Contemplating Contemplation and the Acquisition of the Un-Sought

Leave it to mq01 to spark my synapses. Many times I read one of her blog posts and think. And think some more. And contemplate. And cogitate.

A reply to one of her contemplative posts with something as terse but well meaning as "you go girl," or "ride safe," or "keep the rubber side down," seems shallow and not appropriate for me.

So, what is this Contemplating Contemplation and the Acquisition of the Un-Sought?

There is some serious thought behind this. No, it isn't the title of a philosophical paper, just something else tumbling around in my brain. How does one think about what one wants? How does one know that is really what one wants? How should one pursue it? Or even should one pursue it? What if an undesired goal is acquired in the pursuit of another? Is that the real goal or is it something else? Is what is desired, needed? Is what is thought of as needed, simply a desire?

Several months ago I started searching for another, second motorcycle. My Rebel had done her duty and I was pleased to let her retire to a life of leisurely rides. My list of possible bikes, in order, was a Kawasaki Versys, Suzuki SV650 and maybe a Harley Davidson Sportster Iron 883. What did I find? A 2004 Sportster XL1200 Custom that I now call Athena.

Did I acquire my goal? It was not the bike I was looking for and honestly, never thought I was a Harley Davidson sort of fellow. The moment her name came to me, I knew the goal was accomplished, regardless of the initial targets.

Several months ago I started riding with a motorcycle group with very high altruistic goals. My desire was to make a difference. Now I see this group; these people; this new family affecting me; challenging me to be a better person. That was certainly not my sought after goal yet I quite pleased.

I started riding a little more that one and a half years ago, with the goal of experiencing new things that I have barred myself from. There were dreams of riding the expanses of the US and Canada on a dual-sport; high-tech mesh armor; muddy creeks; long solitary trails; evenings at a campfire with nothing but the night speaking to me.

Yet, now I ride a loud Harley with nothing but black leathers and a helmet with skull stickers. A goal was acquired, but the right one? For me, for now... yes.

One must understand and accept the possibility that what they are truly seeking may be different from what they think they are seeking.

What is it???

What is it?

That tangible force to ride.

As I await the delivery of my clutch throw out bearing, thoughts roll through my mind as small as oak leaves, as powerful as Kenworth semi tractor.

What force embraces the rare few of us who ride? Is it the freedom? The wind in our hair and face? The thumping or buzzing of raw primal power beneath us? The thought that we enjoy something the majority of the population cannot fathom?

Perhaps it it is deeper.

Living in the moment, regrets trailing behind like so many pot-holes. Taking it all in, doing what is necessary, feeling the rush of wind, time and space go by in a continual stream of consciousness.

Perhaps it is shallower.

The primal urge of reproduction and attraction of a suitable mate directs some of us to display our chrome and steel and plastic and leather plumage. Unconsciously we seek to find an accepting social group and as each of us evolve through life simply fall into the social group known as bikers or motorcycle enthusiasts.

The later is exclusive; if it is societal or sexual, that is all there is. The former, however, is inclusive; riding is everything in time and space constricted to a single moving moment.

I like the former.

Hope my parts are delivered today. I am in desperate need for a ride.

Always On Watch

***WARNING***
***ADULT LANGUAGE AHEAD***

On this cusp of this holiday weekend, I was reminded of the necessary vigilance those of us who stand against domestic violence must hold.

While at my bank, getting a little cash for the weekend, one of the tellers that I know returned from lunch. She seemed a little shaken as she sat at her station. I welcome her back from lunch and ask what was wrong.

Her and her boyfriend went to eat at a local fast-food joint, and while leaving they witness a man beating the hell out of his wife in the parking lot. Her shirt was ripped off and blood ran down her face, staining her jeans, dripping to the ground.

While tens of FUCKING COWARDS walked by, doing NOTHING, the teller and her boyfriend call the police and drive up to the incident. She gave the poor woman a shirt to cover her while her boyfriend took pictures of the BASTARD'S car and license plate as he left.

Domestic violence can happen ANYWHERE, ANYTIME! If you see it, at least call the police!!! Domestic Violence is EVERYONE'S business! Get off your ass and do something!!! Don't be a FUCKING COWARD! Stand up for a fellow human being! Break it up! You may get punched or hurt, but that one action may save a life!

And don't forget, men, yes MEN can be abused as well. If you see a woman smacking a man around, don't simply think, "hehe good for her. I wonder what he did to deserve that?"

Maybe, just maybe... he did nothing. Abuse knows no gender, race, religious or sexual orientation boundaries.

And to those who would beat their spouse, boyfriend or girlfriend... A warning... Hear those Harley pipes thumping? It may be me... You don't scare me.

National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233)

From Today's Bad Idea File

Nice poster. Originally from the National Association of State Motorcycle Safety Administrators.

Curious Quandries and Commentaries

Here is a quick one.

How is it I can resize images for blogger in Internet Explorer and Firefox, but not Chrome?

Motorcycle wrenching, for one reason or another, brings out my curiosity. Why is there loc-tite on those bolts? Why is there is snap ring on that shaft? Does this hose actually go anywhere? What idiot designed this? Why does six months on match.com cost $15 where three months cost $17?

Yes, my juices of curiosity were flowing last night after taking my Sporty's clutch partially apart. Seriously, I am starting to like the mechanics of Harley Davidson motorcycles. The engine and clutch are elegant in their simplicity and quite easy to wrench with the right tools.

But, I digress. Curious...

A week or so ago, after an episode of wrenching, I joined bikerornot.com at the suggestion of another rider. "It's not just for dating. It is like a cross between MySpace and Match.com," he tells me.

OK, so out of curiosity I join. Not that I am looking to date or even get into another relationship. Looking for nothing, just curious. Sure enough, it seems to be a nice, laid back social networking site for "Bikers or not".

Last week or so, a woman I know offered her services to set up a few dates for me. Curious. I declined but did put her on retainer.

So, out of curiosity last night, I joined match.com Curiosity. Perhaps there should be more feeling in this, but the voice of Spock just echos in my head... "Curious"

Now, Here's Your Problem

Well, I adjusted the throwout last night and Athena ran beautifully. Twenty miles of night time Las Vegas asphalt and she was clutching without missing a beat. This morning she flew down I-95 one my daily commute without a single complaint.

Lunch time errands included a lot of stop and go surface traffic. Up and down East Tropicana and Flamingo typically requires a lot of clutching and braking. Arriving at work, the clutch handle was getting loose again, but there was little worry. I knew how to fix it.

On the way home from work I pulled into the parking lot of the smoke shop I frequent. While riding around in first, slipping the clutch, searching for a parking spot, there was a pop. The clutch handle plunged back to the grip while Athena lurched forward. Only way to stop was to hit the kill switch.

So, without clutch, we limped the two miles back to the house. Brings back memories of the little 50 CC Honda dirt bike I rode in grade school. When its clutch cable snapped I learned the fine art of motorcycle riding without a clutch. Even though Athena is about 450 pounds heavier than the Honda, the principals of clutch-less riding are the same.

I get to the house, grab a Red Bull and remove the derby cover. Guess what tumbles out. The clutch throwout assembly. (above pic)

Hopefully this part of the clutch is covered under the extended warranty. Hopefully.

Time for More Wrenching

On the same day Athena is christened with her new name, her clutch fails. Ah well. My Sporty isn't immortal like Athena. She is steel and rubber and plastic and aluminum; things of the Earth; and things of the Earth will eventually fail.

So, along with packing, I need to be wrenching. Three bikes and not a single one runs. Vixen is in 300 pieces. Reb has a blown oil seal (that I will be ordering shortly) and now Athena's clutch fails.

Then there comes the July ride situation. There are two rides coming up in July, one to Ely, Nevada and another one to Salt Lake City, Utah. After the Utah ride, I was planning to spend a few days in Colorado. Not so sure now.

Last week discovered Athena needed a new front tire. OK, there's $150 or so. Now she needs a clutch? Another $150 or so. I would truly like to go to Salt Lake City and then Colorado. Cash is tight. We shall see.

She Has a Name

No longer will she suffer the indignation of simply being referred to by pronouns. Her name echos a symbolism, history, strength.

So... Any guesses???

Time is as Water

mq01 at Ms M's Place made an interesting statement that caused the philosophical synapses to fire.

"The more I become one with the moment, the faster the present becomes the past."

Discussed and contemplated for as long as the human species has been sentient is time. What does it mean? What is it? What is the past, present and future? What of fate? What of free will?

What is the present? There is no present. There is only the direct relationship between the immediate future and immediate past. You are not really reading this, your brain is processing what input your eyes viewed and your brain is directing your eyes to the next word for more input.

The present is a razor's edge (One of the reasons I chose that name for this blog). A perfectly sharpened razor has two well defined sides; leading and trailing or right and left, depending on your preference. A perfect razor's edge comes to a point at an atomic level, with a cloud of electrons at the utmost edge. That cloud is by nature, indeterminate. Sure, using math, one can determine exactly where the electrons are, but time must be removed and for the most part, the only thing in the system that can be measured is the position.

So? Even the edge of a perfect razor cannot be defined, just as the present.

As motorcycle riders, the now, the present must expand yet stay indeterminate. We look two seconds ahead, five, twelve and meld that into our immediate past. Traffic, road, bike and weather conditions, past and present merge into one when speeding down a long road or tearing up the twisties.

Our minds' inner eye opens to this; allows us the enviable joy of seeing more, experiencing more than the typical human being. The more one becomes in the moment, the more moment is being experienced.

Imagine a small stream babbling along the edge of a forest. Its water is not moving very quickly, simply making a leisurely trip down stream. Now, imagine a flood. The stream is now a torrent of water. It is the same stream, but it has widened and quickened. You are experiencing something wider and grander than the babbling brook. And, it is moving at a greater pace.

It may be a double edged sword for riders. The more we experience and the wider our range of now becomes, the quicker it seems to go by.

OK, enough rambling. I have work to do and a project bike to work on, not necessarily in that order.

There's a Time to Wrench and a Time to Ride

And some idle weekend thoughts.
**Warning - Adult Content Ahead**

A year or so ago on a similar weekend I became entrenched in a "conversation" with my ex that was simply exasperating. A no-win sort of situation where logic and truth was thrown out the door at the whim of an irrational mind.

After two hours I had had it. I saddled up on my Rebel and headed out for a ride. It was not good. The road, the drivers, the stop lights, even my bike seemed angry.

According to a fellow I know who has ridden for nearly two decades, these are classic symptoms of an expression of inner feelings and turmoil to the external world. To paraphrase, "When you are that pissed off, don't ride. The whole world will be angry."

After much experimentation, and believe me, there has been plenty of opportunity for this, there is but one way for me to productively unwind. To wrench.

A person I know suggested an activity requiring another person of the opposite sex. That particular stress reliever is yet untried. :-)

So, for three hours I wrenched on my little project, my Suzuki VX800. Productive, yes. Soothing, yes. Good news? No. The front cylinder may be garbage. In all, a good end to a less than enjoyable day.
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Well, I joined BikerOrNot. It is a pseudo dating and social networking website for bikers. For anyone curious, here is my profile: www.bikerornot.com/VegasRider Yes, I am also on FaceBook and occasionally check into my MySpace page. After seeing an advertisement on MySpace for Discrete Relationships for Married People, I don't go there very often. To each, his or her own. I just find that a bit obnoxious.
---------------------------
Damaged goods... WTF.
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"Get out there and date!"
Why? Is this some social pressure to find someone? Have a regular safe-sex partner? I am clueless.
---------------------------
Biker. I haven't been riding for even two years, yet people call me a biker, motorcycle enthusiest, and rider. Perhaps it is all in the proper attitude.
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Time may heal all wounds but it is up to us to take care of the scars.

Apology to a Driver

**Sarcasm Ahead**
I would just like to apologize to the young woman in the blue Neon, driving down Desert Inn today at lunch time. I appreciate you were driving ten miles under the speed limit, likely to ensure the safety of yourself and all others sharing the road. The line of five cars behind you must have been your entourage or security force ensuring no one came up from behind you.

I am terribly sorry my bike is so loud and sparkly and shiny. That is just the way some Harleys are. I hope I didn't startle you when I accidentally twisted the throttle hard while next to you, causing that darned loud engine to wale and scream. Honestly, my staring at you from behind my reflective face guard was simply meant as a 'I am Sorry.'

Please don't mind that bright, reflective helmet, black leathers and skull & crossbones patch. I am really a quiet fellow who never makes trouble. As a matter of fact, one thing that I love to do is read. If I could, I would read all day, tucked in my bed with Bach playing in the background, fresh cup of chamomile tea steaming on my night stand.

Please, ma'am, accept my apology. I really did not mean to interrupt your driving while you were reading a flier perched on your steering wheel. I do hope it is good reading and when you cause an accident, I pray it is only you involved.

Friggin' Idiot!!!

Just Get it Done!

Tuesday night there was a stumble; a trip; an accidental side step and there I am in the middle of a conversation. Well, more of an illogical monologue reminiscent of the Twilight Zone than a conversation.

At any rate, it was a talk brimming full of self deprecation and 'pity, pity me' sort of drama. Had two beers so can't go out for more and that was the entire household inventory, so I can't get buzzed. Drama shields to full.

...She can't go to school for her masters, she can't get a job, she can't write, she will not be able to find a boyfriend or husband, she will never have sex again, she is going to die a lonely old maid... blablabla

Now, I am not minimizing her feelings, but if someone has determined they can't do something, it is quite certain they can't. The only people who have accomplished anything are those who have tried.

This brings me to some thoughts I entertained yesterday. One thing on my Bucket List is to earn my Saddle Sore certificate. What is that? It is a documented ride of 1000 miles in 24 hours. So, why don't I just do it & get it over? It is only 1000 miles. A few weeks ago I rode a little more than 600 miles in about 10 hours. 14 more hours to do 400 miles? Child's play really.

So, when I ride up to Salt Lake for a poker run next month, I am taking a few days off, riding to Colorado for a few days, then making my Saddle Sore ride back into Vegas.

Another thought that falls into the Just Get it Done category. And now for something completely different... Concert producer.

Yup, a charity concert to kick off my 2009 Ride for the NCADV where I try to raise awareness of domestic violence. Hmmm... Why not. Hell, if I can ride a Honda Rebel solo for 5800 miles in three weeks, I can certainly organize a little musical get together.

When I started my ride last year, I pointed my wheel East and rode. I am not terribly sure which direction I should be pointing here... Anyone???

What's in a Name?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."

Ah, Shakespeare. Not that I care much for Romeo and Juliet, I like this quote. A name is simply a label affixed to something. Us humans, we tend to label everything; types of motorcycles; tires; boats; cars; and even... certain body parts. Our motorcycles even have names, or minimally we refer to them using pronouns that infer a certain sex. Male riders typically refer to their bikes in the feminine. Female riders generally refer to their bikes in the masculine.

Many people I know give their bikes names like Bob and George and Bullet and Cherry and Donna. Why? Is it an anthropomorphizing of a machine? Is it to be cute? I think, maybe it is to bring something closer to us. We are close to our bikes, and to get closer we name them.

Why then, am I drawing a blank when coming up with a name for my Sporty? My Rebel is known to me as "Reb." My Suzuki VX800 is known as "Vixen."

Maybe it is because we have little history. I don't think lovers immediately have nicknames until they know each other, but this is different. "Vixen" came to mind right after I bought her. "Reb" came after a few months, and even before that I was experimenting with different names.

But here... blank. Maybe a few thousand miles more and something will emerge. Who knows.

Just A Biker

I've no idea who originally penned this. Regardless, it is beautiful.

---

I saw you; hug your purse closer to you in the grocery store line. But you didn't see me put an extra $10.00 in the collection plate last Sunday.

I saw you pull your child closer when we passed each other on the sidewalk. But you didn't see me playing Santa at the local Mall.

I saw you change your mind about going into the restaurant when you saw my bike parked out front. But you didn't see me attending a meeting to raise more money for the hurricane relief.

I saw you roll up your window and shake your head when I rode by. But you didn't see me riding behind you when you flicked your cigarette butt out the car window.

I saw you frown at me when I smiled at your children. But you didn't see me, when I took time off from work to run toys to the homeless.

I saw you stare at my long hair. But you didn't see me and my friends cut ten inches off for Locks of Love.

I saw you roll your eyes at our Leather jackets and gloves. But you didn't see me and my brothers donate our old ones to those that had none.
I saw you look in fright at my tattoos. But you didn't see me cry as my children where born or have their name written over and in my heart.

I saw you change lanes while rushing off to go somewhere. But you didn't see me going home to be with my family.

I saw you, complain about how loud and noisy our bikes can be. But you didn't see me when you were changing the CD and drifted into my lane.

I saw you yelling at your kids in the car. But you didn't see me pat my child's hands knowing she was safe behind me.

I saw you reading the newspaper or map as you drove down the road. But you didn't see me squeeze my wife's leg when she told me to take the next turn.

I saw you race down the road in the rain. But you didn't see me get soaked to the skin so my son could have the car to go on his date.

I saw you run the yellow light just to save a few minutes of time. But you didn't see me trying to turn right.

I saw you cut me off because you needed to be in the lane I was in. But you didn't see me leave the road.

I saw you, waiting impatiently for my friends to pass. But you didn't see me. I wasn't there.

I saw you go home to your family. But you didn't see me. Because I died that day you cut me off.

I was just a biker. A person with friends and a family. But you didn't see me.

Nice Pair

A day of somewhat delayed embarrassment. Looking back, all there is to do is laugh.

It was a gorgeous day for a poker run and my post was the third stop. Here I am, sitting behind a small table, overseeing the riders take their card and writing it on their card sheet.

A rather well endowed, well spoken woman walks up with her card sheet. She places it on the table and takes a card. Queen of Clubs. I write it on her card sheet and give it back to her. She looks at it, turns it to me, holding it at breast level and says, "Wow! Look what I have!"

Dutifully I look. Pair of Queens. "Wow! Nice pair!" I remark.

That isn't sad.

What is sad, is that I didn't realize what I said, or the fact she just grinned at me when I said it until about an hour later.

Sometimes my brain simply doesn't click.

Vivid

Psychological? Physiological? Something more? Nothing?

Much to the chagrin of a semi-hangover headache my Harley chugs to an early morning start. As her carbureted 1200 CCs warms up and my head thumps in synchronicity, I put my helmet and gear on.

As with fishing, in my opinion, a bad day riding is better that good day doing many other things.

Backing her out of the driveway two songs by Nickelback seem to be occupying the idle parts of my brain. Never Again and If Today Was Your Last Day. It is not out of the norm for songs to tumble around the idle parts of my brain as I ride.

Accelerating to highway speed on I95 toward Vegas there is something out of synch; something out of the norm. Not bad; not good; just different. Automatic danger and situation analysis kicks in. Tires are OK; bike is manuvering fine; accelleration and braking good; no cage is entering into my space.

Like some unseen hand ringing a bell, my helmet starts vibrating. Vision blurred, the apparent wind wipes my mind of everything save keeping rubber on asphalt. Slowing to about 50 it stops but we are now a traffic hazzard. I accellerate to 65 where the buzzing is acceptable.

Head throbbing, fifteen minutes later I pull into the parking lot at work. Helmet off, there is something different. Colors are popping into my visual cortex. Curves, angles, reflections, refractions seem to be alive. Red cars are RED. Yellow and white parking markers are YELLOW and WHITE. Things are different.

Not a side effect of anything determinable, several weeks later it is still here. Colors are still popping, sounds now seem to have infinite depth. It almost seems as if the universe has become more vivid.

Is this how things really are and my muddled mind had been filtering? Did my senses get jostled and wake from a long sleep? Perhaps there is more depth to everything and we simply ignore it, chosing the more hum-drum, day-in-day-out slogging of life.

Fantastic doesn't even describe it. I need to ride.

Busy Camper - Temporarily Checking Out

As typically occurs in most every life, things get busy. In come cases it is not for the better, some it is. This situation is somewhere in the middle

-My project bike is tentatively sold and I need to arrange transportation to Kentucky.

-Work is picking up with some heavy hitting projects.

-Two or three 'side job' projects need to be finished.

-The local motorcycle group I ride with has been VERY busy in a good way and expanding, requiring more time from it's current members.

-A fellow I ride with recently went down and is in the hospital. He should recover but is pretty banged up.

-PACKING... PACKING... PACKING... My ex and I are finally financially able to make a physical split so almost every waking moment at the house is spent eating or cleaning and packing.

Those and about ten other things are keeping me more than busy. So, I am checking out of the blogging world temporarily. Ride safe, all!

Memorial Day Thoughts

These memories are as clear as the taste of my hot, strong coffee from this morning. The finely manicured cemeteries, the small flags carefully placed next to the headstones of veterans. The gentle scent of flowers permeated the air. As a child, every year my Grandfather would take us to local cemeteries to lay flowers on the graves of loved ones and veterans. Typically we would finish our run and eat pancakes and sausage and eggs at one of the local restaurants. While the adults talked and laughed and remembered those who passed, us children would color and play with the children from other families.

I wonder, on this Memorial Day, if parents and children still do these things. My far from normal life over the last decade and a half, ripped me far from these sort of events. Feelings of desire; ride my bike to the local Veterans Cemetery perhaps.

While the number of things lost in my life may be considerable, it is nothing compared to those men and woman who gave their life to protect our freedom. To all who have or are serving in the Army, Air Force, Navy, Marines and all other branches, this long haired motorcycle rider thanks you.

Fate Intervenes

Yes, the trip is still on, but reversed... Sort of. This is a rough paraphrasing of the phone call I received two days ago.

Hello?

Ken, will you be here Saturday?

Ah, I need to check my calendar.

You MUST be here Saturday. You MUST!

What about Wednesday or Thursday.

NO! Saturday! It is VERY important. Will you be here?

(After some calculations in my head of some very long riding days, I respond.)

Ah, OK. Yes.

You PROMISE???

hehe Of course!

And we say our goodbye's and I continue working, wondering just what my friend in North Carolina was talking about. Then, the evening after we spoke on the phone, she e-mails me a little something... A wedding invitation! I was dumbfounded! She planned her wedding around when I would be there on my motorcycle trip! I was speechless! Karen, if you are reading this, Thank You!!!!! I am honored!

Ready, Set, Kickstand Up! 2009 Ride Plans

There are choices like what brand of toothpaste to buy or what brand of fuel to buy or whether to go on a date with that cute & smart guy or girl you see every weekend at the local bike shop.

Then there are choices like what direction to point your bike on a long journey. There were three choices in my case this year.
1) A 5,500 mile ride up to Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, Canada. This has been a long time dream. Before becoming a motorcyclist there were dreams of getting a jeep and driving there. Even before that when I was younger, there were thoughts of riding a bicycle up there.
2) A 4,000 mile meandering ride through the midwest. I am partial to slower two lane roads, small towns and relaxed riding. Few days with my family; few days with friends in Des Moines, Chicago, Milwaukee and Denver.
3) Run a 50cc test ride to Jacksonville, Florida and then meander back. What is a 50cc you ask? It is a ride from one coast of the US to the other in only 50 hours. This is a test ride, so will not push the 50 hours. The real ride will likely be in 2010.

After considering my options, I am going on the 50cc test ride.

When? I will be leaving Vegas on Friday September 18 as soon as my boss will let me go. Sunday, October 4th is my planned returned date. As I did last year, this will be a ride to raise awareness of Domestic Violence and in support of the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence. Unlike last year when three weeks of vacation were available, there are only two weeks. Plans are a little sketchy but are solidifying...

States in order: Nevada; California; Arizona; New Mexico; Texas; Louisiana; Mississippi; Alabama; Florida; Georgia; South Carolina; North Carolina; Virginia; West Virginia; Ohio; Indiana; Illinois; Wisconsin; Missouri; Iowa; Nebraska; Colorado; Utah and Nevada.

If I know you are along my route, I will PM or e-mail you within the next week. If I miss anyone or would like to meet up with me, let me know.

Vegas to Jacksonville

Jacksonville to Burlington, NC

Burlington, NC to Milwaukee, WI

Milwaukee, WI to Denver, CO

Denver to Vegas

Bucket List

Mortality has been on my mind recently. Actually it is on my mind regularly. It is likely that most motorcycle riders have that 'last ride' thought in the back of their heads while the wind whips through their hair. It is a healthy thing, I think.

Well, I learned a new term tonight; a Bucket List. It is simply a list of things one would like to do before they die. It is not a morbid thing, really. Death is the terminus of life. What we do between birth and death define us as individuals and as a culture.

One article I read tonight states that a person should have 100 items in their Bucket List. For me, that seems a bit optimistic, but what the heck.

1. Learn to fly a plane (done, but ran out of money before I could finish)
2. So... Get my pilot's license.
3. Ride a motorcycle to the Arctic Circle.
4. Ride a motorcycle to Barrow, Alaska.
5. Ride a motorcycle cross country. (Done in 2008)
6. Be a published author. (Well, sort of, if an early 90's computer programming magazine counts.)
7. Own a small piece of land where I can raise my own food. I mean OWN. No mortgage; all paid for.
   
8. Build my own house of stone.
9. Refurbish a motorcycle. (Working on that now Project Vixen)
10. Build a super-computer. (Ya, I am a geek and did have one started and running a few years back, but what does one do with a Linux cluster super-computer?)
11. Ride a motorcycle coast to coast in Canada.
12. Ride a 50CC (Coast to coast in the US in 50 clock hours).
13. Ride a 100CC (Coast to coast and back in the US in 100 clock hours).
14. Earn my Iron Butt (1000 miles in 24 hours).
15. Breed orchids and create a new hybrid.
16. Ride the TAT (Trans-American Trail)
17. Circumnavigating Australia on a motorcycle.
    
18. Write a book and have it published.
19. Ride 100,000 miles in a year.
20. Learn more about my Native American heritage. (I am 1/8th Inuit or some other culture from Canada)
21. Learn another language. I already know English and can use sign language respectfully. Maybe Spanish or Russian.
22. Build my own airplane and fly it.
    

Wow. This is rather easy. Unfortunately it is past my bed time; don't want to be grumpy at work tomorrow. There are more.

Oh, and for you wondering; no, I am NOT jumping out of a perfectly good airplane. I will leave that for other adventurers.

A Sign

It happens. One asks "Should I ride today?"

"Should I wash the bike or go for a ride in the storm?"

"Should I get a different bike or fix my poor broken down ride?"

Sometimes we ask for signs; beware because sometimes we get them.

Star Trek - WOW!

For as long as I can remember, my minimal television and movie viewing activities has orbited around the absolute ridiculous and science fiction. As a child I was equally a fan of Bugs Bunny, as well as Space: 1999, UFO and Dr. Who. A child who can explain the basic tenants of Einstein's General Theory of Relativity, including the Lorentz Contraction in third grade does not typically fall into standard classification. Actually, that was rather enjoyable.

Anyway, I am not a classic Trekkie with fake Vulcan ears in my dresser or a copy of Shakespeare translated to Klingon in my bookshelf. Call me a borderline Trekkie if you will. I do have a nifty Starfleet Academy pen somewhere. Regardless, I needed to get out of the house today.

My 18 year old daughter, her boy friend and my ex-wife were all going out to watch the new Star Trek movie and I had an open invitation. So, what the hell. I hadn't seen a first run movie since Star Wars: The Phantom Menace in 1999.

No spoilers here, but I will admit it was damned good. There was one big hole in the plot, or I thought there was until my daughter's boy friend explained it. So, if you like Sci-fi I highly recommend it.

Now, what does this have to do with motorcycles? Well, James T. Kirk was riding an electric sports bike early in the movie but don't remember the brand. Anyone? I will admit, it certainly did NOT look comfortable. Maybe a Moto Guzzi?????

The Riding Decision

There is quite a bit written about the sometimes difficult choice whether to enjoy an elective ride or not. It is 68 degrees, crystal clear blue sky, slight breeze from the South, nearly deserted roads at 7AM. So, why not?

There is no tangible force or entity pushing for the ride to happen or not. The bike is in great condition, I am well rested and hydrated. Why not?

It is the slight tickle at the point of interface between conscious and unconscious. No reasoning or hard evidence. No presentation of facts to evaluate or arguments to consider. It is a beautiful day! Why not fire up my 1200 cc Harley and just ride to no where in particular? Why not?

Some things are simply not meant to be understood; simply accepted.

Black Nails

Here are mine.

Here are mine.

RIP Anita Zaffke - Paint Your Nails Black!!!

According to news reports, Illinois motorcyclist Anita Zaffke was struck from behind by a car, driven by a woman not paying attention to her driving. What was she paying attention to? According to news reports, she was paying attention to painting her fingernails!!!

So, in remembrance of this woman, this mother, this motorcyclist, please paint your fingernails black take a picture and send the photos to my e-mail addy - kc7rad@gmail.com They will be used in an upcoming website to memorialize those riders who have passed, and help bring awareness of motorcycles to those who drive cars and trucks.

You can read more here:
Chicago Breaking News
Chicago Tribune
News 7
ABC News
Chicago Sun Times
Chicagoist
New York Daily News
Visor Down
Chicago Daily Herald

This is from the News 7 article...
"In the meantime, Anita Zaffke's son wears black nail polish to bring attention to the need for stricter penalties for people who hurt motorcyclists like his mom.

"I'm sure there are motorcycle groups who would like to hear about this story and potentially help us get the story out," said Greg Zaffke."

Most of us have lost a friend or family member while they were riding or driving. Paint 'em up!

Thought for the Day...

For some, the most sublime comfort is a solo ride on a long lonely road.

Another one of THOSE days.

Yes, one of THOSE days. As with any day that falls into the THOSE category, the day starts about a week before.

On-Call. I am a computer programmer by trade and part of my responsibility as a senior computer programmer where I work is being on the On-Call rotation. Each are assigned a week and are responsible for handling any back-office applications issues that may arise, any hour of the day or night.

While usually the problems are minute or can wait until morning, there are some that require the on-call programmer to drive (or ride in my case) into work and manually intervene. This week there were some of both.

Tuesday and Wednesday morning, about 1:30 AM both times I was awoken by the phone. A nightly job had generated an error and the security guard called me. Luckily the program that crashed was one that needed no manual intervention. That not withstanding, the calls were still interruptions to my sleep.

Friday morning, about 2AM the automated systems started sending me SMS alerts; sort of an automated "Something is wrong... Help me!" sort of thing. That required a ride in, and about four hours repair time. Instead of coming home, catching a few Z's and going back in, I stayed and finished my eight hours.

Then, instead of getting some sleep or relaxing, I clean the garage in preparation of my ex-wife's garage sale. Long story, don't ask.

Then, that evening about 10PM I start receiving SMS alerts again. These I can ignore. The ones I get at 1:30AM, I can't. I go in, make a quick repair and skeedadle back to the garage where I finish getting things setup.

The garage sale goes on.

Now, this is where the poor judgement kicks in. Earlier I had committed myself to attend a bike show Saturday afternoon. So, I ride there after slamming 16 ounces of RedBull and a couple cups of coffee. I ride up and my friends motion to a parking space saved just for little ol' me.

I ride past the spot a few feet and shut the engine off. Then I proceede to back up.

Just before feeling a slight nudge and nautia, a woman I know yelled for me to stop. I had backed up too far. My left turning signal nudged my buddy's bike's engine guard.

POP

Damn. Now I have a dangling turning signal stem. Maybe a whole pot of coffee next time.

Another one of THOSE dreams...

It isn't the nightmares; Only rarely do they shove a knife into my conscious, and when they do, I usually find them somewhat comical.

It isn't the dreams of falling; Recognizing and changing them into a journey through rarefied air is a personal joy.

It isn't the dreamless nights; The peace is refreshing.

It isn't the dreams of those who have died; They are gone but is nice to see them once in a while.

It isn't the dreams of gliding along a deserted road on my motorcycle; Those are some of my favorites!

What is it? THOSE dreams that I really dislike? It may make little sense to most out there but here it is... Sex. Either overt or covert, I despise them and force myself awake as soon as they are recognized.

Last night's dream was very covert. I am at a bike rally and start talking with this blond woman about long distance riding. She loves long distance touring and typically rides the Valkyrie that used to belong to her dad.

She is smart; Master's degree in something. Young; about 33 or so. Very low maintenance; blue jeans, t-shirt and simple button-up blouse. Her problem is that she travels and writes for a living, so has a hard time with relationships.

I ask her to some event that evening. She rides her bike and I, mine. We get there and arm-in-arm walk in; we kiss. It is a gym, and it is huge. The tickets were for floor seats. Maybe this is a sporting even of some sort.

Part of my mind is enjoying the warmth of her skin; softness of her jeans; intelligence of her conversation. Another part is screaming "GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN!!!".

We walk hand-in-hand to our seats. There, in the seat next to mine, is my first wife. Don't get me wrong, in real life there are no hard feelings between us. She is a fine woman with a great family.

But, that was all my logical mind could take. 4:30 AM and I awoke in a foul mood.

For me, THOSE kind of dreams are simply not conducive to having a good day. Need more coffee... This was a bad day to stop smoking.

All Electric Zero Motorcycle. An Energy Savings?

Serious kudos go out the folks at Zero Motorcycles in California. This motorcycle, pictured on the left, is a Zero S. Here are a few specifications from the website:

• Top Speed: 60MPH (96.6 kph)
• Peak Horsepower: 31
• Torque: 62.5 ft-lbs (84.6 Nm)
• Range: About 60 Miles (97km)
• Full Recharge Time: About 4 hours
• Transmission: Clutchless Single Speed
• Final Drive: Chain
• Seat Height: 35.5 inches (90.2cm)
• Total Weight With Powerpack: 225 pounds (102.1 kg)

OK, it is an interesting entry into the world of alternate fuel vehicles.

A friend e-mailed a link to this CNN Money video. OK, so it is built in the USA. Good. It is simple to operate. Maybe good. A trip from Los Angeles to New York would only cost about $30 in electricity. What????

That is indeed what the fellow in the video said. $30. Well, a novice long distance rider myself, I know there are many more costs than energy. Two big expenses would be lodging and food.

So, comparing the total cost of a trip from Los Angeles to New York; one on the Zero S and another on a conventional motorcycle should be interesting. Which one really costs less?

I started with some further assumptions and numbers:

• Miles from LA to NY: 2,790 miles (per Google maps)
• Average Daily Travel Time: 10 hours, including refueling breaks
• Fuel Economy of an average motorcycle: 50 MPG
• Average Gas Cost per gallon: $2.25
• Fuel Cost for the Zero: $30 for entire trip (from the video)
  
• Motel Cost per Night: $45
• Food per Day: $30
• Ideal Weather with no traffic or road condition delays. Purely optimal riding.

OK, let's start with the Zero. It can travel 60 miles in one hour in one charge (between fuelings). Add a four hour charge time and a person can travel 60 miles in five hours. Calculated out, that is 8.3 hours per 100 miles.

A typical motorcycle can travel 150 miles at 65 miles per hour which yields about 2.3 hours travel time between fuelings. Add .5 hours fueling time and a person can travel 150 miles in 2.8 hours. Calculated out, that is 1.87 hours per 100 miles.

So, how many miles can be traveled per day? On the Zero, it is about 120 miles. On a conventional motorcycle, it is about 530.

Given these numbers, how many days would it take to travel from LA to NY? On the Zero, it would take about 23 days. On a conventional motorcycle, only a little more than five.

Anyone see an issue here?

Fuel cost for the Zero would be about $30 for the entire trip. It may be a lot less if the rider charged the Zero at the hotel/motel where they are staying. Given the assumptions above, a conventional motorcycle would require about $125.50 for gas.

Now, add in the lodging and other necessities like food. Given the number of days in transit, a trip by the Zero would cost about $1,750. By the conventional motorcycle? How about $500.50!

The Zero may be an interesting little bike, maybe useful for short distance commuters who do not ride on highways, but with a price tag of $9,950, it is likely only the more affluent commuters would buy one.

Either way, it is indeed an interesting looking ride and a good start. Once the top speed and range is increased, and charge time decreased, this scoot may be more interesting.

Busy Sunday and a Few Topics

Sunday evening and so many things to write about. I think I shall start with the state where I was born.

Stop me if you have head this one before...

Do you know why all of the cornstalks in states around Iowa point away from the state? Because it BLOWS!

Ok, this is just a joke. Seriously though, the state took a great leap into progressive politics and culture recently by legalizing civil unions. (Read here on USA Today.) Good for them. Yes, I am about as straight as a fellow can be, but why should people be denied something that straight married people enjoy simply because they were built a little differently? Finally, homosexual unions will be recognized.

Iowa, you don't "BLOW" that much now. Bravo!

Now, a little study in diagonal thinking. The picture on the right shows a very 'evil' head bolt, clinging tightly to the engine of my little Suzuki VX800. I honestly believe that nearly every typical bolt removal technique known to mankind was attempted on this bolt and failed.

If you look at the very center, you will see the broken remains of a bolt removal tool.

Well, Saturday was a motorcycle work day. I washed down and detailed my Rebel and did some basic maintenance on the Sporty. I then decide to ride over to AutoZone, thinking they might possibly have something to help remove the 'evil' bolt.

My local AutoZone is no Mecca of tools, but the people who work there are helpful and intelligent. Unfortunately, this situation stumped them. No solution other than using a Dremel or grinder or something of that nature; all of which have been attempted. The little piece of bolt remover is seriously hard. It has eaten one hack-saw blade and six or so grinding wheels, includinga small diamond bit.

So, I browse the store and just wander, not really think of anything. For some reason I pick a new set of metal files and a punch from the shelf. There was no thought of how these tools would be used, just a purchase.

Still not sure what I am going to do, I just start filing away at the top of the bolt. The bolt remover piece will not allow the file to take the entire bolt head off. Damn. The punch is then used to start hammering the bolt remover piece. For weeks it has been loose in there, but is just will not come out.

Then a thought came to me... Why not hit the bolt on one of the filed off sides so that there is some pressure to rotate out (Right side of the bolt head in this picture). Well, it's hard to explain in words.

After the second WHACK, it turned. Not much, but it did! A few more whacks and it was out.

Why did I purchase a new file set and punch; a valid solution to my problem, without consciously knowing how the tools would solve the issue?


Maybe the solution to some of life's more difficult problems doesn't require a lot of thought. Maybe it just requires a mindless stroll through an auto parts store.

Time to Get Dirty Again

Yes indeed, the time is right to start getting dirty again.

Every now and again, I enter the domain of interpersonal interaction, typically with failure. While failure is not exactly the result of my recent foray into that realm, it is time to spend a little more time on myself in an area I feel more comfortable.

So, time to be a grease monkey for a while. My little Honda Rebel needs to be cleaned up and then have an oil seal changed. My Suzuki VX800 Project has been stalled for about a month. Parts for her are out there, and since I now have an operational bike (an HD XL1200C), there is no need in my mind to rebuild her to original specifications.

Maybe she will be a long distance cruiser... Maybe a dual purpose sort of bike... Cafe racer... Who knows. The time I waste at night on MySpace and FaceBook could easily be directed to my project bike.

So, the GoJo hand cleaner is out, tools at the ready and plenty of spare time. Let the grease monkeying begin!!!

Friday Quotes on Solitude

Don't get me wrong. There is a certain pleasure riding and enjoying time with other riders with the same goal, drive, purpose. Being who I am, the sublime ride is solo.

Sometimes you put walls up not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down. -anon

I lived in solitude in the country and noticed how the monotony of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind. -Albert Einstein

In solitude, we are least alone. -Lord Byron

Solitude is strength; to depend on the presence of the crowd is weakness. The man who needs a mob to nerve him is much more alone than he imagines. -Paul Brunton

Solitude vivifies; isolation kills. -Joseph Roux

Just thinkin'.

Daily Quote...

The essence of ultimate decision remains impenetrable to the observer- often, indeed, to the decider himself.
Robert F Kennedy
Thanks again for the book, Munch!

Situation of the day to ponder...

There you are, riding down the highway. The weather is beautiful, not a cage in site. The road is yours except for other occasional riders out enjoying life. Your bike is running like it never had before; she is humming (or chugging as the case may be) along as if something or someone had tuned it to perfection.

You see a small, two lane road. It looks like a beautiful ride. You take the exit. It is beyond expectation. The asphalt is smooth and well aged with plenty of bite, sweepers are wide and graceful, twisties are challenging yet exhilarating.

Then, in your rear view mirror, you see flashing red and blue lights. You are being pulled over. A glance at your tracking GPS shows that you may have gone over the speed limit by one or two MPH. 'Maybe it is just a tail light or some little thing,' you think, pulling to the shoulder.

The officer walks up as you pull off your helmet and shut down your machine.

"You didn't stop back there."

"Where?" you ask.

"By the big oak tree about a mile back."

Confusion is setting in. "Officer, I didn't see a stop sign or stop lights. There was a caution sign about two miles back."

"You were supposed to stop at the oak tree. It is in the county law books. It is a mandatory official warning, but the judge may decide to revoke your license or disallow you from riding here again."

Now you are a little irritated. "There was NO sign! NO indication a stop was necessary!"

"Doesn't matter. The judge may even close this road of to bikers if riders continue ignoring the law. To tell you the truth, that would piss me off. I ride here on the weekends!"

"Well, put up a sign!"

"That is up the county, not me. Here," he hands you the written warning.

"Well, is there anyplace else I need to stop on this road that isn't marked?"

"Not that I know of," he says. "There may be other places that other officers may know about."

You are done and through and just want to get back to the highway. Carefully you ride to the next cross-road, turn around and head back the other way. There... THERE is that damned oak tree. You slow and stop, look around, take off.

Lights are now flashing in your rear view mirrors again. 'What the...' you think, pulling over again.

A different officer gets out of his squad and walks up. "Hey buddy, any idea why I stopped you?"

A somewhat disgusted chuckle makes its way past your lips, "He, mmm, No clue. I stopped at the oak tree like the other officer told me."

"Ah," the officer smiled. "That stop is for east bound traffic only, not west bound. If you want to stop west bound, you need to pull off to the shoulder." He finishes writing the warning. "Here you go, buddy. Ride safe!"

You are speechless. The officer gets in his car and drives away. More than ten minutes pass as you sit there, just looking at the ticket. 'Better leave before I get a ticket for loitering.'

You get back on the road and speed toward the highway.
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No, I didn't get a ticket for anything, and let it be known that I hold nothing but respect for law enforcement. In life there just seem to be so many unwritten rules, some of which make little sense. All one can do at time is just keep on riding.

Decisions...

Just thinking about transportation this morning. While on MySpace, an advertisement for the 2009 Toyota Corolla caught my eye. It is a nice looking, convenient, well built, fairly affordable, fuel efficient vehicle. As a matter of fact, I have owned two within the last 25 years.

The thing I chuckled at was the advertised gas mileage. 35MPG for this car? My '98 Chevy S10 pickup gets better than that! Perhaps, mileage not withstanding, vehicle decisions comes down to an objective choice with a lot of subjectivity thrown in for good measure.

As an example of the objective, say I need a vehicle to get me back and forth to work. It is a 20 mile commute in parched, hot Las Vegas traffic. Simple objective exclusion to the criteria: Jet skis will simply not work.

Getting back to the gas mileage, yes, 35MPG rated for the new Corolla. My motorcycle, a 1200cc Harley Davidson Sportster gets on average about 55MPG in the city and up to 70MPG on the highway. So, regardless of how nice my bike looks, or how fast she is or easy to ride; she gets better gas mileage than most cars. There is MY objectivity for the day. ;-)

Singularity of Heaven and Hell

Fresh spring sunlight gleamed down from heaven above, warming the slightly chilled black leather clad motorcyclist. Chilly spring winds buffet the bike and rider from all sides, laughing in the wind.

They dance as one down the road as if angels themselves were clearing the road ahead. Steel and Aluminum and chrome and flesh and bone become as one joyous being, seeing heaven, rubber hitting asphalt.

A red light and the two stop. Something is amiss. Engine running a little rough, clutch a bit grabby, the wind now circling the two as they wait for a green light. The bike is spooked; not scared; pawing at the ground to enter battle.

Green.

Rider does little more than a mental motion and they are off. There. Hairs stand straight on the rider's neck; bike belches a rumble, a sound of someplace not of this earth.

A man along the side of the road grabs a woman by the arms. She twists and frees herself from her possible assailant. Without thought, bike and rider turn back. Tires no longer contacting asphalt, rather the two merge. Rider and bike now a single soul, one foot in heaven and another in hell.

Woman now walking quickly away to a strip mall, bike and rider pull close to the man. Black leather, angelic white bike now screaming and growling, drowning out the bastard's harsh words. Amber running lamps now glowing coals of hellfire.

From behind the reflective face screen, motionless rider stares at the man. How small; how pitiful. COWARD! Face ME! Scared??? You should be!!! Let her be.

The man, gathered some form of strength, mouths, "What the fuck you looking at?"

A Coward.
--------------
Based on a true story.

My new ride!

Well, here is my new ride. A 2004 Harley Davidson Sportster XL1200C Custom. Pearl White with shorty matte black pipes. She looks sharp, is fast, loud and MAN does she move.