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

Getting Noticed WhileOn The Road

I don't think this qualifies as ATGATT. This would definitely be an attention grabber but a bit too drafty for my liking.

Why Motorcyclists Hate Drama

Here are two numbers that really didn't surprise me: 540; and 36,400.

What are they? Well, I wanted to find an appropriate image for the topic of drama (i.e. Drama King or Queen) and tried Google Image search with the search string "sick of drama." The search yielded 540 images (plus or minus of course.) Then out of some morbid psychologically based statistical curiosity, I performed a web search... 36,400

Yes, I am single, divorced actually, and have little interest in searching out dates or flings or one night stands. That notwithstanding, I am a member of a biker oriented dating site, probably due to this same sort of curiosity. Over and over again, the words "no drama" or "tired of drama" or some mutation of that sentiment was associated with peoples' profiles.

Just for grins, here are a few comments from my motorcycling brain about drama...

Bikers would rather talk about compression ratios or handlebars or tire brands than listen to someone complain about how a ruined relationship 10 years ago causes them to sneeze every time they think about kissing.

A flat tire does not require a 45 minute dissertation on the choice of brands, tread pattern, or how good (or bad) a previous sex partner was.

It is irritating to other riders when someone in a riding group is trying to complain about their last girlfriend or boyfriend and their penchant for long tube socks, while riding at 75 miles per hour.

If we are camping and I say that I am going to go out and cut some wood, that is what I mean. It is NOT a euphemism for me going down to the single guy's/girl's tents and... ya...

A new set of rubber, means TIRES!

Male bikers discussing headlights, may indeed be discussing headlights!

And conversely, female bikers discussing bore and stroke are likely talking about pistons and cylinders!

If you don't like the way I am riding, then get off and find somebody else to ride with.

...

Just some idle thoughts from an idle motorcyclist on an idle Saturday night.

I Do Occasionally Surprise Myself

Here is the short part of the long part of the story. With the help of a factory manual, some persistence, patience, ingenuity and the folks at www.rebel250.com , my little Honda Rebel is running well again!

Mobile!!! I am Mobile on two wheels again!

And now, here is the long part of the short part of the story. While my bike sat immobile in my backyard, waiting for warmer weather, my mind wandered.

Did I push her too hard?

Can she fulfill my riding desires?

Was I simply lucky on my last trip that she did not suffer any major mechanical issues?

Over and over like an infinite recursive loop in the background, these thoughts ruminated and perked. More than once, "trade her in and get a Versys or SV650 or maybe a Sportster," went through my consciousness. It became not an idle concept after a while. The fact existed that she will always be a bike that had been repaired by an amateur with little or no experience in the science and art of motorcycle repair. And, not just any repair.

Oh, if it were that simple of a repair. By the time her engine was ready to reassemble, the saddle, tank, carb, battery, engine head, cam assembley, exhaust system, cylinders and other assorted items were neatly wrapped in well labeled bags or boxes, in an odd semblance of order under the patio roof. The most complex mechanical operation my fingers have taken part in since high school was a fuel injector replacement in my pickup last year.

Following the manual and help from other Rebel riders, she is now back together and running wonderfully again.

So, with a day off work, we ride around a bit, enjoying the sites and sounds and tactile input that only two wheel travel can provide. Off to the right, while riding South on Boulder Highway is the Ride Now Powersports dealership where she was purchased. I downshift and we pull into the parking lot.

About eight months ago I lusted after a Kawasaki Versys; even filled out the credit application and tried to trade my Rebel in for this odd, somewhat difficult to describe motorcycle. If you look back in my blog, I even discuss it.

Walking into the dealership today was more a fact finding function than an active search for another motorcycle. My Rebel is now purring along and my VX800 project will likely be consuming any spare time and money I have. No... No new motorcycles for me today.

I am there for information. Where do they take the old bikes they take for trade that cannot be resold? I am just curious. Who knows. Maybe with that information I might be able to turn up some pieces and parts for Vixen.

I start chatting with a sales person about the VX800 and how I am curious about their 'junk' bike disposal. Just when I am getting some information, one of the sales managers walk by, shakes my hand and promptly asks, "Did you see the user Versys we have?"

I thought, 'Nope, can't see that red Kawasaki resting there right behind you,' but I simply say, "Oh yes. Not interested in one right now."

"Well, how much do you owe on that Rebel? Just give me your Social Security Number and I will go back and see if we can make a deal."

I decline and he walks off with the intention of 'getting some numbers together.' Not interested at all, but if he wants to go run some numbers or watch motorcycle porn on his computer... whatever.

The sales person starts calling some other dealerships to see if they might have any old VX800s littering their garages. Roughly 10 minutes later the other fellow returns with a smile. "I have a great deal for you. I can get you on that Versys for only $6,500. We will take the Rebel in trade and roll it all into the loan."

I was getting ticked off. "I am really not interested right now. Maybe in the Summer."

"Well, if you would give me your Social Security Number, I will look at your little Rebel, get a payoff amount and move you on up to a bigger and better bike."

Stress was building... "I just spent a month repairing someone elses' screw-up on my bike. I am good with it right now."

"Well, I can get you on that Versys and it is in great shape! There is nothing wrong with that bike."

This is where the unexpected happened. Something just snapped. "Look, someone here or at the factory over-torqued one of the low torque head bolts and it pulled out of the engine case while in Kansas. I get it back here and Honda will not touch it for warranty service. SO, I spent a month tearing apart that engine, putting it back together and tuning it. Prior to that we spent three weeks together traveling to North Carolina and back. 5800 miles! I am not going to trade her anytime soon, if at all. Period!"

Ever the sales person, "Well, if you do change your mind, let us know, OK?"

He walks away and the sales person tells me that by some rare chance a VX800 shows up he will give me a call. I am not holding my breath.

My reaction still seems suprising. This attachment to a motorcycle, and the emotional response generated at the somewhat pressured prompting to trade her in for a different bike still suprises me.

Good Video

Ya, I am 42 years old, but I can like the Offspring, can't I?

North, South, East or West?

Where to, next?

A person I met on the ADVRider forum enjoys long trips on her motorcycle. Her situation is somewhat enviable from a rider's perspective. Every two years or so, she can build up nearly three months of vacation. Three months to ride her motorcycle where she pleases.

She does work hard for this opportunity. Works her ass off, actually.

Alas, not everyone has the opportunity to take three months off for a ride and still have a job. Personally, my limit is three weeks, and that is a rare maximum, granted to very few where I work. As a matter of fact, I am unsure the opportunity will be there again. If not, there will be no tears. The opportunity to do it once was fantastic.

So, where to? Assuming a maximum of two weeks with a slim opportunity for three, what direction should I point my motorcycle this summer? Some of my friends have mentioned the East Coast again, some suggest riding some West Coast highways. Texas maybe? Spend a couple weeks riding around Colorado and Montana? Maybe back to the Midwest.

A motorcycle rider's version of "Cabin Fever" seems to have taken over my winterized brain. Two motorcycles in different states of repair or disrepair (as the case may be) and the temperatures warming up is indeed difficult to bear.

So, Suggestions? Where to???

My Project Vixen

Just as a short note about my little project motorcycle. Yes, I bought what was left of a rather uncommon motorcycle, a 1991 Suzuki VX800. (my original post) It was a motorcycle that was a bit ahead of its time and was only sold in the United States for three years. Other parts of the world were more accepting of the concept this motorcycle put forth. It sold for nearly nine years in Europe and Australia.

She is a hybrid of a Cruiser (V-Twin Engine); Sport Bike (Styling and performance); Standard (Seating position) and Touring Bike (Range and highway riding performance). On many websites it is classified as a Standard/Sport, Sport/Touring or Naked Sport.

To me, she just looks sweet, even if she is in a poor state of repair. For those inclined, browse over to my Project Vixen blog. Updates there as necessary. I think it needs more pictures...

A Few Days Off

For three days, Saturday, Sunday and Monday, after a bit of confusion, I kicked back and relaxed my sore back. CL, if you ever read this, a million thanks to you, your beautiful boys and your boyfriend for the hospitality and the down-time. It was very much appreciated!

So, Saturday Night I was invited to "Girl's Night". This little event is usually a little loud and hosted on a rotating basis by people that work with my friend. She promised that there would be a very nice, single woman there to give me a back rub.

Well... As luck would have it, most of the people that are usually at these events were participating in a wedding, and as such, were not at "Girl's Night". What did that mean to me? No single women and no back rub. :-)

It was a fabulous time none the less.

...More later... need to go to work...

A week On the Road

Friday. Without a doubt, this was the most beautiful riding day of them all. I can see why there are many motorcycle riders on the East Coast of the US. Even on the superslabs, the scenery is wonderful!

The camera was still causing me all sorts of grief. But, on the bright side, I confirmed that my paycheck was deposited so when the opportunity presents itself, acquiring a new camera will not cause financial hardship.

Here are the few pictures that were retrievable from my camera. They were taken at a scenic area in Ohio or West Virginia. As is typical, the camera does not do justice to the spectacular colors and textures.

---

I arrive at my friend's house at nearly 10 PM. I really dislike riding at night. It's the visual stimulus; the feedback; the input.

North Carolina roads are fun... during the daylight. At night when I don't know where my destination is, in traffic, the roads are twisty and just a little unpredictable. I am not good enough yet to trust what I need.

Maybe that is something I need to do;
learn to trust what I need.

This was a long ride. New Castle, Indiana to Burlington, North Carolina. And, it was a beautiful one. Leaving Indiana there was a wonderful scent of pine and strawberries. Wonderful.

Ohio had the most friendly riders.

West Virginia, Virginia mountains were breath taking.

With out a doubt, Winston-Salem has the worst traffic anywhere!

Delays, Delays, Delays...

Yes, I will finish this ride report. There is a Vixen in my life now that needs a little TLC and I have offered it to her. She has quietly accepted. I must admit there is something obsessive about this relationship. The calls, the e-mails the late nights, the early mornings, the waiting for lunch time to make a call. Sitting through meetings thinking of her. Driving, and thinking of her.

So, you may be saying something like, "Who is this other person?" or "NO, Don't get wrapped up in a difficult relationship!" or "Man, I am never going to date you, Mr. Obsessive!"

Well, here is a picture...

This isn't my Vixen but it is the same model. A 1991 Suzuki VX800. Mine is, shall we say, temporarily inoperative.

Sitting and Thinking...

Sitting and thinking too long
has only one result

hemorrhoids.


--Coming up -- Another day of my trip--

Motorcycling & Life: A Thought

Life at times is like riding a motorcycle on a snowy road:

Stay focused;

Take breaks;

Keep warm;

Ride slow and steady;

Don't worry if your plan
doesn't come together;

And mind the idiots!

My Cross Country Log - Day 6 & 7

Day 6 was little more than wonderful relaxation with family. Al (my Mom's husband) and myself went to visit my sister in Fruitland, Iowa. After that we made our way back to New Boston, IL where other family members were gathering for a night of card playing, coffee drinking and general good times.

Day 7 was early again. After seeing my Mom off to work, Al and I tightened the chain on my bike and waited for the Illinois fog to lift. At about 9:30 AM, kick stand was up, and I was off.

---

Ready to leave my Mom's

Thursday night - New Boston, Illinois to New Castle, Indiana

This was a hard ride. I had hoped to get to Dayton but did not. I left too late ~9:30 AM - Had to ride ~480 miles to get there. I only stopped for gas and brief rest stops.

Not sure why I couldn't make it.

Well, got lost in Indianapolis; took I74 out of town but after 20 minutes discovered I was heading toward Cincinnati, not Dayton. So, I had to backtrack to get back on I70.

Found a hotel that advertised $29.95 per night but there was an 'event' so it was $45. The hotel ckeck-in person suggested I continue down I70 to find someplace cheaper - no luck. I did find a hotel that was $45 per night. Had no choice. I was spent.

Last night I had an odd dream, more animals but they were friendly and nice. Normally dreams are all monochrome but one animal, a bird about the size of an Amazon was brilliant red with a few blue feathers. He played rough with me. He would use his beak and play-bite my fingers. It was fun and warm, care free and fun and enjoyable.

Tired - four beers.

"The stopped clock is correct twice a day, but a clock not properly set is never right."

There were several things I wanted to do today but didn't.

I wanted to stop by the ballpark but couldn't. (This is a long story of a young boy, his grandfather and a simple request that through a country ballpark changed a community. Perhaps I will write of this later.)

I wanted to stop by the farm (where I grew up) but did not.

I wanted a photo by the river (Mississippi) but did not.

I wanted to ride through Eliza (Eliza, Illinois was the closest town to the farm) but did not.

I rode why?????????????????

Dinner in Indiana

This was a hard day emotionally as well. Reading my notebook entry pulls forth memories of a rather depressing ride.

Bye Bye Flight Sim?

Is Microsoft's iconic Flight Simulator entering a nose down spin?

These hard economic times are taking severe tolls on every aspect of the economy, including gaming. MS FlightSim, a program that has been around for more than a decade may now be a dead end product. Microsoft's 5,000 employee layoff announcement includes all Flight Sim developers. (See article here)

It would be a pity if this valuable, and some would argue historic piece of software were chopped from Microsoft's product line permanently. It has been the impetus behind many people training for and receiving their pilot's license. Back in the 1990's I used it to learn how to navigate via VORTAC signals.

One can only hope FlightSim was just put in a holding pattern.

Thoughts on Adventuring...

A part time adventurer will stand at the summit of a mountain, point in a direction and say, "I live over there."

A full time adventurer will be on that same summit, point in a direction and say, "I don't know what the hell is this in this direction. Let's go!"

Heading to Mexico!

Within the next four hours my rear-end should be on a plane to Mexico. Alas, it is not for pleasure; there will be no motorcycle riding in the Baja or flying an ultralight over the eastern Mexico forests. It is for work.

Posts here and other digital communications can't be guaranteed. So... ride, fly and be safe everyone! Should be back in a week.

My Cross Country Log - Day 5

Today was without a doubt, the most moving day of the trip. Four hundred fifty miles, five states and memories of times long forgotten, welcomed to the surface of my consciousness. I was going home.

There is no log for this day for two reasons. One reason is that I was physically drained and likely hypothermic when I put the kickstand down for the day. The other reason is that I was home, drinking up the comfort and love that only a family can give. My Mom and her husband welcomed me in with hugs, a much welcomed steaming cup of coffee and a late dinner.

So, I will use the entry I posted at www.rebel250.com as a proxy for my written log. I hope you enjoy it!

---

I woke up bright and early at about 5 and was showered, packed, checked out and on the road by 7. After about thirty miles, just before Nebraska, I decide to pull over for gas and fresh beef jerky. It was a tad bit chilly but overall a beautiful riding day.
The typical urban rider doesn't normally see a tractor at a gas station!

At this point my camera really starts malfunctioning in a bad way. It would take pictures and report all was OK. After getting to my Mom's place that evening, I discovered that about 2/3 of all of the pictures were corrupt.

Anyway, I stopped at a little place in Nebraska for some warm coffee. It said coffee but I honestly believe someone boiled a gallon of water with a single coffee bean and poured it into the decanter. HORRID!!!

But the conversation was good. I had a chat with an older fellow outside who told me of the time he and his wife rode their GoldWing to Vegas. I always enjoy those little chats.

And, I was on the road again, this time to a little corner of Missouri. Finally a picture!
After crossing what I believe was the Missouri river, the road led up a little bluff to a great string of windmills. This wasn't the first wind farm I have seen, but the first one I have been this close to.

After pausing for that, I was on the road to South Western Iowa. For the first time on my ride I actually got to see live deer just before the Iowa line. DANG CAMERA!!!
Here's my bike in Shenendoah, Iowa. It is a great little town.

After fueling up and getting some real coffee, I headed east on Iowa Route 2. That is for the most part a nice concrete road. Unfortunately, it is somewhat old and the slabs of the highway settled unevenly. So, I rode along, 'ka-chunk... ka-chunk... ka-chunk...' for about three hours.

To make up for the road, the little towns were gorgeous! I wanted to stop at each one and just ride around, looking at the old buildings. BUT, I knew this would be a long day so I didn't have many stops.

The stops I did make, I really enjoyed!
Here is a wheat thresher I found just outside of a small town.
And right next to it, a real steam engine! I LOVED it!!! Think it is a little larger than my bike???

And I was back on the road with a destination in mind. One that holds great child hood memories. Heck, I even remember making out with my high school girlfriend there. This is a special place in my heart.

As I pull into Mt. Pleasant, Iowa the roads immediately become familiar. Tears came to my eyes, and it wasn't from wind or chemicals or smoke. This is a great place for me. For many it is just a museum, but for me, it is a vital piece of my childhood.
Midwest Old Threshers Museum http://www.oldthreshers.org/. This is one of those places and times where words are difficult to come by.

I rode around the grounds a bit even though they were closed and hit the road for Burlington, IA. Getting there I take some pictures of the Mississippi River before I crossed. It was magnificent with the sun going down behind me. (darned camera)

I was on the home stretch. Only another 75 miles or so and I would be at my Mom's doorstep. Fate had a little twist just waiting for me.

I knew this road like the back of my hand and I hadn't been here for nearly 20 years. I was riding on cloud nine, humming along, looking at the flooded farmland along the road in the twilight. I come to my turn and make a left.

I stop.

<<<>>>

Ok, so I head back and find the detour signs. Following them led me into some great riding areas but it was getting COLD!!! Ahead in the town of Biggsville, Illinois, the detour signs point left. Forward was Monmouth, Illinois. If I went forward I knew the way 100% but would add about 50 miles. I was cold and my butt hurt. So I took the detour.

The remainder of the ride to my Mom's place is a complete story in itself. Maybe I will tell it later. Suffice it to say, after riding this unfamiliar road with no overhead lights, no traffic, no more detour signs and curves with little notice for what seemed like an hour in the cold dark, I arrived shivering and exhausted at my Mom's.

I honestly should have stayed in Burlington. It would have been much safer. BUT, I made nearly 450 miles that day.

My Cross Country Log - Day 4

This is a day I will not soon forget. The riding was simple but the first several hours were fraught with concerns over my engine. This was the day I should have, according to the folks at the Honda Warranty Department, sought a Honda dealership for advice. I didn't. The symptom was minor but the ailment was major. That is why my bike is, as of this moment, sitting in my back yard waiting for me to have a few solid days to work on her.

This is not a happy issue, and one that I will not delve into much more in this log. Suffice it to say that when this problem first exhibited its symptoms, the bike was under warranty. When I discovered the true nature of the illness, stripped threads in the engine casing, it was no longer under warranty. Thus, Honda's rejection to cover the problem, even though I did take it to the nearest mechanic for advice.

Anyway... Onward to day four...
------------

Breaking camp in St. Francis, Kansas.

St. Francis, Kansas to Salina, Kansas
Found my first bike shop on Route 36. Bought Yamalube semi-synth 10W 50 and a small bottle of Bell-Ray chain lube.

I immediately doused my chain & was gone. At my first stop I found dirty oil on the top of the crank case and on a large portion of the underneath of the engine.

I had coffee and a few smokes, let the engine cool off and changed the oil. I wiped down the engine, noticing where the oil had collected.

I was careful to not push the motor, rarely going over 55 MPH. Making no unnecessary stops, every 30 miles or so I would stop and investigate the motor.

While in Belleville, Kansas I ask a Harley rider if he knew of a shop. He said, "follow me."

I followed to a garage bike shop. NCK Motorcycle & ATV Repairs. He raised up the bike and inspected it. Nothing.

We left it there for nearly 45 minutes. Still nothing.

Analysis? I normally use a chain lube that leaves a white film or residue. This type is different. It lubricates differently. So; problem one - I put on far too much.

Problem two - The wind was blowing quite a bit when I put the lube on, and some of it blew onto the top of the crankcase.

The chain looked wet, some of it, the extra lube, was slung around the drive gear running under the engine.

I paid him $10 for his time and he gave me a key chain & kick-stand pad. THANKS! COOL!

That was SO freeing! I pushed the engine as much as possible for the next 30 miles, thinking that if the engine was going to do something bad, I would rather it happen near a known mechanic.

75 - 80 MPH up and down hills - No Problem!

While sleeping outside last night, I had an odd dream of unknown rabid dogs and kittens in my house in Iowa. (in 1995 I owned a beautiful old house in Cresco, Iowa) Woke at about 5:30 and promptly built a fire! Warmth!!!

While riding today, for some reason I wanted human contact. There was some unknown desire to find a bar, just have a beer or two and talk with a woman or two. Maybe wake with a warm body next to me. Alas, no bars nearby. Don't need it anyway.

(Just FYI, I AM single, so there were no thoughts of infidelity. I enjoy being alone and eschew going to bars and other social gatherings. These strange thoughts were just out of place. There are some other notes in my log that are purposely omitted here. Maybe some day I will post those, but for now they shall remain in my notebook. Needless to say, I was quite happy to wake up alone the next morning.)