Three stamps and a ton of riding fun!

Last Saturday, I left early as I had approximately 500 miles to cover before the St. Croix Falls, WI visitors center and the Upper Mississippi River Valley visitor’s center closed in St. Paul, Minnesota. The Interstate would be my friend for much of the trip, but I’d planned on riding state highways and some local roads for large sections of the journey.

The weather differed dramatically from the previous weekend, which rained virtually the entire weekend. This Saturday already seemed wonderful in comparison. Still, I put the heated jacket on low and felt comfy cutting through the crisp, cool morning air. I would be covering some of the same ground from last week having ended that trip empty handed –not one national park stamps to show for my efforts. This was a new day. Saturday morning traffic was light, just the way I like it. I had packed some snacks and had a light breakfast before departing. On this trip, I would focus on riding one. Being a tourist would have to wait for another day. If I’m going to make a valiant attempt at the Iron Butt National Parks Tour, I’ve got to accept some realities. I need 50 stamps from 25 states in one calendar year. Now, I’ve tried to work this out mathematically and I keep coming up short. I know the obvious things like concentrating my trips in the east. But still, time to enjoy some of these beautiful roads is a huge desire too. My heavy riding is restricted to weekends. I figure I can get in about 1000 miles for a weekend ride. So far, I’ve fallen short, with 616.7 for the first weekend and 948 miles that I will log for this weekend. This means that I’ll use the superslab for these quests more often than not. Fortunately, some of these locations are remote enough that one has to do some heavy mileage away from the interstate as I would learn about getting to St. Croix Falls, WI.

The trip out was uneventful and just plain enjoyable. Jesse Owens hummed the entire way. Seems like the more I ride this bike, the better the ride gets. I do feel one with this bike. I feel that it fits me perfectly; I sink into it and we blend together. On the SV650, after about 350 or so miles my legs would often begin to feel a bit cramped. A stop and a stretch usually did the trick. On the ST, this just doesn’t happen. The leg is extended just a wee bit more and it makes a mammoth difference.

The roads to St. Croix Falls are scenic, remote and actually breath-taking in parts. State highway 35 that follows the Mississippi River is quite wonderful. When I arrived in St. Croix Falls, WI I had planned to rush inside the Visitor’s Center, get my Passport book stamped and be on my way back south to St. Paul. But the Ranger there had other plans. He was a nice gent that reminded me of Barney Fife on the Andy Griffin show. We chatted about the Passport program and given that this was my first stamp, I felt compelled to buy something to celebrate. I settled on a lovely blue heron pin. As I was leaving, he asked me if I wanted to see a video of the St. Croix River. I really didn’t. But not only looked forlorn, he looked rather lonely there all by himself. He made the St. Croix River sound important. I didn’t have the never to say, “I just want the stamp.” I really did need to get to St. Paul before that visitor’s center closed and it was supposedly closing in a couple of hours. I asked the Ranger if it was possible to get to St. Paul before it closed. I could easily go on Sunday as I was staying in St. Paul for the evening. But that would mean waiting for the place to open on Sunday and getting a later start than wanted for my return trip home.

In his most Barney Fife voice, he told me that it closed at 9pm. I was stunned! The website said it closed around 5. He volunteered to call them to check and sure enough they were open late. I had no reason now to rush out. In fact, this slowed down the whole trip in a good way. I felt myself relax.

Besides, if I’m going to visit all these places, I should at least spend a few minutes learning a few things about these historical sites. I sometimes think that the folks who work and volunteer their time in these places do a lot of waiting around for visitors to show up and when they do, they’d like to introduce them to what the center is all about. I watched the movie. Fabulous! Well done, replete with wonderful scenery and many interviews of local legends, geologist, historians, and other experts who make the St. Croix River come alive. I must confess my ignorance. Before this movie, I possessed less than a thimble full of knowledge about the St. Croix River. I knew only that it met up with the Mississippi at some point. The movie taught me a lot about the river and the local’s love for it and determination to keep it clean and protect its native inhabitants. Before leaving, I hung around and took some pictures of the area.

With plenty of time to get to St. Paul, I took a scenic route--what a pleasure to ride free of the onus of getting there before it closed. I arrived around 5:15p.m. Two Rangers dressed like Smokey the Bear managed a booth inside the Science Museum. They were friendly and seemed to know immediately why I was there. The woman said, “Are you one of those….?” She couldn’t think of what to call me. The guy said, “Yes, one of those….” He was stumbled too. I explained that I was collecting stamps for a national parks tour. The guy, “Yeah, yeah the, the… “ He was still thinking. I mentioned the Iron Butt group and they both perked up. I asked if they get a lot of them coming in. “No,” the guy responded, “Not a lot but when they do come in they are memorable—they are a unique group.” I didn’t ask him to elaborate. I could tell from his expression that he thought them to be an odd bunch. “They are a determined group,” he said—or something like that. We all chuckled. I chatted with them and they told me what to visit in St. Paul, where Rice Park was (almost right outside their front door) and that I should take in a meal at Minnehaha. The name struck me as hilarious but I contained myself.    

I walked around St. Paul for a long time and I had an interesting encounter. I was taking a picture of the Landmark Center, an ancient, huge gray stone building downtown. I glanced at an African American woman across the street waiting at a bus stop. Before I could take more than a few pictures, she was at my side. “Hi, are you a photographer?” I said, “Well, I’m visiting and just taking a few pictures.” She said she found it interesting that I was taking pictures of that building, which she thought was a fine building but not something she’d probably take a picture of. She said that when she visited Europe, she noticed that they had many such pictures in architectural books she thumbed through and that’s why she thought I must be a photographer. I asked and she told me a little about the social history of St. Paul, which she prefers over Minneapolis. “St. Paul is more family-like, it’s more like a small community . Minneapolis is more like a big urban area. You see a lot of black there but they are poor, not like here where you just don’t see much of that on the streets.” When she learned that I was from Chicago area, her face flashed instantly. “I lived in Markham—I was born there and lived there until about 20 years old.” Markham is a suburbs close to where my suburban home is located. When she learned I had ridden a motorcycle to St. Paul, she was incredulous. I had to assure her that it could be done by me, a lone woman. She was like meeting a long lost cousin. We had surely walked some of the same Illinois ground. We talked nearly 30 minutes--what a small world.

I found my hotel easily—only four miles from the Science Museum. When I reached it, I realized that I hadn’t had a meal all day. I had my usual GORP, water and juice but that was about it. I was starving. The hotel clerk recommended a Thai restaurant next door. I tried it. I left it happy and with a full tummy. As I walked to the hotel, I could feel the effects of the day slowing my steps. It was now nearly 10:00pm. I prepared for bed, turned on the weather channel and I remember turning on the Kindle to read ZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzz

Sunday morning

I wanted to leave early. The weather channel said it would be another great day—even better than Saturday. If lucky, I was going to capture two stamps. One in Harpers Ferry, IA (Effigy Mounds National Park) and another in West Branch, IA (Herbert Hoover National Historic Site). This amounted to more than eight hours of riding and roughly covering 382 miles to reach these sites. And, this didn’t include getting home! The day’s total would be approximately 594 mile and 11 hours, 40 minutes of riding. I decided to play it by ear.

The ride to Harpers Ferry, IA was only 190 miles but it took a bit over 4 hours. I went the scenic route. Rode to La Crosse and moved to the WI side to follow the river. On the previous trip, I rode WI state highway 35 heading north. This time I was heading south. The river looked anew, bright, lively and inviting, and not the gray, misty and cold place of the previous week. Rt. 35 is simply beautiful. One passes through small towns like, Red Wing, MN, (yes, home of the Red Wing shoes that many motorcyclist swear by) and Winona, MN, Genoa and De Sota, WI. Speed limit is greatly reduced in these small towns and from the looks of things, I strongly recommend not going a mile over the limit. Besides, it allows one a good, long look at towns were time seems to have stopped. It is easy to understand why I feel like a tourist attraction here. There just isn’t a lot of diversity so folks are curious, which brings me to a few interesting people I met along the way.

I stopped at a visitors center in Prairie du Chien, a town I felt a tad more comfortable in given my previous stay there. I was directed on how to get to Effigy Mounds—it’s a bit tricky. The direction seemed a bit confusing so I programmed the GPS to take me to Marquette, IA where I’d surely see signs for the Mounds, which I did. My breakfast had worn off and I was beginning to tire. When I reached the center, I hung around some but had no energy to tour the mounds, which is really sad as I’ve been planning a trip here for years. This made me realize a hard truth. Collecting the stamps really is mostly about collecting the stamps when all I have are weekends. The way I see it is the parks and sites I visit will be noted as places to re-visit when I’m not on a clock so to speak. On some trips, I’ll surely have an opportunity to hang out as I did in St. Croix Falls. But given my limited weekend window, I can’t tour like I want to. I started thinking of my priorities. I had now collected three stamps. A fourth stamp would add approximately another 4 hours and getting home, another 4 hours. As I searched for a place to eat after leaving the Mounds, I thought of how satisfied I was already with the ride and how if I didn’t have pressing work due on Monday, I would take the day off and extend this trip.

I ate again at Culver’s (a restaurant that a week ago wasn’t even on my radar). Fries and milkshake—both are excellent here. The manager swore he had seen me in the restaurant before. I finally agreed with him even thought the Culver I ate in last time was in Rockford! We really don’t all look alike but I was too hungry to disagree. I ate while peering over a map and fiddling with my GPS. If I had a nickel for every double take someone did when seeing me there, I could quit my job!

Outside the restaurant, I fiddled with my GPS. I turned when I thought I heard someone call out. I looked and saw a couple walking in my direction. When they approached the man told me his name and introduced his wife. They said, “We’re photographers.” The man said, “I’d like to take your portrait.” Inside my head, I thought, “Yeah, right, I’m not falling for that.”
They said they were “watching” me in the restaurant. While they were talking to me, others left the restaurant and I guess because they say me talking to the couple, they felt okay about talking to me too. It felt as if the couple broke the ice for others. I don’t know. I just found it interesting that folks were coming to say something to me or comment on the bike or the GPS.
The couple and I exchanged pleasantries for some time and they told me where they lived in Prairie du Chien. They want me to stop by on one of my visits. Nice folks. Both are artists (photographers) and belonged to several organizations devoted to the arts. We traded contact info and later the woman sent me some links on their photographer friends and photography happenings in the area.

I left Prairie du Chien, feeling like I knew a little more about the place, having visited it now for two consecutive weekends. I took the scenic route home, traveling along US Hwy 18/52 south into IL. Quite scenic with long, quiet, lightly traveled roads. Because it was Sunday, I encountered many Amish families trotting along in their horse-driven buggies. In one, a kid waved at me. Once I reach St. Hwy 64, a very familiar rode, I always feel that home is near and I never mind that there are quicker ways to get there. I like 64.

At a rest stop, I sat on a park table, away from my bike and sipped ice tea and munched on trail mix. A car load of guys parked next to the bike and when they exited they eyed it closely. When they went inside the rest stop, I prepared to leave. Before mounting the bike, the guys had returned and we struck up a conversation after one complimented the bike. Turned out that they are all riders who live in Chicago. They were returning from a weekend of camping in the UP. One of them had just bought a used BMW and said it was a great bike. When I answered their inquiry on where I had ridden, one of them laughed and said to his buddies, “Hey, we’re going to have to step up our game. We need to catch up.” One of the others said, “I could ride that much if I didn’t have to work.” I resisted the temptation to tell him that I worked too. I understood his point. Working is the one thing that bothers me about the National Parks Tour. Work means freedom comes only on the weekend. How am I going to manage riding east and back in time for work on Monday is going to be difficult.

Given this, the “Tour” has shown me that it really is about the stamps. There is some great riding near these sites but I don’t feel like I have enough time to do justice to them. Yet, I’ve learned that it makes sense to hang around the visitor’s center a bit. It is strange, almost rude to burst in these places, collect the stamp and exit. I’m not certain if I’ll finish the tour or not. For now, that’s not the point. Don’t they say, it’s not the destination, it’s the journey, that matters most? Having a structure to my weekends has been fun so far. If I tire of it, so be it.

Well, it’s already Saturday. I need to go to bed for today I’m heading to St. Louis, MO. If I leave early, I can gather a stamp in Springfield, IL ( Lincoln Home National Historic Site (NHS) ) and a couple in St. Louis (Jefferson National Expansion Memorial and the Ulysses S. Grant NHS). If I’m feeling really up to it, I can also zip over to Vincennes, IN and pick up the George Rogers Clark National Historic Park (NHP) stamp. I will play it by ear for there are also some great riding roads in MO, like state highway 19 and 21. Hmmm….I just might skip Indiana altogether and check out those Missouri roads.

Ride Total: 948 miles

'cyclist killed by nail-polishing driver!

Since hearing about this Sunday evening after returning from putting over 900 miles on the 'cycle, I've been a little depressed. This rider could have been any one of us. She did all the right things. Had on a hi-viz jacket and helmet. She was stopped at a red light. She was rear-ended by a totally senseless, entirely avoidable assult by a driver (this isn't an accident as far as I am concerned and I refuse to call it that). The culprit admitted to polishing her nails while driving and claims not to have seen the motorcyclist stopped in front of her--REALLY?! HELLO?! This woman lost her life because someone's nails mattered more.

I am angry. I don't know this cyclist from Jane but she could have been me or you. Right now, they have not charged the driver with much. But if ever there were a case where the book and everything else should be thrown at the culprit, this is it. I'm searching for what else I, and others, can do about this assault. While out there this past weekend, I saw lots of horribly bad driver behavior that really started me to thinking about how lenient the laws are with regards to what seems like blatant vehicular homicide to me. The driver ought to be in jail right now. Period.

Article

R.I.P. Anita Zaffke

Two stamps--YAY! Sunday Update =3rd stamp...

Saturday

I am safely in St. Paul, MN after a wonderful ride Saturday, which couldn't have been more different than last weekend when the weather displayed mother nature's merciless wrath the whole weekend! Evidently, all is forgiven for this was beautiful riding weather. Left early Saturday morning and rode in a crisp, cool air that warmed up throughout the day, reaching the mid 60s. Made it to  St. Croix Falls, WI (more later on the interesting folks I met) and then headed over to St. Paul (met more interesting folks) What a wonderful ride.

Today is Sunday.  

In a few hours I'll head to Harpers Ferry, IA to finally see the Effigy Mounds National Monument. From there I might try a visit to West Branch, IA to see the Herbert Hoover National Historic Site. That would make four stamps in a weekend--not to mention adding to my knowledge about the country's national history. If I happen to get four stamps for the weekend, I'm getting close...four down, only 46 to go in the Iron Butt National Parks Tour. Yay!

Ride total for Saturday: 478 (s)miles

Sunday 

A brief check in. Home safely with another stamp in hand. Made it to Effigy Mounds in Harpers Ferry, IA. Many interesting characters and events on this trip, which I'll write about after I've processed this exhilirating weekend of perfect weather riding. For now, just some totals.

Ride total for Sunday: 470 (s)miles

Total for the weekend 948--and every minutes was joyous.

New installs and necessary corrections...

There have been way too many complaints about the ST battery dying--just kerplunking out. It appears that these deaths have occurred anywhere from 4000 to 10,000 miles. I've had no problems with my battery. My understanding is that BMW will replace the battery at no charge; however, it has to die first. What sense does that make? If a known problem exists with the batteries, they ought to be changed out! Period. 

As someone who is out there alone and often on remote roads, I didn't want to wait for a failure. Since I'm near that upper end of these spontaneous expirations, I decided to be proactive and replace the battery. Yes, I spent a bit by going this route but it would be my luck to wait and have the thing go out on some isolated back road in West Virginia.  My recurring nightmare is not getting stranded, it is getting stranded in certain parts of the country. I'm sorry but the south happens to be one of those places--no offense to anyone.  I'm working on my regional issues.

After getting the battery changed, I decided to have a Datel voltmeter installed. My shop, Motoworks, did a fab job (Thanks, Zach!). It looks like a manufacturer's OEM installation. My friend Claye had one installed on her F650GS and I loved it instantly.

Claye also turned me on to the Throttlemeister knob thingy. It is the correction that the Throttlemeister should have made, according to its creator. It prevents accidental activations of the Throttlemeister. I've not had been bothered by this as I rarely use my Throttlemeister. But this will eliminate the problem I did haveon my way back from Virginia when the device consistently turned on after the heated grips were on for long periods of time.  At least that's what we think caused the spontaneous activitations.

Problems all resolved!

Hoping the weather improves for the weekend--I've got stamps to collect.

Stamp hunting...Score one for the weather!

Okay, so last weekend was the launching of my first outing for collecting stamps as part of the Iron Butt National Parks Tour. I need 50 stamps from 25 parks, historical sites, monuments, etc., and I need them in one year. I figured I’d pick up three easy stamps over the weekend. My plan was to get to Prairie du Chien, WI Saturday in enough time to take a trip to Winona, MN, where I’d collect the Mississippi NRRA stamp. I’d rest and head out early Sunday morning to head across the river to IA to visit the Effigy Mounds National Monument, McGregor, IA. I had planned to spend some time here as I’ve had Effigy Mounds on my radar for a few years. Not far from there, I’d run to Herbert Hoover NHS in West Branch, IA. The trip home from there is easy and familiar.

With the exception of getting to Prairie du Chien, NOTHING in the above paragraph happened. I had signs I ignored from the start. First, I didn’t sleep well the night before. At 4:00a.m. I was awake from tossing and turning for hours. Three hours later, I was tired. I like to head out early but I didn’t actually get on the road until 9:30 (late for me) due to various misplaced items and a last minute urge to repack. It had already been raining much of the night and it was drizzling when I left with a gray, threatening looking sky.

Also, it was windy and a bit on the cool side--but I had hopes of it warming up. Then traffic was backed up on the tiny part of the Interstate I was planning to take. A turn around and detour led me away from that. Then, only 15 minutes into the trip, it started raining rather heavily. And it rained. And it never stopped raining more than 10 minutes or so all the way to Prairie du Chien, WI! I took the back way, that is, the long way—the very long way to Prairie du Chien. In hindsight, it probably would have been wiser to stay home. But since I didn’t, it would have been smarter to stick to the Interstate. The back way to WI, while scenic, with enough rolling hills to keep you interested and many long sweeping curves, it is also rather desolate in parts. It is down right spooky in the dark. On a bright clear and sunny day, these roads feel heavenly. I know. I’ve done them.

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On a cold, dark, cloudy, windy, rainy and foggy day the roads bring to mind a question I asked myself a couple of times: Why am I doing this? I could be home reading a new novel. These vast open spaces allowed the wind to really kick up and by the time I reached Beloit, I was feeling it. I hadn’t yet put on my rain gear (my Fieldsheer Adventure Touring jacket kept me dry). But I was getting chilled. When I tried to fired up the electric jacket (Tourmaster)—Nothing! Nada! I pushed the buttons and plugged and re-plugged. Nothing. I rode on in steady, sometimes very heavy rain made it difficult to see clearly and it was all reminding me of my ride back from Virginia. Unfortunately, the back way doesn’t allow for many places to pull over. There are widely spaced small towns, farms, and homes here and there. The map showed that I would need to ride a long way to an Interstate. I rode on. To give myself a break, I pulled over at a historical marker or stopped to peer at some cows and to give my visor a good, futile wipe off. At one point, I plugged in the new XM satellite radio as I was feeling the need for some company. Nothing. What?! Nothing. I later learned that it was my error. The radio is fine. Perhaps that was a good thing as I needed all my attention focused on the road that were, with every passing hour, becoming lined with huge pools of water along the road’s edge. I imagined that one hid five feet of water, waiting to swallow me and the bike.

When I reached the Mt Horeb area, the weather seemed to worsen. I was too far into the trip to do anything but continue. I rode in the middle of a long line of cars and trucks heading west on US 18. I received some strange looks from both people and cows. The trucks that passed me heading east seemed spooky, mammoth and menacing. Still, I felt totally comfortable on the bike. It felt steady, solid and the tires performed superbly. I never felt shaky in the curves and I leaned into them with confidence. The wind, however, did make me say a couple of prayers and call out to the ancestors to watch over me. I discovered on this trip that I don’t mind any of these separate, challenging weather situations. I do mind when they exist simultaneously.

I know I’m not supposed to but I like riding in the rain. I don’t really like the fog, but I’ve been caught in it a few times to know how to handle it. I don’t even mind a nice wind now and again. All of this together and I’m on high alert. It is draining to say the least.

It took me a little more than 8 hours to get to Prairie du Chien. It was not dark, but the sky was replete with robust dark gray clouds. I checked in a Super 8 and unpacked the bike in a heavy downpour. The clerk took one look at me and seemed puzzled. She told me that they had a dryer if I needed one. I must have looked like a wet rat.

I've not stayed in Super 8s. I must say I was pleasantly surprised. The room was massive with a little living room area and a couple of comfortable chairs, a nice TV and in-room wireless. They also had a frig, microwave and kitchen sink! What I valued the most, was the heating system, which I cranked up to 82 degrees F. I was freezing. My butt was also very cold, literally. I peeled off my wet stuff and hung them near the heater. My feet too were cold. I had dressed for working electrics. In years past, when I didn’t have electrics, I dressed differently and never experienced the kind of cold I felt Saturday. I was starving but didn’t want to go out for a meal. So, I munched on GORP and a Root Beer from the vending machine. I felt asleep too early and was awake at 1am.Sunday Morning. It is raining. I talked with Dave a couple of times, got a weather report on happenings in IL. I was a bit worried because the weather in Prairie du Chien was predicted to only get worse. He had been receiving the SPOT signals and knew that I was fine. I thought of Effigy Mounds across the river and wondered how a quick trip there would work. But the local weather report said heavy thunderstorms much of the day. The same for Winona, MN. I toyed with the idea of going anyway. I went back and forth. Then I heard on the Weather Channel that a motorcyclist had been struck and killed by lightning in Kansas.My jacket was dry but my boots were still damp on the outside and the memory of being cold made me pause and come to my senses. Taking Dave’s suggestion, I decided to head north along the Wisconsin side of the river along WI-35 aka, “The Great River Road.” La Crosse is about 60 miles away and even with the steady rain, this was a gorgeous ride. Before leaving the hotel, a woman told me to do the speed limit in Ferryville (popl. 174) and Stoddard (popl. 802). She stressed being careful in Ferryville because the “cop” there lives for speeders and will “get you.” I do not ever speed in small towns that appear to be caught in a time warp. I don’t care how many impatient drivers are kissing my bumper or trying to go around me. If I’m ever stopped it won’t be for speeding in a small town!

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Breath-taking views with only a slight look to the left at the river. It almost made me forget about the rain and cold. I wanted to pull over and take photos but it wouldn’t have been safe given the conditions. The sky was grey, purple, and steamy. Off into the distance, the scene was wintry and mountainous. It reminded me of a drive I once made through Washington state during a dark, foggy rain. My return trip mimicked the trip out. The rain did not let up for more than a few minutes. WI-35 led me to the Interstate and I was happy to see it. Riding the Interstate gave me an instance sense of comfort. Having ample rest stops, gas stations, restaurants and other cars on the road, put me at total ease. Even with the steady rain, I enjoyed the entire Interstate journey. I stopped mainly for gas. I zipped by the rest stops because I felt fine.

I had planned my big stops in Madison or Rockford. I missed Madison but stopped somewhere briefly near Lake Delton, WI. I had a real meal in Rockford, IL. Finally, I was close enough to home that I felt I could relax. I ate at Culver’s (never been there before) and enjoyed fries, fish, and a strawberry shake that really hit the spot. I usually avoid fast food but this was a treat and each morsel helped soothe my jangled nerves from hours of riding in the most challenging rains I’ve ever experienced. About 20 or so minutes after leaving Rockford, the rain stopped. It held off for the rest of the trip. The bonus of getting to IL was the considerably warmer weather. I finally removed the rain gear and that too increased my level of comfort. My Fieldsheer jacket and my MotoGP pants really make rain gear optional. Seriously.So, how many stamps did I collect on this trip. Well, if you have read this far, you know that the answer is a big whopping ZERO! I shall repeat this trip soon. Still, I got in a tough ride with Jesse. No complaints. Learned a few things about myself. For me, that’s a lot of what it is all about.

Weekend ride total: 616.7 miles

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Long Distance toys

I now have several items to make long distance riding more fun, especially on long day rides of SaddleSore distance (1000 miles). Even in the range of 500 miles, these "comforts" will be good to have even if I don't use them. One item I don't use--just never felt a need for it is the Throttlemeister. I got it only because my throttle hand has a wrist that is held together with a  6 inch titanium implant. I figured the Throttlemeister might help when I needed to rest my wrist. But so far I've not felt the need to use it more than a few times. 

I am also not a listener of music on my rides. But it sure came in handy in the 800 miles phase of the SaddleSore, when it was dark and quite lonely out there. I had just enough Ipod juice to get me through the last 200+  miles. Coming back from VA recently, my Ipod got me through twelve hours of riding that Saturday. There is something comforting and relaxing about riding in the dark with love songs playing in your ear. 

This brings me to my new XM satellite portable radio. One thing I've missed on early Saturday morning rides is listening to National Public Radio, C-Span and CNN. Now, I can if I desire. My other newest toy is the Amazon Kindle. What does that have to do with riding? Well, it has to do with packing for my rides. I typically carry four books with me, which takes up far too much room. On those multiday rides when I've tried to take one book, I invariably end up going to a local bookstore and buying books! How crazy is that?! 

Nothing satisfies me more than ending a long day of riding with reading the night away. And, I've just never learned to read one book at a time.  Though I love the physical book, the smell of new--and old--pages, the whole tactile experience, I can't spare the space to tote four books with me on each trip. Initially, the Kindle felt like indulging in a forbidden pleasure, like cheating on books. I've gotten over that. I traveled with it to and from VA. In it, I carried 11 books in a package thinner than the newest Ipod and about the size of a paperback. It comes with an internal Oxford Dictionary and a Theasaurus. I can make margin notes and highlight passages of each book and store my notes as backpages to each book. It's an addicting device that promotes minimalist packing.

Riding this season is about distance + fun, which will be a huge challenge given that I work each day. I read that some mileage club distance riders, to keep in ride-shape, will take an evening or early morning ride of a few hundred miles. One rider came home from work and after dinner, would ride for three or four hours. I hope for a BunBurner this ride season, that's 1500 miles in 36 hours, which I think should be easier than the SaddleSore.  I can actually factor in a nap with the BunBurner--couldn't do that on the SaddleSore.  

At some point during the weekend I'm bound to test out the XM. With regards to my toys, I should add the new heated jacket and pants--and the bike's heated grips. All this reminds me of the adage it's better to have something and not needed it than to need it and not have it.

Stamping Time

We've had some funky weather lately. My riding has been cold and wet and often, both. I'm not complainging--it's better than not riding at all. But the times are a changin' .  The weather reports for the coming weekend will plung Chicagoans into serious summer heat. For me, it is never too hot to ride.  So, I'm heading to Iowa.

Last season I purchased a "Passport: To Your National Parks" book to collect stamps from National Parks, Historical Landmarks and Monuments, Battlefield sites, National Seashores and a host of other sites in the U.S. National Parks Service Program.

I mostly bought the passport book in consideration of another Iron Butt Association ride, this one is their National Parks Tour, which requires a visit to 50 sites in 25 states within one calendar year. This sounds doable until you take out a map and realize linking 25 states together in a short midwestern ride season will be a challenge. But a few weeks ago, the bug bit me try this tour. Why not just do it? Even if I don't complete the tour, my efforts will not be wasted--it's a win-win for me.  

Too bad I didn't grab a stamp or two on my way back from VA last week. Oh well...this gives me another reason (like I need one) to get back to the VA area.  So, it is official stamp collecting time.

My first stamp pursuit will be this weekend as I head to Harpers Ferry, IA to visit the Effigy Mounds National Monument. I wish it were farther away, as the entire trip will be under 600 miles.  If I'm going to have a decent showing in the BMW MOA mileage program, I'm going to need to up my weekly mileage, which is another way of saying, add more fun to the diet! 

Whether I make my 15,000 miles goal I've set for myself, is relevant only to me. Yes, I'm goal driven--probably too goal-driven for some but I take no prisoners. This is my riding goal that only needs to make sense to me. Nothing works for me like a nice long, long ride to cure the dark corners of my life/work.

First stamp coming up!

Bringing Jesse Owens home

(Note to the reader: Sorry for the overly long, draft post. As you can see, I've been rather scant on the posts lately, so indulge me a bit as return to regular blogging). 

Part I

Thursday night

Jesse Owens, my 2008 BMW F800ST, is now in my possession! Insert the voice of Fernando Lamas here, “He looks MAA-VAH-LUSS!”

Claye, a wonderful friend whom I met at the 2008 BMW rally, met me at the airport, hosted me, and allowed me to hang out with her. Being with Claye, Sylvia and Fritz at their home is something I would gladly do even if I didn't need to retrieve my bike. I'm convinced now that my accident last summer brought us all together and for that I'm grateful. How else would I have met Sylvia and little dog Fritz? Given that this wasn’t a trip per se, more like a pick up and leave, we didn’t have much time to visit but we fit in a lot of stuff. Still, great company, excellent food, lots of motorcycle talk and sharing of news on cool gadgets, gear and travel tales. Claye and Sylvia are serious riders and it's a joy to talk to them about it and other things.

(Fritz, the guard dog)

Another thanks to Claye who picked up my bike for me on Thursday, which allowed me to check the bike out that night rather than wait until Friday when Morton's opened. Claye test rode it too, amassing about 30 miles. I was able to get a real rider’s perspective. She liked the ride although she felt the riding position was a bit “aggressive.” The bike checked out and after her ride, Claye tucked it in her garage-like shed. I'm grateful too that the Throttlemeister didn't rear its head during her ride (more on that later). Between Claye and Sylvia, six bikes bring joy and challenges to their lives. Sylvia’s newish, mint condition V-Strom is the latest addition. A bike that will surely lead to many adventures this season.

Friday morning

I was overcome with joy at seeing my bike Thursday evening. It reminded me of the day it became mine. I took a ride along Truslow street until it dead-ended. I picked up another part of Truslow and continued that until Truslow ran out again. It is a smooth road with long sweeping curves and enough rolling places to make the ride interesting. The ST is a great bike. I come alive when I ride it.

(Fritz keeps watchful guard on the ST)

Claye and I spent part of Friday hanging out in her wonderful backyard. That afternoon, before we headed to Morton’s so I could finish up the paperwork on my bike, we had a little (mis)adventure. Fritz the dog is the cutest thing on four legs. He is a hard working dog and valiantly served as my therapy dog the last time I was there. Fritz probably weighs in at 7lbs—I don’t know. . He looks like a miniature Doberman with massive ears. Before leaving for Morton’s, Fritz disappeared, which had us searching high and low for him. I prayed for his discovery—losing him while I was there would be nothing short of horrible. I’d feel like a walking black cloud. We found him. Let’s just say, to sort of quote Cyndi Lauper, “Dogs just wanna have fun.”

(Enjoying a bit of R&R)

(Claye outside Morton's)

Saturday A.M.

(Ready to hit the road, Jack)

Saturday, I donned my new TourMaster electric jacket liner (glad I didn't get the vest) the whole way, I rode comfortably without the pants and remained dry. That is, until the temps dropped at night. Add to that some pretty robust winds in West Virginia and Maryland that blew from the mountains and swirled around open spaces. I was on high alert with plenty of opportunities to practice counter-steering. Riding into the glare of the setting sun was often blinding. It's a discombobulating sensation even if momentary. Survival mode helped me focus closely on the painted lines. Still, it offered some periods of challenge that I don't recall ever being an issue before. It reminded me why I love my Nolan N 102 helmet. The sun visor, which is attached to the exterior top of the clear visor, is a smart design. I just flip the smoky color visor top down when I need it. I used to love my HJC Sy-Max helmet. But it forced extra work and a tricky installation—not want you need on an all day ride.

(A view from Sideling Hills Wildlife Management Area)

Not until nightfall Saturday did the temps drop low enough to make me think about putting on the heated pants. I never did-- not because I didn't need to. My lower extremities were off and on cold. Several times, I thanked my German motorcycle makers for the heat the ST throws off around the legs. I hugged the tank as tight as I could. I wanted to get to the hotel and stopped only for bathroom and gasoline.

(Martin Fabrication Lights)

Saturday night I tested out the new moto-like lights, by Martin Fabrication. Excellent accessory—thanks, Lucas for telling me about these. Riding in the black of night, I was able to throw considerable light across the lower front of the bike and along the side of the road—a most comforting feeling given that my arrival to Zanesville, OH took far more time that I imagined. This was due to three things: weather, physical issues, and my propensity to debate the GPS and some of Claye's directions.

Last on my list of time robbers: the directions. I selectively followed Claye’s direction, mixing them with my own and sometimes the GPS. Somewhere near or after Berkeley Springs, I lost ground. I don't recall much of US Hwy 522, which I should have taken to I-70. I wound up taking on I-68 rather than I-70. No biggie, I checked the map and kenw I would pick up I-70 later. Only later was really really late. I rode I-68 forever and a day! Eventually, I hopped on I-79 and spent time on that too. Don't ask me why or how. I just did. I started feeling as if I'd never leave West Virginia, a state that is not on my list of favorites. When I'm not pressed for time, I don’t mind venturing off track—it's actually fun, part of the whole "it's the journey" mentality. Ordinarily, I'm painstakingly meticulous about my directions—at least in the preparation phase. Then in real time, I play loose with the directions because I know my official route and I've built in some wiggle room. But this was different and by the time my own desire to get moving reached my brain, it had gotten cold enough, too dark and the anvil I felt I was carrying on my head was screaming in my ears.

I arrived at my Zanesville hotel right around midnight! For the most part, I had been riding since 9:15 a.m. that morning—from Fredericksburg, VA! When I rolled into Zanesville, I remember saying, “Where in the H-E- double hockey sticks did fifteen hours go? That's IBA territory except that I had little to show for it. That's when I forgave myself and remembered the three time robbers: the rain, an increasingly sore neck and my cavalier disposition regarding the directions. You play, you pay. It rained from Fredericksburg, VA until about 20 miles south of Berkeley Springs and heavy rains saturated at least two or three locales, which made handling the huge sweeping curves along scenic Highway 17 interesting and fun—albeit, wet fun. But it slowed travel considerably. The neck, well, I think it’s just smarting and letting me know the healing continues. The increasing inability to turn my head sans pain forced me to make many short stops. If I didn’t turn my head sideways, the discomfort wasn’t too bad. It makes sense given that I have only recently been able to return to lifting weights. Three weeks ago, I would rather have given birth than do the simple neck rolls and shoulder shrugs with weights, which used to be easy warm ups to my regular routine. What I used to do with 10lbs weights, I can only do with 3lbs now. Improvement take time. Just part of the healing process.  Nothing more, nothing less.

(Jesse Owens)

Part II  Zanesville, OH to IL via Indianapolis, IN

Sunday, April 12, 2009

It is Sunday morning and the memory of last night's cold hits me again when I open the door to retrieve my heated pants liner from the bike . Lesson learned from Saturday: wear the pants! One glance at the bike, all covered in frost, made me shiver involuntarily. As I disarmed the alarm I made a mental note to carry a bike cover with me next time. I touched the frost on the top case and thought again of last night and whispered to myself that the ride season has officially started. I don't mind riding in the rain. It's the long, bone chilling cold rain that demands all my attention and takes away a tiny part of the joy of riding. I barely noticed the farms and scenery that lined the way. My photographic memories are virtually nonexistent.

I left Zanesville with every intention of making three stops regarding my underground railroad research. After being directed to the wrong place by the hotel proprietor and looking over at the interstate, I decided to head home by way of Indianapolis for lunch at Shapiro's deli. The pain in my neck throbbed but it nothing to worry about.

The ride began with temps in the 30s. The sky was blue jay blue with huge puffy clouds—not a drop of rain predicted from OH to IL. I donned full heated gear but frankly, couldn't get the pants to fire up --totally my fault, as I learned later. The jacket was sufficient and the heat from the bike again helped the lower legs. It took me about an hour to settle down into the ride. I stopped more than usual that first hour. A brief stop is all I seemed to need to recover. Otherwise, I felt great.

(Pickerington, OH The AMA and the Motorcycle Hall of Fame Museum)

I have friends in Granville and thought of them as I passed that exit. I decided to stick to the interstate, figuring I needed to see this not as a trip per se, but a simple task to retrieve my bike. I can always return to see what I missed. The goal now was to get myself and the bike home. But when I reached Pickerington, home of the AMA and the Motorcycle Hall of Fame Museum, which I’ve visited before, I stopped. Although the hours indicate that they should have been open and a few cars were in the parking lot, they were closed. I took a few pictures and left.

After a light lunch, I decided to focus on riding. Listening to music soothed the sore neck. I wanted to get to Shapiro's Deli and indulge in real food. Some say that interstate travel is boring. It’s not my favorite travel method, but I don't find it brain numbing on a bike. I am tortured more by it in a car. I made it to Shapiro's around 3ish. I had a tuna sandwich that ought to be illegal—it's that good. I thought about a full Easter meal there but I don't like riding with a heavy meal in my belly. Lots of people evidently escaped cooking Easter dinner and ate at Shapiro's. I don't eat meat; still, the meat at Shapiro looks and smells good enough to change any vegetarian’s mind. Seriously. If you are within 100 miles of Shapiro, go there for breakfast, lunch and dinner! I found out about Shapiro's from my friend Brent Miller. His brother meets there with some BMW riders each week. I never met up with the group but I now go to Shapiro’s every chance I get to route myself through Indianapolis. It's only about 200 miles for my house, which means it's an excellent day ride choice. I must say, Chicago has some excellent delis. But they are all within a few minutes ride—what fun is that?!

Belly full from half of a tuna sandwich, ice tea and lemon cake, I was ready to roll. Except for a horrible back up in a couple of spots on I-65, the trip was uneventful. My music (which I rarely listen to while riding) ran out on Paul Simon's “Graceland,” leaving me ample time to solve the worlds problems and enjoy the rest of the ride.

One big ride issue...

Well, I wish I could say the trip was perfect. It wasn't. One major problem to report. The Throttlemeister got in the way in a big way. As I've said elsewhere on this blog, I’ve used the Throttlemeister once or twice. I got it in anticipation of problems with a severely fractured wrist (non motorcycle injury) that is held together by a titanium implant. I’ve been told it will “eventually” give me trouble. Being proactive, I thought the Throttlemeister might be a good thing to have if I was going to do a SaddleSore or other IBA ride. I did a SaddleSore and never felt the need to use it. Still, it's on the bike if and when it becomes needed. You know the saying, it’s better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it…or something like that.

Imagine my surprise when riding Saturday when the bike started surging, unexpectedly. It was rather unsettling and more than a bit scary at times. At first, I brushed it off, thinking that my new cold-weather gloves, which are bulkier than I'm used to, had accidentally activated the Throttlemeister. But it started getting odder. When I pulled in the clutch, the engine seemed to rev loudly. Mind you, when this started happening, I just thought it was user error to which I paid closer attention. Then I noticed that downshifting was darn near impossible. Right before the down shift, I'd pull in the clutch, give the engine a blip and that blip would lock the throttle at that spot and the bike would accelerate. Whether I twisted the throttle open or closed, it would remain there. In other words, there was no, give or spring to the throttle.

I pulled over several times and adjusted the throttle. It would function well (I mean it would be deactivated and stay in the non-use mode). Then after 20 or so miles—sometimes less—it would gradually take over again. I'd pull over again and go through the same drill. Outside of Berkeley Springs, I got out my anonymous book and thought of calling for help. I thought of local dealerships. It was drizzling and rather than wait, I thought I'd try it once more to see how far I'd get. I can hear some of you say that this was dangerous and I probably should have stopped riding. I realize it wasn’t a great idea but I kept a very steady throttle hand and checked the play in the throttle at ever traffic light. For the most part, it behaved much of the rest of the way. When it didn’t, I was able to periodically check the spring in the throttle to ward off the unexpected throttle locks.

(A nice rearview, I think...)

Before leaving on Sunday, I checked the adjustment on the Throttlemeister. It appeared to be holding in place. Things changed in Indianapolis, however, where I noticed it had worked its way on again. Such things never happen at a good time. After leaving my great meal at Shapiro's, I blipped the throttle to downshifted. The throttle locked and I had to do a quick correction—I had plenty of time to make the adjustment. This was the most frustrating part of the ride, not something I want to experience again. I will have my mechanic check this out.

A Brush with a BMW Celebrity

While there, Claye got me interested in joining the BMW mileage program. Claye racked up the miles last year and placed well. Had I finished the ride season last year and been part of the mileage program, I would have been in the 13,000 miles range—not a lot but a nice start. Instead, I finished the year with only about 7519 miles after six months of owning the bike.

To join the mileage program, I need signatures of two BMW MOA members. Claye was number one. Friday, while at Morton's I forgot to get the form signed, which meant a return there on Saturday. It meant riding in the rain in the opposite direction of heading home. When I arrived, I asked the first salesman I saw. He was actually the dealership owner. He apologized for not being eligible to sign the form. He scanned the room and looked thoughtfully at those in the shop. Then he looked outside and his face had that light bulb moment appearance.

Before entering the dealership, I noticed a rather elderly gent, preparing to take off. His apparel looked ancient, like those garments favored by the super long distance riding crowd. The dealer looked outside and said, “Hey, how about a celebrity?” He was looking in the direction of the man I had noticed earlier. “How about David, he's a celebrity. He's passed the million miles and has been honored by BMW riders.” His name is David Swisher and before he could get away, we went outside and Mr. Massey, the dealer, made the introductions. Mr. Swisher was gracious, eager to oblige. He even had to dismount and disconnect himself from his bike to unearth his wallet from his top case to apply his official BMW member number. At this point, I am clueless on the identity of this man but judging from the looks of his bike, he and it have seem many places.

He signed the form and agreed to pass on the task of filling out the details to Mr. Massey. I thanked him and wished him well and followed Mr. Massey to the showroom, where he located Mr. Swisher’s info on the computer and completed the form. One word about Mr. Swisher? Amazing. Talk about pressure. I have a lot to live up to. Upon arriving home, I did a brief search on Mr. Swisher. I hit the jackpot. I'm impressed with his motorcycling feats and feel honored that he signed my form.  

The ride took 846 miles to complete: 430 miles on Saturday and 416 miles for Sunday. The season has been launched. I am eager to rack up some long, safe miles in some exciting places.

...Back in the saddle again...

Who was the cowboy who sang that?

Yesterday I fired up the Suzuki SV650 for my first ride since the “get off”. From my extra motorcycle cloths and equipment stash, I geared up--it pays to have extra jackets, pants, gloves, and helmets as my main boots and main jacket remain in VA. The weather Gods were looking down on me. By the time I arrived home, the temps had reached 72 degrees by mid afternoon.

The goal: a nice ride to Kankakee River State Park, which, if one goes the direct route, is reachable in about 27 miles making for a nice 50+ miles first outing. Dave had planned a back road route, which I think meant it would take about 40 ish miles to reach the park. With weather this nice, I didn’t feel taxed by the wind. It was windy and we encountered some robust gusts, which after about 25 miles Dave recommended turning around and heading back. It’s true we were being tossed around but it didn’t bother me. That I was on two wheels and loving every minute, made the wind a non-issue for me. Dave’s new bike is less than a week old. So, given that he didn’t feel comfortable forging ahead, we turned around. However, I would have continued on, blah, blah, blah…What amazes me about this ride is that it was supposed to, according to many people, be a time when I would be nervous. I can’t count the number of people who kindly warned me that the first time getting on a bike might feel a bit disorienting; I might feel nervous, or even frightened. Some said I might relieve the accident. Others told me that one “get-off”—even a minor one, was enough for him to hang it all up. I am glad I heard these warnings. I considered myself immune to these feelings. But the conversations made me give this lots of thoughts while I was home healing. I couldn’t imagine this happening to me.

Well I got on the bike and that was it. It was like meeting an old friend. I had no nervousness, no fear, no concerns and didn’t think of the accident. I thought only of David Hough and I watched everything like a hawk. I felt alert yet on guard. Going from the BMW back to the SV was interesting. One works for the SV ride. That’s not a complaint. One is forced to be far more conscious of every thing. One must think of the gear one is in. It’s even more difficult on the SV to let down the kickstand! I have to be the most vigilant—far more than on the BMW—of throttle control. The Beemer pulls out slowly and is smooth throughout. I don’t have the “wheeling waiting to happen” feeling on it. The SV is a wheelie waiting to happen every second. I love that about the bike. It has tremendous power and pull from first gear throughout. The Beemer seems tamed by comparison and catches up in the higher gears. In my opinion, the Beemer, my most favorite bike to date, has a different fun factor than the SV. If I had to pick one, it would be the Beemer. I can hear someone say, “Yes, but you weren’t on the offending bike!” Therefore, this wasn’t a true test. That’s an important point. We shall see…I just don’t scare easily. I see riding my bike home and finishing my ride as a wonderful challenge for which I feel prepared.Before we arrived home, we stopped at a German restaurant, where Dave had corn beef, cabbage and boiled potatoes—it was after all, St. Patrick’s Day. I had two bites of very bad fish, which the dog later appreciated.

Update. Today, the shoulder and back are smarting but not nearly as badly as I thought it might after nearly 50 miles. Nothing a dose of Aleve won’t settle down.

I am so back in the saddle again!

The Big Red Bird, etc.

Saturday was all about riding (via car, unfortunately) to Savoy, IL to retrieve the new red BMW F650GS. Now that I've sold my car, being in a car for long spans of time is rather taxing. We made it and the big red bird-looking bike was sitting in the back room of Twin Cities, BMW, where a group of Saturday riding regulars were hanging around consuming Dunkin' Donuts and coffee and shooting the breeze. The bike was parked in center of the small area and with the riders sitting or standing around, it looked like they were paying their respects to a departing friend.

A woman who appeared to be around 80 was among the group. Soon she came up to me and showed much curiosity in the bike. "No, it's not mine." She wasn't sure she liked that particular Beemer. In fact, she wanted me to know that she rode BMW when they were really BMWs, when they were "not equipped with all this new fancy stuff." Although she was sweet, nice elder citizen and we chatted easily and for some time, she seemed to have some issues with change--at least in regards to BMWs. She also voiced concerned that the tank bag would prevent the rider from seeing the instrument panel--frankly I was too. It's a towering bag. With the tank bag market being what it is, I wouldn't have gone with that particular bag--but hey, it's not my bike. To each his own.You can tell from the pics that the bike is well-equipped. By the time Dave left, he had had his new Zumo hooked up, had donned his new Gerbings to handle the low 50s temp, and had made his appointment to return in April for the 600 miles service. I got a nice free black tee-shirt out of the deal. After what seemed like a long time, he was ready to hit the road. We headed out in different directions. This trip became a new test for me too as I drove the 100+ miles back. Would my collar bone or the ribs bother me? They did not. Much. I'm fine and ready to put this all behind me.

I stopped at my favorite little Thai-Japanese restaurant in Champaign, IL. I'm told there are other similar establishments there that are far better. I like this one and the two times I've be in it, there has never been over three other people there. Hmmm...Still, the crab fried rice hits the spot so well! Welcome to the garage, big red, which really isn't big at all. It's a 650 label but really is a detuned 800cc, which I was surprised to see the 798cc on the specs. Although the bike has some accessories already installed, it is definitely farkle time. Dave said the seat is "terrible" and hurt after an hour, partly due to the very upright seating and the extra demands this places on the tail.

Sunday, Dave tried the bike out on gravel. "It does better than Queenie (aka Suzuki SV650) does on gravel." Being able to ride on gravel and do a little off roading is why he wanted a more suitable bike and the reason poor Queenie will be searching for a new home. Countdown to VA: Retrieve the F800ST April 10th!

A new Bike, the smell of Spring and the Call of the road...

There’s a new bike in the garage! Dave has purchased a red 2009 BMW F650GS. Saturday, he’ll take delivery of this accessorized dual(ish) sport two-wheeler. In addition to the new farkles he’s ordered for it, he’s don new Gerbings for cold weather motoring. Looks like Queenie will find a new home with the help of Johnny at Motoworks Chicago. Lucky is her new owner whomever that might be. If s/he has half as much fun as I’ve had on her and then Dave, they will wear a permanent smile. If I could, I would keep Queenie, but it’s not about what I want, it’s about what I need. I don’t need two bikes. Period.

Last week, Dave rode Queenie, his longest and probably last long ride on her, to Savoy, IL where he test rode the F650GS. That’s all it took for him to sign his John Henry. He arrived home exhausted form battling a strong headwind the whole way down and darkness on less than idea roads for the return trip. He clocked more than 230 miles and despite his exhaustion, he sounded quite elated that his winter of researching bikes is now over. Too bad he wasn’t able to get the bike at Chicago BMW but they didn’t have a red one in stock. Mike Abt put a call out for other dealers to send him one before his expected shipment (a “couple of months) came in. In the meantime, Dave found one on his own at Twin City BMW in Savoy, where they sell not only motorcycles but BMW automobiles too.

We are also the proud owners of The Spot—thanks, Dave. I think this is his way of keeping track of me. Now, to me, this should eliminates the need for phone calls every night and each day, right?

The date has been set: On April 9th I shall fly to VA and retrieve Jesse O. To make sure the trip can go off as planned, I’ve finally invested in heated clothing as one can never expect the weather to cooperate. I’m up a s Tour Master Synergy jacket and pants. I had to buy a BMW adapter to make it a plug and go. “Why didn’t you get Gerbings?” My simple answer is, personal choice after doing my own independent research. I also invested in some heavier gloves that are nicely lined and absent of a thick palm area in order to allow the heated grips to heat up the hands. The outer areas of the gloves are nicely thick but not so much that it interfers with the controls.My solo trip schedule is coming along fine. This ride season will be different than others, where I only concerned myself with my own schedule. Now, I “must” include Dave on some rides. I’ve agreed to go on some day rides with him. I even agreed to do an occasion weekend ride. But I’m really trying to get across the importance of my need to do 95% of all my riding solo.

I have two advanced classes set up, one for the beginning of the ride season and one near the end. I always look forward to the SRTT classes offered by Ride Chicago. This year, I have a friend who lives in Canada who might becoming just to take the class. I hope that he can make it—that would be too cool—and I’d take the class again even if I’ve already taken it.

I also have another forum pal coming to Chicago. He’s coming from England so he won’t be bringing his bike. I’m looking forward to being an ambassador from my city. I used to give tours for my alma mater (the University of Chicago) and although I’m terribly rusty, I’m looking forward to showing him places one would never see on any Chicago tour. He’s a blues fan so I’ve been checking out the best most non-touristy places.Life is good. My brother’s case continues and I have my moments of sheer anger and sadness then I remember my brother and I do what I can to enjoy the moment and then take each moment as it comes…

I can smell Spring and I can hear the road whisper my name.

Two wheel riding begins...

It seems the ribs have healed--at least enough to no longer feel a daily reminder. The doctor has pushed and probed some still sore spots but it's minor. I'm a serious walker and this past Saturday, I walked 10 miles. Yesterday, I walked from 60th & Ellis Avenue to downtown Chicago, amassing another 10ish miles. The only post-walk problem I have is a minor ache in my back, which goes away with one little blue Aleve. The neck and collar bone is another matter. It smarts some and I now think I know why. Arm swing! The break has result in a rather noisy shoulder and neck area, lots of clicking and popping. It makes sense that swinging one's arms might cause some cackling and later soreness. But! It is far less problematic than even two weeks ago. So, I'm thinking this is all good news. Weather permitting, I will be on my bicycle soon, which I think will be an good substitute test of how this old gray mare is really healing. I'm optimistic that it's just a lot of rust that I have to clear away from the bones and joints. I think some targeted yoga and weights should help smooth things out. So I'm on a mission to be in the best ride-fit shape by April 1. I haven't lifted any weights since the accident--except for the dinky 2lbs therapeutic weight used to promote mobility in the left collar bone and shoulder area. My return to using free weights for the whole body begins in earnest next week. I'm actually looking forward to lactic acid soreness from new exercise efforts. For the most part, the bike is finished. I want it here now! Tuesday, February 10, 2009 was 62 degrees F in Chicago. Motorcyclists were everywhere! I envied them all and ended up with a case of self-induced whiplash. I'd hear that unmistakable sound and spin around, moving my neck faster than a still healing collar bone can tolerate. For reasons too complicated to mention here, I missed the CycleWorld Motorcycle show that was here this past weekend, an event I look forward to each year. It's always a nice mid-winter retreat to signal the coming riding season. Oh well...it will come again. Tuesday's glorious weather was the signal this year that riding season is around the corner.

My first trip of the season is to Fredericksburg, VA to retrieve Jesse Owens. Given that I have little to no time off work, this trip will be pretty straightforward--no time for touring. But the pleasure will be in the ride. The cost of shipping the bike ranges from $475 to around $900. The former is doable but i would never pay the latter. And, the only fun way, is to fly out and ride the bike back. Thoughts of my reunion with that wonderful F800ST carries me through the days...

It's all relative, isn't it?

If what happened last Sunday, had happened many years ago, say 25 years ago, before my daughter was born, or before I was born, I'd probably think of it as a personal tragedy. But it didn't happy many years ago, it happened on Sunday, January 25th, a most fitting day for a woman whose 94 years on this earth was lived piously and devoted to family, church and community. My maternal grandmother, who lived more than two decades after my grandfather died, departed this earth quietly, peacefully and with the full knowledge that she was loved deeply. She always loved Sundays for it was the day that she didn't mind spending in church--all day in church! Grandma spent her life executing her beliefs.

I am among the privileged who lived with my grandparents during some formative years of my life. She is the last of the four grandparents I was fortunate to know fully.  My many conversations with her and my unconditional devotion, respect and love for this woman, make this a poignant occasion; but it is not paralyzingly sad like I used to think it would be whenever I thought of her dying when I was young.  

Today is the celebration of  her humble, long life. I will remember her stories about growing up at a time when opportunities were denied people and women like her. She was a fabulous arm-chair historian who would tell me, "I didn't read this in a book, I lived it."  I remember when I was young and she made me come in the house, right in the middle of a serious game of double dutch, to watch and listen to some preacher-man give an "important" and "historic" speech.  I was mad because this fouled up my jump rope game.  Today, it is only because of her that I now can say I saw Martin Luther King deliver his "I Have a Dream" speech on television.  In hindsight, I recall how I settled down and enjoyed getting swept up in the collective euphoria and energy of my relatives who cheered and commented on the speech in all the right places.   

I will always remember that she smiled and her eyes brightened when I told her, four years ago, that I had a motorcycle.  She never distrusted my judgment. Her passing was inevitable and as she used to say, "it happens to the best of us and to the worst of us."  It is indeed a celebration. 

I am blessed and fortunate to have had her in my life.  The way I see it, I will ride this, and all the seasons to come with another angel to accompany me and hep light the way. 

We're ready--Almost!

Jesse Owens is nearing completion. Yay!!

A small nick I had on the right side of the bike (unrelated to the accident) is also being repaired. Chicago BMW estimated that it would cost $600 to replace the entire panel (my desire). I chomped on the bullet and ordered the panel. When the replacement panel finally arrived from BMW (Germany), it was damaged! Back it went. Glad I asked Morton BMW in VA, where Jesse's been since October, for an estimate. Their quote was $100 less than Chicago BMW. Morton also told me about a guy they "highly" recommend, who does repair and detail work. I went with him and saved a few bucks--and feel better that I helped keep a small entrepreneur in business. Some friends told me to leave the boo-boo alone because it gives the bike character--yeah, right. I wished their bikes similar character. If Jesse were an old bike, I might leave that mark alone, but I earned that scratch when the bike was barely a couple of months old--far too new to endure a blemish.

When Jesse comes home he will look new and that matters to me. I am still scratching my head over my "get off," so having Jesse flawless will be therapeutic. Jesse will sport new moto-like lights. Just when I was going to plop down my hard earned dollars for PIAA lights, I decide to go with Martin Fabrication lights, which were recommended by a trusted friend who knows about all this stuff. Come spring I will fly to VA and ride Jesse home. No date in mind yet, but I'm working on that. Since it might still be cold, Jesse will have a new, auxilliary fuse panel to plug in the winter jacket and pants--which I don't yet own--working on that too.CycleWorld Motorcycle Show makes a stop in Rosemont, IL in February. I will be there! It will be my third visit, Dave's first. The show has become symbolic for me. It means the ride season is around the corner. I am looking forward to serious motorcycle-ride therapy. I am still challenged by the demands on my energy and time. But I'm working to get free. The bones continue to heal--way too slowly for me. I really thought I'd be whole by now! I've accepted that it is only in my dreams that I'll get to do some cross-country skiing this winter. Oh well...this too shall pass. In the meantime, I'm doing all I can to embrace living in what feels like the arctic plain! We're under a weather advisory--nothing new here. We have heavy, whirrling snow, frigid temps, and a wind chill that will slap the skin off your bare face. Brrrrrrrr! Yes, Jesse and I are ready--almost.
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Note: Liberty Mutual finally admitted their error and corrected the problem. Still, as soon as my insurance with them has expired, I will be looking for another company.

Finally, a new year!

The last few months I've been waiting for this new year like no other. I'm inspired by new things and new opportunities to begin fresh. I'm willing myself to feel better. Physically the collar bone is healing. I can't believe that it hasn't already. I continue with the exercises but I have developed some sort of chronically sore neck and shoulder that I'm told is normal. The ribs are healing too. Although rolling over in my sleep on my back wakes me up immediately! Ouch! I'm convinced, however, that the ribs will get stronger soon. I now have bumpy parts at each break site, evidence of calcification around the fractures. That's okay but my once smooth collar bone now sports a fairly large lump that resembles a mountain peak. I see it as I see my motherhood-earned stretch marks: these are the dues one pays for the choices made. 

Emotionally, I'm better too. I know for certain that each day brings hope for better days ahead. To all those whom I've promised to get back to, I will very soon. I am looking forward to catching up on all my friends' blogs, which I've missed terribly. Now that the holidays have passed, I can shift my focus back to more self-selected tasks. While I know that the new year can deal me anything, even some more difficult times, I am strengthened by surviving all that has come before. 

The image in the picture is a gift from my dear friend, Claire. The little girl is painted on wood. She is holding onto hope. She hangs on for me too.

Happy New Year. May you show strength in all that 2009 brings your way.

One more thing. Thanks to all of you for everything!