept looking for another gear on the top end
Can-Bus instead of fuses (Gerbing jacket liner and pants caused the accesory outlet to shut down. I'll admit I went to some trouble to find the fuses before giving up and deciding to run without figuring that I the fuse it would need would be in my tool bag in the cruiser's side bag.)
Needs more lights (Cruiser has two low and two high, providing built-in redundancy).

Post script:

Friday the 24th at Bob's was "Black Friday" with a great sale and a promotion that allowed me to ride to lunch with Bob at a great restaurant afer purchasing things I really needed, anyway, at a discount. It was a splendid day for riding -- almost unbelievable after the last two days of drizzle.

I killed about an hour discussing motorcycles with several other riders before overhearing Laura Jones in a conversation with Don Williams concerning a new R bike's filter. They were discussing the business of how you could get an extra few-tenths of a gallon into the tank by re-routing the overflow hose to the canister -- something that my cruiser would benefit from. Laura had to leave, but Don and I continued a conversation about the GS. It turns out that he has resolved some of the things that concerned me.

A new seat provides him with heat. Windscreen and lights are simple enough to upgrade. And he described a trip to St. John's Bay that reminded me that there are adventures fairly close at hand, on this continent.

He also told me about his method of using the Airflow pants as an insulating layer under an Aerostich. I need both, and both are easier to afford than a new motorcycle, at the moment.

The Rock

2006-11-19T19:56:00.000-08:00

The BMWBMW club has a monthly RTE (ride to eat) that meets in Thurmont for breakfast. This day, we filled the better part of four tables. Afterward, someone asked if there were any rides planned and somebody said something about riding up to "The Rock." I decided to fall in line and see what this might be.

Ride to Harper's Ferry

2006-11-11T19:50:00.000-08:00

Ride to Gambril State Park

2006-11-05T05:00:00.000-08:00

Here is Henry Winokur, the manager of Motorcycle Safety Training at Montgomery College, wraping up a few things before lunch. We had set out for a day of riding and decided to find a new place for lunch. He made a great discovery in a tea house on a street full of antique stores. I will have to look at the tracks but this was either Mt. Airy or some town nearby [it was New Market]. It made for a very nice lunch.

After lunch, we rode into the Gambril State Park on Fishing Creek Road. We agreed that we were unlikely to ever ride motorcycles on roads any worse and that our bikes got us through well enough.

I still thought that I might prefer to ride a GS for some rides.

Pictures from MSF classes

2006-11-04T19:33:00.000-08:00

These first pictures are some I found in my camera from earlier in the year.

This was a very rainy Saturday morning. I had been on the road in the rain since early that morning, driving down from a visit with friends in New Jersey the day before.

What if motorcyclists didn't see you?

2006-10-29T09:11:00.000-08:00

spot320.mov (video/quicktime Object)

Also, some nudity on this one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hhylx32b5rE&NR

A Day at Home

2006-10-22T10:08:00.000-07:00

After many weeks of long days with early mornings, weekends of motorcycle safety training, evenings of computer classes after the close of the day job, it just felt good to take a day off. A day off of motorcycle riding, even.

It wasn't a complete day off as I rode to breakfast to meet my friend Mindy who is struggling in a job search. She is a benefits specialist and tires of working for HR managers who have no concept of the benefits part of their business and its requirements.

There was a poker run that I had thought I would go to afterwards, but after spending all day, yesterday at a masonic function, I needed a day to rest and... well, do things like making a note on the blog and just seeing what kind of fun there might be on the Internet.

So, I caught up a bit with the bmwbmw web page and the Adventure Riders' page that needed an update since I've let my regular web page hosting expire. After that my landlady, neighbor, and riding companion, Susan, dropped in with coffee and a request to look at South Carolina motorcycle riding destinations. I showed her Google Earth.

First, we explored the coastline north of Charlestown. Then we returned and spotted the link to the Hunley, "The Secret Weapon of the Confederacy."

"I want to visit that!" she exclaimed.

It did seem like a good destination, for me, also.

Next, we explored the South Carolina coast line. As we did so, I looked enviously at all the terrain that would be out of reach of motorcycle explorations. I recounted what a former priest friend had told me, in Puerto Rico. He and his wife both enjoyed sailing. As he had been successful as a dentist, before becoming a priest, he could aford sailboats and the time to enjoy them. He had told me about the way one could get to places by sailboat that were unreachable by car: How before roads and cars transportation along the coast was by ship and settlements were created to meet the needs of those travelers. Many of such places are now bypassed by in-land roads and highways so that a visit to them is a visit back in time.

As I poured over the islands and beaches, I remembered this, and noted how many places might also be unreachable by sail boat -- given sand bars and shallow drafts. It made me think that someday there will be a market for personal dirrigibles.

Susan agreed to join me for an afternoon movie. We plan to see "Man of the Year." Then she took off to checkout an animal rescue operation that our friend Karin called about. I continued to explore Google Earth. I need to make a list of places that I want to visit.

Friday night, Todd Suda joined me for Oktoberfest at the Silver Spring American Legion post. He described the roads of southern Missouri, how they follow geography that was carved out by waters running off, below the ice sheets of earlier ages. So, I visited Brandon, Missouri and traced out some of the nearby roads, discovering a link to a National Geographic article about East Wind. After that I traveled by Google Earth to visist my mother's address in Tonopah, NV and travelled the nearby highways to discover a place to camp at Cave Lake State Park.

I returned to Tonopay, followed 95 south to Las Vegas. Where did 95 go from there? I discovered it was named "Veterans Memorial Highway and it led to Searchlight, NV and on to Needles, California with it's combination RV and Marine park and the beckoning intersection with old highway 66.

Somehow, I found Joshua Tree National Park, then ended up in Oceanside, California where GoogleEarth provided a very inviting video. http://turnhere.com/co_GoogleEarth.aspx?filmname=oceanside

3000 motorcyclists attend service in Cologne cathedral - Yahoo! News

2006-10-22T07:45:00.000-07:00

I hear of these events after they occur. Someday I would like to hear about them ahead of time and know that I have the wherewith all to attend and write about them.

3000 motorcyclists attend service in Cologne cathedral - Yahoo! News

Shocks

2006-10-13T10:31:00.000-07:00

I'm not having a lot of luck finding a vendor with aftermarket shocks for my BMW R1200 CLC, but here is a site that has lots of links for motorcycle shocks:

http://www.webbikeworld.com/motorcycle-shocks-suspension/

On the Mend

2006-10-08T18:20:00.000-07:00

It's almost been six months since I was rear-ended. I'm supposed to be all better at the six month mark. Well, perhaps I could be if I didn't have to work and could have kept going to physical therapy, or if I just got the physical therapy exercises done three times a week, perhaps. Still, I'm better, and getting better. Dizziness is gone, headaches are one every few weeks instead of constant (I can count on one finger the number of headaches I can remember having in my whole life prior to the accident). Forgetfulness also seems to be going away, and with that my self confidence returns, a bit. That the accident helped me find a new source of humility is not all bad.

One funny thing with the forgetfulness: Shortly after my accident I was showing somebody my digital camera. A few days later I realized it was missing. I could not remember who I had been showing it to, or where I was at the time (still don't). This last week, however, I was going through all my clothes and jackets looking for something else (I don't know what) and found it in a seldom-used photographer's jacket.

Then, Friday, I put on a pair of pants that I had not sent to the cleaners, that weren't pressed well enough for normal wear, but that I wanted to get a casual wearing out of, and I found a missing key to my motorcycle. A funny thing about that is that when it went missing, I looked everywhere between my motorcycle and the apartment and asked my landlady to be on the lookout. One afternoon, she was telling me about the plumber's visit, standing in my bedroom, and spotted an even earlier key of the same design that I had lost shortly after the accident amongst the knickknacks stuffed in a basket on my dresser. I knew it was an earlier lost key because it did not have the BMW Rondell logo on it. I think that she has one of those photographic minds that can see a page then read it's contents from the image in her memory without another glance.

One night, coming home from teaching in Gaithersburg, I switched the odometer to total miles rather than the trip-meter setting. I was three miles from turning 57,000 miles. In fact, I rolled over 57 just before crossing over the exact location of the May accident, Georgia & the 395 beltway. It felt good to see the next mile come up on the odometer. Like me, the bike has recovered and moved on.

This weekend, the motorcycle safety class was tough. It was wet and 50 degrees out, on Saturday. Today it was 50 to 70, but dry--a much better day. On the way to the range, I looked up to see what looked like a full moon in the early light of day break. After class, I rode up to Baltimore for shrimp at Maynards, followed the GPS that took me in the wrong direction through the tunnel. There was no getting off the freeway once I was on it until I was through a toll booth. The mistake cost me $2.00 each way, but it gave me a surprising treat. On the return trip, the twilight colors in the sky rendered the industrial parts of Baltimore I passed through into a very strange and beautiful landscape. It was like an accident turning into a cosmic bit of humor, what might have been a nasty joke ending with a very pleasant punchline.

What if motorcyclists didn't see you?

2006-09-27T19:42:00.000-07:00

spot320.mov (video/quicktime Object)

On the way to ride for kids

2006-09-24T03:42:00.000-07:00

Drama. The morning was full of it, and then the violent beginning blended into a day of grace and reward.

Today was the day for the Ride For Kids. Adrian Wright, who was in the same Maryland Motorcycle Safety Instructor Preparation Class as me, last year, sent an e-mail that alerted me to the ability to set up a fund raising web site. Our boss, teaching Motorcycle Safety at Montgomery College had alerted us to the need for volunteers to help with parking at the event. Yesterday, Adrian and I attended the volunteers meeting. I was looking forward to being on time at Columbia Mall, as I told him I would be there right at 6:30 a.m. and I was on schedule. At least I was when I left home.

Leaveing home, it was still dark. The street was wet. Rain clouds had passed not long ago. I slowed for corners a bit more than usual. Because it was early and I knew traffic would be light, I planned to ride to the New Hampshire entrance to the Beltway take an uncharacteristic ride on the beltway and 95 North. I generally do not mind freeways, early in the morning, as I generally have them pretty much to myself.

The first clue that the morning was not going to be routine was a huge accident just ahead of the on ramp. Flares directed me to abort the entrance lane and make a 90-degree right hand turn into the second lane of the freeway. I was glad traffic was light. Just ahead, the exchange to 95 North bent right and then left. At the left curve, there were two more flares followed by an upside-down 4-wheel drive vehicle on the inside of the corner. Quite a mystery how one might have ended up where that vehicle was. Nobody was in sight. The police had other affairs to attend to.

Cruising up the freeway, I added ten mph to the speed limit bringing me to the normal flow of others, on that route. Then I added three more for my own safety and made sure I was in a gear that would let me maneuver. I had scarcely settled into cruise mode before I spotted headlights rapidly closing in my mirror. A Nissan with vanity plates rushed past me. Knowing that such a driver would take care of any speed traps, ahead, I started to follow, then thought again. He was driving well above 100 mph and the road was stile wet. What ever happened, I wanted to be coming upon it at manageable speeds. Sure enough, less than five miles later I saw flashing lights ahead in the left lane. The police had him.

I thought again about driving faster. I didn't want to be late. Then I thought about breakfast. There would be coffee and donuts at the ride, but at exit 35 I knew there was a MacDonald. MacGriddle breakfast sandwiches are one of my favorite quick breakfasts when I'm riding on a schedule and don't want to look for a restaurant with local character.

It was 6:15. I could probably get off the freeway, put a MacGriddle in my tank bag, and still only be a few minutes late. I knew that at such events, timeliness was not very crucial. Indeed, we had chatted for ten or fifteen minutes at the volunteers meeting before getting down to business, yesterday. Nobody would mind or notice my being five minutes late.

At times I attribute such thoughts to providence inspiring me from some supranormal knowledge of events beyond my temporal comprehension. With misgivings, I passed the exit. So, I was hardly surprised when, a few seconds later, I saw more emergency lights ahead, turning into the median highway-patrol turn-around lane, then pulling into the North-bound lanes ahead of me. Neither was I surprised when they did not all move to the right lane for me to pass, but spread out, slowed, and stopped.

I begged to be allowed to pass, and was told that a power line was down. I was the first vehicle that they stopped. The above picture is my bike parked in the left-most lane of I-95 North. Again, I thought about providence.

"Good thing you got me stopped before I got to the downed line," I said to the officer who was now putting out flares next to me.

He nodded his head, "Yes."

I was grateful for the timing, but I was chastising myself for not having listened to my inner thoughts, earlier, and being at McDonald's.

Cars were honking their horns, behind me. Ahead, past the blocking vehicles and beyond an under pass, I could see a rest stop. I could just imagine somebody needing to get to that rest stop, and counting on it, also being stuck.

Fortunately, we were moving again in less than 15 minutes.

Arriving so early, allowed for time to chat with other volunteers. I saw Bob Hennig of Bob's BMW. He admired the weather and pretty sunrise. The weather report had promised between 60% and 80% chances for rain. It looked like rain was going to hold off. More providence, and for a good cause.

Nancy of the BMWBMW club.

Motorcycles arrive.

Adrian helping with parking.

Fox will have the story of the ride for a couple of weeks at:

http://www.myfoxdc.com/myfox/pages/News/Detail?contentId=992662&version=2&locale=EN-US&layoutCode=VSTY&pageId=3.2.1

A place to visit

2006-09-22T04:17:00.000-07:00

I'm increasingly interested in riding motorcycles on a track to develop skills.

http://roadracingworld.com/news/article/?article=27103

Breaking camp

2006-09-04T04:59:00.000-07:00

Leaveing the Finger Lakes BMW Rally, this morning.

Demo

2006-09-03T18:21:00.000-07:00

Hellen2SWheels has great idea for packing gear on a motorcycle.

Inspection

2006-09-03T18:17:00.000-07:00

A day in the rain well spent

2006-09-03T14:22:00.000-07:00

Morning after

2006-09-03T06:10:00.000-07:00

The Dance

2006-09-02T23:42:00.000-07:00

A good time was had by all. Music Saturday and Sunday night was very good, and lots of fun.

Camp site

2006-09-02T12:07:00.000-07:00

Old Barn

2006-09-01T09:20:00.000-07:00

Covered Bridge

2006-09-01T09:15:00.000-07:00

Valley west

2006-09-01T09:03:00.000-07:00

Valley Route

2006-09-01T09:01:00.000-07:00

To Finger LAKES Bmw Rally

2006-09-01T09:00:00.000-07:00

Pennsylvania back roads were rewarding.

Tena's Ural at WhiteTail II

2006-08-27T12:45:00.000-07:00

Tena's Ural at WhiteTail

2006-08-27T12:42:00.000-07:00

Saturday Morning Ride

2006-08-26T14:29:00.000-07:00

With a free weekend, there were many things that needed to be done. I decided they could be done in the heat of the day. I could get a morning ride in, first.

With plenty of time, I took a bit more time getting ready than normal. I had a CD from a motorcycle gathering at Gaithersburg's Firehouse last Wednesday. Several folks in the BMWBMW club decided to gather to hear a new member, Chiba's, band. I decided to put the CD into the bike's one-CD player. While I was looking through my tank bag for the lube for my faceshield, so that I could more easily change between the clear and the tinted shields, a few things fell out. Underneath them, I ran across the radar detector. The things that fell out found a home in a side bag. The radar detector I decided to hook up. I have been reading about riding faster, if I was paying attention to some of the techniques I might not notice my speed and an alert could save a ticket.

The book I've been reading is Smooth Riding the Pridmore Way. I must admit that I not only like riding motorcycles, but reading books about them, their riders, and books like this one that help me to ride better. For the last year I've been attending Maryland Motorcycle Safety Program classes, working on becoming an instructor. Shortly after graduating from the Instructor Prep school, last year, several newly minted of my fellow probationary instructors had bad crashes. I'm still puzzled as to why. Then I went off a corner, myself, and was surprised to miss on a pretty normal curve. We speculated as to whether there might have been a common thread between our accidents, without many conclusions. One of my theories, was that we had spent so much time talking about consequences of riding mistakes that we programmed ourselves to make some. After this morning's ride, I have another idea.

It seems to me that there are many things that we teach for a beginners class that make sense for beginners and the machines that we are using on the range. It might be that by so much focus upon the basics we were "unlearning" other more advanced skills for cornering and accident avoidance. It could be that riding at more legal speeds creates liabilities for more experienced riders, and that the natural tendency to be moving a bit faster than traffic keeps us out of blind spots, and keeps our suspensions alive and ready for avoidance maneuvers. I'm not concluding that this is true, but I did gain a lot from applying some of the skills that this book talked about, and I'm going to sign up for the Total Control course at Frederick Community College that is based on another of Pridmore's books.

The skill I had just read about was the increased use of the font brake. Reg describes how, when brakes are applied, weight shifts forward. This lightens the load on the rear tire making it more prone to skids (which have a special danger of causing dangerous high-side crashes if one lets off the rear brake in such a skid), but the front tire receives the additional weight and becomes less likely to skid and an even more effective stopping tool. The book went on to describe ways of getting onto the front brakes more quickly and a method for being better prepared in traffic that is appropriate only for newer bikes with power assisted disc brakes. Even though my BMW has ABS, and linked brakes so that both brakes are applied whenever I apply either, I decided to test his ideas out, and did so. Yesterday, after work, I went to the training range and tried a few stops focusing on the use of the front brake, then the transition off of it and onto the throttle for corners of an oval course. I was impressed. I threw in a corning skill he talked about and felt my confidence in corning move up a notch.

There is an old motorcyclist's adage about riding 40 miles before breakfast. Hungry and thinking about that first cup of coffee, I first rode up Sligo Creek. Sligo Creek is a two-lane 35-mph route with speed bumps that gets closed on Sundays for joggers and strollers. It is shady, windy, and pleasant--a good place to get use to being on two wheels at the beginning of a ride, or to wind down at the end. Most importantly, it is low-contention. I took it all the way to Forrest Glen, then Forrest Glen a few blocks west to Georgia avenue and got on the Beltway from the North, avoiding the terrible traffic of Georgia, below the Beltway. Frequently, I do the reverse, returning home. The early Saturday traffic was very light.

I practiced something else from the book--higher RPM's. I tried keeping my tach between 4,000 and 6,000 RPM. Usually I keep it between 3,000 and 4,500. Third gear, at 4,000 was 50 or 55 indicated MPH on my speedometer. Fourth and 4 was 75-mph, indicated. The GPS has told me that my speedometer overstates things by about 10%. So, at an indicated 75 I'm going 68, and not always keeping up with traffic. The difference with the higher RPM is that the bike can more quickly change speeds to go faster or to slow down than it can when running at lower RPM's. Reg says that RPM's are your friend.

Still thinking about that fist cup of coffee, I passed the Sam Eig exit. My favorite Starbucks would be open but my Harley Davison riding friends wouldn't be there for two more hours. It was not yet 40 miles from home. I thought about the ride North and decided upon breakfast at the Double-T Diner, near Frederick. It would be worth the wait.

It was: Great portions, good service, a paper to read at the counter, and plenty of diner coffee. I'm not picky about coffee, recognizing different kinds of coffee are a different experience and go with different kinds of food. Starbucks would not go with what I was eating as well. The meal came with a choice of muffins and other pastries. I ordered a big blueberry muffin with the meal, but had already seen their apple turnovers and ordered one of those to have, first. The waitress wrapped the muffin and put it in a nice, white paper bag for me to enjoy later.

Looking at the GPS log, this evening, I see that the Diner was exactly 40.1 miles from my home. After breakfast, I rode an 80-mile loop, then another 40 back home. The ride would come to 142 miles. Not bad for a morning ride.

My plan was to ride West and pickup a route I had planned for the previous weekend when the BMWBMW club gathered in Thurmont for a breakfast ride. One of the people in the club talked about riding up from Gaithersburg "via Gambrill Park and Fishing Creek Rd." I had checked the map and decided that looked like an interesting route. However, I did not take it for that event since I was meeting three other riders, one who would be making his first non-student ride, and fishing creek road looked a bit too rugged for a first-ride.

The route was already in the GPS, from the week before. I dialed it in and the GPS did a good job of getting me onto I-70 West. I really liked the interchange from 355 to I-70. Nice S-turns. The lower gear, higher RPM's and shifting my body weight into the turn with my chin over the inside wrist was getting me through curves much more smoothly... and quicker!

Traffic was bunching up. The transition from acceleration to braking, and leaning on the front brake worked. Being able to shave a hundred or two mili-seconds off my reaction time meant less panic when somebody ahead did something stupid, like veering left out of an exit-only lane and making the car ahead slam on his brakes. Despite some new assertiveness, I was pleased to find that the following distance was not only adequate, but even more so because I was braking more quickly, and better. Yes, I paid attention behind me and had an escape route, too.

I got off at the exit to Old 40. The GPS told me to make a quick left onto Clifton Road. Neat, I had been on old 40, but had entirely missed the quick left turn, here. It looked like it would be a neat road, and it was.

There were interesting names on the intersecting roads: Snow Drive, then Old Swimming Pool Rd. Boy they looked inviting. The GPS was acting up, however, trying to find a way to get me back on the route, and it had picked a starting point further South. So, it took me to Jefferson Blvd, then south for a turn around using Skyline Drive for a loop. I realized what it was doing soon enough, but was thanking the providence of a goofy GPS routing for introducing me to an interesting neighborhood. Before long it brought me back to Old Swimming Pool Road, and I got to enjoy that road, as I had hoped, riding North to Ridge Road.

Ridge Road was another treat. I just love roads that take me over a freeway without the annoyance of entrance and exit traffic. As I passed over I-70, I saw the West-bound lanes were a parking lot. Maybe the jerk who cut in front of us, earlier, had not been so lucky later?

Ridge Road took me to new highway 40 where a quick left and a right put me onto Shookstown Rd which took me to Gambrill Park Road. I think that if you wanted to do this more easily, you would have just stayed on old 40 until it got to Ridge Road, but I see that Gambril connects with new 40 coming West out of Frederick, and one might do that just as well, and maybe pay a visit to the Honda dealer, if you were thinking about buying a generator.

...Okay, they sell motorcycles, too.

Gambril Park was new to me, and I took some time to explore it. There were some great looking hiking trails. I actually stopped in a parking area and waited five minutes to check my oil again. Another turn took me up to a number of picnic areas, a nature center, and a cabin called the Tea Room with big picture windows looking out over the view. It looked like a great place for a group gathering.

Continuing North, as planned, I jogged right on Hamburg Road to Fishing Creek Road. Indeed it was a pretty tough bit of dirt, gravel, and rock, for my cruiser. I thought about my tires and was glad the rubber had been recently renewed. I would not want to be on the road, on a bike such as mine, in the rain. One side road led to an immediate water crossing, and I could tell there were places where, if it were raining, run-off would have created a couple across Fishing Creek Road. Previous run-off had left bare stone and clear signs. It looked like it could be a slippery proposition when wet.

Riding North, soon, I connected to Gambrill Park Road again. Gambril Park Road had turned East at that point so I actually doubled back toward the way I had come on it by riding west to Tower Road. This looked familiar. Sure enough Tower Road soon took me to Mink Farm Rd, a segment of dirt that we did find the previous weekend, on the ride to the Creamery after our breakfasts.

The rest of the trip went as planned and was a reverse-repeat of last Sunday's ride. Catoctin Hollow Road took me to 77 and 77 took me East to Thurmont, where I gassed up before heading South for home. Riding the reverse direction, however, I spotted a lake that hills had hidden from view the previous week. I took a moment to scout it out--another camping possibility.

Now, I do an injustice to just breeze past this part of the ride because the Catoctin Mountains and vicinity are amazingly scenic. Lots of green, a bit of fall color starting, and late blooming flowers in places. The farms seem kind of laid back, and you have to envy those who have relatives living in these parts who they can visit for a weekend's sanctuary from the cares of the world. I found myself a bit amazed at the varrying hues and textures. Somehow those colors in the Crayon box never worked as well for me as they seemed to work all by themselves in nature.

Riding South, the traffic picked up. I felt I was enjoying some new-found agility on my bike. It felt nice to be able to more quickly power past a situation then quickly slow back down, maintaining a safety cushion between me and slower vehicles, ahead. I-270 South at the Highway 80 interchange got very dicey for a moment. GPS says that I slowed from 65 to 45 as a car forcibly merged, pushing itself into the right lane and drivers ahead stood on their brakes while others swerved.

By 11:30 I was back in Gaithersburg at the motorcycle safety range. I watched one of the instructors telling the new students to keep their eyes up while negotiating a weave through cones: something else to remind myself about.

By the time I got to Starbucks, the Harley Davidson crowd was gone--perhaps to Old Town Alexandria's Starbucks, or perhaps to the Crystal City Restaurant? I headed home, looking forward to a shower and a nap. It was approaching 90. My basement apartment would be very cool--a good place for a nap before running errands.

Shark at Discovery Channel

2006-08-19T13:45:00.000-07:00

Why We Ride

2006-08-09T18:49:00.000-07:00

This from my friend Henry...

This is from the I-BMW forum and was sent to me, so I thought I'd share with you all:

We have a wacky theory for why people like to ride motorcycles, and it goes
like this: The act of riding is a form of meditation, because the
concentration that's required to safely ride a motorcycle tends to
focus the mind in a way that eliminates other mental distractions that
might interfere with the mission. This creates a single-mindedness that,
in effect, displaces the continuous stream of thoughts that normally
flow through our consciousness.

Thoughts about what to eat, who to meet, and worries about the
common stresses of everyday life, such as pressures from work and home,
disappear from our minds during the ride, because the concentration that's
necessary to focus on the ride pushes those thoughts far into the background.
The result is that the mind becomes refreshed after a ride just like it
would after a session of formal meditation or a relaxing vacation.

Just like some people get "hooked" on meditation, motorcyclists get
hooked on riding because of the mental relief that it brings. I wouldn't be
surprised if someone discovers that endorphins or something are
released during the act of riding. I'm sure you've noticed that you
can't "zone out" on a motorcycle like you can when driving a car. Riding safe
means being focused and alert at all times ? which is one of the reasons
why it's so important to stop and rest at frequent intervals when riding a
motorcycle on a long trip.

No more accidents

2006-08-06T16:48:00.000-07:00

I graduated from physical therapy, last Thursday. Sure there are more kinks in my neck and back than there were before, and I'll probably have to do the darned exercises for a few hours every week for some time, but I'm on the mend. The other injuries were sprained thumbs, from not letting go of the motorcycle controls willingly when I was hit from the back, and more seriously a minor concusion, or what a friend in the FDA calls a "closed head injury." Thanks to him I got doctors to pay attention to it and we will make sure that continues to heal.

The head injury caused head aches, dizziness, and some annoying memory issues. The symptoms are still present, dizziness only from time-to-time, like when I get out of bed in the morning, but greatly less. Hopefully, I can convince the doctor to give me my riding papers, this week, and I will be back to teaching motorcycle safety classes.

One commitment I'm making to myself is to commute on the motorcycle only when absolutely necessary and to try to do my riding when the roads are a bit safer, like early weekend mornings. DC drivers really have become the worst in the country. The summer heat doesn't make them any better.

I did get out, yesterday for a few short rides, doctor or no, and saw my share of craziness including one bad accident that I called in after making the turn at the next block to get out of traffic and stop. For a while, I'm going to minimize my risks and make sure that what motorcycle riding I do is as pleasant as possible.

Yesterday evening, Saturday evening, I called my friend Walter and learned that he had ridden his Harley down to Old Town. I rode down to join him and sat at the Starbucks tables to watch the parade of people enjoying the day. I rode the long way home, riding up George Washington Parkway and had quite a treat feeling the temperature drop a bit as the night air cooled. Traffic was staying pretty close to the speed limit. It seemed everyone was taking their time. Me too. I was surprised, given the sedate pace that there no were no tailgaters. Cars behind me seemed to be enjoying the ride and happy not to push. I stopped at Hard Times Cafe, in Bethesda, parking where I could watch my bike while I ate, and had a bowl of Chilli Bubba: Chilli on cornbread with sourcream and tomatoes. That was enough. Today, I rode the Metro to visit friends.

On the freeway the other day

2006-08-03T18:14:00.000-07:00

Waterfront

2006-08-02T13:42:00.000-07:00

Don't know where I was when this was taken....

Something is wrong....

2006-07-17T13:48:00.000-07:00

Saw this on my way to work. It just screams "Abuse of authority."

Ride Across Maryland

2006-05-12T05:47:00.000-07:00

I'm just out of the shower. The GPS needs to be loaded with local maps after the trip to New York because the model I have only has 28 MBytes of memory. So I grab a bathrobe and head to the office so that it can be loading while I dress, but then I think to put a note here.

I could cook bacon and eggs for myself, before heading out. Having left the $$$ government job, and needing to get by on what my teaching at night and the motorcycle safety classes bring in, I should do that. But I know that this is too good an excuse to have breakfast at Daniels Biker Bar up in Elkridge, and that is what I will do. I hope I will be early enough to rub elbows with the good-ole-boys who don't have bikes but meet there for breakfast--the guy who teaches the labor union apprentices, the guy with the flag on his hat who planted the idea that I needed a flag on my bike even though I'm ashamed that we think courage means having to bomb poor Iraqi homes, I know the country is greater and that we will, by the grace of God, rise to a higher standard before we are done.

So, now I go to dress, having listened to Garrison Keillor's description of Katharine Hepburn who he says said, "If you obey all the rules you miss all the fun."

A Motorcycle Policeman

2006-05-12T05:46:00.000-07:00

If I get another life, I want to live it as a motorcycle policeman.

I pulled up beside one sitting in a trap at the American Legion, near my residence. I suggested that he join the legion, as it is so close to where he works and the lunches there so affordable, and I admired his close-fitting goggles/sun-glasses.

In his job a full-face helmet would not work.

He acknowledged the wisdom of the suggestion, briefly, then: "Woops, I gotta get to work." He flicked on his lights and went after a van that had just run a light.

When my grandfather died, my brothers and cousins helped carry the coffin out to the herse. The memory of two of Denver's retired motorcycle policeman getting off their bikes and saluting the flag draped coffin brings tears to my eyes to this day. Their courtesy and regard was a surprise that comforted me far more than a twenty-one gun salute.

Music and Riding

2006-04-17T10:37:00.000-07:00

Music and Riding -- Notes from my first spring ride of 2006

The things I think about during a day of riding often determine where I will ride next. If the day has no crucial destination, sometimes an interesting road will prompt an impromptu adventure. Other times, I will spot a community or bit of scenery that will become a destination for a future ride.

It is also the case that riding gives me some distance from my every-day life. With a different perspective, I sometimes see new approaches to a current challenge or I may realize something I’ve been overlooking. Maybe there is somebody I’ve not talked to for a while, and it will occur to me that I need to get back in touch. How much does riding influence what happens next in life? How much does the thinking I do while riding help me plan and execute your life off of the bike? How useful is it?

I pondered such questions as I rode down the Blue Ridge -- my first long ride of the 2006 riding season.

Let me say, here, that I'm learning to do more thinking about things other than riding during breaks in the riding. I find it important to plan longer breaks during the day; breaks that will let me jot a few notes, so that I don’t have to dwell on things so much as I ride. Traveling by myself, there is often time at the end of the day to review such notes, and as I read them memories from the ride come back and settle into focus. Pictures can serve a similar purpose. I find that this works better than trying to complete a whole line of thinking during the ride, it’s safer, but nevertheless, riding seems to stimulate creative thinking and review of my life and the world around me.

This day another thought occurred to me. How much of the opposite is true?
How much is the choice of a route a portrayal of ones interests? How much does it reveal the search to satisfy deeper personal needs? Maybe this choice of a pastime says more about us than we realize.

Either way, it puzzles me that I can get so much out of something so simple. It is not as if going for a ride in the country requires great courage, or study, or even a lot of preparation. The habit of riding has taught me to keep everything needed for a quick departure close at hand. I find that even the briefest rides give me encounters with nature that often yield pleasures very disproportionate to the small amount of effort it took me to get there. And even when nature is a bit rainy and miserable, the encounter can seem so healthful.

Don’t you find yourself feeling better about yourself and better adapted to life simply because you occasionally get out and see some of the nature's scenery?

At the end of my ride down the Blue Ridge, I was able to attend my nephew’s music recital. He has been studying voice performance art at Mars Hill College, near Ashville.

The recital was surprising to me, first, in that the whole 45 minutes was dedicated to just his performance. I was more accustomed to recitals organized by teachers with several students performing. Second, the quality and range of music that he had been studying was amazing. I found myself thinking about the role of music and how it often merges with motorcycle riding. I realized that in listening to good music, live, I was gaining something akin to my ride down the Blue Ridge. Something was different about a live performance from even the best recording, just as riding a motorcycle is different from the same view from a car… or in pictures.

I began to think about the ways we mix music with motorcycling.

Recently, I’ve noticed many riders with XM radio or connections for IPOD’s. This has been the source of some controversy. Some of those who I think of as more serious, higher-mileage riders, have point out such accessories obscure the real business of riding. I’ve not added my voice to that opinion as my own bike has AM, FM and weather band radio as well as a CD player. Yet, I have to agree that I’m more apt to ride down the road with the radio off so that it won’t distract me. Twice I’ve even purchased automobiles—a Volkswagon and a Jeep—that did not have radios. In those days, however, I had no need of traffic reports.

Regardless of one’s preference during the ride, group destinations frequently include something for our musical interests. The Finger Lakes Rally, always brings in a good band. Both years that I’ve been there, the bands played a variety of music that young and old riders alike found useful for dancing. One year, at the BMWBMW Oktoberfest, we had very good German music provided by other campers. Afterwards, I remember that we discussed how to carry musical instruments on motorcycles. I speculated about whether I could do much with a ukulele and was told about guitars that fold up. Someone else described a rider who use to commute with a tuba in a side-car.

This year, some in the club have put together informal rides performances of another member, Chiba's, rock band, locally and in distant states. And I realize that I just finished reading a book written by another motorcycle-riding rock musician: Neal Peart. This theme keeps reoccurring with variations!

On the BMWBMW web site, you might search on Bluegrass and if you do you will find a link to http://www.bluegrassbookbank.org/ and the 2006 Blue Grass Motorcycle Camp Night. Bluegrass? My friend Chris Zink rides a new R1200RT and plays banjo. Near her home is the Friendly Inn that features Sunday afternoon jam sessions for customers who bring in their acoustic instruments and play a variety of folk music. How did I discover the Friendly Inn? Another BMW rider I bumped into at Daniel’s biker bar once took me on a back-roads ride that ended there. When I commented how much the music made me want to play, the bartender produced a good guitar that was already in tune and loaned it to me for the next hour or so.

What is it with music and riding?

No doubt, I turn my bike towards the country because I feel the need to connect with nature, and because I find immersing in nature healing. I know that it is very good for my mental health. By connecting with what is good in the world—good apart from humans crafts—perhaps, if I keep doing it long enough and frequently enough, I will come to recognize better what is good and natural in me and in others, and be able to draw it out better. I cannot just ride forever, however. There is a point where I feel the need to reconnect with human company and to see others in the light of what I have gained in my journeys. Perhaps this is one of the pleasures of riding with others: rejoining is built into the plan. We must wait only for the next meal or gas stop. And when we meet it is with others who have had their own experience of nature.

Is there some unrecognized benefit in sharing the same symphony of nature as we ride together? Certainly, it is a bonding experience as we see, hear, and smell wonderful things that will never be exactly the same for those who will follow after us, or travel to other places. For a brief time we share a few of the same perfect moments in the middle of eternal time and space.

Music may be the simplest and yet one of the best ways for humans to respond to such beauty as the world provides us. Rhythms and melodies engage us regardless of the languages we speak. When we participate in creating music or sharing music we escape the bounds of gravity that hold us to the demands of the world, what we create and discover adds to what we knew previously allowing us to exceed the previous limits of our own knowledge and understanding. When music is at its best, we begin to resonate with the world and with others in ways we cannot quite predict ahead of time, and generally cannot well describe afterward.

So, let me suggest to you, as a worthy destination, some of the free recitals that college music students provide, typically around the time of Spring Break, and at the beginning of our riding season.

But let me carry this thought a few steps further, if I may.

What is it with riding that serves us so well? A college professor riding companion, Chris Zink, says that riding forces us back to reality. One must pay attention to the here-and-now in order to safely conduct the bike down the road. It takes the mind away from other preoccupations. Indeed, music serves a similar purpose. One must listen in the here-and-now to hear it, and it draws us away from other thoughts.
My own belief is that when we take our conscious minds off of our problems our subconscious minds will go to work on them less constrained by our prejudices and superstitions, often yielding solutions and insights that will await us when we return to our problems. So, by paying more attention to riding, as with music, I may find that I get more and more out of it.

Ride down the Blue Ridge Parkway

2006-04-14T08:30:00.000-07:00

I rode down the Blue Ridge Parkway to see my Nephew David perform a voice recital at Mars Hill College, near Asheville, NC.

A first stop was at Mountain Cove Winery. This is a place where I've often thought we might arrange a weekend arrival & camp out.

This picture tells me to lose weight... or zip up my jacket!

There is just a little bit of snow still left in the shade to the left of this road. For miles I saw no other vehicles. Was this the first day that it was open? Only near the end, in North Carolina, did I see a patrol vehicle. The rest of the time, it was like having my own race track. In places where it ran on the tops of the mountain, with clouds beneath on either side, it seemed like a highway in the sky.

Blue Ridge pictures from cell phone to blog

2006-03-31T07:38:00.000-08:00

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Night Class

2006-03-27T21:37:00.000-08:00

A couple nights a week I teach computer classes in Gaithersburg. Tonight, after all the students left, I packed up, got on my motorcycle and did not feel like going home. I was a bit hungry so I found myself thinking of the many possible diners I might ride to in Frederick or Baltimore or...

The result was a lone moon-lit ride from 355 traveling East on Clarksburg Road. There were many haunting thoughts, riding at night. Anywhere that there was light, it was a sign of human consiousness -- but sometimes I got faked out by a lone bulb lighting only the work yard between a ware house and a farmer's barn.

I found myself imagining the secret places that others find on such nights -- secret clubs in rural locations far enough from the road that there is no risk of any screaming being overheard and investigated. A lone lane into a darkened strand of trees: a place to elope with a rider for a night of love, or a place where an axe murder waits for those thoughtless couples?

Somehow, I eventually found my way north to 70, probably on 97. I took 70 East to the Baltimore Beltway, then South on mostly-empty freeways until I was cruising the streets closer to home. I filled the tank in a gas station where the unemployed who have no need to sleep hung out--a neighborhood where the poor were safe enough as nobody had money to buy or sell drugs, and they had fallen out of the habit of crime for any other reasons--before turning at last for home.

Maryland Motorcycle Safety Program & Bob's Flea Market

2006-03-26T04:00:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a rewarding day of riding. New friends, old friends, and new roads that improved the riding of old favorites, plus an event or two to go to made for a very satisfying day.

Saturday morning began with an early wake up at 5:00 so that I could be in Gaithersburg by 7:45 for an MCSP--the Maryland MotorCycle Safety Program--class. I was to be a test student for a current class of new Instructor Prospects. It would be a great refresher to the range work for me as I have not finished the probationary period for new instructors and need to teach a few more classes. It would also be fun to make a few mistakes and see if any in the IP class would catch them.

It was probably in the low 40's. Riding in cold weather is one of my favorite pleasures. The oil-head bike seems to sound happier at lower temperatures, and of course I have Gerbings gear that keeps me comfortable... along with the heated seat and grips of my BMW. Riding north on 270 I had to slow it back down a couple of times as the bike wanted to stay ahead of other motorists who were also enjoying an unobstructed bit of freeway.

The exit for Sam Eig Highway approached. The clock was telling me that I had about an hour to kill. My favorite Starbucks at Muddy Branch was a temptation, but I had the thermos that had been a graduation present to my IP class from Phil Sause, the Maryland program manager, and it was full of coffee that I had set up to perk before going to bed the night before. It would suffice. Instead, I could get to the range early and do some practicing. If the Porta-San was locked back-tracking to a nearby McDonalds would not take much time.

I had read in e-mail that two senior instructors, Victor Ponte and Henry Winokur, had repainted the motorcycle instruction range the previous Monday, but was still pleasantly surprised by what I found upon arrival. The bright paint was a big improvement. We would spend a lot less time, this year, speculating about where to put cones for the different exercises.

For the next twenty minutes I rode the course. I worked the box for figure-eights until I began to feel a bit tired. I was able to do the larger box for the experienced rider course--larger as people in that course are riding bikes much larger than those provided for beginning riders--consistently. Most of the time I was able to ride the smaller box without going outside the lines although it meant nearly sitting at a standstill at some points while turning. Good practice.

I parked for a cup of coffee and others started showing up. Donald, first; he walked the course admiring the work. "Man, they did a good job," he kept repeating. His more experienced eye spotted some added features I had missed. Henry showed up on his civilian-ized police BMW and rode the course for many minutes before joining us. Then Paul, and Michele, and Gill and finally the IP students began showing up.

The day went well. I was grateful for the chance to see the work being done again before I would have to lead it. Listening to the guidance of the senior instructors was very enlightening as well. I could use a lot that I was observing as good examples for any future project management class that I might teach.

I got to teach one class near the end of the course, one of the easier ones: matching gears to speed. The IP students had not yet ridden that one, so they got out a few more bikes so they could ride the last few exercises under our guidance. After an emotional week at work that had put an end to daytime employment just in time for Spring, it was a very good feeling to look up, at the conclusion of the exercise, and see Maryland MVA's QA manager clapping and praising work well done.

A couple of exercises later, I was set to instruct again, set up the cones, but before it began one of the IP students, a member of the BMWBMW club, asked to teach it. He also did a great job and I enjoyed watching a new instructor taking charge, particularly as he was also a fellow BMW rider.

I noticed Paul eating a peanut butter sandwich.

"You know," I said, "I think I'm going to buy a loaf of bread and turn the whole loaf into peanut butter sandwiches."

Henry overheard me. "Why? Where you planning to go?" he asked.

I had to change gears, mentally. I had been thinking that it would be cool just to have a loaf of pre-made sandwiches in the 'fridge for every day consumption, but I was planning a trip and I had read ride stories where riders subsisted on peanut butter sandwiches while on the road.

"Well," I replied, "next weekend I'm going to Asheville, North Carolina."

Henry had a route to explore: 29 south then a diagnol to 40. "Send me an e-mail and I'll send it to you," he offered.

Paul and I then resumed the conversation about peanut butter, and how he preferred the natural food varieties. I had seen him eating his sandwiches last year. They were probably a great way of saving money compared to some of the places I might stop on the road.

"Yeah, but they're good and very nutritional, too!" he concluded with a smile.

After the training finished, we took care of time cards, and locked up. Henry had discussed, on-line, going to Bob's BMW for the flea market. We needed a quick bite to eat and decided to stop at the Old Town Gaithersburg Brewery for a hamburger. I spent $8.00 on some passable seafood gumbo. Henry's hamburger smelled pretty good.

After lunch, Henry led me on the back roads to Bob's, avoiding 108 which had become my customary back-road route. Instead, we took Brookeville Rd. until it became Brighton Dam Rd, took Brighton to a right at Scaggsville Rd., then a left onto Pindell School Rd., and right on Gorman which took us over 95 to Highway 1 about a mile south of Guilford Road.

That route provided a number of pleasant turns, narrow bridges, and single-lane roads through wooded hollows. As the trees are only beginning to blossom and do not yet have folliage, I could also admire a number of expansive estates and wonder how many people living in them had enough free time to spend a Saturday riding. Then the question, in my own mind: whether my remaining part-time work, teaching Microsoft networking in the evenings, would provide enough income to allow me to go riding? I would at least have the days before class.... For longer trips... let's see, if I put all my stuff into storage and let my landlady rent the apartment I'm in as furnished, month-to-month, so I don't have to move furniture, but could have a place to come back to in a few months....

Approaching Brighton Dam, I saw a Goldwing parked in the pull-off parking area on our side. One of these days, I'll have to pack a lunch and enjoy it there. The couple who belonged to the goldwing were in the middle of the bridge on a walkway on the opposite side looking at something in the air behind me with binoculars. I wished that I had a camera attached to my helmet to get a picture of them, in their matching riding attire, enjoying their destination.

At Bob's the flea market was in full swing. Shane and Banshee, from the BMWBMW club showed up with Shane's brother. I went inside to pick up some small parts I had ordered. The crowd at the parts and accesories counter was three-deep, but moved fast. I came back outside to see the Bar-b-que guy packing up to leave. Too late to top off that gumbo with something more substantial.

Henry looked at me funny, "What are you complaining about, we just ate? What are you turning into, a Goldwing rider?"

"Hey," he says as an afterthought, "maybe you could get a job at Bob's."

The problem with working at Bob's would be that there would be less time to ride and I would be surrounded by reminders of riding. Working for a BMW dealer would be the next best thing to riding, perhaps, but it would also be a kind of perverted torture.

"What I need is to find an editor who will pay me to travel and write about the places and people I meet."

"Good luck," he replied.

BMWBMW Tech Day

2006-03-19T07:49:00.000-08:00

Rick and Isabelle sponsored a Tech Day at their home in Poolesville.

Sidecars at Bob's

2006-03-18T07:23:00.000-08:00

Periodically, Bob's is holding open houses featuring different classes of motorcycles. I happened to catch the side-car day.

Weekend Riding

2006-03-12T16:26:00.000-08:00

Met former spouse & friend, Ann, in Germantown for coffee Saturday morning at Royal Bakery & Deli, an incredibly good Bakery. Then knocked around the back roads until I ran into 32. Took 32 to Bob's, then to Annapolis, then to lunch at Adams Ribs in Edgewater before returning to the DC area.

Pictures from my phone camera are not of the highest quality, but I caught John Galvan giving some advice to a customer. John was suffering through the day with back troubles that have been with him for some time and resisting the temptation to take a pain pill that would put him in La-La land.

As I was leaving, I spotted a BMWBMW club family and had to get a picture. Sometimes a spouse and a family do not have to get in the way of riding! Here, it's the husband who is in charge of two kids. Very cool.

Next day, today, got up early to meet a group of friends in the BMWBMW motorcycle club for a ride to the monthly meeting at Morton's, a BMW motorcycle dealer in Fredericksburg, VA. The plan was to meet a few people for coffee, then to ride to the Lincoln Memorial to meet up with others for the ride to Fredericksburg.

We got off to a bad start, meeting for coffee. Woodside Deli did not open until 8 and we were suppose to meet at 7. I was the first to get there and discover it. The coffee shop and bakery, Heidi's, across the street was open and I had heard many times that it was an especially good place, also. So, I waited for a break in traffic, and scooted across the street into their parking lot. I ordered coffee and began eating a great cinnamon roll, then saw a member of the club who goes by the on-line name of "Wired Cur." I ran outside, waved to him, and he rolled over. While he was parking, and I was back at my table chatting to people at the next table, I looked up to see another member and friend who was just coming to a stop in the middle left-hand turn lane, get suddenly and forcefully hit from behind by a small SUV.

The next two words out of my mouth weren't polite. Several of us ran to help him and to get the broken bike and salvageable pieces out of the road. Thankfully, he had no major injuries, but instead of eating breakfast, we ran home to get his pickup truck, a short hop, then took the bike home and got his other bike to go to the meeting.

One of the casualties of the accident was a bell that several of the club riders put on their bikes for good luck.

The day improved after that. We arrived at the Lincoln Memorial just as a group who had met on a different side of the Memorial gave up on waiting for the main group of riders. They arrived at a light, coming from our left, the same time we did. They had a green light, and we were able to negotiate the stopped traffic on our side of the intersection and fall in behind them. What timing!

On the way out of the DC area, we stopped for gas at the Glebe Road exit from 66. This taught me a great meeting and jumping off point for future use. We then agreed just to take the highways, and about ten of us made the rest of the trip in good time in light early-Sunday-morning traffic. I was impressed, by some of the skill of our leader, in negotiating lane changes for us. He had a lot more experience in club riding than me, and the trick he pulled, getting in the next right lane and motioning for us all to pass him so that we could pull in ahead of him was very cool.

It was my first visit to Morton's, and that made it worth the drive, alone. Otherwise, it had been a long time since I had seen some of the faces who were there--since the Christmas party, anyway. The meeting was fun.

I purchased replacement parts for my helmet and a "Long Way Round" DVD.

After the meeting, several of us went to lunch at the Hard Times Cafe, next door. There I had the pleasure of sitting next to Henry Winokur, who is the manager of motorcycle safety training at Montgomery Community College, in Gaithersburg, where I'll teach--one of my bosses.

It gave me a chance to ask a question that was on my mind. In MSF training, we require that all braking include the use of all four fingers of the right hand applied to the front brake lever. In dirt riding, there are plenty of articles about doing otherwise. Riding in traffic, I often find myself cheating with fingers on both the throttle and the brake, knowing it will reduce my reaction time if I need to brake.

He pointed out that the risk of not using the all four fingers is that the brake on some bikes won't be able to be fully applied if fingers are trapped between it and the throttle. Good point. Just because my bike's brake lever is adjusted so this won't happen, who knows when I might be riding a bike that is not.

I have already learned two reasons for using both front and rear brakes even though I have an integrated braking system along with ABS. One, you want to have good habits for when you ride another bike--such as a loaner from your dealer, during service. Two, it turns out that the integrated bikes do not use both the front disc brakes until you use the front brake lever. It was good to get some good advice over chili.

Then, even better, Henry got out a map and sorted out some of the back roads off of Highway 1, further North, that took us to 66, instead of slabbing 95 to the beltway. The back roads of Virginia were a nice treat, with horse ranches, and a refreshment break at Arden for more conversation between fellow BMW riders. One of whom was Frank Parisi who has a business selling motorcycle accessories on the Internet: BMW MOCS.