tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-325578342024-03-07T14:06:38.989-06:00Sojourner's Moto TalesSolo adventures on two wheels and all things related...
Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.comBlogger308125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-31352834940707495282017-05-25T19:09:00.001-05:002017-05-28T06:57:00.237-05:00Akaso Action Camera EK7000 (helmet mount)<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: 12pt;">I've acquired another action camera.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: 12pt;"></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVfbi4OyqKK_98dxCqKY0Z6FIMGbARKuyDxuoQf7zCVEHIxi_-2umqCd8DZHRfvXj4Cn2gfywVW8C4hYNwqyWt6wu4yS7UxUwLe9yToz2ba_jQtpoFutNgP27ez2-TCsK5YIUa/s1600/Akaso1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVfbi4OyqKK_98dxCqKY0Z6FIMGbARKuyDxuoQf7zCVEHIxi_-2umqCd8DZHRfvXj4Cn2gfywVW8C4hYNwqyWt6wu4yS7UxUwLe9yToz2ba_jQtpoFutNgP27ez2-TCsK5YIUa/s200/Akaso1.jpg" width="112" /></a></div>
The Akaso EK7000. It's a tiny
little GoPro clone for $84. I'm never going to be one who uses these cameras
all the time or expect perfection from them. Thus, I'm willing to make some
sacrifices. After reading about the camera and watching many YouTube reviews of
it, I decided to take the plunge. So far I'm liking many things about the
camera--and I don't feel I've had to make any major sacrifices thus far.<br />
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times";">Many years ago, I owned a
<a href="http://i62.tinypic.com/335a3jn.jpg">GoPro</a>. I don't remember the model; I just remember that I detested it--and that
it wasn't cheap. Undoubtedly, it took great videos but I couldn't stand
the tiny screen that I had to scroll through to use its features. Eventually I
traded it for a <a href="http://s4.static-iceb.org/pov/images/drift/stealth/drift-innovation-hd170-stealth-camera.jpg">Drift HD Stealth 170</a>, which liked far better and now plan to
unearth soon for comparison to the <a href="https://www.sena.com/product/prism-tube/">Sena</a> and Akaso.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe33SDnEaEoHznkqG23rNoAGVhQYWn3FV9s9m7kCEuN_Me2hyphenhyphen_citrmZyQiOIksGEF3F-3WHX6-NuGUMK_iJ0RBeAMqSOldtNphskYMZrBcLLQDB2vyTfwNbUnFJW-KhNWI0gE/s1600/Akasatree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe33SDnEaEoHznkqG23rNoAGVhQYWn3FV9s9m7kCEuN_Me2hyphenhyphen_citrmZyQiOIksGEF3F-3WHX6-NuGUMK_iJ0RBeAMqSOldtNphskYMZrBcLLQDB2vyTfwNbUnFJW-KhNWI0gE/s320/Akasatree.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times";">First, what I like about the
Akaso. It’s small, fits easily in the palm of my hand; yet, it has a large,
bright 2-inch LCD screen that makes scrolling through the functions a breeze.</span><span style="font-family: "times";"><br />The images and video are clear--far beyond acceptable. I've yet to test it at
night, however. The body is covered in a textured rubbery material that makes
it easy to grip.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQZ8Ffyb6JexEMEJYTpSr4Ven0c5N4mrmBVrvuYkGEWz77qxhjn4wKSizYqFGACo_n4O9vVdZp899Y6s0iQNcPgcNQFz2HMZyW31j3ppExagwfsvjBZHqpIH7Bg9wGGIGUC9AK/s1600/AkasoLCD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQZ8Ffyb6JexEMEJYTpSr4Ven0c5N4mrmBVrvuYkGEWz77qxhjn4wKSizYqFGACo_n4O9vVdZp899Y6s0iQNcPgcNQFz2HMZyW31j3ppExagwfsvjBZHqpIH7Bg9wGGIGUC9AK/s200/AkasoLCD.jpg" width="112" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times";"></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: 12pt;">I like too that the camera comes with a bunch of mounting options, for
wearing the camera, mounting it on the ‘cycle, the helmet, positioning it on a
car’s dashboard. Moreover, if one has GoPro mounts, the Akaso camera is a
perfect fit. Two 1050mAh batteries are included, which is a plus if you're on a
longish trip and can’t easily recharge the battery.</span></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimucXoqCazlFVKfG0x_vaOkkhPurYKHKzrDxOtPy-V9fAsOhXn3wlOaxtGb5kEdD1ntBPRRqcIl2wkUlEo95w4VEZLR_d3KRZe9T5O1jleomPrUT-ADn5cM_53gVZkGg5pJzQ_/s1600/Akasawrist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimucXoqCazlFVKfG0x_vaOkkhPurYKHKzrDxOtPy-V9fAsOhXn3wlOaxtGb5kEdD1ntBPRRqcIl2wkUlEo95w4VEZLR_d3KRZe9T5O1jleomPrUT-ADn5cM_53gVZkGg5pJzQ_/s200/Akasawrist.jpg" width="112" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times";">Here are some specs: The Akaso
takes a micro SD card (not included) up to 32GB (Class 10 recommended). In
addition to video, one can capture photos, burst photos, and time lapse photos.
I prefer my other cameras for photos and will probably never use the Akaso for stills.
It's Wi-Fi, which has grown on me. I downloaded the iSmart DV app and used it
to get a more precise perspective from the helmet mounting. Initially, it was tricky
to set up but once done, it was all good. Included in the box of goodies is a wrist
watch-like control that allows for glove friendly access for turning on and off
the video and photo functions. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjst6uhKcciTtwva1rSNZ-KYDgrWQjKqqMacGRy5iD6-pO9YjnJTBkx1LHGlnLRyJe96bcPjKW9_I_px2ga634Qvra6pPyqSJ7e4Qv8PIbInfhqLknsy0H0JCtJ5YOdKMyjk8tu/s1600/Akasabroken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjst6uhKcciTtwva1rSNZ-KYDgrWQjKqqMacGRy5iD6-pO9YjnJTBkx1LHGlnLRyJe96bcPjKW9_I_px2ga634Qvra6pPyqSJ7e4Qv8PIbInfhqLknsy0H0JCtJ5YOdKMyjk8tu/s320/Akasabroken.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times";">What I don't like about the
camera. To insert the battery requires removing a little door in the bottom of
the camera. This should not be complicated. I fiddled with it longer than I should
have, trying to be gentle with the rectangular lid. It should be on a hinge to
prevent it from becoming airborne when you finally get it off. Getting that
door open has been consistently knotty. Eventually, a tiny sliver along the lid
snapped, which hasn't diminished my view of the camera but I must now be
vigilant about close it so that it seals properly. I also don't like the helmet
mount. I opted for that because it was the easiest way to execute the camera test.
Personally, the camera atop the helmet made me feel as if I were signaling alien
beings. Just too conspicuous for my liking. So, yes. I think this one is a
keeper.</span></div>
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</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYOuwFd0RxdxUug-mTrtb7sVFGYvCS1ZkHyR71i4ZDV55IEAvBkfiEdu9VfcZlAKihhi0kya9MpxdW1P8zZNkD37NZ9AJ12rYxM_IyuhHbdusozQ9oLpGxueyflvZmRRMq-tMU/s1600/Akasalid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYOuwFd0RxdxUug-mTrtb7sVFGYvCS1ZkHyR71i4ZDV55IEAvBkfiEdu9VfcZlAKihhi0kya9MpxdW1P8zZNkD37NZ9AJ12rYxM_IyuhHbdusozQ9oLpGxueyflvZmRRMq-tMU/s320/Akasalid.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/-SeY0LGvjL0/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/-SeY0LGvjL0?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times";">A short test ride:</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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UPDATE:
The biggest disadvantage, perhaps understandable reason to avoid the Akaso, is
the internal microphone quality is awful. I've watched far too many DIY mic
hacks for this camera type and I have neither the time nor desire to do that
level of work to improve the audio. Off to Best Buy (BB) in search of a better
option. <span style="font-family: Times;">Fortunately,
I took with me all the miscellaneous action cameras, cables and plugs from my
previous years of trying to improve audio quality of action cameras--the audio
set up with the Drift and Sena are exceptions. I think those setups are fine
but their plugs are not universal. They don’t fit the other action cams. Is it
so unreasonable to want the same mic setup to work on four different action
cams? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times;">At BB, a smart young techie
assessed the cameras and cables and told me that I simply needed to purchase a
Micro USB Jack to 3.5mm headphone Earphone Adapter Socket Audio Cable, and the
audio problem of three of the cameras would be resolved. Fingers crossed. The
fix? Six dollars. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p> </o:p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times";">Coming soon: A revisit with the Drift
Stealth HD.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-57743759848165513792017-04-22T13:48:00.000-05:002017-04-22T13:50:00.604-05:00The Sena Prism Tube Action Cam at NIGHT--and YouTubeNote to self: Research some Blogger alternatives.<br />
<br />
Decided to test the little Sena Prism Tube at night. I'm still enjoying it and the night jaunt only made my fondness grow. Its simplicity <strike>trumps </strike> er...let me change that word...its simplicity has won me over. The camera's shortcomings are too few to worry me (e.g., making sure it's aligned, which requires some guesswork; the annoying wind noise; and, my protruding helmet in the camera view).<br />
Really, though, those are user issues--nothing to do with the camera. The snap-and-go is what makes it work for me. I'm still fiddling, still trying out some of the microphones I've amassed over the years, still looking for one of the little wind curtain that comes with purchasing a Nolan helmet. Still needing to get on the rode for a nice spring trip.<br />
<br />
Here's a slice of a night ride. To me, the Sena Prism Tube passes the test.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/IjlJI6JtquY" width="480"></iframe>
<br />
<br />Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-32747645491195586782017-04-15T04:30:00.001-05:002017-04-22T13:21:19.489-05:00Review of the Sena Prism Tube Action Camera for Motorcycle Helmets<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">It is that time of year again when the call of the road is loud
and relentless. Jesse Owens II is home from winter camp and itching to take me
far and wide. So far, however, all we've done is ride back and forth to school.
But that brief ride is enough to start the day with a heart full of joy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">This season I will ride with a new toy after finally acquiring a
<a href="https://www.sena.com/product/prism-tube/">Sena Prism Tube</a>. As the owner of four previous helmet action cameras, I'm
liking this one the best. Yes, even better than the renowned, popular GoPro that
I once owned; I like it better than the Drift Stealth that I traded the GoPro
for and still own; and, even better than two other helmet cams whose names I've
forgotten and never even used on the ‘cycle. That makes a total of five helmet
cams I've owned. Only the Sena and Drift have inspired me to try my hand at moto-vlogging.
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ3BcM42_pz3iJrAFwxDqiuYKqf1ac7v09J5TpAFfGDrO7lPUBrd27-IiuRh3R9-RYXPYAQHdt3C80wQOF4PRn_ALokm8isKF-_aAGlPMJJDckiTCbtqzK_LteCIcXIBfV9w8R/s1600/SenaPrismTube1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ3BcM42_pz3iJrAFwxDqiuYKqf1ac7v09J5TpAFfGDrO7lPUBrd27-IiuRh3R9-RYXPYAQHdt3C80wQOF4PRn_ALokm8isKF-_aAGlPMJJDckiTCbtqzK_LteCIcXIBfV9w8R/s320/SenaPrismTube1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: 12pt;">So, for those looking for a
simple, snap on helmet mounted action camera, I offer this review of the Sena
Prism Tube. </span><o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">What I like: It's no nonsense;
simple to set up; no tiny window to scroll through to access features; no
pairing with a phone; unburdened by multiple mounts; and, did I say, "easy
to set up." Of the helmet cams I've owned, this one is intuitive and seems
the best design for snapping on a helmet and going! Mounting on a helmet is
quick and simple. A sturdy clip can be screwed to helmet and the camera inserted
in the mount. This works well if the helmet is devoid of a lip or flap that
goes underneath the helmet. This method did not work securely on my Nolan
modular helmet but worked fine on my full-face Scorpion. However, even on the
Scorpion I was never able to adhere it so securely that the screw-on mount didn't
move a little when adjusting the camera or turning it on and off. However, the
stick-on mount works great on the Nolan, which is my preferred helmet. Moreover,
<a href="http://www.webbikeworld.com/r5/sena-tube-review/">I like the camera's 125-degree wide</a> angle lens and its ability to adjust to
light variations quickly. It records in full HD 1080p at 30FPS—so some the
30FPS is unacceptable. To me, it is not. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have yet to try the camera at night, but
when driving into a dark garage the camera's eye adapts quickly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">What I like most is that
everything you need to get going is included in the box. No need to buy a
microphone because a wired mic is included as is a USB cable for the speaker
and microphone. You will need to supply a micro SD card up to 32GB. In addition
to a microphone, the Sena Prism Tube comes with a speaker, which is a bonus
because it removes the guesswork from wondering if the camera is recording.
When turned on, a voice prompt will announce: "Camera on, recording."
When the camera is turned off the voice announces, "Camera off."
Sweet! I can recall many times I rode thinking a camera was recording only to
learn later that it wasn't. Not with the Sena Prism Tube. I read that there is
also a warning of low battery but I can't confirm that as I've not gotten that
far yet. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIrP-wAilRfRvd87aFm26pX-9MfjDB4BC7rPoJJrTcrMH-bRs96wVE85s4EbwlyugmQOV72n6Uab-l0bLEPyDQa7wlyThxMVyl_4N3vGa4wFZypGj3f5MZS5l-L3Oobwh_DFof/s1600/SenaPrismTube2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIrP-wAilRfRvd87aFm26pX-9MfjDB4BC7rPoJJrTcrMH-bRs96wVE85s4EbwlyugmQOV72n6Uab-l0bLEPyDQa7wlyThxMVyl_4N3vGa4wFZypGj3f5MZS5l-L3Oobwh_DFof/s320/SenaPrismTube2.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "times";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">What I don't like: Actually,
not much. I'm not looking for professional quality video. I'll be okay with
good enough. If I venture into moto vlogging, I'll up grade if necessary. The Sena did take
some fiddling to get the camera angle straight on the helmet. For the first few
test rides the camera was a bit cock-eyed. With the help of YouTube, I learned
from other users how to solve the lop-sided perspective. My preferred method is
putting the helmet on and looking into the mirror and straightening the camera.
I can then test the angles out and play back on my computer to check.
Easy-peasy. I read also that using a bubble level with the helmet and
camera mounted and placed on a flat surface also works. Once mounted on the
helmet, the Sena can be moved back and forth as well as inward and outward from
the helmet, giving the rider considerable range in camera angle.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">The wind has been an unpleasant challenge. I don’t blame the
camera. It’s more a mic issue I’m guessing. The Nolan has a wind curtain that
fits under the chin of the helmet. I need to find that to see if it will cut
down on the wind noise. One some YouTube videos the wind is awful, on others,
using the same camera, the wind is almost nonexistent. Weather conditions
surely matter and we’ve had some truly windy days. Helmet style and quality surely matters too. Still, I’d like to get the wind interference under better control. Otherwise, I have no complaints. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times";">Loving the Sena Prism Tube--and being
back on two wheels...<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-30871861299597188452016-06-15T16:02:00.002-05:002016-06-15T16:02:42.145-05:00Being grounded. Dealing with priorities. And itching to get on the road…<div align="left">
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This has been a tough spring season. Hardly any LSD riding to
date. I don’t count riding to school, which takes anywhere from 15 minutes to an
hour plus depending on my starting point. I’m talking about doing 500 or 600
miles on a warm Saturday and perhaps another 500 plus on Sunday. Long weekend
rides have taken a back seat to priorities.</div>
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A friend of more than 30 years died a few weeks ago. For the past
year I’ve visited her several times a week. It has not been easy on multiple
levels. But it’s the least one can do for a friend. It’s also been a challenging
teaching quarter because my two classes were filled <em>over</em> the brim. It
made returning submitted work in a timely fashion pretty dang taxing. But at
11:59 June 14th the quarter officially ended. I shall miss my students but not
the struggle to keep my head above water. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRnms0eYc4iToOfcQtecnAhyLyTHPkEhFzDXgfblLgGo-6wx42XfpLXpYHcpY6YNazdOGxEJMfRHb0-YMFxFctaFK1PTCxkEsi_0-zLQbwrL_2gLRu-96hfwroSXcWxm_znzMn/s1600/bdayride2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRnms0eYc4iToOfcQtecnAhyLyTHPkEhFzDXgfblLgGo-6wx42XfpLXpYHcpY6YNazdOGxEJMfRHb0-YMFxFctaFK1PTCxkEsi_0-zLQbwrL_2gLRu-96hfwroSXcWxm_znzMn/s320/bdayride2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Annual b-day ride with Dave)</span></div>
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Add iffy weather as another reason I’ve not done any LSD rides.
Ordinarily the weather does not phase me much. The chancy weather helped me
rationalize being grounded more often than not. But when such weather finally
turns consistently sweet, it makes longing for two wheels that much more
pressing on the spirit. Priorities. I don’t regret spending time with my friend.
It made me realize again how I now have fewer years ahead of me than I have
behind me. And, she was about 12 years younger than I am! Sometimes, I just sat
there while she slept. I gave a tribute at her funeral. Those moments spent with
her over the past year prepared me for saying goodbye. We make time for that
which is important to us. </div>
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While there is some truth to the idea that how old we are has less
to do with the number than how we feel, let’s be real. I will not be swinging
my leg over a sport turning bike at 83. At that age, I might have to consider a
<a href="http://www.jamesbondlifestyle.com/sites/default/files/styles/full_width_image/public/images/product/au018-bmw-r1200c.jpg?itok=u_Ec9qhl">low
seat cruiser</a>. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcH9H3f24tK_oEn11VR1EZtbmhK8Timecu6Tv4oUAa6yl3S70OwwnsFzTc47ylxbPsmJ5NSb562zEETaVIMynVTuIIYTKlw1j1KaX-FFrtloFpJYynLkUIfoCBkRm0iZjf-3du/s1600/bmw-cruiser-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcH9H3f24tK_oEn11VR1EZtbmhK8Timecu6Tv4oUAa6yl3S70OwwnsFzTc47ylxbPsmJ5NSb562zEETaVIMynVTuIIYTKlw1j1KaX-FFrtloFpJYynLkUIfoCBkRm0iZjf-3du/s320/bmw-cruiser-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Now, that school is effectively over, my head is filled with ideas
for glorious solo adventures with Jesse Owens II (my motorcycle). I yearn for
being in a position to take to the road come every mid-June and not returning
home until mid-September. It is a dream and a goal that must wait until next
year. This summer is taken over—or so it feels—with some necessary writing
projects that must be completed before September draws to a close. I’ve come up
with hundreds of reasons to avoid the task but avoidance only prolongs the
inevitable; besides, I’ve run out of excuses. I have friends who have
volunteered to provide quiet space with zero distractions. How can I refuse?
Thus, my rides will occur mainly on weekends. One can cover a lot of ground on
weekends so, I’ll not complain. I am reminded of my early morning rides, years
ago, to Indy for lunch at Shapiro’s Deli and then turning around to return home
before dark. Or my visits to St. Louis and always getting home too late for
comfort. I can remember a few weekends that totaled 2,000 to nearly 3,000 miles
of two day riding. So, I should be able to puts some miles end even if I lack a
big destination. I have factored in an Iron Butt ride before the season
closes—and it will be official. I’ve done two iron butt rides, both were meant
to be official. However, I never turned in the paper work. I wonder if there’s a
statute of limitation on that. Hmmm….(Note to self: check IBA rules). While
there won’t be any cross country trips, I enjoy the many mini trips. Alas, my
winter dreams of a summer solo ride to Nova Scotia must remain a dream for the
future.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhP-ky7T1kTBabkiOaZ7UBaCM1xaaWu45a9LwuhF7C_niCGdes4_biN6k2YayY_2Jwx_Db7F4c-sckr0ZJ6QsEMSqeTrY5UiN5T0WIqiXz9Huim_VwkQty3e0XF5odRfx1zmij/s1600/BahaiTemple1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhP-ky7T1kTBabkiOaZ7UBaCM1xaaWu45a9LwuhF7C_niCGdes4_biN6k2YayY_2Jwx_Db7F4c-sckr0ZJ6QsEMSqeTrY5UiN5T0WIqiXz9Huim_VwkQty3e0XF5odRfx1zmij/s320/BahaiTemple1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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In addition to modest riding goals this summer, I am re-committing
myself to actually publishing the blogs that I pen. I have a backlog that can
only be explained as negligence. I was going to say “being busy” could explain
it but really, that’s not completely honest. Yes, I’ve been crazy busy. But so
what. Lots of folks are busy. I do a bunch of stuff I detest doing but I have to
do it. Why am I not doing what I want to do and enjoy doing? Riding and blogging
about it is fun, freeing, and the biggest, most natural stress buster that I’ve
ever experienced?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9F1q9w9mQTtN4i8KpyXCV_Y8FJ2wC-pykEjO1LKdX6GNG9wnlyrDnGhLHfyAnS7jgjDwCNef1UvUDpXLeeM8goni95hSTF_zEMDrUD5ryfZFYPjOCzNKZKDSgPA-vU2ihlPr/s1600/Bluebikelocks_edited-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9F1q9w9mQTtN4i8KpyXCV_Y8FJ2wC-pykEjO1LKdX6GNG9wnlyrDnGhLHfyAnS7jgjDwCNef1UvUDpXLeeM8goni95hSTF_zEMDrUD5ryfZFYPjOCzNKZKDSgPA-vU2ihlPr/s320/Bluebikelocks_edited-1.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="text-align: center;">(Farewell, F800ST)</span></div>
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The itch to get on the road, beyond normal riding, is severe. I’m
loving the GT more and more. I have let go of the ST. I heard it has a great home. The GT is all that the ST was missing for me. When I stroll by the GT, I can hear its
engine seductively rumble, calling me…and my leg involuntarily twitches a little, hoping for a good swing over the saddle.</div>
Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-87630842443108344472015-09-30T16:36:00.001-05:002015-09-30T16:39:09.638-05:00It only needs to make sense to me…right? <br />
As long as you're not hurting anyone or violating some universally <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MjC2_JKKuBg/VgxVuy6Y3sI/AAAAAAAAJIg/dI6C2qo4oPc/s1600-h/bahaibike5.jpg"><img align="right" alt="Bahá'í House of Worship Wilmette, IL" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s1-hYXoFhB0/VgxVvZcvZ8I/AAAAAAAAJIk/BaQ7UE2E0Xg/bahaibike_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" height="190" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; float: right; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Bahá'í House of Worship Wilmette, IL" width="240" /></a>recognized ethical standards and the law, or jeopardizing your bread and butter, the strange (by other people's standards) things you're accused of doing don't have to make sense to anyone but you! I seem to attract people (and family/friends) who feel the need to share motorcycle horror stories with me. Complete strangers come up to me and say some variant of the following: “I knew a guy who rode motorcycles for years and one day was killed just going to the store—so you could get really hurt or killed—it's dangerous out there.” Or, “I have a friend whose has been riding for 30 years and he finally gave it up because he was having close calls and too many of his friends were getting killed.” Why am I subject to this? I usually stand there, listen politely. I show with little or no affect. I don’t know how to look more disinterested. I refuse to engage the unsolicited advice beyond saying, “Thank you for sharing that.” But in my head I'm really saying, “I am sorry that you know people who have been killed on a motorcycle and that's why you want me to find another hobby. When people are involved in car accidents do you tell them to stop driving, or hit by cars as pedestrians, do you tell them to stop walking and to find another hobby? I bet not. I know you mean well but you are not being helpful. I find you annoying.” Of course, I never say this. <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LTQvY6vrSm0/VgxVvzEHxVI/AAAAAAAAJIw/KFKt2EmrtmU/s1600-h/RestStop14.jpg"><img align="right" alt="RestStop1" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hmUpPXJVd68/VgxVwcnNWUI/AAAAAAAAJI0/3lUSjF4M9LM/RestStop1_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" height="172" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; float: right; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="RestStop1" width="240" /></a><br />
So, today I have at least three things pressing on my mind that prompted this little screed. Read it in good humor--but I'm serious about every word! <br />
Screed #1: Here is my response to all those who feel an urgent need to tell me, “you shouldn't ride alone. It's dangerous.” Breathing is dangerous too but I do it. I ride solo. I prefer it. I ride to be alone. I know the risks. I accept the risks. Riding with someone, anyone, on a regular basis would cause me to quit riding. I see no fun in riding with others. I know lots of people have tons of fun riding with others. I think that's just great. For them. It's not for me. When I ride it’s “all about me and the ride.” If that sounds “selfish,” so be it. I don't want to negotiate anything. Staying safe on the road is as much negotiating as I care to do. No, I don't need “the husband” or anyone to keep me safe. Yes, there are people out there who might want to assault me because I am a woman, alone, and a host of other attributes a nut case can use as an excuse to do me harm. I can't worry about that. According to statistics, I have more to fear from family members and friends than I do from strangers. So, family/friends I am on guard around all of you. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSZDRdlgH-rZDsP60S5rQS5gQFlLftAdwrhhNiqCGDIqGkHT5yNiuupN8snT_xZGzqjm6Z3eFY2FqyNBM5XZ0PbvCcgXqbLR5vRL6kkw8A5IFC1jb9JTvshty7h-vAcQrdMF-T/s1600-h/bd4.jpg"><img alt="Annual b-day ride w/Dave" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2S59oSdaAYM/VgxVxbWLCdI/AAAAAAAAJJE/XRni_EMrDbc/bd_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" height="196" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Annual b-day ride w/Dave" width="240" /></a><br />
Actually, I can hide at home, rarely venturing out, and a stray bullet can come through the window and kill me. Thus, staying at home can be deadly! I can't and I won't live being afraid to come and go as I please. The focus, concentration, and the unadulterated fun of riding, for me, is disrupted when I have ridden with others. I am thinking, worrying, and negotiating with someone about when, where, and what the plans are. My bladder has a mind of its own and, like me on two wheels, does not play well with others. So, well-intentioned family/friends, stop it. You're wasting your time and you should know that by now. If I'm killed out there, you have my permission to say, “I told her so.” Now, won't that make you feel better knowing you were right? (<em>Disclaimer: to all those I have had occasion to ride with, it has been fun because it has been so rare that I can enjoy it knowing that it will probably never be repeated).</em> <br />
Screed#2: I happily ride to Wisconsin to get the warranty work done on my Beemer rather than taking it to the “local” dealership. I bought it from a BMW dealer 25 minutes and less than 20 miles from my residence. It's the second bike purchased from the nearby dealership—I really like the sale manager and would not hesitate to purchase another bike from him. However, I will not ever get warranty work done there (well, I shouldn't say “not ever,” but it will be a hot day in Chicago in February before I do!). Therefore, I ride over 100 miles—one way--and nearly 2 hours in bad traffic (and the traffic from Chicago to Wisconsin is always bad) to get excellent service.<br />
<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-56g0I1TENRA/VgxVx-kVx1I/AAAAAAAAJJQ/ZL4bmN_8v0c/s1600-h/Militarybt4.jpg"><img align="right" alt="Milwaukee County War Memorial Museum" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8JhFYiA2cTk/VgxVygBWkzI/AAAAAAAAJJU/ec0uUffrJDs/Militarybt_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" height="240" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; float: right; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Milwaukee County War Memorial Museum" width="180" /></a>BTW, <a href="http://www.motorcyclesofmilwaukee.com/">this dealership</a> has free pick up and delivery from Chicago! I ride there instead because it is a great time to get some riding in. Negotiating the traffic, I believe, sharpens my riding and skills. Riding in hectic traffic is like riding in the rain. Some riders try to avoid riding in the rain. If you're on the road, you will inevitably encounter rain at some point. Granted, it's not an ideal riding situation but the only way to learn to ride in the rain, is to ride in the rain. I live where traffic is robust; therefore, it doesn't freak me out because I've learned to ride in it. It's a challenge and risk I accept. So, well-meaning family/friends, it's either Milwaukee or Iowa City for warranty work. And, while I like the option of the free pick up and delivery, I don't plan to use it. Now, for all my other shop needs and accessories I go to <a href="http://www.motoworkschicago.com/">Motoworks Chicago</a>, best shop in Chicago hands down! <br />
<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jzSdi0UVhdI/VgxVzIKuCyI/AAAAAAAAJJg/Q_ADEGCM_T0/s1600-h/NorthPTed4.jpg"><img alt="North Point Lighthouse" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VXGxAepoh6o/VgxVzuSHT5I/AAAAAAAAJJk/bZw9pNEPkig/NorthPTed_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" height="180" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="North Point Lighthouse" width="240" /></a>As an aside, my day in Wisconsin was filled with great weather, sites and a super lunch at <a href="http://www.beansandbarley.com/">Beans & Barley</a>. Took in some sites along Wisconsin's Lake Michigan. And, at 6:45 pm while heading back to Chicago, I watched my five month old baby turned 7000 miles old. <br />
Screed#3 I am not yet an official card carrying member of the Iron Butt Association but I have done two Saddle Sores (1000 miles in less than 24 hours) that remain unofficial. And, as soon as I can find where I've filed the paperwork, I'm submitting both rides for certification. I hope there is no statute of limitation as I did both some years ago. In any case, another one is in the plans. I enjoy long distance riding <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEuqvv6DhNGE5903K9GFzktX26eAkHqaDc6heVErRExK9VbCE5Q5OCPKkROYSeH2vbtlrBXvFYlGraRggk1zS5-IE-xVEOPKUZrrd1AEV-eER7pg3FycZs1p03BYukk1mIXLTw/s1600-h/mmoart44.jpg"><img alt="mmoart4" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5ly1B86qXoE/VgxV0VHB1nI/AAAAAAAAJJ0/PqQUExDfF9Y/mmoart4_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" height="180" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="mmoart4" width="240" /></a>because it is mind cleansing. I know this doesn't make sense to certain family/friends. I don't seek or expect your approval. For some motorcyclist these Iron Butt rides hold no appeal. That's okay. The Japanese have a saying similar to our “different strokes for different folks,” and it's じゅうにん、といろ(Juu-nin to iro), which means ten men, ten tastes. We’re all different. Again, it doesn't hurt anyone that I get up and ride to Indianapolis or down to St. Louis and come home the same day. My Saddle Sore #1 was from Chicago to Waverly, Nebraska and back. Saddle Sore #2 was a straight shot to Golden, Colorado. My return trip was leisurely. <br />
I have no habits or addictions that I spend money on—if you don't count books, fountain pens, <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3sY5h3Hre06cgy9PdNZfEGOO75diWgnbC8sKS-eZ9cznnBFgHYaQOUlpr616chYuWv4kn4QPKG6oTO3al0pun48Ru6TbIuZihgbaLLp0FUJVVGTfcq2CtRTwA4EWF9McYZCgY/s1600-h/mmoart24.jpg"><img align="right" alt="mmoart2" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RxKxjnSDhTM/VgxV1BdKUJI/AAAAAAAAJKE/u2o1QgmBYyA/mmoart2_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" height="142" style="background-image: none; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; float: right; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="mmoart2" width="240" /></a>Leuchttrum 1917 notebooks, motorcycle wear, and farkles for my bike. I'm kind to people and animals. Taking long day trips is a minor indulgence with huge dividends. I'm always happier when I return. So let me be. BTW, if you're really really worried about these long distance day trips why haven't you come forward demanding that I take your money and get a hotel room on your dime? Uh? Not that I would accept the offer. I'm just saying... <br />
Am I the only one? Are there things your well-meaning family/friends/strangers don't get about your motorcycling fervor? <br />
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<br />Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-20995631599557780652015-09-12T11:09:00.001-05:002015-09-12T11:09:11.956-05:00On the kindness of strangers…<p>One week ago, I arrived home safe and sound. Enough time to reflect on the trip but not nearly enough time to thoroughly process all the experiences, and people I met along the way. I put nearly 6000 miles on Jesse Owens II. It’s now ready for its second service.<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-00gSUUTvnoI/VfROFjpinPI/AAAAAAAAJAw/Yxqbs_uMVlg/s1600-h/_DSC7663ed%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: right; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="_DSC7663ed" border="0" alt="_DSC7663ed" align="right" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-brqNAA2ht8w/VfROFwo0fzI/AAAAAAAAJA0/g0o8owQO52g/_DSC7663ed_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="146"></a></p> <p>This is a quick note of thanks and appreciation for the kindness of strangers who helped restore my faith in humankind and who made the trip worry-free. </p> <p>First, a thanks to all the enthusiastic strangers traveling in the opposite direction who took the time <a href="http://www.fullthrottlenyne.org/motorcycle-hand-greetings/">to wave</a> clear across the interstate, highway or just across a neighborhood street. Too often I missed returning a wave because I simply wasn’t thinking about it or it had zipped passed me too quickly. Thanks. </p> <p>Somewhere beyond a 1000 miles the threading on one my <a href="https://www.rockymountainatvmc.com/p/747/-/830662/Sidi-On-Road-Gore-Tex-Motorcycle-Boots-Size-11-Black?ref=gmc&gclid=Cj0KEQjwms-vBRDlsM7utpaJ47ABEiQAIpKjTAhX7ayDDsgRjPcxjbrul-4UnuqgKMJLBO29Rt2owboaAiNw8P8HAQ">Sidi On Road Gore Tex</a> boot ripped. When I arrived in Encinitas, CA, a dear friend took me to a shoe repair.<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pMzqnZZLAKA/VfROGRbtqJI/AAAAAAAAJA8/wQYeO_2-IFI/s1600-h/boots2%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="boots2" border="0" alt="boots2" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQAwhn74535L37Kzet9IIxfRpcu1pteI9LvV6FKI3acjuY6C4a4Gtb-WihxJsFQgc-gCFQjiKeaGgrazi-sSs1lj1DrOtYeca_O6K0zqh1nvhEJ546arf6cX-z1SHnC67I0I_K/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="197"></a> I don’t know if it was chatting in Spanish with the proprietor that did it, but he charged me $20—a figure I know was a significant underpayment. He sewed the boot and returned them to me with a shine that would pass any Army’s inspection.</p> <p>Thanks goes to <a href="http://davidbrowns.com/Showroom/New-Vehicles">David Brown’s Sport Center in Amarillo, TX</a>. On a Rt. 66 jaunt, one of the fancy little Denali lights that I love broke from its housing. After stopping for gas, I noticed the light precariously dangling near the ground. The silver duct tape I brought along looked unsightly; it would advertise--rather loudly--a flaw in my new bike. Bought some black duct tape that concealed the damage until I reached David Brown’s Motorsports. I was assisted immediately and the light was adhered to the bike with flawless expertise. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM_m4SBjiREzu9wJ8FxATWgK7OQLJQWMt6iWbBSIshA4PAv0vz6R3dxordJrImRFwOQRjkwTMvboB6tgkQ7WE0uXQ17PaOaoaaT79cyFU9YOTEDJ2l8BS-4m2vta3O7ZMW4VO3/s1600-h/ECAlights%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="ECAlights" border="0" alt="ECAlights" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdkiJ0BPe0wOhXWrsf91KRGZVVlwmGHgqNxLWOu-GTPlQ5QtPb2k1DDefFq0n0BKY4nmJsfaGydtEylVLswWhoo6pglMpnUachsp0_Tth7U0qvEVWPvX86g-0ak-keYJzA_Aqa/?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a>The young man who fixed the light, didn’t want payment. I had to nearly force him to take a tip for this help. That kind of service always surprises me—and it’s often a rare experience. I appreciate the kindness shown me at David Brown’s.</p> <p>Then, there was my visit to <a href="http://www.sdbmwmc.com/">“San Diego BMW Motorcycles: Your Gateway to Adventure.”</a> I desired a simple check up before heading home, and I expected to pay a minimum of $100 for the peace of mind. After the check up, Brent Rackstein, the Service Manager, gave me his “A-Okay” on the bike. He waved off charging me and sent me on my way. I was more than a little surprised—it took time to go over the bike. Such thoughtfulness is always greatly appreciated, especially when you’re far from home and you’ve been on the road for weeks. <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XRum0FtJn-8/VfROISK3LKI/AAAAAAAAJBc/7fOUdC2TiJk/s1600-h/selfiebk%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: left; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="selfiebk" border="0" alt="selfiebk" align="left" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vzDmur_JIqU/VfROIoUaUQI/AAAAAAAAJBk/CbgNd_yzzsg/selfiebk_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a></p> <p>From the moment I walked in I felt welcomed; I felt understood; and, I witnessed how San Diego BMW Motorcycles truly lives up to its “Gateway to Adventure” tagline. I think I said it in another blog entry, but it bears repeating: If I lived anywhere in southern California, San Diego BMW Motorcycles would be my go-to shop for service and accessories—loved their selection of motorcycle wear. Oh, how I wish the BMW service shop nearest me had such interest in customer service. To get service similar to San Diego, I must travel 100 miles beyond Chicago to Milwaukee—it’s worth it. So, THANK YOU San Diego BMW Motorcycles for helping to make my “adventure” worry-free. <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qKpOR4Jhtwc/VfROJOlGbKI/AAAAAAAAJBw/1bcW5f5f1eA/s1600-h/DSC00205e%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="DSC00205e" border="0" alt="DSC00205e" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-AAOoehL8Ghk/VfROJvp9eSI/AAAAAAAAJB0/uu0c2L5n3hk/DSC00205e_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184"></a></p> <p>Upcoming: </p> <p>On the kindness of friends...</p> <p>Japanese American National Museum…</p> <p>Strange things said to me on the road…</p> <p>Stopping in a Sundown Town…</p> <p>World War II & the Eisenhower Library and Museum…</p> Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-31098188975195063312015-09-02T02:10:00.001-05:002015-09-02T02:35:24.787-05:00Clutch hand...feels like it was beaten with a rubber mallet.<p> </p> <p> Tuesday's  ride had highs and lows in equal amounts. It was a great bag day. Every thing stayed exactly in place. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKeBdvUuBLWgxUNSFx8WLxJngyWHffO7L0_McXKGr9zVQG25evtwLCG3WmODSXw_76T0zyQ0eChuHcGUzfqlqKZWKVTB3hgUxx8KSBbvRU-7WPMLD1pbs-Ioc6n6Fw5iHZTonI/s1600-h/DSC00243%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="184" alt="DSC00243" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YaYl_m45WrM/VeaenDRyduI/AAAAAAAAIrQ/nH61Gq0vM18/DSC00243_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" /></a> The ride east from Fruita, Co could not have been more pleasant. The temps started in the low 80s and remained there for some time. In the end, the temperatures ranged from 58 degrees F, to 100. The ride through different terrains kept the temps fluctuating and interesting. For riding, the temp changes proved both comfortable and downright miserable. <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LAR9_xh8INU/Veamt_-CiaI/AAAAAAAAIss/nzRS9I3VKVs/s1600-h/DSC00244blur%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="184" alt="DSC00244blur" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zB1PlYI6jPo/VeamukAul6I/AAAAAAAAIs0/_4jJcmyJP9U/DSC00244blur_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="right" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>Riding in fifty-eight degrees F through the mountains is cold, not chilly, downright cold! It is especially cold when gusty winds blast the chilly air at you and around you. My mesh jacked wasn't made for warmth and it lived up to its "cool" design. Highest elevation encountered topped 11,000 feet (near <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shrine_Pass">Shrine Pass</a>, for example). The higher we climbed, the colder the air. At times, a huge dark cloud would covered the ground. Riding under these caused a temporary drop in temperature too. These hovering clouds also made for nice contrast with the sun shimmering on the mountains <a href="http://www.fs.usda.gov/whiteriver">White River National Forest</a> area—freezing—but offers lots of beautiful vistas. More breath-taking views—it almost took my mind off how cold I was. Eventually, I took advantage of a rest area/overlook and changed to a warmer jacket. That, and turning on my handlebar heater, allowed me to relax and enjoy the rest of the way. <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-61ZTKkmkFIA/Veae1OpWeUI/AAAAAAAAIro/4q6A9gOkPac/s1600-h/DSC00248%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="184" alt="DSC00248" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-yXhRNAzr_Bw/Veae235ADgI/AAAAAAAAIrw/5ddqgwRdzpI/DSC00248_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="right" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>This is <a href="http://www.coloradoski.com/">ski country</a> and the area is filled with quirky shops, rentals, camping and mountain roads! Aspen, Vail, Cooper Mountain, Loveland Pass, wilderness areas—whatever your passion, it's here. Riding through canyons, tunnels, following the Colorado river, and attacking squigglies, make I-70 endlessly entertaining and spirited. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eisenhower_Tunnel">The Eisenhower-Johnson Tunnel</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-fHzvt8TM8w">the former heads west, the later heads east</a>, was a tad slow due to some department of transportation activity in the tunnel. Still, all the tunnels rides were fun. Lots of nice overlooks and rest areas along I-70. </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2Bv9rLYduVw/Veae7doTyoI/AAAAAAAAIr4/JaL_KUrf8tE/s1600-h/DSC00253%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="184" alt="DSC00253" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-I62ts4MJw5A/VeagwjWt6LI/AAAAAAAAIsM/CTxF3sqOnNQ/DSC00253_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" /></a>I think it was somewhere around Georgetown that things turned ugly. A backup lasted forever, or so it seemed. We inched along for miles. My clutch hand was screaming. It was a challenge to stop on slanted, uneven ground. Eventually, we came upon the detritus of an accident around a bend. Police and transportation workers were busy clearing the path. </p> <p>More ugliness came when I reached Denver. Chicago has some pretty intense traffic. <a href="http://www.denverpost.com/ci_18992013http://www.denverpost.com/ci_18992013">But in Denver, the traffic around 4:20ish, was insane!</a> Every eastbound and westbound lane was grid locked. All exits were backed up. Where I-70 and I-25 forked, the halted cars looked like a still photograph. That back up was not moving! My left hand pain returned with a vengeance. The repeated pulling and easing out the clutch for many miles left me with a throbbing palm. I had removed the stock levers because they are impossible for me to use. These <a href="http://www.ebay.com/itm/like/281744492848?ul_noapp=true&chn=ps&lpid=82">Wunderlich's</a> are a life saver but today even these babies could not save my left hand.</p> <p>I called it quits in Denver. My goal was to get past Denver, like another 200ish miles out. Alas, I was beaten by traffic, and a left hand that felt as if it had been pounded repeatedly with a rubber mallet. Downtown Denver hotel prices are the highest I've encountered on the trip. Ouch! <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4wL3HhLSwgY/VeagxH_S4YI/AAAAAAAAIsU/seDofHWZJfA/s1600-h/DSC00256%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="184" alt="DSC00256" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-d71o8IzfX0o/VeagxoKdDZI/AAAAAAAAIsY/so35hSnJGwA/DSC00256_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="right" border="0" /></a></p> Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-9109224752566760042015-09-01T09:12:00.001-05:002015-09-02T01:27:55.904-05:00Riding diversity...Monday had it all!Hello family and friends,<br />
Left Mesquite, NV on Monday. Made it to Colorado around 8:30pm. The day was long but fun, filled with varied weather (temps ranged from 59 degrees F to 100 degrees F) and engaging terrain. <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gaRo3U_Szho/VeWyCHYGu-I/AAAAAAAAIo8/UkdfcQZi4ns/s1600-h/DSC00189%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSC00189" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ploHtbGJaTQ/VeWyC3YL98I/AAAAAAAAIpE/dVTB2eR7NU8/DSC00189_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="184" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" width="244" /></a>There was also lightening, thundering and rain! Where does one go when it is lightening and the nearest place "with services" is 35 miles away?! No shelter anywhere along the long, sometimes isolated stretches of I-15. Watching the lightening was quite interesting but a tad cheek clinching--if you know what I mean.<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LYHCrSxr2dc/VeWyETchyVI/AAAAAAAAIpM/aid8dH67lrE/s1600-h/DSC00191%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="DSC00191" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-mCcI3AV-b7U/VeWyFbiHeTI/AAAAAAAAIpU/0Uw4z-ZxCCI/DSC00191_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="184" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" width="244" /></a> <br />
Even with all the weather variety, it was a beautiful day for riding. First time the rain gear has been used on this trip. I haven't figured out all the mileage but it was well over 500 miles. I love I-70! It has to be the prettiest, most amazing interstate! I don't know much about its construction, but it's now on my list for further research. I have taken I-70 from IL to Colorado before but picking it up from I-15 and riding it east...loved every minute of it! It is scenic, crooked, and in many places, lightly traveled. My biggest challenge was keeping my eyes on the road. <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XT_xTY5i9Dg/VeWyGfWV38I/AAAAAAAAIpc/SXEv3UgEJqY/s1600-h/DSC00206%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSC00206" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zCH6_rZmync/VeWyHoF5CtI/AAAAAAAAIpk/dk7Ve2NtBvw/DSC00206_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="184" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" width="244" /></a> Bluffs, canyons, color changes in rocks and landscape were breathtakingly distracting. I am absolutely smitten with Nevada and Utah! To my riding hero, RH, ...I take back everything I said about riding in the US versus Canada.<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-f9sCj4vdTUw/VeWyI5Jf_4I/AAAAAAAAIps/qcb5ruRZ6hA/s1600-h/DSC00205%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="DSC00205" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2Dn5xgH64Ws/VeWyJoOO_kI/AAAAAAAAIp0/DfdA8u1nAzo/DSC00205_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="184" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" width="244" /></a> <br />
Took a few detours, lots of up and down roads, many long sweeping curves and twisties. Loved the overlooks and many pull outs along I-70. If you travel this way, don't miss these as they provide a nice reason to get out of the saddle and some safe areas for shutter bugging. I really enjoyed the Virgin River and Green River areas. But my most favorite (although everything was a fave) area, which I almost bypassed because it was getting late, was the ride near Moab. This ride made me dizzy with its bodacious beauty!<br />
<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-l4A0VDiUhes/VeWyKy8ofFI/AAAAAAAAIp8/foxcAcV4r0c/s1600-h/DSC00207%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSC00207" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9n1yLb2qAUQ/VeWyL33UgdI/AAAAAAAAIqE/-pNZZ4_3NpE/DSC00207_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="184" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" width="244" /></a> This detour takes you around Arches Nation Park. I left I-70 at Crescent Jct. and headed south on 191. After about 30ish miles, catch 128, which heads east. You will be riding along the Colorado River. You stay on 128 until it meets up with I-70 again. I think this ended up being about 60 plus miles altogether but it was worth the detour. <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-mQ3Z9tfxphs/VeWyNvI-ywI/AAAAAAAAIqM/eza9S3WVLps/s1600-h/DSC00225%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="DSC00225" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-NOjqWVqMiSM/VeWyOWQjYCI/AAAAAAAAIqU/Lef-iSVVLEk/DSC00225_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="184" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" width="244" /></a> <br />
In this brief update, I can't express the sheer beauty, the overwhelming sensory experience of riding along this, sometimes tight, twisty road. This "Scenic Bypass" was the highlight of the day! When I finally returned to I-70, the sun was setting and the sky was quickly turning dark. A sign said that Grand Junction, CO was approximately 47 miles ahead. <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-woGbqI2Ue5I/VeWyP2dRggI/AAAAAAAAIqc/TVrrWwdMRA4/s1600-h/DSC00213%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img align="right" alt="DSC00213" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-lSPX03Tbdp0/VeWyQ0TeOAI/AAAAAAAAIqk/OO6qNGBhZDM/DSC00213_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="184" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" width="244" /></a> <br />
The road was lightly traveled. It felt a bit spooky. I imagined mountain lions and bears in wait around each curve for a lone 'cyclist. I kept my speed eight miles over the limit. In the far distance, I saw red lights and kept it in my view until I touched wheels in Colorado. I was checked in and fed by 9:30ish.<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-C10iK1oQwX4/VeWySH8c6NI/AAAAAAAAIqs/MpNsQIR20ZI/s1600-h/DSC00238%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img alt="DSC00238" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-0mUEG2wmolo78qAXqUAKMwuhWWfFzVzw9Y4KMDV-seTKAkyACbiVJetrwtwZQukA5K5elhZPuREVaEjUiXRZya50gGrBD3O2ovCFNwKxXOyrHJSO8ssBS1Z4uy7YSPj4_4z/?imgmax=800" height="184" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;" width="244" /></a> <br />
Onward and upward!Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-28357277034336165102015-08-31T08:07:00.001-05:002015-08-31T08:07:07.888-05:00“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.” - Saint Augustine<p>Sunday was my second day of sustained riding (i.e., over 50 miles) since arriving in California. It felt  good to watch the miles fly by. I left Santa Ana, CA early to meet up with an old pal who lives in Nevada. Because I was going to arrive early I decided to take my time and treat myself to breakfast—pancakes! <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8A7PF3mONIc/VeRRUcMnUNI/AAAAAAAAImw/d5djU1yX_EU/s1600-h/DSC001473.jpg"><img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="184" alt="DSC00147" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2eb816z5ndA/VeRRVOJwWjI/AAAAAAAAIm4/B03Q3BDGrro/DSC00147_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="left" border="0" /></a> I haven't had pancakes in ages and the I-Hop did not fail. It was a nice change from a green smoothie! I didn't know that my friend had been alerted by his sister-in-law (my Santa Ana friend) about my early arrival. Consequently,  he changed his arrival time to prevent me from waiting. In the end, we both did a little waiting for each other. It was well worth it. I'll call him RH. Nevada RH  is hardcore in all the good ways. He  is the only individual I know who has been riding since, well, forever! That is, all the time I've known him. The husband and I met him in the late 70s (Yikes) when he was riding in Chicago. He is still riding. He has never NOT ridden! But he's changed locations many times but the one constant has been riding. RH now makes his home in the Las Vegas area, where he is able to ride year round. He rides a HD Fatboy and he let me swing my legs over it. It's a big bike—over 700lbs, shiny and replete with cool front and back accessory lights that accentuates his presence on the road. HR is ATGATT (all the gear, all the time). <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-fVYEsApBcJ0/VeRRV4cgftI/AAAAAAAAInA/eNSf95a2pno/s1600-h/DSC001543.jpg"><img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="184" alt="DSC00154" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6nGBgMnaN-o/VeRRWqUuuuI/AAAAAAAAInI/rkT8-VIOVow/DSC00154_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="right" border="0" /></a> We had a great time chatting about bikes, rides and old times. The time was all too brief IMHO.  And, his wife gave him お土産 (omiyage) to give me. Really cool Japanese writing pad, and a beautiful pink patterned cloth. どうもありがとうございました .</p> <p>RH reminded me that I wanted to ride the Vegas strip. Up one side and down the other, I rode “the Strip.” It's like Chicago's Magnificent Mile and New York's Times Square, but on some <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfEHey11FD7VnoDHHLCKmwVfPmlAnR1YW03JTQ5Vmaoi2l4yKevy_qOm4-cJlDeK95mdGUwFNdmcns2qYEdGC1iAb4-fNlgAJO7FI90z4z1ttxDNfywcXoiFIMoLFBUBIjbsgP/s1600-h/DSC001662.jpg"><img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="184" alt="DSC00166" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-82IFAeVBXGU/VeRRXxagHZI/AAAAAAAAInY/_2yvEpklIoE/DSC00166_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" /></a> serious steroids. The traffic was crazy but I had been warned. Actually, I felt right at home with the traffic. I took pictures when the light turned red as there were no safe places to pull off for a quick shot. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZwssWoDOnwD7NJU1LgqWqwrNYdGeAqSmv4Okf5c3mdGO3xWnQ5D5nocQUIYnE6bBt0UMzS_y1J4fAVEbmREkMS9auYchB8rHzeRv5TVKChHQYG9Oy3BFBzK_w7btVJ5LSQ6zK/s1600-h/DSC001644.jpg"><img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="244" alt="DSC00164" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9UGziGzo_9Y/VeRRZjuq-vI/AAAAAAAAIno/n_B-csvBuk0/DSC00164_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="184" align="right" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>I had hoped to ride about 535 miles but called it quits after about 390 miles. That's another great thing about solo riding. You can change your mind on a dime and there's no one with whom to negotiate the matter. I called it quits because my eyes looked like I had been drinking and they felt like they had been massaged with sand. I could not blink away the grating feeling of each blink. My eyes were crimson with alien like veins extending outward from each pupil. I gave up in Mesquite, NV, and got a room. The eye drops started taking effect almost immediately but only after a blinding burning sensation after application. </p> <p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg01Aq5lkA6SR-e2GBhhfzcsVnqOiqU0VrOE4e9PrSIRzQXOb3flOMnryQDrO011CVSzDTVnxjpD30zet9fNVINIXi3d1aWUDGpJvpbooTJDhlXhAATrn84LQPPV9m4jn5dUXeJ/s1600-h/DSC001602.jpg"><img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="184" alt="DSC00160" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-uMKALe9as78/VeRRbSlOMbI/AAAAAAAAIn4/rxA_Slh5DxE/DSC00160_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" /></a> The ride along I-15 was hot. But I've come to appreciate just how much weather is a matter of perspective, it depends on one's reference point. Ordinarily, the 90s are hot to me, but if one's reference point is 114 degrees, then 97 feels downright cool(ish). The whole way was pleasant. I so appreciated that the temps never climbed above 107 degrees. I guzzled lots of water and when I felt I'd had enough, I guzzled more.<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LOfrM4Lnfho/VeRRcdnqyoI/AAAAAAAAIoA/fv4vnk3x6kM/s1600-h/DSC001482.jpg"><img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="184" alt="DSC00148" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-V127LG3oONU/VeRRc5PcL-I/AAAAAAAAIoI/nEbwHyqLJGY/DSC00148_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>Just as I felt called to the road, I'm hearing the call toward home. This has been the best combo vacation/research trip. Family and friends made this special. (More on them later). It may even be the best vacation I've had "alone." Ever. <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sqkFgGj4dXA/VeRRdRFFy1I/AAAAAAAAIoQ/9rttjyLGYag/s1600-h/DSC001532.jpg"><img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="184" alt="DSC00153" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v5_XRHZimwE/VeRReZeI7jI/AAAAAAAAIoY/Ov52F0aS950/DSC00153_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" /></a></p> Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-78072357347744448102015-08-22T08:13:00.001-05:002015-08-22T08:13:59.158-05:00Oh, the risks we take to ride...the need for がまんする (gaman suru) Re: August 18th -19th<p> </p> <p>Okay. So, the two small burns on my fingers are not unrelated to the bigger story I'm about to tell; but the burns are now minor annoyances from adjusting a bag that consistently slides too near the motorcycle's exhaust, and fries my fingers in the process.  Yet my<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6R9AphZFwckKlN_oAKEHeFVXxyxAJkKHyeeKe98MoFVzZf5-gPKJj-3iWKKrDlwDTrmk-vlcKosTe-H0iRwUd_msYkwv4GBH5Mtgf_m8nLGYmC-uXtditjr5wfRnVLqkclL95/s1600-h/fingerburn2.jpg"><img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="187" alt="fingerburn" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2260UeeLCNc/Vdh1awBW3VI/AAAAAAAAIiE/IlXRcaZ2CSo/fingerburn_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" /></a>burned fingers are important to this story because the tale is about burns of one kind or another—both literally and figuratively, such as burns from a desert blasting unbearable heat, a burning desire, a burning passion, and, burning mad. And, before anyone responds that what I did was crazy, let me say first and say it loud, I have no regrets. Actually, I'm glad I had  <a href="http://www.eudict.com/?lang=japeng&word=gaman+suru">がまん</a> (gaman), which, as a student of the Japanese language, means to me, to persevere and endure, to have patience, to hang in during a tough situation—at least that's my interpretation. During my ordeal I also thought of another of my favorite Japanese phrases: <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shikata_ga_nai">仕方が無い</a> (shikata ga nai), which means nothing can be done about it, that something is beyond one's control. Many interpretations exist about the positive and negative implications of both terms, I will avoid that discussion. I'll add one more saying that is of English origin: "Be careful what you wish/pray for, you just might get it," which to me is deeply cautionary advice designed, in my view, to insert pause and perhaps to even discourage one from venturing out. It seems to suggest that while wishes may come true, they might not show up in the way one expected—or wanted--so be forewarned. My philosophical problem with this phrase  is beyond the scope of this report; however, I contend that one obvious issue with it is that it  ingrains, intentionally or not, a hesitancy and warning that what you go after, might not turn out the way you want, so think twice about your quest. To that I say,  "nothing ventured, nothing gained."</p> <p>The ride...</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-KjqPmhFsrB0/Vdh1bf-CKVI/AAAAAAAAIiM/m0D_cKl8ejQ/s1600-h/bkhotel3.jpg"><img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="140" alt="bkhotel" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7tWE5tZXyyI/Vdh1bx6O0bI/AAAAAAAAIiQ/qHIRf_xqW5s/bkhotel_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="right" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>After arranging the DrySpec bags and feeling confident that they were well-positioned on the bike, I left Holbrook, AZ sometime around 8am. Ordinarily, I thoroughly check the GPS route against a paper map and figure out the best path of travel. However, my enthusiasm to get on the road made me skip the check that morning, which would burn me later. The weather started somewhere in the low 80s. I road quite comfortably for approximately 50ish miles and stopped just to do a quick bag check and down a drink of H2O. Good thing I did. The problem bag was at it again!  It was not just near the exhaust, it had slipped and was riding on the exhaust. Fifty miles previous, it was hoisted far above the exhaust to avoid that very situation. My less than two week old bags now sport a nice burn spot. Two burned fingers, one burned bag.  It's getting hot in here! </p> <p>I repositioned the bags. I must say that this bag problem is perhaps 50% user error. I have now learned how to position the bags so that they are never near the exhaust and the gas tank is now unobstructed. Now they slide forward rather than downward. I will maintain forever that the bags <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-97jkWmYmvWs/Vdh1cdJgDXI/AAAAAAAAIic/KHeeq0r4u54/s1600-h/bagburned2.jpg"><img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="244" alt="bagburned" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wwshTFD_Pzg/Vdh1czsNSuI/AAAAAAAAIik/tuKZEqJiJ7Y/bagburned_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="140" border="0" /></a>set up shouldn't be as challenging as I<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-oRPy7m2syDY/Vdh1ePQ1tpI/AAAAAAAAIis/p7amAINEnD4/s1600-h/burnedbag3.jpg"><img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="244" alt="burnedbag" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1BxQL_kYVkY/Vdh1eQSP0bI/AAAAAAAAIi0/2mxebk-bo3w/burnedbag_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="171" align="right" border="0" /></a>'ve found them to be daily—regardless of whether new or old strap positions are used. I'd love to see Twisted Throttle do a YouTube set up of my combo of their bags on the BMW F800GT—and ride it for some miles. Something about the rear sides of this bike and the bar around the  sides, with the <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-9kaewPhOo4c/Vdh1e_YO5EI/AAAAAAAAIi8/FGGiLL_LIzs/s1600-h/prong2.jpg"><img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="244" alt="prong" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-scJlckmQcN4/Vdh1fQGiy1I/AAAAAAAAIjA/8_t9p8vNdMw/prong_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="140" border="0" /></a> protruding prong on each side, make positioning and keeping the bags in place, and away from the GT's exhaust, difficult at best! I've become rather obsessed with these bags.  <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_g9dZ4qE7CU/Vdh1f1XqppI/AAAAAAAAIjI/A6vbS6GV_Kw/s1600-h/back23.jpg"><img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="244" alt="back2" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0EcIYuckYzE/Vdh1gMPv5II/AAAAAAAAIjQ/ETpzY6Zl69A/back2_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="140" align="right" border="0" /></a> </p> <p><em>Back to riding...</em></p> <p>The farther west I rode, the higher the temps. I had planned to get to Encinitas, CA, an approximate 550 miles ride from Holbrook before dark—I had plenty of time. Of course, I was assuming an uneventful ride. I donned a white mesh jacket, summer gloves, helmet, sun glasses, and summer(ish) riding pants. Physically, I was comfortable. In hindsight, I now know that traveling via I-10 West was not the wisest decision. At all. It's the desert!  <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VRXb_HzJ0PE/Vdh1gxP3bgI/AAAAAAAAIjc/djmi97sH7kA/s1600-h/desertshield2.jpg"><img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="140" alt="desertshield" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-j23UXsGWxfs/Vdh1hXKppqI/AAAAAAAAIjk/3w-dmqAsHJo/desertshield_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" /></a>First, there were few places to stop for a break once I was deep in the desert. Second, the temps increased rather dramatically but I remained focused and seemingly fine. At the onset, I was not uncomfortable. Yet. I sang in my helmet, conjugated some Japanese verbs and kept myself entertained. I even stopped the bike on the tiny strip of ground along the side of the road to take a few pictures. I drank water or Gatorade—sometimes both when I stopped. By the way, water and Gatorade taste awful when they--and the drinker are hot. <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-FHi659TMdhE/Vdh1h4ZDM0I/AAAAAAAAIjs/Jn93J-LSoQs/s1600-h/desert12.jpg"><img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="140" alt="desert1" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jQzR_M7KU6A/Vdh1iXQ5ERI/AAAAAAAAIj0/v4OYjgbgxhs/desert1_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" /></a></p> <p>In an hour it was sweltering. By the time the temps reached 110 degrees I felt it but not in the most debilitating way. Yet. I continued on. I saw zero motorcycles on the road. I saw few cars, After several hours, I realized there was no turning back. Literally, there was 仕方が無い (shikata ga nai), nothing I could do about it (at that point). I distinctly and deliberately thought  がまんする (gaman). Just hang in there, I told myself. This can't go on forever. I thought too of slaves who worked in blazing fields without respite. Did the heat of working in cotton fields feel like the burning furnace this ride was turning out to be? I continued pushing through the windy blasts of smoldering air. The way through seemed endless.  Eventually, my legs felt heavy.  I felt corseted in plastic wrap.  Increasingly, my helmet felt like a vise.  It was impossible to breath in fresh air because there was no fresh air,  just bursts of broiling ether that felt like I could spontaneously ignite at any moment. Still, I persevered.  By the time I had traveled over 300 miles, the temps had fluctuated from 100 to 114 degrees! </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-z7JZb7x9Jj8/Vdh1j_7xvPI/AAAAAAAAIj8/MgAUhpWHKcw/s1600-h/desert32.jpg"><img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="140" alt="desert3" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7JL8vvNAmBQ/Vdh1kfehSqI/AAAAAAAAIkA/L1Fi9wcp1tE/desert3_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" /></a> It took me more than five hours and more than 380 miles to travel from Holbrook, AZ to Desert Center, CA., where according to the GPS McGoo's gas station was ahead on the right. Just 14 more miles. I needed to get off bike, which I had been on without a stop for a long time. I did finally see McGoo's sign. I felt exhausted, hot and arid. I slowed to turn into the large, sand and graveled parking lot. After traveling on a flat, smooth surface for hundreds of miles, the abrupt change in terrain was jarring to my sensibilities and I struggled to steer the bike forward.  I cautiously pulled into the lot, slowed the bike and brought it to a dead stop.  I put my left foot down, then the right. I sat for a few moments. I searched for the kickstand but couldn't find it. My left foot felt disconnected from my body. At that point,  the bike and I did a slow motion clockwise descent into gravel. I could not keep the bike upright. </p> <p>On the ground, I reached for the kill switch. I slipped my leg clear from under the bike and stood up. At least, I thought I was standing up. I felt woozy and discombobulated. Either I was swaying or the world was spinning.  I could not apply the skills I've used before to lift my bike. I couldn't even walk straight, let alone bend my knees. My fuzzy head couldn't remember how to lift the bike. I stared at my bike as if  looks could will it upright. The parking had about three cars in it. But not one single gas pump. </p> <p>I stumbled--literally--to the <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/mcgoos-desert-center">McGoo's</a> store. I reached for the door but it kept shifting farther from me. I finally caught the moving door handle and made my way into the store. I was met with a blast of freezing air that slapped my face and stunned my senses. It felt heavenly. </p> <p>I asked a man at the check out counter if  he would help me lift my bike. He and another man in line immediately followed me outside. One of them asked if I was okay. I said I was but my mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. They lifted my bike with ease. I put the kick stand down. I think I thanked them. Because of the deep gravel and the fact that the bike was simply laid down rather than dropped, there was no damage to the bike at all. I wobbled back to the store and bought a bottle of water and Gatorade. I could barely get the funds together to pay the cashier. She asked me if I was okay. I slurred something about being hot. I saw a small wooden stool in the corner of the store and asked if I could sit inside until I consumed the beverages. She thought it was a good idea. I sat down and felt instantly worse. I felt ready to upchuck . I downed the Gatorade in seconds--it seemed; the water, even faster. The cashier, who didn't seem overly busy, kept chatting with me. After 20 minutes my legs still felt like they were borrowed from someone else. I continued to drink water. The cashier recommended that someone there could take me to a nearby fire station to check my vitals. I agreed to go if  I didn't feel better in a few more minutes.</p> <p>After another 15 minutes my head throbbing started to quiet. The cashier said, "You're sweating! That's a good sign." The store owner told her to give me a bottle of <a href="https://pedialyte.com/">Pedialyte</a>, "on the house." She ordered me to drink it all. I did. Thirty-minutes later ,I felt 100% better. Not yet normal, but 100% better. I continued to sit there, not sure my legs would work. Soon a woman, who had run out of gas entered the store. She had walked from her car to the McGoo store. "I know what the GPS says, but we're not a gas station." She said she would call Triple A, but the owner responded, "Sometimes they come, sometimes they don't." I remained at the store for a long time. I did not get back on the bike until I felt normal. I thanked the owner and cashier who kept me company in between business and entertained me with stories of people with similar and far worse fates in Desert Center, CA. </p> <p>Feeling “normal” I left. The owner told me where I could stop  if  I needed to. “In about an hour or so, you'll be getting away from the desert. He recommended I check myself at Indio, CA. Indio was less than 50 miles west, Encinitas was still over 200 miles away. Perhaps it was residual delirium, but I felt I could make it to Encinitas long before dark. Mathematically, I could. Gaman suru! I breezed through Indio feeling confident,  strong and less hot. The hot crosswinds were annoying but bearable. I don't recall exactly when things began to get ugly again it just seemed to come out of nowhere. I first noticed the winds. The day had been hot and windy, but these new winds were different, angry even. So strong that I had to wrestle the bike to keep it in my lane. Counter-steering...was key to making it through.</p> <p>Somewhere along I-10 and west of Indio, I saw a sign warning of sand storms, zero to low visibility, gusty winds—situations that this city woman is unfamiliar. Fortunately, the temps were as much as 20 degrees lower than the desert!  But the winds had picked up considerably. My bike swayed across our lane and sometimes edged into the adjacent lane. The wind was in control. I felt trapped in a brutal wind tunnel! The confidence I had regained from the desert experience was beginning to lag and the exhaustion returned with a vengeance. Then I saw something I'd never seen before—except in the early stages of a Chicago snow storm. The ground began to dance. </p> <p>Swirling sand, churning and twirling boogied above the ground. The sand was pushed about by a weighty wind that whipped about in unpredictable directions. All of my synapses were on heightened alert. The bike felt light and ready to take flight any minute. My arms, especially my not yet fully healed rotators cuff was taking a lickin'. Then, visibility took a pratfall. The vigorous ground swirling was now way above the ground, circling the air space. Although the warning sign lights were not flashing,  the winds were fierce, the sand was surging and the fact that I had just survived the burning hell fires of the desert  all made me pull off at a North Palm Springs, CA exit.  I had traveled about 85 miles since Desert Center, CA. A gas station was right off I-10. When I stopped the bike, I was solid on my feet—a good sign. After filling up, I called my friend and left a message that I was stopping for the day. I didn't  make sense to push it for another estimated 125 miles. When she retrieved my message she said the wind in the back ground was so strong that she could not hear me.  She left a message to be safe and to check in to confirm. I found a hotel right off I-10 W and checked in. Even the Bates Hotel that evening would have been a welcome relief.</p> <p>Checked in, unpacked the bike, and cleaned up. I found sand inside my helmet, nose, and my eyes...this trip is blinding me! I reclined on the bed and despite it all, felt pretty dang good to be safe and done for the day. Next time, I will do as I usually do, which is to check the GPS along side a paper map. Remember also to check how the GPS is “enabled,” because it routes based on parameters I set. I had my GPS set for shortest distance, which was via I-10 West, through the desert. The two alternate routes, which would have been far better—and safer—were only 20-25 miles longer than the  desert route. But the GPS is a device that needs human input for best output. Oh well...live and learn. </p> <p>Now that I successfully have persevered through, it would be foolish to regret any part of this unanticipated adventure. It's all part of the journey, all part of playing the hand you've been dealt. I vow to be wiser next time. When I'm 85 (and riding a trike) this solo two-wheeled experience will make me giggle and tell small children that back in the day, I rode my motorcycle through the searing desert and pushed through blasts of blistering heat to visit close friends in southern California. Was it worth it? Heck, yeah!</p> <p>After a good night's sleep and confidence restored, the ride the next morning to Encinitas, my first southern CA stop with friends, was a breeze—both figuratively and literally. But once I was clear of I-10's windy nature, the rest was smooth motoring. After a short stay in Encinitas, I'll  head to La Jolla, Santa Ana, and </p> <p>Los Angeles.  <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhye8OivVR1cEUjIq1Sd0loBWepALI_duRkg7FeTfGaICNok3hJMty56VLIx6lYeQAtNXw8emsJF5re6CMOBYMh2YANG7EYDhJJnDh73Ssa-WEuX7EuUP-S67DjNHCcKmPjnDK/s1600-h/SafeEncinitas6.jpg"><img style="border-top-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px" height="244" alt="SafeEncinitas" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-rcHLiIgkfcY/Vdh1lC5WouI/AAAAAAAAIkU/6gNV90MqtYo/SafeEncinitas_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="140" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>Ride well</p> Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-41477023301030254022015-08-18T07:32:00.001-05:002015-08-18T07:32:30.845-05:00Monday's perfect, worry-free riding...all 530ish easy miles!<p>One upside to staying at the Bates Hotel (think the movie Psycho!) is that it got me up and out early! I paused at taking a shower because the shower area looked ghastly.  <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Y-hCH1Fhr8U/VdMlvw4zGOI/AAAAAAAAIfM/EtfEDSmztDo/s1600-h/showerwall%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="140" alt="showerwall" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ggdx9nxOUNA/VdMlwUBhwEI/AAAAAAAAIfU/rTQB6YsOvZ0/showerwall_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" /></a> Lest I'm accused of being dramatic, here are a few pictures that reveal some of the better views of the hotel room. <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-C5f-MY8SBI4/VdMlw9BdybI/AAAAAAAAIfc/Cl9iaRm1eaI/s1600-h/wallpeel%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="wallpeel" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8_ztbQUfqwcoqNPTAH2QrgmhLXLC_MEcY90XcB334M9LtleH2RwriT-UPtWk28v73DYuC0r7dIxhyphenhyphen5BuOa9ZZ4VyNdUPr7QDY9UQi2Fx83XhhCMBgSLhf_Sud40TZpGDTLvLD/?imgmax=800" width="140" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>Here's a travel tip for Bates Hotels and even good hotels...Instead of packing shower shoes (those cheap flip flops) you stand in while showering in public facilities, place one of the hotel's hand towels in the shower. Stand on it while showering. <img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="showermat" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zkXJ2yGm6Wo/VdMlyLu4AaI/AAAAAAAAIfo/nZxAQx1-1tw/showermat_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="140" border="0" /> Prevents having to stand barefoot on the shower floor and by leaving shower shoes at home, this saves packing space too.</p> <p>The Bags:</p> <p>I'm beginning to “feel” the bags.  <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--GyEHWLq1TY/VdMlystGFUI/AAAAAAAAIf0/-D0KkWR0u4g/s1600-h/fueltank%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="140" alt="fueltank" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-HeVv2YgIU6Q/VdMlzIXPmYI/AAAAAAAAIf4/E1ACiBe41XU/fueltank_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" /></a> Today's set up was the best and fastest to date! I feared the same old slipping and sliding. Monday was different. The bags never budged. The only difference I can think of is that the more I've had to set them up, the better I've become. After Monday's 530ish miles, the bags never shifted!  Now, they were a tad cock-eyed because I can't get the bike on the center stand (shoulder is still healing) to make sure the bags are even. Still, they worked flawlessly today--and it made for absolute worry-free riding. The previous days of riding were greatly influenced by constantly thinking that one bag was resting on the exhaust, which blocks the ride endorphins! But not today. </p> <p>Only one worry remained: the Denali light patched up with black duct tape. Unsightly to say the least. <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--bEZIQJylA4/VdMlziAhuRI/AAAAAAAAIgE/aWfhnxJHVs0/s1600-h/lightfix%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="lightfix" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nTDa1g228Gc/VdMl0ec0hRI/AAAAAAAAIgM/wdEwLoSZORY/lightfix_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="140" border="0" /></a> Early Monday morning I called one “motorcycle sports” shop. Their decline was immediate,“We don't have anyone available to do that.” Now, even I could see that it probably only needed a few screws. When asked if he had any recommendations for Amarillo shops that might help, he said, “<a href="davidbrowns.com">David Brown's Sport Center</a>.”</p> <p>Brown was only a mile or so from me. Rather than call, I showed up. Perhaps if they saw the desperation in my face, they'd help. A white haired man who looked to be in his seventies (David Brown?) told me to take the bike behind the building to the service area, “Talk to the guys there.” Met a young, blond-haired man, probably in his twenties walking the grounds. He looked at the light, said it was “no problem.” He patiently removed all the tacky duct tape and within ten minutes—including looking for the right size screws, the light was restored to its original position! We chatted while he worked.  <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicWX6T1Oe9kq7xkhcpyIqxZPIh0YxnUQXGGBzr9w34hhbBX0I3TstGs3aOsFFvWQxr5fBUUaIiE9vVFRREuE7pAkj9X4IkAdmbQOGrSmu0LkruU62GUAfJ6JCKx40tc53A1-So/s1600-h/allfixed%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="140" alt="allfixed" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RkclGyYe5Ec/VdMl1qFx7DI/AAAAAAAAIgY/5CacUxxrRlI/allfixed_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" /></a> When he finished, I asked for the cost. He said, “No cost, don't worry.” We went back and forth on this and I could tell his refusal to accept money was genuine. No fake modesty. I pushed money toward him and told him to at least permit me to buy him lunch. He said, “You really don't have to do that.” He proceeded to walk back toward the service door. I urged him to allow me to show my appreciation. He smiled faintly, thanked me, and we departed.  </p> <p>Later while riding, I wondered if I had been too insistent about him taking the money. It made me feel good, but did it make him feel good to take it? Perhaps I should have accepted his gift to me? Turning his kindness into a monetary transaction, in a way, felt like I was devaluing the purity of the gift. I can now see where the exchange of money on the gift was a vain attempt to quantify the gift, when in reality, it couldn't be quantified—not really. Oh well...being on the bike for hours gives me a lot to mull over matters. I simply wanted to show my appreciation for his time and talents.  If you're ever in Amarillo, I highly recommend <a href="http://davidbrowns.com/Showroom/New-Vehicles">David Brown's Sports Center</a> for all you motorcycle and sports related needs.</p> <p>The weather couldn't have been more perfect. It started out in the upper 60s. The cross winds made it feel cooler. But it was a welcome relief compared to Sunday's scorcher, which felt sticky and yucky the whole day's ride. But today remained comfortable throughout. It reached the upper 80s somewhere leaving Amarillo and in New Mexico the temps climbed. However, it never became sweat-popping hot. My mesh jacket was comfortable. In Pine Springs, New Mexico, the elevation rose to over 6000 feet and the roads nicely reflected the ascent. Lots of wide swoops, dips and curves—very conducive to long days in the saddle. Thanks to trucks, I did have some cheek tightening moments. I try to steer clear of trucks; I saw several sway wildly on curves and during grade changes in the road. Many seemed to waddle before finding solid ground.</p> <p>Still, the ride was 99% worry free, which makes for stress-less motoring IMHO. I don't recall furrowing my brow once! My eyes, however, are bloodshot, dry and itchy. I think I'm a tad dehydrated. Still, Monday was simple joy: ear plugs in, sunglasses released from its internal housing inside the Nolan helmet, DrySpec bags, rock solid, and my mind cleared of worries, taking in all the gorgeous landscape that lined both sides of I-40. I jumped off the interstate for bits and pieces of old historic Rt 66—nothing more could made Monday's ride more perfect. <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-MH60nJT-les/VdMl2Uz-BqI/AAAAAAAAIgk/XNc_m93OHb8/s1600-h/trading66pic%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="trading66pic" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XMLaHOY66LI/VdMl2wUkY-I/AAAAAAAAIgs/zMI4UOhLXKo/trading66pic_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="140" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>I'm headed to southern CA tomorrow.</p> Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-34165821285665567342015-08-17T08:01:00.001-05:002015-08-17T08:04:24.400-05:00Update: Delayed start...<p dir="ltr">Finally sleep won out.  After what felt like an hour--but was more like four--I awoke to lightening and thundering and a very sore neck from sleeping in one small spot in a bed I hope I can one day erase from my memory. Hoping to find someone to fix the Denali light before getting on the road. </p>
Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com1Amarillo, Amarillo35.221996 -101.8313tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-44184132531306891832015-08-17T01:52:00.001-05:002015-08-17T01:52:40.072-05:00Blazing Saddles, the best meal and the worst hotel...<p>Greetings family and friends,</p> <p>August 15th: Oklahoma roads have been the worst encountered thus far. So bad in fact that one of my <a href="http://www.revzilla.com/motorcycle/denali-dm-micro-led-driving-light-kit?utm_source=product&kwd=&kpid=938474&gclid=Cj0KEQjw6cCuBRCh4KrGoJ6LoboBEiQAwzYsdKcpqPfiE2vJKHO6dwRWZ1-TtpmV0T5k9WPB7PcqjCEaAkm78P8HAQ">Denali lights</a> was jarred from its housing! I discovered the dangling light on one of my many bag checks! It needed to be fixed and I didn't want silver duck tape drawing attention to the fix. Called around for  motorcycle shops in the area. Every shop was closing within 10 minutes of my call and none would be open on Sunday. That night, I reluctantly gave Walmart my money and bought black duck tape to adhere the light. <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Nx2UMcQsXwU/VdGEgzJW-kI/AAAAAAAAIcw/DM9nPHLauzQ/s1600-h/gooddenali%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="gooddenali" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-byazjyoXxcw/VdGEh0PdBaI/AAAAAAAAIc4/3tEsfMjsNd4/gooddenali_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="140" align="left" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WjC6bIleHyY/VdGEimTo-BI/AAAAAAAAIdA/UsCex54g0d0/s1600-h/denali1%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="denali1" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-nrTmCvT-nJ0/VdGEjeViE_I/AAAAAAAAIdI/DTlumL6QeAY/denali1_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="140" align="left" border="0" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vsIRFIkTcpo/VdGEkIX4v6I/AAAAAAAAIdQ/Ia718uIOYv4/s1600-h/fixed%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="fixed" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-RUeL5GpbdUI/VdGEk0Ce-9I/AAAAAAAAIdY/T45pEGahzkw/fixed_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="140" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>Night of August 15th: It's official. I detest the DrySpec bags. More problems with keeping the left bag away from the exhaust. Burned my finger on the hot exhaust during one of the adjustments. Big ouch!</p> <p>August 16: Left Oklahoma City but not before making up with the bags. Still not loving them, but no longer hate them. Today was the best adjustment so far.  My goal was to free the gas tank to allow easy access. Success! <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GChBGlfvEn4/VdGElirY2uI/AAAAAAAAIdg/WEGsFvi5qdQ/s1600-h/tankfree%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="tankfree" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-SJzOGjDwRlM/VdGEmBbXayI/AAAAAAAAIdk/XVq1UPwlggI/tankfree_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="140" border="0" /></a> And, the bags seemed to stay in place. It took me about 20 minutes to get them on satisfactorily, which is down from...what? --the nearly two hours on the worst day of fiddling around with them. As of today, the bags are growing on me. Let's see what tomorrow brings. But never having to remove a bag to fill up the tank--huge accomplishment. </p> <p><a href="https://oklahomacitynationalmemorial.org/">Oklahoma City's National Memorial and Museum</a>, dedicated to the innocent lives lost in the bombing of the Murrah Federal Building is a site to behold. It's difficult to say something so tragic resulted in something so beautiful and serene, but the grounds are amazing. Because I thought I lost one of the cameras I brought, I only have phone pictures of the site. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9N4j3ornr8VzyZyvzChSIIBd3pA9cZZa1RLcMnYTgtsByV23AROMDqb0YE7Nnadh7y2Ah47ebeSn3crz9EWOMfNsAPT_2wWrWDnGA_xEo40kmLJ9iysjF9rIMo89hynOzYPE2/s1600-h/IMAG0581_1%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="IMAG0581_1" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-j5b-qZkPElI/VdGEoOmiwtI/AAAAAAAAId4/Jol-LxQihcY/IMAG0581_1_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="140" border="0" /></a> The chairs have the names of the innocent. And, the smaller chairs, signaling the lost of a child, yanks at your heart. Of the 168 people killed on that morning of April 19, 1995, 19 were children. Over 650 people were injured. <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EYtwtMLT06k/VdGEo8cPAdI/AAAAAAAAIeA/DLzV752o_30/s1600-h/murraybldg%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="murraybldg" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7m6PCEI_AVnRtAhbZ0qONs_J7sq9BhCFWeEOVNeT36mlfBUAcIStRiRVmMy4VgEWdQRz_rgHYduPvHFvxfyaOlKDDFdN_8-Vko4YbkgwteK8wv2QpRU95CjZ_sSP4FKaNtWwJ/?imgmax=800" width="140" align="left" border="0" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p>A memorial wall lined the park with heartfelt messages and dedications. So very sad. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEF1nDDKrPP7lOLTBj3u-xgc5R3_m4por0QlppwzXRh73IzsX2uzOIQO2Hz-dC2EkfYT2WuD6qVtiSiBGRWEyHRelbrNEyFB5rHnQ8BHYK0WqPX7nDAYZjSg2ZfDdbylUwxCnt/s1600-h/memorialfence1%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="140" alt="memorialfence1" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hZ1_jUL1LEY/VdGEreij3VI/AAAAAAAAIeY/X4iklX0GTmE/memorialfence1_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>After visiting the memorial, I needed something light.  Before leaving OK City, I headed for the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milk_Bottle_Grocery">Milk Bottle Grocery</a>. This tiny structure is on the <a href="http://www.nps.gov/nr/">National Register of Historic Places</a>. It sits on a triangle and is an old Route 66 attractions. Very cute!<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4kP6HSQ4GJU/VdGEsAiPXyI/AAAAAAAAIeg/hdmJpfha7h0/s1600-h/Gotmilk%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="244" alt="Gotmilk" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5kU9L7kFYeA/VdGEs-kSyDI/AAAAAAAAIeo/TVGaXfj0m0M/Gotmilk_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="140" border="0" /></a></p> <p>August 16th night. Camera found! Did I mention that the entire day of riding was hot? How hot? Really really hot. I felt fine as long as I was riding at 75mph. The second I stopped, the sweat poured. Literally! One of the great things about solo riding is never having to negotiate when to stop, what to see, where to eat, blah, blah, blah. I decided to cut out all my many Rt 66 stops and just hit the Interstate to get to Amarillo, TX.  </p> <p>In Amarillo, I accidentally found a neat little diner called Thai Garden. I had hoped for some authentic Tex-Mex food but the place I selected didn't look open although it said it was open and, well, it didn't look appealing at all. But right next door was the Thai Garden. Interesting that every worker in it spoke Spanish. The staff was great and attentive. The owner, who is Thai, was welcoming. We chatted a bit. I ordered vegetable fried rice and it was among the best I've had!  All for a whopping $7. </p> <p>Accommodations for the night. I've been relying on Priceline and I've not been disappointed. I've stayed at nice places at huge discounts. I took someone's advice and stayed at a "mom and pop" motorcycle friendly place, the kind I've stayed at before. But I find these outfits to be hit or miss. This one was a huge MISS!  First, it's only $20 cheaper than my Priceline deals. But it is by far one of the worst places I've EVER stayed in.  Ever! And, the scariest!  How dare they call themselves "Luxury Inn and Suites." Let me say it makes the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bates_Motel_(film)">Bates Hotel</a> (from the movie Psycho) look like a five start palace!  Were I not utterly exhausted from the heat and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blazing_Saddles">blazing saddle</a> (remember that movie?)--my butt actually got hot, I would have motored on to find a better place. After all it's one night, I told myself. One looong scary night...The good thing is, I'm so paranoid about sleeping in the bed, I'm up blogging. Its also dark?! The two lamps must have in them the smallest watt bulbs ever made! And, there's a  whiff of...oh well, nevermind. </p> <p>New Mexico bound!</p> Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-31682219705668196672015-08-15T08:47:00.001-05:002015-08-15T08:47:24.984-05:00Two-wheeling it through history and my love hate for the DrySpec bags!<p>Hello family and friends!</p> <p>Sorry. I've already broken my word about updating you every night--wishful thinking. I've been exhausted at the end of each day.  So, this is a very quick , rough draft update. I'll fill in the stories when I return home.</p> <p>August 11th: Trip to Arkansas was uneventful--mostly.  The last two hundred miles or so forced me to stop more often than I wanted. I had to check on my bags/luggage set up, which isn't why I love/hate the bags. I erred in piling on an extra bag that messed up the original set up. I could feel that one odd bag slipping and resting on my back! All is well now with the set up because I shipped the extra bag home.  </p> <p>August 12th: The Arkansas delta. I went to <a href="http://rohwer.astate.edu/">Rohwer</a> and <a href="http://www.encyclopediaofarkansas.net/encyclopedia/entry-detail.aspx?entryID=2399">Jerome</a>, both were two of  multiple locations around the US where  Japanese and Japanese Americans were unjustly concentrated during WWII. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOz9OIATDUPW-9Ee0ih7p9UWnkCWj3cwiGfhm0saaG1tcnotTla5IEoPPhBBgJ8jKiAKleOEXNrGJDEkYrOC3CCgdETKkL7bkjLTHrHxcsp5jxQL-vl2bQAOxHLsZmJTYBQ-Co/s1600-h/suitcase%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="163" alt="suitcase" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96_51udZFYzdo3spgtk-Sg-EAgB43quQrtOmRU73giL2f05nBpCxvRQEZueTDhvZjJnlDXZwbegBhi_B8Zs7hCleLv7J6Q6fJleFJzRLstBiZ5PGpnWJ9NKNmG3vtkWhdD9dq/?imgmax=800" width="244" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>I also visited the museum in <a href="http://www.arkansas.com/attractions/detail/world-war-ii-japanese-american-internment-museum/95982/http://www.arkansas.com/attractions/detail/world-war-ii-japanese-american-internment-museum/95982/">McGehee</a>, <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xprpfKYhng0/Vc9CtZtBsrI/AAAAAAAAIbU/voEh7GpFokU/s1600-h/RJsign%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="163" alt="RJsign" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VV6Zq6XQ-b0/Vc9Cuk42wOI/AAAAAAAAIbc/nu-DVLLA9lE/RJsign_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="right" border="0" /></a> AR, dedicated to documenting this horrible transgression.  Do not miss this museum if you're ever in the area--actually, it's worth making a trip if you're anywhere in or visiting the USA. I'm working on a fuller story about this, which I'll write about later.</p> <p>August 13th: Spent the day soaking up Arkansas social history, particularly during the 1950s and throughout the struggle for civil rights. Stories to come on that too. Visited the <a href="http://www.nps.gov/chsc/index.htm">Little Rock Central High School National History Site</a>.  After spending more than two hours here, my emotions got the best of me.  <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-zDrGzBv5zpo/Vc9Cw7JVASI/AAAAAAAAIbk/6XXy-2e3N7o/s1600-h/centralhs%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="140" alt="centralhs" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LuV9RLF9OBU/Vc9CyCG5rDI/AAAAAAAAIbs/jDTHXqGbRPE/centralhs_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="left" border="0" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p> </p> <p>Add the <a href="http://www.mosaictemplarscenter.com/">Mosaic Templars Cultural Center</a> to any visit to Little Rock!</p> <p>Of course, you can't leave AR without visiting the <a href="http://www.clintonlibrary.gov/">Clinton Library and Museum</a>, regardless of one's politics, this is amazing  US and international history gathered in one place during one president's time in office. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTnVv_wao7kDUr9n7scgD_NaBmf9-KHbBD7sz1YZv-sE0unIQewLc3IM83E10Kyo4zm9hGzg-HItQQS1YjefZJ8ZF86KuMeGvBLgtEzMKi7hw5fIPKLXqRsijBBcQ7bH8piwrw/s1600-h/clintonlib%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="140" alt="clintonlib" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-rwH_Cis6kjw/Vc9C05KpzuI/AAAAAAAAIb8/aA_zFrAq8g0/clintonlib_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="right" border="0" /></a> </p> <p>Btw, Arkansas has some amazing motorcycle roads! I retrieved a booklet dedicated to riding these trails--there are routes for every kind of two wheel riding! I didn't partake but the tiny bit I did was amazing!  Get the book: <a href="http://www.arkansas.com/outdoors/motorcycling/guide/">Arkansas Motorcycling Guide</a> 2015. I was so excited just reading the many routes, I've decided to make another trip just for riding...</p> <p>August 14th: Tulsa, OK.  Did research on another dark period in American history: the riots that spread throughout the country during 1919-1924. One of the most horrific occurred in Tulsa, OK. I've taught this period of history but this was my first time visiting the Greenwood Cultural Center, which has done a thorough job documenting <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tulsa_race_riot">"Tulsa's dark secret."</a></p> <p>I will pick up <a href="http://www.historic66.com/oklahoma/">Rt. 66 today</a> and head west. Ultimate destination is  southern CA. I will resume the research LA. Now it's time for sitting back and enjoying the ride 'til CA.</p> <p>Oh...the bags. I love their sleek look, light weight, and I'm amazed at how much I can load in the bags. I absolutely HATE that these bags, at least with the combo I have, are horrible on the BMW F800 GT.  Because fuel is inserted on the right side behind the rider, I must detach the straps from the bag at every fill up!  Doing so is a royal pain in the gluts! Words can't describe how tedious and frustrating this has become. At times, I've had to rearrange the entire set up, which is why I mailed back the extra bag .  While  I've saved some time having mailed back the errant bag,  it is still utterly exasperating to need to remove straps to access the gas tank! Ugh. The job is so awful that I avoided it and waited long pass the need to fill up and had a few cheek tightening moments (if you know what I mean) before I found a gas station.  On a motorcycle with the gas cap elsewhere, these bags would be amazing. I read that there might be a solution for me--of course, it requires buying another bag that would lift the saddle bag part up and away from the gas tank. Oh well...right now, it's all love and all hate! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCv2bdeY0IFUsz6X1EFIw6zNHaXw0zjT4mjI1bhfTMdbnpShxMBdjFCzAhtPMCCRKgQHM4R4awsGMuxk2UnGTSfqTq5R-JvHyTk1kh1PQRvqeZGPGEm8ONSNHW1WIHlgmZOO8f/s1600-h/DSCF0295%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px" height="184" alt="DSCF0295" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6aBegE-u4jo/Vc9C5IB-jjI/AAAAAAAAIcM/3UUmxhZrGl4/DSCF0295_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" align="right" border="0" /></a></p> Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-43810165457828631292015-08-10T19:41:00.001-05:002015-08-10T19:41:38.332-05:00Travel glitches resolved—and hearing the call of the road…<p> </p> <p>Hello family and friends,</p> <p>I am Arkansas bound! After visiting friends in Little Rock, I will head to McGehee, Jerome, and Rohwer, AR, to do some research (more on that later). From Little Rock, I will go west to San Diego, CA. First, I’ll pick up Rt 66 in Oklahoma and take that as much as possible. I have no firm plans and I want to keep it that way. I’ve packed maps for each state I will enter, a gps, and a ton of enthusiasm. </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3SCfhtamz7w/VclEvHg7VUI/AAAAAAAAIZw/_XCIWR7HnmQ/s1600-h/_DSC7675wackerbike%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="_DSC7675wackerbike" border="0" alt="_DSC7675wackerbike" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PhxWQIi05Ak/VclEvl-EETI/AAAAAAAAIZ0/vB87ha6HX84/_DSC7675wackerbike_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="194" height="244"></a></p> <p align="left">Took Jesse Jr. out for a test ride with the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NWjXZWk6oHs&spfreload=10">Twisted Throttle Dry Spec waterproof</a> luggage set mounted. I must confess, I wasn’t “feeling” the bags as I prefer my Givi hard shell luggage. But so far, no solution on how to get the Givi V35 on the F800GT. I kept the Givi bags from the sale of the F800ST but now it might be that Givi doesn’t make a rack to fit the V35 bags on the GT. Very frustrating. Forced to make a quick order of the Dry Spec trio. Took some time to figure out a satisfactory mounting approach but with the help of the husband (I can no longer get the bike on the center stand with my damaged shoulder) we were able to get the luggage mounted straight.</p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5hwrTU4Jqvo/VclEv-KFSqI/AAAAAAAAIZ8/ps_-JLG8EDo/s1600-h/_DSC7674test%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: right; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="_DSC7674test" border="0" alt="_DSC7674test" align="right" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-mfrmACFKjSw/VclEwaf32bI/AAAAAAAAIaE/KFbpnUOmcfE/_DSC7674test_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="166"></a></p> <p>Took the fully loaded bike out for a test ride . Smooth motoring. Returned and the bags were tight and secure. I’m now “feeling” the bags. Still love my hard bags but looks like this will do the trick—and being “dry bags,” supposedly waterproof there are no annoying “rain covers” needed. Did that before the hard cases and don’t want a repeat of that. I can hear the call of the road…</p> <p>The countdown begins…</p> Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-67874816789386193422015-08-05T17:25:00.001-05:002015-08-05T22:36:19.846-05:00Greetings! Back with words about a kind soul, and introducing a new ride buddy…<a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-820raQB6yRY/VcKNaMqmg0I/AAAAAAAAIUM/z_D5oSOSLNU/s1600-h/_DSC7654ed%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img alt="_DSC7654ed" border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6UNUYGJndYU/VcKNaujQUzI/AAAAAAAAIUU/wthT2xrcV-Q/_DSC7654ed_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="322" style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="_DSC7654ed" width="456" /></a><br />
A message about Bob “Skoot”<br />
It has been too long. I’m back with renewed energy and plans to be around more often. In my absence I’ve learned many things. One is that life will rear its head and alter plans in the time it takes to snap one’s finger. <br />
<br />
Above all, I want to use this space to pay my respects to a dear friend whom I knew through our shared love of motorcycling but had never met until he decided to ride east from Vancouver. We selected a place to meet up in Illinois. I arrived at a little café first and waited patiently for him to arrive. When he did, it was like meeting an old friend, like someone I had known beyond emails and reading each other’s blogs.<br />
<br />
Bob “Skoot” Leong did something for me that I hope I thanked him for. When my brother was killed, more than five years ago, I dropped out off many things. I had a tough time. I worked everyday, I keep up appearances but frankly I was preoccupied with solving the case. I spent a lot of my non-working time, calling the police, interviewing people whom I thought or had heard knew something about the case. To say I was obsessed is an understatement. I endured a five year court case (that must be a record) because the killer was almost killed, almost a year to the date of killing my brother. It was during this emotional roller coaster that I was diagnosed with an antoimmune disorder. But, I digress…<br />
<br />
Throughout those years, Bob would drop me a line just to see how I was fairing or to comment on my photo site. He did what I had little desire to do, that is, keep in touch with others. Other things, like motorcycling, which once represented pure fun, had become insignificant. Yet, in spite of myself, each time I heard from Bob, my spirits lifted. Bob always made me smile. So, when he said he was riding west and wanted to meet, I was initially excited. My excitement, however, soon turned to hesitancy. It wasn’t Bob; it wasn’t that I didn’t want to meet him in person. Melancholy’s grip can be difficult to peel off. But Bob was irresistible. I’m glad he was. Meeting him in person was a most favorite afternoon. I enjoyed every minute of our too-short gathering.<br />
<br />
After our time together Bob continued on his way. He had other with whom he was meeting. I went back to walking through the motions of my daily routine. But then something happened. With the court case finally over, the killer sentenced, I finally accepted that I had done all I could to bring my brother’s killer to justice. Letting go created some new space in my life.<br />
<br />
Inside that new space, I started thinking again of serious, long distance motorcycling. Memories of a typical Saturday morning when I’d get up and ride from Chicago to Indianapolis (or some place my head told me to go) for lunch at Shapiro’s Deli. I’d ride around Indianapolis a bit and return home before dark. My thoughts turned to those friends I’d met via the ‘net and all the interesting moto blogs I used to check on. My plan to ride last summer were thwarted by an awful rotator cuff problem. I didn’t swing my leg over my bike the whole summer of 2014. It delayed my coming out party.<br />
<br />
Still, at the end of last season, I knew I’d be back. And a new bike to celebrate that was just what the doctor ordered. My thoughts turned to Bob. I wanted to tell him that I was back. and to thank him again for coming near Illinois and making time to visit with me. I wanted to tell him about my new bike. I wanted to tell him that I was coming back...<br />
<br />
I checked Bob’s blog. It didn’t take long to realize that something had happened. I can’t articulate how awful it felt to learn of his passing in 2014. For the longest, I thought there was a mistake. But the truth was written there. I even checked other blogs and read tributes to Bob. My heart felt heavy. Bob’s passing made me realize once again how fleeting life can be, how important it is to tell those who have touched us how we feel. I hope Bob knew how much I enjoyed meeting up with him. He made my day and did so on many days when he inquired about me. Pink crocs will always remind me of Bob. Most of all, I will always remember how we chatted like old friends. Wherever your spirit is Bob, RIP. Rest assured that you lifted mine each time you reached out. <br />
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<a href="http://wetcoastscootin.blogspot.com/2013/11/lunch-with-sharon-sojourners-moto-tales.html">Bobskoot's take on our meeting...</a><br />
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***<br />
Sold my 2008 BMW F800ST, which I loved. But I’m loving the GT even more. The low back discomfort is gone! The changes made to the GT results in superb ergonomics IMHO. For me, the ride is more comfortable. I did two Iron Butts on the ST, I’m looking forward to doing one on the GT. BTW, is there a statute of limitation on submitting the paperwork for IBR? I better check that out. My new ride buddy is Jesse Owens, #2. <br />
<br />
Upcoming:<br />
<br />
Solo history tour to Rohwer and Jerome Arkansas. From there, Jesse and I are heading to southern CA. Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-10749665734723777472011-08-10T07:07:00.006-05:002011-08-13T13:28:19.934-05:00Greetings from the Old Joliet Prison<div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/shicksba272214/6020745776/" title="Greetings from the Old Joliet Prison"><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6011/6020745776_efc47a628a.jpg" alt="Greetings from the Old <span class=" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" />Joliet Prison by shrosa814 (back, but catching up)"></a>
<br /><span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/shicksba272214/6020745776/">Greetings from the Old Joliet Prison</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/shicksba272214/">shrosa814 (back, but catching up)</a> on Flickr.</span></div><p>Who doesn't love this old movie: "The Blues Brothers"? The brothers are featured on a faux gasoline pump on the Joliet prison grounds. "Prison Break" and "Let's Go To Prison" were also shot here--neither of which I've seen. This is a mammoth structure that opened in 1858 and closed its doors in 2002. A woman's facility stood across the street. Almost always operating above capacity, one of its most famous revolts occurred in 1973 when inmates rebelled against what they felt was unfair removal of other prisoners to other facilities. These transfers were designed to break up the control some prisoners had over others and to eliminate the rampant gang activity at <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joliet_Correctional_Center">Joliet</a>. </p><p>The great thing about riding to Joliet is that parts of it fall along Route 66 and the town has done a nice job of capitalizing on that. Stop at the <a href="http://www.visitjoliet.org/arts_entertainment.html">Joliet visitor's center</a>--a very cool place to hang out (and when I find the picture I have of it, I'll post it here). </p>Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-91240196665594336992011-08-10T07:03:00.001-05:002011-08-10T07:03:59.699-05:00The Old Joliet Prison<div style="margin: 0 0 10px 0; padding: 0; font-size: 0.8em; line-height: 1.6em;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/shicksba272214/6020746072/" title="The Old Joliet Prison"><img src="http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6131/6020746072_c550490d8f.jpg" alt="The Old Joliet Prison by shrosa814 (back, but catching up)" /></a><br/><span style="margin: 0;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/shicksba272214/6020746072/">The Old Joliet Prison</a>, a photo by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/shicksba272214/">shrosa814 (back, but catching up)</a> on Flickr.</span></div><p>Jesse Owens and I took a jaunt to the Joliet Prison. Short ride but long on fun and learning about this once notorious hole.</p>Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-26763878709992104732011-07-31T07:17:00.011-05:002011-07-31T13:59:28.672-05:00A return of sorts...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsoKrf3gxlUjyHmqbAN7Wu9O8JYMglhDv0mIq8xGxQ5-yyqhqgYMaHY5II6s3u55sw1IEp6QMGfHWpUHyrKWVb-LvzNg22nUF0iwJmI0s77cuceJ4mMiPSQRUfb_9OAa4ibJLx/s1600/IMG_4080.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 258px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsoKrf3gxlUjyHmqbAN7Wu9O8JYMglhDv0mIq8xGxQ5-yyqhqgYMaHY5II6s3u55sw1IEp6QMGfHWpUHyrKWVb-LvzNg22nUF0iwJmI0s77cuceJ4mMiPSQRUfb_9OAa4ibJLx/s320/IMG_4080.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635586632892793954" /></a><p>I've missed this space and the people who used to regularly visit. I won't bore readers with <b>all</b> the details but I'm riding--not as much as I'd like, but I'm riding and it feels almost like having a piece of my late grandmother's homemade carrot cake with the cream cheese icing--a full body pleasure sensation that I've never been able to fully reproduce anywhere else. Riding again has come close. I've had more than my share of health issues and having never been a person with health problems this has been humbling to say the least. </p><p>Permit me to send major thanks all of those who have sent me emails or visited my flickr site to make comments and inquire. I so appreciate your thoughtfulness and kind words. Thanks too all those who used to visit this space and simply wondered about my absence. I'm touched by it all. I apologize for not visiting your sites. I just couldn't bear all the motorcycle chatter and photos of trips. It felt like slow torture. Hearing the roar of a motorcycle on the street was more than enough reminder of my clipped wings. Turning off and tuning out was difficult but necessary. It allowed me to avoid dwelling on the negative--what I couldn't do and concentrate on getting well. Please accept my apologies for being MIA. I did think of you all. </p><p>July 7th marked one year since I resigned from a job that was killing me. Literally. And, things have improved considerably since then. I've joined the ranks of those with an auto immune disease, which I'm convince may have been 1) triggered after my brother was killed (written about on previous blog entries); and, 2) exacerbated by a stressful job, which I don't miss at all. OK, well, I miss the income--it was a well paying position. Still, zero regrets about leaving. Mysterious aches have disappeared, once persistent hives now rarely surface, and a debilitating fatigue that often left me bedridden for most of the day, all gone. Mostly. I can walk for miles now when before I needed a nap after walking to the bathroom. </p> <p>Since spring, I've been riding on and off with saddle time improving all the time. The itch--and thank goodness it's not from hives--to ride and renewed energy to do so, has returned. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzCZEIntuF0-JIawhjB1DC4VypRgrJ6wg73OTdWDPXLOZ-GnjivZ5RTzsn6DjzpCM1-2-1LdvWZhV8X_OnuZBeDlrzSWUohJOeHn-iZtQ1JiPwr9D_D3IsHivkUdWUfvlmLyM_/s1600/IMG_5001ed.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzCZEIntuF0-JIawhjB1DC4VypRgrJ6wg73OTdWDPXLOZ-GnjivZ5RTzsn6DjzpCM1-2-1LdvWZhV8X_OnuZBeDlrzSWUohJOeHn-iZtQ1JiPwr9D_D3IsHivkUdWUfvlmLyM_/s320/IMG_5001ed.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635587861778148498" /></a></p> <p>It's amazing that I used to go to Indianapolis for lunch and turn around and head home, or zip down to the St. Louis, MO area and back the same day. A 600 miles day ride was nothing and a 1500 miles weekend was more typical than not. It's all relative, isn't it? Now, a 20 miles ride feels just as sweet as those iron-buttish rides of yore! Now, I ride by feel. If I feel like going longer or shorter, that's what I do. This disposition seems to have helped build the ride muscle gradually--sort of like experiencing my own break-in period. I remember early spring throwing my leg over the bike and having to sit there to rest before turning the key. That ride was all of about two miles. Two glorious miles! </p><p>Riding now, however, is almost mindless. That is, I'm comfortable on the bike and I ride as often as I can. And, when I do, I more often feel "one" with the bike--you know what I mean? </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheqw61WUsX45oMl1gerQE-fXah139-SMOmiGitsd53ErqKkNSVGimVa_obYfvDPoT51VUBMhL82vk5JgZvhQ6M4TEO6bFttfEaFnCAr1g1XQa3uPwH9Ck2nA_tOx-GamL6s1S7/s1600/IMG_4935ed.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheqw61WUsX45oMl1gerQE-fXah139-SMOmiGitsd53ErqKkNSVGimVa_obYfvDPoT51VUBMhL82vk5JgZvhQ6M4TEO6bFttfEaFnCAr1g1XQa3uPwH9Ck2nA_tOx-GamL6s1S7/s320/IMG_4935ed.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635587867516150738" /></a>Chippewa Falls, WI. I took my first multi-day trip recently; actually, it was a last minute trip to Chippewa Falls, WI., to catch the last day of the BMW RA rally. The rally was a bust, but it was fun to be on the road. I left with no plans. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisLTCTXekILEiBqJsgAkNWK-cYHJh9v1ZSB5Rs_EgNA892qTf0cxbXQ2PMEAw4JpSF_QkFWWJKCtCWLx_ZzIYVLQx0JMmK2Wlfkt033EF1Qnh-RqZXz7O23QyxE1Sd72sJiXMR/s1600/IMG_4969ed.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisLTCTXekILEiBqJsgAkNWK-cYHJh9v1ZSB5Rs_EgNA892qTf0cxbXQ2PMEAw4JpSF_QkFWWJKCtCWLx_ZzIYVLQx0JMmK2Wlfkt033EF1Qnh-RqZXz7O23QyxE1Sd72sJiXMR/s320/IMG_4969ed.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635588788206447378" /></a>After talking to my pal, Chris, at Everyday Riding, I decided to chuck my tentative plans to go to Prairie du Chien, WI and headed to Chippewa Falls.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0h3LVBA0od75Slk_jKpXjQanclNgTOvpGScWhItoWtuiPQgKEamKBmJJk6n3c1jbb6Z-PuXY-JgNjjFSZZjnklbnaZ8SjbP0a6k1Zdun5XcnltwHU6teTfO930WKgW8T3HORz/s1600/IMG_4929ed.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0h3LVBA0od75Slk_jKpXjQanclNgTOvpGScWhItoWtuiPQgKEamKBmJJk6n3c1jbb6Z-PuXY-JgNjjFSZZjnklbnaZ8SjbP0a6k1Zdun5XcnltwHU6teTfO930WKgW8T3HORz/s320/IMG_4929ed.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635590381768525042" /></a> I'm learning that when I feel like my old self, it's time to take to the road. One possible perk of going Chippewa Falls was meeting up with Chris given that Chippewa Falls is only about 100 miles east of Minneapolis. It didn't happen but not for lack of trying. And, I would have enjoyed the company.</p> <p>I've enjoyed many day-rides of varying lengths. I've had a few short jaunts with Dave (spouse). A recent trip to the Nachusa Grasslands in Franklin Grove, IL was nice. I selected the destination and had every intention of going alone but having company wasn't too bad. It's the negotiating around riding that always hangs me. It takes time to figure out where to eat, when to stop for a nature call, how long and what route. Exhausting to put it mildly. You know, so much of life--at least mine--holds enough mandatory negotiating to last a lifetime. Even before getting ill, I rode solo. You all know that. It was my way to reconnect with self, nature and just be on my own. That has not changed. In fact, I need to be out there on my own more than ever. Because my ability and time to go often and far has changed. Thus, when all systems are ready to go, I'm going. </p><p>I now know like never before that riding is a fun-filled stress-buster for me. Every concern, big or small, personal or political melt away when the wheels start rolling. My mind is as close to being blank as possible. My focus is on riding; my energies go there and after a while when I reach an open space, I can feel myself shift into automatic pilot and feel as if I'm floating, sailing, flying effortlessly and all worries are left behind, put somewhere high on a hard to reach shelf. This state that I sometimes reach when I'm easy-riding has resulted in nearly running out of gas more than once. That old feeling of getting on the bike and just riding, riding for long stretches is reactivating the dormant, exercise-deficient muscle memory needed to ride well.</p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiplf9tx3NqnvVGCKGXWGqQQHDLY2XsdeqxrcxbryeWnLYEthn2_1sARV_vEngWsScIqo-FVGZGjfwcLd3RU8qHQ445SonZHx_65l04U8L1CNbzvGGt66J2XZAPK-5ZfshVeiUZ/s1600/IMG_4962ed.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiplf9tx3NqnvVGCKGXWGqQQHDLY2XsdeqxrcxbryeWnLYEthn2_1sARV_vEngWsScIqo-FVGZGjfwcLd3RU8qHQ445SonZHx_65l04U8L1CNbzvGGt66J2XZAPK-5ZfshVeiUZ/s320/IMG_4962ed.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635590936494778082" /></a><p>Accepting that tomorrow I may not feel up to riding has been humbling indeed. I have a few trips plan but they are written in pencil. I ride when I can ride and lately I've been feeling it more and more. For now. I'm glad to be (sort of) back. </p>Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-4009814126927981712011-07-28T22:23:00.001-05:002011-07-28T22:23:19.769-05:00Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-25045431294845610662010-08-29T13:14:00.012-05:002010-09-01T14:10:10.072-05:00A Healing visit and a ride to boot!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEu2btcHL9YPvh-Zi3NYlJXiDPWdnRtd1_0mJoB-aWTCBwXfNEWEBirsabYe0fdgByWaWO7LT8G-VjQ80ztDfCJvOjUDhcXa_C2cNdCFw6mf6uz_hIuv9kVkmJf7U3myHhIoZP/s1600/IMG_3697web.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEu2btcHL9YPvh-Zi3NYlJXiDPWdnRtd1_0mJoB-aWTCBwXfNEWEBirsabYe0fdgByWaWO7LT8G-VjQ80ztDfCJvOjUDhcXa_C2cNdCFw6mf6uz_hIuv9kVkmJf7U3myHhIoZP/s320/IMG_3697web.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511968519528911074" /></a>On a recent Saturday, Chris of <a href="http://www.everydayriding.org/">Everyday Ride</a> and his lovely wife, whom I'll call "V" gifted me with a visit. Chicago was in line of their return trip of following the <a href="http://www.everydayriding.org/2010/08/great-river-ride-day-1-to-park-rapids.html">Great River Road</a>. Chris had heard a lot about how bummed I felt about not being able to ride. I was thrilled that he selected me out of three options for an overnighter in Chicago. Reading some one's words can give you a feel for the person. About a whole two minutes after Chris and V arrived, I felt we'd been pals forever. We have many common interests only one of which is motorcycling. We even have similar eating habits, although Chris is way out there being vegan, while V and I are sensible vegetarians--just kidding Chris.<br /><p>For folks who had been on the road for 17 days, of sometimes challenging weather, they arrived looking fresh, relaxed and cucumber cool. I was totally impressed with both, especially V, who looked like she had just come off a cruise--totally relaxed. I know that being a pillion can be hard work. Chris said they had worked out the two-up riding issues, or something like that so that during their trip, they came learn each other's riding ways and found what works for them and that's, in part, what makes for an excellent journey. Many many years ago, I was pillion for a very brief time. I figured if it this much fun on the back, I would have a blast if I could get this guy out of my line of vision (just kidding, Dave). Let's just say it's best for everyone that I ride my own. </p> <p>Chris and V entered my shoebox size apartment, unloaded their gear and we chatted. I admit I talked their ears off. If they had plans to rest before dinner, I squelched that! Conversation was easy and fun; I hope I didn't behave too much like a woman who had been held captive for a year. My husband and daughter were in Portugal at the time. I'd been pretty much alone for days.</p> <p>Eventually, I <i>let</i> them get to dinner. I declined their generous invitation to join them because I wanted nothing to stand in the way of me tagging along with them the next as they made their way north to Wisconsin. That's right. I was planning to ride with them! I had been resting up for this for a couple of days and I wanted to go the distance. Kenosha bound! Perspective is relative, isn't it? What in the past would have been an early morning warm up ride was now a huge thing for me. I still struggle with fatigue and muscle/tissue craziness. But I was going with Chris and V if I had to ride as a second pillion on that SV650! </p> <p>When they returned from dinner, we talked some more and I was very glad to hear that they enjoyed their meal at <a href="http://chicago.citysearch.com/profile/3735111/chicago_il/chicago_diner.html">Chicago Diner</a>. V had done her research well and picked a favorite here. Chicagoans are very serious about cuisine. If you come here, you can't leave without having a scrumptious meal or two. It's a city ordinance that every resident has vowed to enforce.</p> <p>Chris and V preferred a leisurely start the next day, thus forcing me to contain my enthusiasm a bit. I woke up feeling ready but it would be my first longish outing since July when I ventured to Milwaukee BMW for service. It took me a few days to recuperate from that. Since then, my riding has been restricted to short, occasional rides to the doctor's office, my suburban home and to the apartment in the city. Not much fun but better than nothing.</p> <p>I don't recall the time we left the apartment but I know the sky was a gorgeous blue with puffs of clouds here and there to create excellent photos. The temps were in the low 80s, if my memory is correct. I remember not caring about the details. I wanted only to get on the road and follow the lake and steal glances whenever the traffic allowed. The traffic was heavier than normal but not for this time of day. Our first stop was a short distance from downtown to get a good picture of Chicago's skyline we headed south a short distance on LSD.</p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Q0-GpHZxAbf8G4J2nBtokZA3M3WZJkzYqCnKbma6bScMk4NbJt0Xw1_2egDT_KrAsuUKImKhVgWnprqb11_Nn6xVBv2eODkZDfrMxZnRdVijziS_RiHYPhxmyuVFsP1S0FhU/s1600/DSC_7422web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Q0-GpHZxAbf8G4J2nBtokZA3M3WZJkzYqCnKbma6bScMk4NbJt0Xw1_2egDT_KrAsuUKImKhVgWnprqb11_Nn6xVBv2eODkZDfrMxZnRdVijziS_RiHYPhxmyuVFsP1S0FhU/s320/DSC_7422web.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511968940568045506" /></a>The spot I thought would be good turned out to be already crowded with cars. We headed back north near the <a href="http://gochicago.about.com/od/chicagomuseums/ss/museum_campus.htm">Museum Campus</a> and parked at the <a href="http://www.adlerplanetarium.org/">Adler Planetarium</a>. It's a spot I like to take people because it's just gorgeous--even when the weather is crapola, the pictures are always cool.</p> <p>Chris took some great pics from the Adler location, which you can see on his blog, <a href="http://www.everydayriding.org/">Everyday Riding</a> or on his Flickr <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/wraithpreza/sets/72157624785751986/with/4918603132/">photostream</a>. I don't recall him taking that many pictures but he was clearly busy shutter tripping <i>and</i> riding! I've never seen myself riding on LSD (aka Lake Shore Drive) until viewing his images. I loved them, mostly because the lake was always in view. Riding along LSD is one of my favorite outings. Early Sunday morning, as the sunrises, there are few places I love more. I know other places may be more beautiful but it's the familiarity and the fact that I grew up here and have had little or no desire to ever seriously live anywhere else. </p><p>We made it to Kenosha in no time, at least for me. I was ecstatic to be on two wheels! I discovered that there is one good thing about riding with someone else, especially if you haven't been riding for a time. You can follow the rider--assuming the person is a fine rider. Chris is definitely a fine, natural rider--I'm not just saying that. Out of five people I've ridden with before, Chris becomes the third with whom I will gladly ride again. Although he's been riding only a few years, you can tell right away that Chris is finely tuned to riding motorcycles, especially sporty types. I have a theory--or perhaps it's just my opinion--such riders have a certain look (it has nothing to do with age, either); they look a lot like long distance bicyclists, motorcycle racers and soccer players. They are fit, lean, and compact. When these types of two wheelers get on their steed, they melt into it, like it's a second skin; they don't ride on the bike, they ride with or <i>in</i> the bike. They just look like they're made for the bike--and there a group of them I know race the SV650. (<b><i>Note:</i></b> I'm not dismissing the value or talents of any other riders, I'm just pointing out an observation of a group of riders I've watched in the real and on TV. And I know that not all of them are fine riders). </p> <p>Following good riding can rub off. Whenever I've ridden with an instructor, I would end the session riding differently, more confidently--no matter how finely tuned I thought I was when we started. This is why I like to start the season with an advanced course and end the season with a track day or some other advance experience. I still think back to <a href="http://sojournerrides.blogspot.com/2006/10/look-ma-no-hands.html#comments">this</a> and <a href="http://sojournerrides.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-first-track-day.html">this</a>. This season will go down with zero classes. I remembered being tired at the end of a great class. But to start one already fatigued, no thank you.</p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg27s74uBLPMEG2t88Bcq4QclfVw42JShc4zziceNxjC3UOiJibJfD3kmKajymbiAAyXyTWkHZeNnvvqrQ11XkiQjKuy84C-qTi7Q-QVErELR-RWIVQsjg7l8W-BYDo4sgE_rJQ/s1600/_DSC6779web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 242px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg27s74uBLPMEG2t88Bcq4QclfVw42JShc4zziceNxjC3UOiJibJfD3kmKajymbiAAyXyTWkHZeNnvvqrQ11XkiQjKuy84C-qTi7Q-QVErELR-RWIVQsjg7l8W-BYDo4sgE_rJQ/s320/_DSC6779web.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511968948984415698" /></a> On Chris and V's visit, I admit to feeling a tad rusty and a bit uptight about riding. This time last season I had already amassed thousands of miles on Jesse Owens. I am far from that. But hey, life happens. </p> <p>As I watched Chris, I could feel myself loosening up and settling in. Riding is a lot like learning a new language. Practice makes improvement. It's also like riding a bicycle; you never completely forget how to ride but you can feel rust setting in after a long absence. </p> <p>We took Sheridan Road <a href="http://www.absoluteastronomy.com/topics/U.S._Route_41_in_Illinois">(US Rt 41 North)</a> much of the way. I enjoyed getting off the beaten path a few times. One place I always like stopping by is the <a href="http://www.bahai.us/bahai-temple">Bahai Temple</a> in Wilmette, IL. </p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfkdLuP8hVSmxSzWnr56N9AvR25X900Cp1fK3Y8tUftYTyhNvflMcmWPETnvO7VWnw9rkJdK9BSVYKgGJ9gQC-eNPGj7ngJ5-ukqymO-Sm9MbiiAwhKKpmgnh2c7Uu-Zp062oM/s1600/_DSC6749web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 296px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfkdLuP8hVSmxSzWnr56N9AvR25X900Cp1fK3Y8tUftYTyhNvflMcmWPETnvO7VWnw9rkJdK9BSVYKgGJ9gQC-eNPGj7ngJ5-ukqymO-Sm9MbiiAwhKKpmgnh2c7Uu-Zp062oM/s320/_DSC6749web.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511955742019115890" /></a>If you look real close, you'll see Chris and V peering inside the temple windows (something to do with the witness protection program?--we had that in common too ;-)). Before we reached the Wisconsin Motorcycle Museum, we stopped in a parking lot and Chris took me up on my offer for him to ride Jesse Owens.</p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBuTbCK94PYEF7oz2frkBvTV8KBcIGCMyc9pjaGUgxqrY93gfurk9kvLyS2h0P3WCs_5-WAv8EYZkN5Jx_o6jZjiKuJOq96_VOTkjjggwInZpWKhFIG4G7svjhhlse-1dMZ4V8/s1600/_DSC6767web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 211px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBuTbCK94PYEF7oz2frkBvTV8KBcIGCMyc9pjaGUgxqrY93gfurk9kvLyS2h0P3WCs_5-WAv8EYZkN5Jx_o6jZjiKuJOq96_VOTkjjggwInZpWKhFIG4G7svjhhlse-1dMZ4V8/s320/_DSC6767web.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511955171529874402" /></a>I never get to see my bike zipping by. I wanted his opinion of Jesse Owens and I really wanted to see my bike in motion. Chris spent a few minutes getting acquainted with Jesse, rode around in circles a few times, and off he went! </p> <p>V and I prepared our cameras and waited for him to re-appear. He didn't disappoint. He zoomed by several times. He looked maaavalous!</p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirem29hqaLU_JVebPjlZhxpP8NhQEB-dyU5KP85-kjPbfQiY7ma-2jc-eqL5Z-SY_jOoMm8XZqrd2o3Tty5-kvTSoSxVSIXpsFhAT-9YUUxfnEi0esR-ujH4Mnws6M_blZUlCB/s1600/_DSC6760web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 204px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirem29hqaLU_JVebPjlZhxpP8NhQEB-dyU5KP85-kjPbfQiY7ma-2jc-eqL5Z-SY_jOoMm8XZqrd2o3Tty5-kvTSoSxVSIXpsFhAT-9YUUxfnEi0esR-ujH4Mnws6M_blZUlCB/s320/_DSC6760web.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511955726454469666" /></a>My bike looked great--if I say so myself! Chris was dressed perfectly for it. His black and grey gear made him look like <a href="http://www.bmwmotorcycles.com/us/en/index.html">a slick BMW ad</a> for the F800ST. It was pure excitement to see him flying by. I shared some pics with him, but many I have selfishly kept to myself. This was one of the highlights for me. We soon left the lot and headed to the museum only to find it CLOSED! Bummer! </p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6945J-ZXY2nKTRwfcFHM5FzrjyYhxQbOlMlOlZdohwQyZkHONYnPfU8gE1XRCJtk-v040YWoBTHtJJ7O9sFP-evQUUDCjt9gsySQiYjKBfaH9Rm5w4mog0rNaFFMuIiYLPQSr/s1600/_DSC6781web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6945J-ZXY2nKTRwfcFHM5FzrjyYhxQbOlMlOlZdohwQyZkHONYnPfU8gE1XRCJtk-v040YWoBTHtJJ7O9sFP-evQUUDCjt9gsySQiYjKBfaH9Rm5w4mog0rNaFFMuIiYLPQSr/s320/_DSC6781web.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511955145818259554" /></a>We peeked in the windows and stood around talking. We were not the only people bummed by the closure as others drove up and sighed their disappointment. </p> <p>We said our good-byes--me very reluctantly. (Chris, I hadn't forgotten my water bottle after all. I found it buried in my backpack). But I did want them to get to the HD Museum and on to Madison. I learned that they exercised a more leisurely option and hung around the lake before heading to Madison, WI. </p> <p>I'd reached a milestone. Upon arriving in Kenosha I felt really strong. I had planned to stop at the Botanic Garden in IL on my way back but after having lunch I figured it best to head home. I did take a brief side trip to the <a href="http://www.ilholocaustmuseum.org/pages/hours_and_directions/31.php">Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center</a>. They had already closed for the day. I still felt pretty good but resisted the temptation to take any additional side trips. That's the challenge when I'm feeling good, I then try to resume my former life only to learn the next day that I've over done it. Life sure is a teacher! I headed home but took the long way 'round.</p> <p>The test would come the following day. I woke up anticipating familiar pain. I felt none. Well, I felt a little bit but it was more annoying than anything. I waited until late morning. No increase. By late afternoon I had left on two wheels. I clocked in only about 70 miles but didn't feel much worse--and felt (mood wise) a whole lot better! My Minnesota visitors helped to jump start my riding, which coincided with me embarking on a path of feeling better more often. I had a blast riding with Chris and V, sort of like a mini refresher following him. It was a wonderful weekend meeting new/old friends, talking, riding, doing some healing too.</p> <p>Chris and Vicki, thanks for stopping by! </p><p>Upcoming post: How I averted the jaws of death with a little help from some very cool firemen</p>Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-83009376278106379802010-08-24T17:36:00.010-05:002010-08-24T22:08:29.340-05:00I'm back...fingers crossed!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWJq_FkFlkfgTtJlqJz1jCwcdM_54KMlHr-8wMHrviiZRHFAbuGr94hsfHjdX_daOg8I74RMCgSu3x6iIIn0VFCAq-09_ntjC3XQwKrtLHnCayxf5xXVfyRVX9yUsI1VPblBG0/s1600/_DSC1031web.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 264px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWJq_FkFlkfgTtJlqJz1jCwcdM_54KMlHr-8wMHrviiZRHFAbuGr94hsfHjdX_daOg8I74RMCgSu3x6iIIn0VFCAq-09_ntjC3XQwKrtLHnCayxf5xXVfyRVX9yUsI1VPblBG0/s320/_DSC1031web.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509110394428725458" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I'm inspired to write this blog entry because I've been feeling so much better lately. Additionally, I've heard from some of you and I'm particularly touched by your concerns. Some people lament that we, as a society, have lost our “sense of community,” that people are too plugged in to technology and not tuned in enough to “traditional” ways of caring about each other. I reject this outright; nothing is ever so black and white. Thanks to everyone who has reached out or just thought about me these last few months. I am left with a strong feeling of community with my fellow moto-bloggers. </span></p> </span><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I'm sorry that I've been invisible. I wouldn't wish my health challenges on anyone! For too long, I've had neither the energy nor desire to read moto blogs much less post on my own. Every time I step outside a motorcycle appears out of nowhere and zips by me as if mocking my pedestrian mode of transportation. And occasionally, it's all made be whiny, pouty and really uninterested in forcing my foggy brain—thanks to some crazy prescribed drugs—to focus on anything requiring attention. Trying to live vicariously through others' adventures was not helping. So, I apologize for neglecting the pleasure I usually experience from reading your blogs—and the fun I get from sharing my journeys (which have been few and far between). So I've laid low and tried to focus on reclaiming my former self.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">What's up with me, you've asked? I have a nasty auto immune disease of the connective tissues that has brought with it a rather persistent, chronic fatigue and more than its share of itchy, hideous hives. My immune system treats my muscles and tissue cells as enemy invaders and wants to destroy both. At one point, the least bit of physical exertion was followed by what I can only describe as an acute case of lactic acid burn in every fiber of my being. For reasons unclear to me, I continue to experience incredible muscle/tissue fires inside. After a lively 5 mile walk, which used to be a skip in the park, I now (more often than not) feel a burning sensation under my skin. I will spare you the details but after more than a year of trying to get a doctor to listen to me and not dismiss this as “all in my head,” I finally have received a diagnosis that makes sense. Not good news in the end, but what a relief to know what I'm dealing with.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I've had to consume some awful drugs that have compromised me cognitively and erased my energy and only slightly eased the pain, which always leaves me asking, “What is the point?”</span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-xNmFfgoqOCIU8R8nqXOefbkiA8JYBrtLccd28Q21jdvfr_VcZ3WaM23drovDwf93FXxRQkRAgm3bLo4akmaGHIqcNFDZR3LC6EkIoj17v1DuEkS7XUcgPdwCph4tS9AoeO7-/s1600/_DSC6734web.jpg"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-xNmFfgoqOCIU8R8nqXOefbkiA8JYBrtLccd28Q21jdvfr_VcZ3WaM23drovDwf93FXxRQkRAgm3bLo4akmaGHIqcNFDZR3LC6EkIoj17v1DuEkS7XUcgPdwCph4tS9AoeO7-/s320/_DSC6734web.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509111949634623314" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Through trial and error, I've learned what drug to cut out—most of the prescribed stuff—and I've started to feel considerable better—at least I have my mind back, which I know might be debatable. Still...<br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Currently, I'm feeling as if I'm in a healing phase (a remission of sorts). I've had a few weeks of feeling well enough to get through an entire day without several naps. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Knocking on wood. </span></i><span style="font-style: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Photo therapy has done wonders. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> I felt so well that on a Friday in July I took a ride to Milwaukee's BMW for a big, overdue service on the ST.</span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBYSKNDn1R_UfpgxmoIXfPHvZgLKgkAlhfisWwmXuE96xnBiJrj9ue8tSQhg_5yFwnWPkSceIVCp4L09Qc4g46nu5hAmxtqx6DnwN419zLYEikdGIMu5dhpOGReL_xuJipSHSc/s1600/Milwaukee1web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBYSKNDn1R_UfpgxmoIXfPHvZgLKgkAlhfisWwmXuE96xnBiJrj9ue8tSQhg_5yFwnWPkSceIVCp4L09Qc4g46nu5hAmxtqx6DnwN419zLYEikdGIMu5dhpOGReL_xuJipSHSc/s320/Milwaukee1web.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509114856106868466" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Other than occasionally running errands, this would be my first trip since May, when I ventured to Michigan to do some underground railroad hunting. I left for WI at 7am and already the air was hot and humid underneath an overcast sky. Milwaukee is an easy trip of about 100 miles; I arrived a few minutes before the shop opened at 10am. In the past, Dave had volunteered to ride my bike up there for me; while I appreciated his offer I could think of only a one word response: NEVER! I rested two whole days to make the trip. By the time I pulled into the large lot, I felt like a privileged six year old on Christmas morning. Three guys were waiting outside for the head guy to open the place; they watched me as I did a U-turn. Thankfully, my time off the bike, did not show. Within ten minutes my bike was checked in. I headed off to a coffee shop to get some reading and writing done. I felt tired but in a good way. Fortunately, I would have seven and a half hours to rest up before the return trip. </span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe05VJ_DuhWZqA0HI4cGgZdfQ1kInFbGnC3nE3fEXPFv6JYhn_MfOnNbHS1BeOw7XmEEaOORu8ES5B7fqgQ9stKBcNGII4bjdlNFETPL_QaHPOFIdmQ768424-kVvdy2TkyN8e/s1600/DSC_2584jesseharbor.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe05VJ_DuhWZqA0HI4cGgZdfQ1kInFbGnC3nE3fEXPFv6JYhn_MfOnNbHS1BeOw7XmEEaOORu8ES5B7fqgQ9stKBcNGII4bjdlNFETPL_QaHPOFIdmQ768424-kVvdy2TkyN8e/s320/DSC_2584jesseharbor.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509112451573015922" /></a></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Throughout the day, the sky threatened rain and eventually the rain came in buckets. Didn't matter to me as the rain gear was packed. By the time I took to the rode, the rain had dwindled to a trickle—not even worth pulling out the rain gear. The return journey took 1.5 hours longer than it took to get to Milwaukee. The return dished up everything that makes riding fun and challenging. My clutch hand ached from constant use in stop and go traffic. Friday evening traffic from Milwaukee into Chicago is always an endurance test. Rarely, during the last fifty miles did the bike move beyond third gear, which actually was good as the big service on the bike made the brakes so precise that I cherished the time needed to get accustomed to the new feel. I pulled into the garage just before 9:00pm, just before the night turned the sky black. The true test would come the next day. And, it came with a vengeance that was both excruciating and instructive. I couldn't walk straight. My thighs and the muscles in my legs were aching (I would rather give birth than to feel as I did). t took two days for my muscles/tissues to cease the fire within. Still, my progress could be overlooked if I just focused on the pain that had me frantically searching my cabinets for the very drugs I had sworn off. </span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaq18p1cgS89-d7Fo6h3QdqGZtrJovpVtE3JD6zqAlMp3cnD7N4s_P37QNlvKjlluSMWgcNJoCKxakdqbeVUfmErTdMLSb3PaZIb6fxBaws4TPLeZ0O0hxTKyGX9GVaDLcrNEP/s1600/_DSC4118web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaq18p1cgS89-d7Fo6h3QdqGZtrJovpVtE3JD6zqAlMp3cnD7N4s_P37QNlvKjlluSMWgcNJoCKxakdqbeVUfmErTdMLSb3PaZIb6fxBaws4TPLeZ0O0hxTKyGX9GVaDLcrNEP/s320/_DSC4118web.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509118443469552498" /></a></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">But here's the big lesson: It took two days to recuperate from the Milwaukee 200+ miles trip compared to the two weeks it took me to get over the 300+ miles Michigan trip I took the Saturday over the Memorial Day holiday. I'd say this is tangible evidence of progress. Why my immune system throws off histamines and sends my body into hyper drive is beyond me. Fortunately, I now have some astute docs and together we are working on solving the mystery. </span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">This down time has been good in many ways. First, I quit my research job that would try the patience of Biblical Job. I miss ONLY the money. The number of people I miss I can count on one hand with several fingers left over. It's been a good decision that has eliminated a boat load of stress. Trying to work in that environment was like trying to fit a big triangle into a small round space. This down time is also great for unlimited reading, that is, when the drug-induced brain fog has lifted. When clear of mind, I've done some serious thinking about all the things I've yet to do in this lifetime. One major decision I've made is an unequivocal recommitment to finishing an on and off again book I've been doodling on the life and times of Bessie B. Stringfield. I've accomplished more in the last month than I have in the last seven! I'm presenting a paper on Stringfield in November to the Social Science History Association; planning a trip (via plane, unfortunately) to Florida, where she lived; and, submitting a book proposal soon. The unanticipated time off has had some nice breakthroughs.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">While I don't want to announce a full return to anything just yet, (since I still can't predict with any level of accuracy when and why these annoying “flare-ups” occur), I feel, at the moment that I'm on a healing path. I plan to show up here more often. Even some recent news that I would undergo a minor surgery procedure hasn't dampened my optimism. I had that procedure and learned that I do not need the more invasive surgery. Whew!</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">On a recent short ride to the grocery store, I had a distinct feeling of Que sera, sera (Whatever will be, will be).</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-idE7CLXI893jo3Ab6Y-f8xPiL0UVIZM2lkHJJsq9fwrhK7yuUki13vaqRFy30rSI-J2Ic0ZrcmkViSVtTBDjW71o1i5caeKXjQtdeIhvfyRW7jdAdPrPCwf9sxIDrCgtNitT/s1600/_DSC4124web.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-idE7CLXI893jo3Ab6Y-f8xPiL0UVIZM2lkHJJsq9fwrhK7yuUki13vaqRFy30rSI-J2Ic0ZrcmkViSVtTBDjW71o1i5caeKXjQtdeIhvfyRW7jdAdPrPCwf9sxIDrCgtNitT/s320/_DSC4124web.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509118447966614370" /></a></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So here's to a heartfelt thanks to everyone for your patience and concern. I am looking forward to catching up with you all soon. </span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; line-height: 0.14in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I had a huge boost in energy this past weekend when I met up with the Chris and his lovely wife, whom I'll refer to as "Vee" —more about that fun soon.</span></p> </div>Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-29155672105145615962010-05-22T00:55:00.022-05:002010-07-26T07:31:06.390-05:00GoPro test 1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdTLoZ6DalIE8IB2WtLeCI05ffFkBzgeC1b1SSC-v_k7WWub1VyvpX13Iz3e8mOYSqhVPv9bFGe5b8OV-QeVmrDVZPuq4b01x2SqYx1FG0zjo8q9EcJc9Ej8onlzD-L1M4Fxm/s1600/IMG_4088.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdTLoZ6DalIE8IB2WtLeCI05ffFkBzgeC1b1SSC-v_k7WWub1VyvpX13Iz3e8mOYSqhVPv9bFGe5b8OV-QeVmrDVZPuq4b01x2SqYx1FG0zjo8q9EcJc9Ej8onlzD-L1M4Fxm/s320/IMG_4088.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474120073868615410" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">Took a short ride on some main city streets downtown Chicago. I was heading to LSD (Lake Shore Drive) to reach Montrose Harbor--it was an excuse to try out the new video cam. I mounted the <a href="http://www.goprocamera.com/index.php?area=2&productid=30">GoPro Motorsports Hero HD</a> video Cam on the hump of the F800ST. It proved sturdy and remained rock solid on some pretty bumpy city streets. I was quite pleased with the variety of mounts included in the box--unlike the pitiful mount and lack of options with the Scientific Oregon ATC video cam. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Still haven't figured out how to use the different attachments on the GoPro suction thingy to make it work but I don't feel an urgency for it at the moment. However, the height of the suction attachment makes for a nice tall mount for the camera, which makes sense when you need a view above the handle bar clutter on my ST.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My handlebars are not as generous as the bar on my old Suzuki SV650; thus, space on the Beemer bar is tight. I ride with mounts for a GPS, the Spot, and a XM satellite radio--the latter of which I can easily remove as I rarely ride with music unless I'm doing something big like a Saddle Sore or a day trip of over 600 miles. For mounting on the ST's hump, I had to clear handlebar space. I loosen the mounts and moved them aside to give the camera a clearer view of the road ahead. Yes, the GoPro mount needed to be higher. Hmm...note to self: <i>figure out that suction thingy...</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg572RWpylSjPVDEXztsly7_E1S_S2P49dbA8YYnRKKdORbD9pqCZkcoLkr42DZHM21u39YcC2PpW4Nuf-BR_02DFzQ-jkl3nOclnjy1Ju1mnlUSbxdTnDPFZLGu-SXgb6khZlX/s1600/IMG_4032.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg572RWpylSjPVDEXztsly7_E1S_S2P49dbA8YYnRKKdORbD9pqCZkcoLkr42DZHM21u39YcC2PpW4Nuf-BR_02DFzQ-jkl3nOclnjy1Ju1mnlUSbxdTnDPFZLGu-SXgb6khZlX/s320/IMG_4032.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474123256578500002" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">Uploading with iMovie. Things started off smoothly. Then, at the point of uploading, I received an error message in iMovie 8. I learned that this error message was a common occurrence with iMovie 8. In fact, Apple generated a fix (iMovie 6) soon after releasing iMovie 8 but the fix (released a long time ago) is no longer available. Every time I downloaded Apple software related to this fix, I was blocked because I needed the original iMovie 6 fix--UGH!!!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I switched to my PC and used Windows Movie Maker. It was okay and I'm glad to know that I now have it on the netbook, which I take when traveling. Still, iMovie seemed more intuitive so I upgraded to iMovie 9 and all issues with uploading that I encountered with iMovie 8 vanished. So here is my newbie attempt. No edits, just elimination of some of the non dynamic clips. I think I'm going to enjoy developing new skills and learning how to use this cam.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYm78Y4nRU8qVPdWJ9Y9pSNM_6n_ZASgfffu1BnPIJJJxno6RRnFFd8Uc_KfyS88s-Hk1TXMynRRsB-sjyxT2-KOUwVmVopHcnP3y7TUXma55M10W5ey85uQVdULgVDYh6vPnj/s1600/IMG_4089.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 203px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYm78Y4nRU8qVPdWJ9Y9pSNM_6n_ZASgfffu1BnPIJJJxno6RRnFFd8Uc_KfyS88s-Hk1TXMynRRsB-sjyxT2-KOUwVmVopHcnP3y7TUXma55M10W5ey85uQVdULgVDYh6vPnj/s320/IMG_4089.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474120536478084674" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: left;">Received the GoPro "Chesty" harness Friday. It fits and rests comfortably on my chest. Looking forward to comparing it to the hump mount. Chris at <a href="http://www.everydayriding.org/">Everyday Riding</a>, uses the chest mount. He said something like, the body becomes the cushion upon which the camera rests and absorbs shocks from the ride--or something like that (sorry, Chris if I've misquoted you). Looking forward to trying out the harness mount this weekend (fingers crossed).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2BW3_gR5ylsiFrA3h7RCnVFcHD513NJGcFXMkx_FMYVnlMoJJI4JOWAhMGQ9aSeQuY5B3Eg3jNelNbdw18WUqEVIGShRrHFWt6MQTvGOPZINQDSra-e5av3MzArRcOZq38h5R/s1600/IMG_4077.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2BW3_gR5ylsiFrA3h7RCnVFcHD513NJGcFXMkx_FMYVnlMoJJI4JOWAhMGQ9aSeQuY5B3Eg3jNelNbdw18WUqEVIGShRrHFWt6MQTvGOPZINQDSra-e5av3MzArRcOZq38h5R/s320/IMG_4077.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474120543673679090" /></a>I'm loving this little camera and send mucho thanks to Chris, who endured many wacky and wild emails from me. He showed both good humor and the patience of Job. My excuse, many of those emails were written while on some heavy brain fogging meds. Even I knew I sounded scary! </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Watch the GoPro test on <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMhAnT-iep8">YouTube</a><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre; font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:12px;"><object width="400" height="300"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/EMhAnT-iep8&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/EMhAnT-iep8&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x3a3a3a&color2=0x999999&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="300"></embed></object></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">p.s. So, what's the secret for posting the YouTube here without it being so huge it's full screen is not viewable. Chris, bobskoot? </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">UPDATE: Thanks Claye AKA <a href="http://fleeterlogs.blogspot.com/">Fleeter</a>!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div>Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-40354676785434028592010-05-17T06:50:00.019-05:002010-05-21T19:02:39.923-05:00I lied! (Sort of..). & fellow bloggers help out!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRI7Lvz7otT9sopFMjFvhyk0RDns2T9Rb4GoLuuNyvLoT7s4M39K41FY6teW_Fss_C_iZGra3_gtaSENUdJmWudqyjI7T1HHLkZT1YpzlLBeVco9aiQlENNXAEczRO8Z31vXG3/s1600/IMG_4009.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRI7Lvz7otT9sopFMjFvhyk0RDns2T9Rb4GoLuuNyvLoT7s4M39K41FY6teW_Fss_C_iZGra3_gtaSENUdJmWudqyjI7T1HHLkZT1YpzlLBeVco9aiQlENNXAEczRO8Z31vXG3/s320/IMG_4009.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473700873557403586" /></a>In a previous post I tried to talk mindfully about gratitude at being able to ride, regardless of the miles amassed. I'm trying to appreciate and value tiny moments. Training myself to adopt this disposition is a work in progress. At the moment, it isn't okay in the deep regions of my being. But what can do? I could make my sulking overt and make myself miserable and a drag to be around. Thus, I continue to seek meaningfulness in the rides that I do manage to accomplish. <div><br /></div><div>Saturday I was on the road by before 7am to head home for a graduation celebration to honor a dear family member. Construction made the going long and arduous. While I didn't ride my bike to the actual graduation, motoring home was a great way to start the day. Being among the graduate's family and friends was far more powerful than any medicine the docs can prescribe.</div><div> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh82mX1rMjuyRyqoU7A7fMYkogLQnnBBEQXeH68DPAXTa45RJd8_oPs1K71ZClmRLVmy75hQsgkTl5RY_1WbyWyq2LyXyK2De_TeiqOBUujxM1wqsyyWHwCGT2vwYKuhSwORxPh/s1600/_DSC2242.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh82mX1rMjuyRyqoU7A7fMYkogLQnnBBEQXeH68DPAXTa45RJd8_oPs1K71ZClmRLVmy75hQsgkTl5RY_1WbyWyq2LyXyK2De_TeiqOBUujxM1wqsyyWHwCGT2vwYKuhSwORxPh/s320/_DSC2242.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473701797112250322" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Sunday was a two wheeler's dream but I felt like CRAP. Still, I could hear my bike rocking its wheels in the garage. I imagined the tiny led lights framing the licence plate randomly flashing to signal its readiness for flight. Yet, the thought of getting up from my set and putting on gear seemed to take monumental energy that would require before actually mounting the bike--assuming I manage to get the gear on.</div><div> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXz9DmWGWHt1r2WQWnr4b752K7AI9IrFt6Pmd7916nxEW3k2bxRJlTy-PmG1tiTfM8LmXpuQK_oHX7rx5oPhSp6R57t22X6I5B0adntTYvzIRfOcE0BmE_ZmflA0Ygw2aQt-at/s1600/_DSC2344finblg.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXz9DmWGWHt1r2WQWnr4b752K7AI9IrFt6Pmd7916nxEW3k2bxRJlTy-PmG1tiTfM8LmXpuQK_oHX7rx5oPhSp6R57t22X6I5B0adntTYvzIRfOcE0BmE_ZmflA0Ygw2aQt-at/s320/_DSC2344finblg.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473706143950333490" /></a><br /></div><div>My friend, <a href="http://esprit_de_l_escalier.typepad.com/">Claire</a>, called and volunteered to retrieve me. We'd plan to get together on Sunday. She is a second daughter from whom I always love hearing. She's a delightful breath of fresh air. Her heart is one gigantic jelly-bean--all sweet! Our walk around Chinatown and lunch at Hoang Vietnamese Restaurant reminded me that this is auto immune disease is easy to yield to. It difficult to get out, I had to push myself.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ7nVs9-AYSsKTC7-PXNyfI8xxOJj1gRU7iNFP9M3XbRN4r-QssgKQsgi7gxh0h_Scft1QVb08imiQnXkABJyRNt2GDahyKua4bmuqGmGEscG3wGjC9MCNuuqU-ZT9yu9tLmPd/s1600/_DSC2218.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ7nVs9-AYSsKTC7-PXNyfI8xxOJj1gRU7iNFP9M3XbRN4r-QssgKQsgi7gxh0h_Scft1QVb08imiQnXkABJyRNt2GDahyKua4bmuqGmGEscG3wGjC9MCNuuqU-ZT9yu9tLmPd/s320/_DSC2218.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473703773354770546" /></a>Once out there, however, I feel light and unloaded of the dead weight that seems to anchor down my shoulders and cement my feet in place.</div><div><br /></div><div>At the end, Claire dropped me off at the apartment and once inside it, I could feel the exhaustion revisit. I rested an hour and it seemed to recharge my battery a bit. It would be sinful not to get out and enjoy the weather. I pushed myself out of bed and geared up for a short moto ride. My trip was short despite having all the best long ride conditions:. the sky, a most brilliant blue and temps in the low 70s. I swear, the bike looked downright forlorn, parked in an near empty garage. I flicked the button to release it security system and it flashed a series of seemingly happy red and yellow lights that tickled my spirit.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0xWLKU57Y0S-rTLkfAvxSIVbjKZS4d0CMh_d5y4oLZfd7JNLfu5kLcTfG9o7tN3xa7OMX90Xwfd3nnijqbNEnBTDjuFKHl3CMj1bMZc5FMXactxTAuiSn-I0yTMycVco6-3cd/s1600/_DSC2248.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0xWLKU57Y0S-rTLkfAvxSIVbjKZS4d0CMh_d5y4oLZfd7JNLfu5kLcTfG9o7tN3xa7OMX90Xwfd3nnijqbNEnBTDjuFKHl3CMj1bMZc5FMXactxTAuiSn-I0yTMycVco6-3cd/s320/_DSC2248.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473701807211653058" /></a>The streets were filled with people. The pack-oriented urban sport riders dominated Lake Shore Drive as they weaved in deep leans all along north and south Rt. 41. My short ride took me to the Osaka Gardens in Jackson Park, a beautifully harmonious example of East meets (urban) West. It's a small place that is most often isolated and tuck far enough off LSD to make the escape feel like a</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiuvsJ_zxVwyNAqRFpsXSzTQqBenFH5RdVgssvydQ9Ts32aNT3HPQ1WZM8JbwiuwoDnhi51SUIp2gwSc_NXXGDHmgUVQf7EgLxqahefVmjBiUd1mWo_dHMVcZBY_eQHox6YVVJ/s1600/_DSC2327finblg.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiuvsJ_zxVwyNAqRFpsXSzTQqBenFH5RdVgssvydQ9Ts32aNT3HPQ1WZM8JbwiuwoDnhi51SUIp2gwSc_NXXGDHmgUVQf7EgLxqahefVmjBiUd1mWo_dHMVcZBY_eQHox6YVVJ/s320/_DSC2327finblg.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473704900487103026" /></a>On this day, I saw more people than I've ever seen gathered here. I took a bunch of lenses and walked around the garden and snapped whatever filled my eyes--without regard to anything else--just taking pictures to remember comforting scenes and to forget the deep, creeping ache in my innermost bones that still catches me off guard. </div><div><br /></div><div>Not any interesting pictures of my beloved bike as one has to park far from the garden. The short ride was a good one.</div><div> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2OTKE4l6AEAfzpK1zqRmT5up1FLnhkUjb5WO4d-dB6lWgnv9mvWiv_TdY1S3mdKwGDM_1_ffFOHv4iinFq14ha73EQuR9EPve5oZG36kCq7zxl79TMcAud3RAOnzFaNUsR_6E/s1600/_DSC2293finblg.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2OTKE4l6AEAfzpK1zqRmT5up1FLnhkUjb5WO4d-dB6lWgnv9mvWiv_TdY1S3mdKwGDM_1_ffFOHv4iinFq14ha73EQuR9EPve5oZG36kCq7zxl79TMcAud3RAOnzFaNUsR_6E/s320/_DSC2293finblg.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473704892848455906" /></a>The return, even better as Chicago's breath taking skyline is an unabashed welcome to the big city with the small town disposition (IMHO). I thought of the videocam again. Had it been strapped on the bike, I could have shown just how gorgeous a day it was. And, I am sick--literally--and figuratively about not being able to pile on the miles. </div><div><br /></div><div>To me amassing miles signals movement, transformation--even voluntary displacement; it means stepping outside my ordinary and embracing new experiences.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMyBsiQvg6t2HjOh6bsFQh0TuW9Hoti2zSYvJOVagVWaL3r9ptutSx4LAZXUlGnG2yPIp_VXv3QM9wrKy5SsY_ETo1ZzWhF-7_FmMWLwYQmLXKE_6ONuSLAUuZAXq4iaAIoynm/s1600/_DSC2297.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMyBsiQvg6t2HjOh6bsFQh0TuW9Hoti2zSYvJOVagVWaL3r9ptutSx4LAZXUlGnG2yPIp_VXv3QM9wrKy5SsY_ETo1ZzWhF-7_FmMWLwYQmLXKE_6ONuSLAUuZAXq4iaAIoynm/s320/_DSC2297.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473705716050282402" /></a> It's about small and large acts of courage and risking-taking on mysterious machines and strange people and unexplored places. So, I did lie. In a way. With me it <i>is</i> about the miles and the more of them I cover, the more journeys I've taken and the more I learn about myself on my own. </div><div><br /></div><div>My challenge then is to find transformative moments in the small roads and paths--even in the congested urban street as well as along remote back roads. I'm trying to be attentive to this regardless of what I manage to venture. 'Cause the big trips may be on hold; in fact, the season appears threatened. (Fingers crossed, prayers sent).</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibiE2Kqiua4MdKBoIsmN52Rkx8ZhCBlM9maHtdt8NB3e8M97x-f8twnKpCpBDY1rnm-6maxDiYkaR9Y6lDx3ZOrbnMyuYkASgygknBjXwny1hyphenhyphen0WaYO7M3C0D3n6KAJlpnHV5v/s1600/IMG_4006finblg.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibiE2Kqiua4MdKBoIsmN52Rkx8ZhCBlM9maHtdt8NB3e8M97x-f8twnKpCpBDY1rnm-6maxDiYkaR9Y6lDx3ZOrbnMyuYkASgygknBjXwny1hyphenhyphen0WaYO7M3C0D3n6KAJlpnHV5v/s320/IMG_4006finblg.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473701158529999026" /></a>***</div><div>I will write more on my meeting with a fellow blogger this week. Here's a hint on his identity: twisted refers to both his mind and the roads he likes to ride! Meeting him made a drab day dynamic! And, thanks to consulting at length with another <a href="http://www.everydayriding.org/">blogger pal</a>, this site will soon have <i>nice </i>video!</div>Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32557834.post-22148878077237835002010-05-11T20:08:00.012-05:002010-05-11T22:50:38.793-05:00Mother's Day: Joy in a simple ride<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBHS7eWuHL0KMs8xqNjqXg4chS0TbwHArxZfAfHjYASKWoK6LG2ThaunLKs0858HnpPHh8r0Gd1LIjcsBmf5iROiigWIlIAHccwlnZJLglwkjWOQ-ZGX6iYopfrhqpj8si70LN/s1600/IMG_3823.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBHS7eWuHL0KMs8xqNjqXg4chS0TbwHArxZfAfHjYASKWoK6LG2ThaunLKs0858HnpPHh8r0Gd1LIjcsBmf5iROiigWIlIAHccwlnZJLglwkjWOQ-ZGX6iYopfrhqpj8si70LN/s320/IMG_3823.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470184912312372978" /></a><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">My rides have consisted of riding to work a few days a week and daily errands—if I'm lucky. No long trips yet and I'm being gentle with myself and mindful to let it go. Comparison to where and how much I had done at this time last year are silly, meaningless ruminations. That I can ride is the point.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">My babysitting for the F650GS is over *sigh*. Dave's shoulder has healed enough that he's been cleared to ride his bike!</span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Yd77IXz2GDUsQYZMB1u0HqOAKubGT9Dc9m0-5uwO2ZOZG3uZ5fRjbtqTOf5LpO_hgQdyfaJOvdmEJgu6QoLeyHL1XlMvc22_1gvfsK7I87Vg0ISbrWxnqfoDL_tE11gku-Rr/s1600/IMG_3911.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Yd77IXz2GDUsQYZMB1u0HqOAKubGT9Dc9m0-5uwO2ZOZG3uZ5fRjbtqTOf5LpO_hgQdyfaJOvdmEJgu6QoLeyHL1XlMvc22_1gvfsK7I87Vg0ISbrWxnqfoDL_tE11gku-Rr/s320/IMG_3911.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470187061855821170" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> I will do what I can to steal some rides on the GS, especially since I've registered it as a second bike for the 2010 BMW mileage contest. He is thrilled to be back on two wheels and I'm hoping his new membership in the Chicago BMW club (I'm not a member) will expand his options for riding with others. He recently donned his gear and headed out. It was not a good day for me and I reluctantly declined his invitation and encouraged him to go out alone. </span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzjMKkKZqjUE5pOtPqpnm4PTlzzPGLVVzmzsqJ9nwH3pajQymVG6emv7bZn_RcP0t_a7fIYcSsnW8oZpIq0wvTt0k8c9MQhQ2zW9Yeb8ncorp60Ge5jPyzX7_wO7pyraUMpM5W/s1600/IMG_3914.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzjMKkKZqjUE5pOtPqpnm4PTlzzPGLVVzmzsqJ9nwH3pajQymVG6emv7bZn_RcP0t_a7fIYcSsnW8oZpIq0wvTt0k8c9MQhQ2zW9Yeb8ncorp60Ge5jPyzX7_wO7pyraUMpM5W/s320/IMG_3914.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470187497085267234" /></a></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in">I lounged around all Saturday storing up energy for a Sunday, Mother's Day ride. I was asked what I wanted to do. The day promised to be cool and clear. In other words, ride-perfect. I wanted to ride but with me, myself and I. Our child, who used to, with Dad's help, bring me breakfast in bed on MD, is in graduate school in California. She called in her daughterly Mother's Day wishes; and, I called in mine. I felt free. </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">Sometimes, before a big ride, I won't sleep well (I should say, I sleep less than usual). I call it “trip anticipation syndrome” or TAS for short. Ordinarily, I prefer early starts, to be on the road by 6:30ish. Instead, I woke up at 2am and four hours later, I looked and felt like a zombie! Didn't leave the house until after 1pm. This letting go of things is a real challenge.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">My plans were to head to the <a href="http://www.lakecookaudubon.org/Almond_Marsh_Bird_Watching.html">Great Blue Heron Rookery & Wetland Wildlife Sanctuary</a>, part of the <a href="http://www.lcfpd.org/preserves/index.cfm?fuseaction=home.view&object_id=19338&type=P">Almond Marsh Lake County Forest Preserve</a> in Grayslake, IL. The sanctuary has been in the news lately for its innovative method of building man-made tree structures to attract the herons back to this once favorite heron habitat. I took the long way there and enjoyed the azure sky, the 50+ degree temps. The sweet and acrid mix of earthly smells of city, suburban and rural living made me quite happy and I cracked my lid to inhale deeply.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I did encounter some crazy traffic for the first hour but eventually exited the Interstate and took lesser roads the rest of the way. The video camera would have been great on this trip—oh well... Something strange happened when I got to Almond Marsh. I couldn't find the entrance. I rode around a huge area and ended up back where I thought an entrance would be. A man and his young daughter were there looking through their binoculars at the spot I recognized from a news report. I squinted at the spot but didn't see any herons. A metal gate blocked the entrance and the fine print stated on the gate stated that the marsh was closed. How and why would a forest preserve be closed on Mother's Day?! The father said it was indeed closed for the day. Wow! I almost felt like, “What a waste.” I caught myself for the ride out was joyous.</span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Plan B was that if time allowed, after my Rookery visit I would spend some time in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fort_Sheridan,_Illinois">Fort Sheridan, IL.</a> The fort was a US Army military post after the Civil War, named after Philip Sheridan, a Civil War Calvary General. When the Department of Defense closed the fort in 1993, they sold the land to developers for commercial land use. Developers refurbished the land and resold it.</span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR6vI94SOQmVstMPMysgeuL339YYZhcrXD6GktM34wWupJ_PvvcR30XuJaUv5tzDfIAhLrxM83jfzm92nLbWEG2hzDHJ9g0cMFyNZ_8NknBXPEvLeBTPjg-QLaZff07exmo-cX/s1600/_DSC1773.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR6vI94SOQmVstMPMysgeuL339YYZhcrXD6GktM34wWupJ_PvvcR30XuJaUv5tzDfIAhLrxM83jfzm92nLbWEG2hzDHJ9g0cMFyNZ_8NknBXPEvLeBTPjg-QLaZff07exmo-cX/s320/_DSC1773.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470196295451999922" /></a>The now residential land use has a unique appearance of homes and condominiums. Part of town edges the lakeshore of Lake Michigan, much of the woodsy space is preserved. The town has an air of affluence with a military twist for the military ambience is obvious.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp_jyOhJMdAYvLWTL6b4VYevjKWzDhTLAGZk4uzZAUFO_77pj-6zqwT0PpZad4yi0WxXa8jnqjY17hmQ4kX3xRAYmwzNuJ1fNXZVtqhFv2itjKadPrl_YzOWPaiSAufO4t6WPJ/s1600/_DSC1774.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp_jyOhJMdAYvLWTL6b4VYevjKWzDhTLAGZk4uzZAUFO_77pj-6zqwT0PpZad4yi0WxXa8jnqjY17hmQ4kX3xRAYmwzNuJ1fNXZVtqhFv2itjKadPrl_YzOWPaiSAufO4t6WPJ/s320/_DSC1774.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470196307429965634" /></a> I mean, it looks like a fort—just a fort for rich soldiers. The winding streets, the functional looking buildings and the spacious greens made this stop a great visit. (Please take a moment to read a bit about <a href="http://www.fortsheridan.com/">Fort Sheridan</a>).</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I also made a stop at The </span><a href="http://www.lcfpd.org/docs/Fort-Sheridan-Cemetery-Info.pdf"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Fort Sheridan Cemetery</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, which sits right outside the town.</span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ZRToeGvKApKd4ZROwlot1L3R0iyPEkPaqCNViLWVPzYQKZe3QHXev3_Y8Oy2-09we0bWYLxirYFQaL9UdYczvXMi2-o8vGV5eNHuI2UtuDgxbSkeLSH7ZZshk3qotRgjxGiF/s1600/_DSC1788.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ZRToeGvKApKd4ZROwlot1L3R0iyPEkPaqCNViLWVPzYQKZe3QHXev3_Y8Oy2-09we0bWYLxirYFQaL9UdYczvXMi2-o8vGV5eNHuI2UtuDgxbSkeLSH7ZZshk3qotRgjxGiF/s320/_DSC1788.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470194044124009762" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I arrived there with only about five minutes to spare before the cemetery closed. I noticed that among the ancient, uniformed Civil War headstones were some with more recent dates of births and deaths, suggesting that after the transformation of Fort Sheridan to a residential area, the cemetery has become the final resting place for nonmilitary personnel. I watched a woman sitting in front of a headstone for all the time I was there. I wanted to take a picture of her as she looked so serene and focused. Her back was to me and it would have made a nice photo op but it didn't seem the respectful thing to do. So I took a few obligatory photos of the area and left. </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEtTKY9b-zAbKSP8cl1MN_Snv-kE0jyNl3Ns97VXmiGsvVjAfrEh7mgiFwAreTUHE5yVAKS2YA3UK6COavsbyPJCUHbP7B58q0RuG2d5q0N8me-Z6g4y5glUxSnRRbmCatKPIP/s1600/_DSC1787.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 170px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEtTKY9b-zAbKSP8cl1MN_Snv-kE0jyNl3Ns97VXmiGsvVjAfrEh7mgiFwAreTUHE5yVAKS2YA3UK6COavsbyPJCUHbP7B58q0RuG2d5q0N8me-Z6g4y5glUxSnRRbmCatKPIP/s320/_DSC1787.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470194054246692738" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Funny thing is, I pass the town whenever I ride along the northern part of the Lake Michigan Circle Tour, a favorite leg I often ride when I take the long way to Wisconsin.</span></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirvo5tpCIqL-67-wzw1WtmxkdpRcDyBhqEhKVJMJMQWYywYqOpNFReyosBCeT4Xb0-EW34NM1Z56GL3qidS6D0-XqY7N5aAlV4RP-oboT69DHTmiL8bOmIwxA3VOAyqnU4KXDU/s1600/_DSC1771.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirvo5tpCIqL-67-wzw1WtmxkdpRcDyBhqEhKVJMJMQWYywYqOpNFReyosBCeT4Xb0-EW34NM1Z56GL3qidS6D0-XqY7N5aAlV4RP-oboT69DHTmiL8bOmIwxA3VOAyqnU4KXDU/s320/_DSC1771.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470196306677450834" /></a></span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">By my own standards, this was a short ride just over 100 miles, one I'd generally brush off (last year) as paltry. I can't, however, articulate the meaningfulness this ride held for me. It felt great moving along, leaning into wide sweeping curves, passing through wooded areas—even navigating through the congested traffic felt healing--even if temporarily. I welcomed, even embraced the challenge to be sharply attentive, alert and vigilant of vehicles around me. In the faster lanes, I remember sneaking peeks at the ground as it move swiftly underneath me and peppered throughout the ride were moments when everything seemed well with the world and me in it. Two wheel travel always demands focus, which in turn requires prioritizing the mind's worries.</span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1H7T-vzYs5AnXOD3e279iHOSIRIi9Aeei4gOSzHtFrYHf-3gW7hg7Uu1Qw8jS6vKGSxzBFcsb7isxLrNe_4GCJbMhPj1j-puxUAKSG9uWXq9HnD_29Il7TNSHIZyGvOiJpttd/s1600/_DSC1781fin.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1H7T-vzYs5AnXOD3e279iHOSIRIi9Aeei4gOSzHtFrYHf-3gW7hg7Uu1Qw8jS6vKGSxzBFcsb7isxLrNe_4GCJbMhPj1j-puxUAKSG9uWXq9HnD_29Il7TNSHIZyGvOiJpttd/s320/_DSC1781fin.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470198421596059314" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmWAlEnOAQRD_Ohq3J3m2dS6v_Y51ZfVi435b57U0dyGU5BakGqRlJrTr1ukVtgORQlgIhspT_EU3IVzNOStgaPP16tmEFP7ykfNm-fpZbRPNfy1YVabfnM8X2Nkg31amBbgb-/s1600/_DSC1778.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmWAlEnOAQRD_Ohq3J3m2dS6v_Y51ZfVi435b57U0dyGU5BakGqRlJrTr1ukVtgORQlgIhspT_EU3IVzNOStgaPP16tmEFP7ykfNm-fpZbRPNfy1YVabfnM8X2Nkg31amBbgb-/s320/_DSC1778.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470198409745677810" /></a></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">This day was the official start of my ride season and although the weather has since has turned cold and rainy again, it really doesn't matter. On this Mother's Day, I needed this simply joy. I needed to feel flight and unburdened. Riding two wheels, at least for me, are always potential opportunities to connect with myself. I am on my own. Making my way in both familiar and unfamiliar places. No negotiating (other than the traffic). It is all about me.</span></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisQZoqvnefPtN71sldi_Ypy0wwZlUdZkhG7-BkKARYkxllsXgaX-Dxb-kGxlHeJMkDtQiGAoZHjzGwyK8n5rZjgZhsusHgTGFt2bdDxm35rRhg6ovRBNP1DrtSv1TBIiTzpHVl/s1600/_DSC1776.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisQZoqvnefPtN71sldi_Ypy0wwZlUdZkhG7-BkKARYkxllsXgaX-Dxb-kGxlHeJMkDtQiGAoZHjzGwyK8n5rZjgZhsusHgTGFt2bdDxm35rRhg6ovRBNP1DrtSv1TBIiTzpHVl/s320/_DSC1776.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470198411588845042" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> And, sometimes the best form of self care is saying “No” others and “Yes” to self. </span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">This was indeed a wonderful Mother's Day.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"><br /></p>Sojourner's Moto Taleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02235661849993752840noreply@blogger.com7