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.
------------------------------------------------------------
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.

Friends -VS- Biker Friends

I can only site this fellows MySpace page for this. It is great...

Friends: Never ask for food.
Biker Friends: The reason you have no food.

Friends: Will say "Hello."
Biker Friends: Will give you a big hug and a kiss.

Friends: Call your parents Mr. and Mrs.
Biker Friends: Call your parents Mom & Dad.

Friends: Have never seen you cry.
Biker Friends: Cry with you.

Friends: Eat at your dinner table and leave.
Biker Friends: Will spend hours talking, laughing and just being together.

Friends: Know a few things about you.
Biker Friends: Could write a book with direct quotes.

Friends: Knock on your door.
Biker Friends: Walk right in and say "I'm Home!"

Friends: Are for a while.
Biker Friends: Are for life.

Friends: Will ignore this.
Biker Friends: Will forward this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You know what? I have biker friends who have never ridden before in their lives. It's never too late to saddle-up and ride the wind!

Pulling the Trigger

"Give Jack a call! He will have a deal for you, definitely!"

That is what I was told. My little Rebel struggled to keep up with the larger bikes last weekend, and in many situations failed miserably. She was pushed the hardest she ever had been. The hard accelerations, the mountain passes, the traffic, the harsh weather. We rode through rain and hail and high winds and dust and sand clouds all at 65 to 75 MPH. She was valiant.

She waited until the day after to protest. She blew an oil seal on the main crank shaft.

Now, I have been told that I do not communicate well, but this communication was loud and clear; no more hard rides, please. In respect of the fact that she valiantly rode across the US and back with me, I shall respect her wishes.

So, I start reviewing my finances and options. I can get a fix'er up'er or go to a dealership. A fellow told me of Jack at Red Rock Harley. "He will find a deal for you!"

Well, I have heard that before. On my Friday lunch hour I drive over to take a look. First was a blue Sportster 883; 2006 I think. Not thrilled.

I asked Jack about the new arrival of used bikes. This, Jack had mentioned the day before on the phone. We go back and look. There she is. There was that primal tingle on the back of my neck; the twitchy throttle hand; the dry mouth; and the almost indescribable need to find some gear and go for a ride.
She is a Harley Davidson 2004 Sportster XL1200 Custom. This includes soft saddle bags (almost new), stepped seat (I like that), passenger back rest and short, LOUD pipes. I pick her up on Tuesday.

Off to San Diego

Well, some time today some riders from the Nevada Chapter of BACA (Bikers Against Child Abuse) and myself will be making our way to San Diego for a little get-together with the California Chapter.

The dedication of these folks are amazing.

So, until Sunday when I return, safe riding, all!

Complexities of a Motorcycle

While enjoying a leisurely ride after work to the bank, the bike shop and home on side roads, for one reason or another the complexities of riding tumbled around in my brain. Not only are these beautiful pieces of machinery complex, but a good rider must understand and master them all.

For those who don't ride, here is a little overview of the controls...

Right Foot: Rear Brake. This is important in slowing the bike. The rider must remember that only about 20% of all braking should be performed by the rear. Any more can cause the tire to loose traction. That is NOT a good thing.

Right Hand: Front Brake. This is very important in slowing a bike. Approximately 80% of all braking relies on the front brakes. Throttle. Accurate and precise throttle control is vital to safely navigate turns and perform smooth shifting. Kill Switch. Should an emergency arise where the engine must be cut off immediately, there is a kill switch near the throttle. Starter. Bikes with electric starters will usually have the starter button on the right.

Left Foot: Gear Shift. Actuating the gear shift properly must be smoothly coordinated with throttle and clutch control. Coordination failure can cause bad things to happen, like dumping a bike while accelerating to highway speeds.

Left Hand: Clutch. Not only must the clutch be carefully used in sync with throttle and gear shift, but is vital to slow speed control. Turning Signal. The turning signal is usually a thumb selected switch. High/Low Light Switch. There is usually a toggle switch on the left side to control the headlights. Choke. Not on many larger, fuel injected bikes, but is still there on most carbureted machines. The Horn. Very important!

If anything mechanical should malfunction, there is typically no time to think. Reaction must be immediate, accurate and deliberate.

These are the major control points of a typical motorcycle and says nothing of other things like countersteering, time and space control, balance, scanning and a host of other things, all necessary for a good rider.

In my opinion, fine motorcycle riding is akin to dancing the tango with a steel partner at 55 miles per hour.

One Page at a Time, Part Three

Here I present day three of my little Page-A-Day experiment from 2006.

June 2, 2006 - One Page at at Time.
This is the last one in my experiment and honestly, I am not sure why this experiment only consists of three entries. Upon reading this, it is in my opinion, some of my best writing. It is far longer than one page. And... It scares the hell out of me.
...
Jeremy searched his lover's deep brown eyes for some form of recognition. Where years before he could easily find the essence of her life, her love, her existence, now they were merely bottomless pits.

Her soul was now an infinitely hollow space. No, it was not empty, simply devoid of life, love and existence.

Her thrashing and yelling and sharp threats had now died to blunted, indecipherable mumbles. Her almost incomprehensible behavior was no match for her self-brewed cocktail of alcohol, sleeping pills and morphine.

He was lucky tonight. She hadn't threatened his life or her own. She hadn't fallen into her drugged, comatose slumber while on the toilet or in the kitchen or in the car or smoking at her desk. While these events were not common, they did happen more than occasionally. And when these things did happen, Jeremy's soul was torn even more.

Nightmares of her irresponsible, inopportune slumbers haunted him. There was no escaping these echos of reality, firing synapses in his subconscious, slumbering brain. He would occasionally awake screaming or crying or yelling. She would sleep on, unconscious to the universe.

Her body now quiet of all conscious activity, he kisses her on the cheek. "Sleep well, my love," Jeremy whispered. Tears welled up in his eyes like blood seeping from new wounds.

But these were tears and they were from his soul. With the right pressure in the proper spot, tears and bleeding can both be stopped.

It was an early night, only 12:18 AM and she was blindingly asleep. He could finally relax.

The house, now peacefully quiet after nearly five hours of emotional, verbal and spiritual battery. After so many years of this abuse, the surface of his soul seemed to be entirely covered in scar tissue, impervious to almost any attack.

"I am blind," Jeremy mutters. The first shot of whiskey burnt going down. The second was better. "You are blind... you are blind... you are blind..." he counted out loud, walking a tight circle in the middle of the kitchen. These words, first yelled at him so many years ago, meant almost nothing now. He liked to hear the echo.

The kitchen was his domain. She used to enjoy cooking, but the void that killed her soul, took that as well.

The third and fourth shots tasted like water. "You are blind," Jeremy yelled.

Some people know but choose not to see. Some see but can't understand. Some have their eyes gouged out.

"You are blind!!!" he yelled.

Jeremy couldn't decide which category of blindness he fell into. Fifth and sixth shot, he didn't care.

One Page at a Time, Part Two

Here I present day two of my little Page-A-Day experiment from 2006.

May 2, 2006 - One Page at at Time.
Seven thirty nine. The smoldering sun claws its way up the eastern sky, burning everything it touches, save the natives. No humans prior to the industrial period would even consider this place as being habitable year round.

Heat is the Devil's friend. Snow and cold is a gift from above to balance the Devil's flames.

Jamie always wore white. She said it reminded her of winter with her grandparents in Wisconsin. The spatter of her would-be killer's blood on her white blouse brought a more primal feel to the cabin.

She knew, 'They won't try this again for a while, at last not with him.'

Looking out the window, lightly considering her would-be assassin, 'Poor bastard. If he doesn't make it to the hospital before nightfall, he is one dead idiot.'

Turning from the window, she changes her blouse and douses the cabin with cooking oil.

It's Interesting the Things One Finds

Yesterday I spent the day emptying a storage shed and going through some old boxes. Oh the things I found... Old pictures from when I was a kid, a set of SCSI drives, old books, old clothes, pictures of airplanes and study notes from my days of flying... and old memories...

...some of which I ran through the shredder. There was no feeling of catharsis as I had hoped. The action was purely mechanical. Maybe memories can't be shredded as easily as paper can be eaten by hardened steel teeth.

Anyway, one of the things I found was a notebook I started in 2006, before I started riding and before my divorce. My goal was just to write one page per day (which only lasted a few days). Some was fact, some was fiction, some was just babble. For your entertainment I present you, kind reader, with this short set of writings. You can decide if it is fiction or real. Names and places have been changed to protect the innocent and stupid and mentally ill. ;-)

I don't remember why I stopped. Perhaps I will start it again.

Here is day one -
April 25, 2006

Everyone makes mistakes. See, I can't even write correctly! I am smoking again. I hate that. I am at work's parking lot.

Brian stayed home sick again. Betty yelled last night. I had a nice chat with Ms. V. in the internet last night. Too bad she lives in Austria. I would like to meet her.

Why does my hand hurt when I write like this? Why do people buy big, inefficient vehicles and then complain about gas prices?

A page really seems long sometimes. This morning is nice out for a change.

Betty is driving me crazy, I think. Slipping. Do relationships make people feel like this? I don't know. Others say 'no,' but we are all individuals and different.

My hand hurts.

Relativity, Motorcycle Repair and a Little Life

So there I am; single, not hard on the eyes (so I am told), intelligent, fairly literate, good sense of humor, easy-going; and what am I doing on a Friday night in Las Vegas?

Working on my motorcycle project, of course.

This was milestone evening. No more disassembly could occur until the engine was removed from the frame. Even with everything removed, that engine weighs probably 175 pounds by itself.

As motorcycle repair manuals typically are, the one for my VX800 is quite terse. Accordingly, to remove the engine one must simply disconnect the right frame member (yes, the frame comes apart), disconnect the engine mounts and remove engine.

Likely with a bike lift and winch and tools common to motorcycle repair, these instructions may be sufficient. I require more explanation.

So, 8:00 PM rolled around and there was the engine and frame, clinging together by a single bolt as if they feared being alone. Over and over my mind pounded on the mechanics of lifting the engine, removing the last mount bolt and setting the engine down next to the frame.

Then I thought about something I read in "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance". It is something I used to practice decades ago but since it is not a direct path from problem to solution and operated at 90 degrees to conventional problem solving techniques, it was left along the highway.

The concept of this problem solving technique is simple; understand the situation, limitations and requirements... and the go off and do something else. Don't think about it. Eventualy the solution will poke itself up through your consciousness.

In this case, the poking commenced about 30 minutes later. 'OF COURSE! Why remove the engine from the frame? Remove the frame from the engine!'

The result is the same, but the direction taken to effect the accomplishment is 180 degrees from what I was doing before. So, the engine was blocked up with some wood, a few twists on that last bolt, a little wrestling with the frame so it didn't fall into the plate glass window behind me, and...

Success!

Maybe the answer to complex problems requires a little absent mindedness.

Time for a New Helmet!

After reading Stacy's Full Face Helmet post and seeing the pictures there, a full face helmet was tops on my list of things to get.

Personally, I am a "Helmet anytime on the bike," sort of fellow. People who want to ride without a helmet ought to look at Stacy's blog post, linked above.

But, hey, if you are reading this and are a dyed in the wool, 'wind in the face', 'I don't need a helmet' sort of rider, that's cool with me.

One person's luck can be another's misfortune. In this case, according to what I have read on the Internet, UK based helmet manufacturer Arashi (Japanese for 'storm') has gone out of business. That being the misfortune, apparently Cycle Gear has a stock of helmets from this manufacturer and are liquidating their stock. Lucky for me and others intersted in an inexpensive full face helmet, they still have a reasonable stock available. (Cycle Gear Arashi Helmet)

So, Saturday morning I rode over to my local Cycle Gear and exchanged my $75 for an Arashi Turbo helmet and a reflective shield. Now, I don't know how I managed without a full face helmet.

It is lighter than my Scorpion Exo200, more aerodynamic and minimizes the updraft of air into my nose. There is less wind noise and the shield fits the helmet quite securly. There is only one drawback noticed so far; the visibility as compared to the Scorpion is somewhat less in the vertical plane.

The Arashi Turbo isn't fancy like an Arai or Shoei, with their advanced composite carbon fiber construction, removable inserts, high-tech ventilation systems and so forth. It is inexpensive, works well and is DOT approved. Been thinking about a full face helmet? This may be a very inexpensive way to save you jaw or front teeth should you be in a scrape.

Ride safe, all!

Those Silly California Legislators...

This has little to do with motorcycling or generally anything I usually post here, but this one just made me laugh in disbelief to the point that coffee nearly blew out my nose!

According to SlashDot, "California Assemblyman Joel Anderson plans to introduce a bill to force Google Earth and similar services to blur images of so-called 'soft targets' like schools, hospitals, churches and government buildings to protect them from terrorists."

YES! Let's make it more difficult for soccer moms to find the away games. Make it a pain in the ass to find the local courthouse to pay a parking ticket. And church? 'Bless me father for I have sinned... I was late for communion for the last three weeks because my map was blurry.'

Hospitals, now there is a good way to cut back on health care spending. Make it more difficult to find your local ER!

Incredible work, Mr. Anderson! Watch out there, Google and Rand McNally and California AAA. Before you know it, California may just be a blur west of the Mississippi. According to some, it already is.