"Asphalt Therapy" and my stolen bike of yore...

"Asphalt Therapy." I owe this blog title to a dear friend, who identified in an email message to me precisely what the doctor ordered. He should know; he needs some asphalt therapy too. Lucas is a highly skilled motorcyclist who rides a gorgeous--and tall--Kawasaki Versys, a bike I contend is a close relative of the Suzuki SV650! But I digress...

I needed a fix.

Each winter I reluctantly have stored my bikes, first Queenie (the wonderful Suzuki SV650) and now Jesse Owens (the sweet mile gobbler, BMW F800ST). This winter, the shop where I store my bike even offered, with a day or so notice, to allow me to reclaim my bike over the winter sans charge if and when the withdrawal became unbearable and a ride was the only panacea to save me, the patient.

Well, I've got the heebee-geebees something awful! I'm also exhausted and short of everything, including time. If my bike were in my garage, I could stumble my way out to sit on the bike, start it up and ride, if possible.

'Cause there's a monkey on my back . The incessant itch of withdrawal will surely leave visible scars...Something has to give soon.

I'm lucky that I have several outlets that can work in a pinch: reading, photography, bicycling, rollerblading, and mapping. But two wheel whizzing quells my soul like no other; perhaps, because it combines the best of my activities. On a weekend of bicycling I can go only so far--and only at a comparatively snail's pace. No matter how hard I peddle I can't get to Amherstburg, Ontario and back in a weekend and have energy left to call it fun. Inline skating, a activity that sports the most wheels, restricts me the most too. I am confined to a small geographic area unless I ride my bicycle or motorcycle to my skating destination. I can do long distance inline skating--many former runners, like myself, have turned this into a distance sport-- but I can skate all day and never get close to leaving Illinois. Reading and photography--I can do both for endless hours and each is good for my replenishing my spirit.

Still, something about getting on my motocycle that blends the "feel good" activities and offers the best therapy I can access without a prescription. Riding requires continuous reading of words and behavior (my own and everyone around me--in and out of vehicles!). Wanting to "shoot" something I've read about that is tucked inside a small town is reason enough to go for a ride.

Motorcycling is so much like my wanderings on my Schwinn bicycle with the "S" on the seat that I told everyone really stood for Sharon. I went everywhere, fast, on that entirely manual bike even though I was told, no warned, to remain within a tightly circumscribed, microscopic area near my home. My family told me about the evil that lurks and awaits those who stray too far from home. The Boogeyman was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. In addition to not straying far, always, always take someone with you.

Yet, ninety-nine percent of the places I ventured back then, I did so alone. My family also told me that "God takes care of children and fools" so I figured I was covered--and I always tried to remember to say a prayer before I went off into supposedly dangerous neighborhood. Sure, I'd ride around with my neighborhood friends whom I was always itching to ditch so I could explore the places that their fear kept them from sampling.

It was on one of those forbidden voyages that my beloved Schwinn with the "S" on the seat was stolen. Right from in front of the Walker Branch Public library no less, which is where I spent a huge chunk of my childhood. On that fateful day, I learned what it meant to "cry a river." I cried myself dry! The worst part was I had to do all that crying before I got home where I knew my childish behavior and stolen bike would be seen as justice for disobedience. I cried all that summer when alone whenever my mind wandered to another girl, somewhere, riding my bike with my initial on the seat.

In my family, you don't bite off more than you can chew, which can lead to hesitancy and tentativeness I found stifling to a traveler at heart. I received little sympathy about my bicycle. I asked for a new one often and heard variations of this whenever I did: "Yes, you can get another bike," [LONG pause, long enough to get my hopes up and my heart beating with joyous anticipation] "...just as soon as you buy one for yourself."} I thought, "How could I be related to these heartless people?! "

In reality, they were not heartless. They were folks who felt that when you don't listen, the best sense, is bought sense! Not only did I disobey, I foolishly left my bike unprotected--and that wasn't the first time. I went through serious two wheel withdrawal that summer and the entire next summer too. I did eventually get another bike, a five speed, oddly name bike from Montgomery Wards that my parents bought. It had no "S" on the seat. It lacked the smoothness and quality of my Schwinn. Regardless, I was thrilled to be on two wheels once again.

The next Schwinn I owned came many years later. And I did buy it myself--a ten speed that came with a killer racing seat that not big enough for an "S" or most butts! I rode it everywhere. It is now over 30 years old, still in my possession and somewhere in the recesses of a garden shed. Days of riding it from the southside of Chicago to downtown or to Harvey, IL to my college job at the YMCA, remain fresh in my memories.

Two-wheel riding for the adult soul

Motorcycling makes get aways easy and fun. I can experience great distances from home in car-time. Without sweating, I can travel joyously from home to Amherstburg, Ontario and back in a weekend and still show up for work on Monday refreshed and relaxed. I lunch in Indianapolis and am back home before dark. Motorcycling combines all that I enjoy: strategy, skills, athleticism, fitness, planning/goal-setting, travel, photography, solitude and plenty of Zen moments to reconnect with others. And most of all, just plain fun. It's an update to the Schwinn in all the best ways.

So, it makes perfect sense that since my last ride on a cold December day, the need for asphalt therapy is acute. "Doctor, we're losing the patient!... Wait, I think I'm getting a pulse."

"She has pulled through yet again..".

This weekend I agreed to get away with Dave who will be basically home bound for a few weeks following surgery on Tuesday. We didn't venture far and it was via four wheels. But the distance was enough to reap the benefits from the flow of endorphins that travel promises.

Despite unequivocal evidence everywhere one looks of dwelling in the depths of winter, we answered the screams of the beach and wound up at Illinois Beach State Park, spending good, cold time hiking. The pictures here are some of the cold wintry scenes I'll remember.

Not quite asphalt therapy.

But a nice second.

Bloggers gone (one forever) but not forgotten...

I certainly know what it's like to lose track of what anchors you in place and how easy it is to find yourself so overwhelmed that you drop out of sight. I'm prone to going underground for long stretches of time myself, as winter takes a toll on my energy and desires and disposition. For me, it's mostly work that encourages my occasional disappearing acts.

So, I understand when posts from other bloggers become few and far between. While updating this blog, I decided to visit each of the "Haunts" I've followed and delete the dormant ones. I was surprised by the number that haven't been updated in an extremely long time--like more than a year.

I couldn't help wonder where life had taken these fine bloggers. I hope that they are enjoying a long hiatus; that they are simplifying their lives and shifting gears. Still, the long absence of these well-crafted blogs, replete with memorable prose and dramatic photography, raises nagging questions. As I made my rounds, I recalled some of the exchanges I've had with these fellow riders. I poked around each blogspace reading and recalling fond memories.

Then the saddest memory of all.

When I visited this blog, my recall was instant. I remembered the death announcement when it was first posted there. I had forgotten, I think, or perhaps just suppressed a memory I preferred to deny. Then as now, I want to know what happened to Chris. Perhaps the mystery isn't what's important. Still, I couldn't help wonder how and why this life ended so young, so early. I paused there to re-read posts, which brought him back to life even if momentarily. I exited the site but not before re-reading the beautiful poem dedicated to this short and obviously rich life. This blog was the only specific confirmation that answered what happened to one of the missing bloggers. I never knew Chris, really, but we communicated nonetheless. His is a site that will live on my blogroll.

Experiences like this always make me relive my brother's death. They say you need a year to grieve. I know well that death is a fact of life. None of us gets out of life alive. Still, it's a challenge. My revisits to blog sites has taught me a lesson I keep learning again and again in different ways: letting go is not so easy. Even if a site is “dormant,” pushing "delete" demands more than simply depressing the button.

People live on in us in ways even we might not be able to comprehend.

We each learn to let go at our own time, in our own way...

Update:

Just before posting this, I decided to do a general Google search on Chris. I found this (scroll to read).

RIP

Woman Seeking Women

It has been a long time between posts and I've missed you. I've been embracing the winter fully by doing my daily long, cold walks with a camera in hand.

As I continue to seek balance in my so-called life, I appreciate your patience. Neglecting this blog, unfortunately, is but one of my many outlets spiraling through gaping dark holes and disappearing forever. A backlog of incomplete or unedited posts await my attention. Some days pass by pleasantly—even enjoyably. Other days--too many days in fact--drag by with the energy that would make a sloth look like a speed demon.

While my hectic life has left little time to indulge the things I want most to do, day dreaming has proved a viable distraction. I've ridden off into the sunset during more than one business meeting. The ride calendar is filling up with tons of legal fun! Aligned with my previous blog about riding with purpose, I've come up with several projects that I'll need several life times to complete. I know that I'm probably far more project- and goal-oriented than many would care to be, but hey, different strokes for different folks, right? Very few things compare to two wheel riding. I do it for the sheer joy of moving through space; whizzing pass buildings and trees; and, inhaling smells both good and malodorous. It is fun and solitude on my terms.

Last season, my travels took me to many Underground Railroad Stations, National Historic Sites and Monuments; I enjoyed every outing. This season, I will continue picking these sites but I'm my pleasure sensors with some new projects.

One that I am announcing here now was sparked by reading motorcycle magazines. You may have noticed that some of them are aimed at the male reader. To many of these rags, the fact that women have increasingly joined the ranks of riders hasn't seemed to catch on. Yes, an increasing number of mags publish stories about and by women riders. Glad to see better inclusion. Still, the ads in some of these same magazines haven't evolved much. Typically, the women in the ads are sprawled, skimpily-clad, on or across the motorcycle.

The clothes they wear—or should I say, the clothes they are not wearing—scream volumes about who these ads are meant to attract.

I read these magazines too. Forgive me while I rant a bit. Sorry men, but I'm annoyed with poofy-haired, leather bustier wearing, Barbies with spike heeled, thigh high boots and pouty mouths, and grossly inflated adipose tissues staring out at me! Rather than continue getting mad, I'm taking action.

I'd like to proffer a counterpoint. So, I'm eagerly seeking women.

I'd like to interview a different kind of woman on a bike. For the upcoming ride season, I'm looking for women who ride solo. I prefer that they reside in the Midwest. They must also be ATGATT (all the gear, all the time). If you a woman who rides solo and lives in Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Ohio, Minnesota, and Wisconsin, send them my way.

I will ride to meet up with her, interview her and take some photos of her and her ride partner, that is, her motorcycle. By “ride solo,” I mean, she rides alone 99% of the time. Before anyone debates me about my requirements, let me explain. I don't believe it is a challenge to find women to interview who ride. Such woman have become rather commonplace.

Women who prefer to go it alone will be a challenge I look forward to interviewing. Think about it, given women's socialization to stay near home, to never travel alone, to find protection with a male, that any woman rides alone is noteworthy. I know why ride alone. I'd like to know about those who other women who swim against the current.

Why do they ride alone? Where to do go? What bike do they ride and why? Do they camp alone or stay in hotels when they travel? Is riding alone choice or circumstance? Are they committed solo riders or just biding their time until the right riding partner comes along?

My hope is to eventually turn these interviews and images into a multimedia story accessible via the WWW. Eventually, I'd like to stretch beyond the Midwest. Details remain foggy at this stage but the planning is underway.

I will recruit on a few motorcycle boards and female motorcycle forums. Still, if you know someone, don't hesitate to let me know. Thanks!

I'm back among the living!

Wishing you and yours a great, safe 2010!

Whew! Where did the time go?! I'm glad the old is over and the new is underway. I know it's a cliche, but the new year always brings new hope and inspiration. Like many others, I had a challenging year, but I am still breathing. The key to a stressless holiday, IMHO, is to avoid all stores. If I couldn't make the gift or purchase it online--it just didn't get gotten! (excuse poor grammar).

(The anguish on the face of these figures in Lorado Taft's "Fountain of Time" is exactly how I felt a few days before Christmas, click for closer look)

I think I've taken my last ride of the season (sigh). This decision has nothing to do with the cold weather that has gripped Chicago. In fact, on my last ride, which started off around 20 degrees F with a high that day of 24, was quite comfortable. My Tourmaster electrics are great. I dressed so well that I felt a bit too warm when I reached my destination. By the time I returned home and disrobed, I was sweating. Even the black ice that my back tires greeted didn't factor into my decision to end my ride season. No, I realize that the numerous must-do tasks that I procrastinate with during the summer, need to winter to resolve. Trying to also fit in riding is contrary to my "seek balance" and "let go" philosophy I've been trying to implement. I live in an environment that makes winter riding a challenge that I choose not to fit in this winter. (Big sigh)

Right now things are out of whack and I need to shift gears, so to speak. Besides, it's long winter evenings slurping down Japanese Sencha or various Oolong teas, while pouring over maps and tossing around trip ideas I fantasy for the new ride season that gets me through the winter doldrums. It is also the time that I re-read motorcycle classics and catch up on magazine articles on riding technique and safety. The last great book I read is Riding in the Zone: Advanced techniques for skillful motorcycling, by Ken Condon, a protege of David Hough. I've read it once and will re-read it before the start of spring. It's a must-read book for all two wheel travelers.

(Looks like a nice spring, summer or fall day, doesn't it? It was below freezing-fun!)

(LOOK where you want to go!)

When I saw this family out for an afternoon of ice skating, I thought of the motorcycle safety class axiom: look where you want to go. This family went down often that night. I wanted to yell to them to look ahead, look up, look anywhere but down, but I didn't. I just smiled at their family fun and tripped the shutter to capture images of one or more of them prostrate on the ice. I could relate. On my last ride, I found myself having to look at the ground more than I know is good. Mostly, one can scan the ground now and again to look for changes in the color or surface but one doesn't want to lock the eyes there. I must confess, I did some eye-locking on the last ride because those deceivingly small patches of ice that blended so well with the road surface caught me by surprise a few times. The longer I rode the better I was at winter scanning of seemingly clear roads, which is a bit different than summer scanning...imho.

(Seen on a power walk morning).

Physical issues that I plan to correct before the spring. I've read that despite my painful back, I should still do the weight lifting. I slowed down and stopped completely when my back became chronically inflammed. I've missed weight lifting but the back was giving me so much trouble that I thought I should lay off. But I'm convinced that when I was lifting--seriously lifting--my back seemed to breakdown less. Yes, "the old gray mare ain't what she used to be" but I'm not dead yet! I won't go down without a fight! Riding a motorcycle well--at least the way I want to continue to ride--requires excellent fitness. I believe that the older I get the more I need to rely on smart strategies and techniques to do what I used to do without thought.

Now, it's training most wisely. It is now better for me to do 25-30 miles a week of jogging than 60 miles a week of running/training, which I used to do a couple of decades ago. My knees and back now prefer long power walks, robust hiking, and inline skating over a ten miles early morning run. But even my "preferred" outlets were taking a toll on my back. My F800ST is a perfect bike for me because the slight forward position (which I actually uprighted a bit) keep the pressure off my tail bone. My Suzuki SV650 was perfect in every way except that after a 600 miles day, I felt it. This is not the case on the ST. I plan to keep up the long distance riding and there is a direct positive correlation with fitness and miles (IMHO). At least, that's true for me. My last Saddle Sore was a breeze compared to the first one. A fit body can handle more stress. Period. So this winter, I'm back to becoming one with free weights.

(I will miss Jesse Owens, my motorcycle--but heck, it's only for a few fly-by months)

So, this blog will, for the next three months morph into riding news, book and gear reviews an occasional rants about something motorcycle related (like that essay I've been working on about solo riding). This will also be the place I toy with some trip ideas and might even solicit some ideas from you. I have a motorcycle related project in the early stages that will help those living in a poor country. When the details are worked out, I will share it with you 'cause I'm hoping you might want to offer your two cents.

(The picture is of the City Auto Pound, situated on the lowest level of Chicago (the City's underbelly). It's where unluck illegally parked cars wind up. The area also provides a short cut through much of the downtown area. I motorcycle often in and out of this space).

Until next time...happy riding if you're still riding the asphalt. And if you're tucked away your ride partner for the winter, remember: "This too shall pass."

A quiet weekend of small journeys

Rarely do I allow a weekend to pass without a day trip or an overnighter. This was a weekend for doing some of those "must-do" things that pile up when the call of the outdoors is defeating. We suffer here in most winters. So I respond eagerly to those calls! Thus, my avoidance has caught up with me. So rather than a long ride or a weekend getaway, I rode up north, along the lake shore and enjoyed the mid-seventies temps and the captivating scenes from the lake. There's been some road patching done on Lake Shore Drive but it's still an obstacle course in spots. I don't mind that too much because I know this road. I love living in a place where I know the nooks and crannies of the streets, intersections and neighborhood. I value the familiarity of being able to visualize what's around the bend before getting there. On Lake Shore Drive, I know which lane has a huge crater in the road, I know where the most popular exit ramp is and when to move to the best lane to avoid the inevitable backups there.

"How do you ride in downtown Chicago?" I've been hearing that a lot lately. "It's dangerous," people tell me. But Chicago is my backyard. If you're smart, you learn your environment. Survival depends on it! Knowing how to get through the often crazy streets is no different, to me, than knowing how to deal with any of the challenges that any environment throws at you. When I was in Vermont recently, I recall thinking how those early morning fogs would made me reconsider my preference for early morning starts and how streets not on the Chicago grid pattern would really force me to hone my map skills or render me totally dependent on the GPS. And, night riding, forget it. There is no blackness more absolute than those country back roads--and I do enjoy an occasional night ride. I suspect, however, I'd learn to adapt to my environment if I lived in Vermont; I'd learn that shedding the outsider's perspective and just getting out there and living like a native Vermonter would accelerate the adaptation process. It's all a matter of perspective. My house in the suburbs puts me within 10 minutes of country roads and when there, I feel the new sensory challenge that it demands and the excitement of not knowing what's around the corner fills me with wonder.This morning, I was out for a walk around 5:15am and the traffic on Lake Shore Drive already was brisk, ample and robust. The sky was dark and in the horizon I could see evidence of the sun preparing its glorious rise. I took my gym rope on the walk and a little camera too. I took the rope because I want to reconnect with jumping rope, something I used to be very good at, including hand crossing the rope, fancy foot work and double-jumps in one turn of the rope--those were the days. My supposed bone condition probably prohibits this shake up to my skeleton, but I wanted to feel a little flight--get my feet off the ground for a change. It went well but I tired long before I could do any damage, I'm sure. I took the camera because I always have one on me, just in case I want to capture a memory. The long walk did me well. Tomorrow, if my body must pay a price, I'll be ready.It's the beginning of a new week and my mind is already thinking of where I'll ride to the coming weekend. The days are getting shorter and the mornings are darker and cooler. Fall hovers. No doubt about it, every day brings me closer to the inevitable: winter storage. This year, I will ride as long as the ground is clear and i can bundle against the cold. I will ride without regard to a calendar date. With still-to-be-purchased winter gear, I don't plan to go to that inaccessible motorcycle winter camp quickly or quietly.

Hope your week changes you in some interesting way. Get your feet off the ground some, if you can.

Ride smart.

Goose Lake Prairie State Natural Area: 152 miles of lessons

My preference is to get on the road early. Sunday's planned ride started off a tad cooler than I expected. I wore my Tourmaster, silver and black jacket and black overpants, which performed as expected. I packed hiking boots, camera equipment and a fruit lunch. I navigated an Interstate most of the way. Riding into a head wind contributed to much of my initial discomfort. Still, the thrill of embarking on my first real ride of the season kept my mind off my increasingly cold, gloved fingers. By the time I had exited the city and entered the hinterland, I forgot about my numb digits. As I pushed increasingly west and south, I settled in and located that comfortable zone of being alert yet relaxed.

The streets show the ravishes of winter. Repair work is omnipresent. Clearly the patching is done without regard to two-wheeled travelers. In places, huge craters and ruts cover half the lane! Gouges and poorly marked road shifts make riding seem like an obstacle course event. Patched road surfaces are also problematic as some are often doctored with that slippery black stuff that looks like electrical tape snaking down the road. In one unavoidable spot, I felt the back tire slide just enough to elevate my heart rate. Far too many repaired edges are ragged and raised enough to trap a motorcycle tire--that is, if one isn't paying the closest attention to the road's surface.

I am out of ride shape! Admittedly, I slacked off over the winter and shouldn't be surprised. Since rescuing the bike from winter camp, my "trips" have been of short duration so I've avoided confronting the result of my winter vegetation. This journey was payback! On this, my first real trip of the season, my ankles cracked, creaked and complained after about 20 nonstop miles. My knees begged for stretching; my neck felt the weight of my helmet. Ignoring these bodily grumbles required considerable mind control! It helped that I did a full body parts check and ordered myself to loosen up my shoulders, keep my thighs tank tight, and position my feet comfortably on the balls. It took me more time than I care to admit to find that sweet seating spot. I am, however, thrilled to report that my lower back didn't fail me. It is the one thing I worked on over the winter.

Last ride season, I tried to visit many state parks, forest preserves, natural, and wildlife areas. Continuing with that theme, I settled on Goose Lake Prairie State Natural Area, located in Grundy County. According to its literature, prairie once covered nearly 60 percent of Illinois and Goose Lake Prairie, which is the result of glaciers, best reflects the grasslands and marshland of the area. Goose Lake Prairie is also home of many birds with at least 175 species having been recorded since 1970. Unfortunately, the ones I spotted were faster than my camera skills. I did see a spotted sandpiper and a couple of Henslow's sparrows. And, something rather large flew over head and looked rather raptor-like but I couldn't ID it from the rear and so far away.

Goose Lake Prairie now totals more than 2500 acres and is the "largest remnant of prairie left in Illinois." The diversity of grasses is stunning. It took me more than 2 hours to cover most of the grounds. It is understandably soggy but the trails are beautiful and the sounds one hears are truly symphonic! The trails are isolated (I saw one person the entire time). When I saw this individual, I immediately realized I left my weapon of choice packed on the bike but I was too far to return to the bike. He carried a huge tripod extended. I made up a mental story of him killing innocent hikers and photographing their dead bodies. I had my Nikon D80 and N80 with me and decided either one would make a good weapon if needed. You know what they say, "You can take the girl out of the city, but you can't take the city out of the girl."

Buffalo once roamed this area before it became Goose Lake Prairie, but the place is now home to far less formidable wildlife. Today the area contains red fox, coyote, prairie dog, deer, cotton tail rabbit, muskrat, beaver and badger. While on the trails, I thought of how a visit to a place like this would be a healing trip for kids mired in the bustling inner city. For some children getting away from the city is rare and difficult. Places like Goose Lake Prairie are wonderful respites for hearing yourself think, for deep breathing, for listening to sounds created not by mankind, but by nature's orchestra of birds, bullfrogs, and cricket, to mention a few.

Goose Lake Prairie is best known for its mammoth variety of grasses, some of which grow as tall as 12 feet. The Tall Grass Nature Trail is well-marked and doesn't allow you to get lost. I'm now impressed with my new knowledge of big bluestem, switch grass, Indian grass, bluejoint and prairie cordgrass, among which I can probably only identify two on the list--if my life depended on it, that is. Walking along paths with varied hued grasses lining the whole way is surreal. Grass color, style, and personality are unequivocal. I especially like the round clumps that create a textured landscape in the middle of smooth flat grasses. Looking out on the vast prairieland is breath-taking and the absence of trees had a visually striking impact my conscious mind.

After finishing the trails (I think I missed one, shucks), I head north to Heidecke Lake, which is part of the state's fish and wildlife area program. It claims 1,300 acres of "prime fishing." To avoid over fishing the exact amount of fish one can catch on a given day is clearly posted. I plan to return to the area--I enjoyed it that much!

Fortunately, the ride home was uneventful. I took a very circuitous route, enjoying the two lane stretches of road that took me farther west than I needed to go but it was a welcomed relief to avoid the Interstate for some of the return trip. Regardless, it is evident that winter has not be tough just on us humans. The roads have been battered, forcing anyone on two wheels to take extra special precautions out there. In closing, as I write this, I feel the outcome of having been a slackard over the winter. The correction begins today!

Ride total: 152 miles

Safe riding!

Sleepless in Seattle...

I just returned from a business trip to Seattle, WA, my second trip there in recent months. This time I didn't rent a car, which encouraged me to walk and rely on public transportation. One afternoon, I spent what felt like one week using Seattle's Metro Transit after being given incorrect information by two bus drivers and let off by another one more than a mile from my destination. Another bus driver became a little agitated when I asked her where I should exit to get to Pacific Place, a popular downtown spot. She said, "I'm only familiar with my route--I don't know the best stop." Thus, I became lost at least once. But it really is the best way to see a city.

I overheard a number of people talk about how "cold" it was in Seattle. The temps stayed in the mid-forties the nearly four days I spent there. At the time in Chicago the temps were in the low double digits, like 10 degrees. One day I checked in on Chicago and it was 8 degrees with a wind chill that felt like minus 11 degrees! Comparatively speaking, Seattle was downright balmy. True to its reputation, the skies were mostly gray and cloudy with billowing cloud formation with the sun trying its best to peek through. It made for dramatic sunrises and sunsets that were nothing short of glorious.

While there I noticed that two wheel travel is the mode of preferred transportation, particularly around the University of Washington. Seattle seemed way ahead of other cities in "living green." Everywhere I looked multiple waste containers clearly marked what could be deposited inside. People diligently and patiently disposed of their waste according to the posted rules. Similar multiple receptacles can be spotted here in Chicago but not to the same magnitude IMHO--but we are a serious bicycling town too. Although I didn't make any resolutions to start this new year, I vowed to live far more consciously greener. I've always done some environmentally friendly things but like many people, I need to do more.

Motorcycling has led me to have a different relationship with my car. Living in a place where I could ride year 'round would help me eliminate the need to own one altogether. I haven't driven it in months. Seven months has been my longest stretch of not driving. I went the whole summer without touching it and last winter I rarely drove it either. And, I like driving because I drive stick shifts only. I can almost convince myself driving a stick shift is similar to riding a motorcycle--almost. In the city, I find that I don't need a car. It's suburban living that demands a car to go just about anywhere. Ultimately, I'd like to do without owning a car altogether. I can rent if I really need one. Or, join one of those share a car deals, where you pay a fee, requisition a car online, and you're directed to a nearby pick up spot. Problem is, manual transmission are virtually impossible to rent these days. I've been told that not enough people drive them to motivate a rental service to carry such cost efficient, less complicated vehicles.

My last trip to Seattle had me slapping the floor of the rental car feeling for the clutch and waving my right hand between the front seats searching for the stick. It took me half a day to keep my hands on the steering wheel and to stop driving with two feet--it was distracting. After getting the hang of it, I realized how completely sleep inducing it is to drive an automatic! It bored me silly, left me wondering if mind numbing tedium is part of the reason folks drive while reading newspapers, applying make up, eating Big Macs, and talking on cell phones. They've got way too many limbs free!

To see so many people in Seattle on two wheels, well, it was refreshing. I'm sure part of that stems from being in a college town. Still, Seattle seems a more environmentally friendly place judging from all the organic, green- and environmentally- friendly signs and establishments broadcasting their organic nature and eco-friendliness. Even my hotel was 100% smoke free. I had to sign a statement saying I agreed not to light up in my room or I would be charged an outrageous price for the cleaning and fumigating the place after my departure. I liked that.

When I travel, I always ask myself if I can live in that place. I feel I can now answer that question with a resounding "Sort of." The limo driver told me that Seattle is devoid of the weather extremes we have in Chicago. That's a good thing. Seattle also doesn't get much snow. Hmmm...I like snow. For me, winters would be difficult there because one hardly sees a blue sky for very long. Both trips, albeit they were less than a week each, transpired under cloudy gray skies. On the first trip, it rained each day, steady sometimes brief and light drizzles that didn't seem to phase the two-wheelers at all.

Yet, those cloudy skies produce some amazing sunrises and sunsets that look beautiful in a distance and over mountaintops. Great food is expected in Seattle. Seafood--they love it and claim the best fish chowder around. I never made it to the signature chowder place but I take their word for it. I ran into many eateries that rival the food dished up in Chicago--and we know food here is serious business. If you don't drink coffee--I do not--it might not impress you that Seattle is home of the original Starbucks. Coffee shops are ubiquitous. Tully's is another coffee shop that seems to give Starbucks a run for its money--not sure which came first. Woodland Zoo is just amazing! Seattle also has a downtown waterfront along Elliott Bay and, of course, there's Puget Sound. Both waters could lessen my certain pain at missing Lake Michigan. It's being able to ride nearly year 'round that appeals to me most...yes, I could live in Seattle. Purchase some winter riding clothes--I'd be set. Well...sort of.

The "sorta" part results from not having any extended kin there. The older I get the more I want to be near these people I spent the greater part of my life trying to escape. I want to be close enough to get to them when I want to or when they need me yet far enough away that I feel free to be me and feel unfettered by their proximity. In addition, I love residing in a place where I can anticipate the boundaries of a space, where I can visualize what's around a corner. In my mind's eye I can see just about any place in Chicago just by looking at an address. Such familiarity creates comfort. When I rented the car for my first trip to Seattle every street was new, every curve on the Interstate was novel, none of which I minded but it created a sense of discombobulation, a feeling of general uncertainty. I was often caught in lanes that went where I didn't want to go and I had to work my way quickly to another lane. Funny thing is, this excites me and adds to any adventure on a motorcycle. In a car, I felt stressed and it could have been the result of driving the automatic more than anything else.

In Chicago, long before a rode dips or dives or merges this or that way, I am prepared, I can anticipate ( and compensate for) every curve on the various interstate routes that intersect Chicago. To me that's something, something that has taken decades to master.

Seattle, I'm sure, is a nice place to reside. For me, it will have to do as a nice place to visit. I'd love to ride my bike out there and head to Vancouver, which is only a few hours away from Seattle. To rub shoulders with MT. Rainier, MT. St. Helens, and Olympic Mountains to mention a few is a huge draw. Traveling allows movement outside one's comfort zone.

Perhaps the question isn't, "Can I live here?" But rather, "Is this a great place to visit, or what?" Seattle is on my return visit list! Gotta figure out a motorcycle ride there. That limo driver said, August is the best time to come...

A Snowstorm to remember...

Snow plow out early
Originally uploaded by shrosa814

This is what I woke up to yesterday. It was absolutely magnificant! While I realize snowstorms can cause havoc too, I am reminded of how children experience snow. They embrace it with unconditional joy! I watched several news programs interview a slew of children. All of them were thrilled about the snow and used it to the fullest. Most of the adults interviewed, on the other hand, were peeved and full of complaints. Some even acted surprised that the snow dared appear, or that it dumped so much, yada, yada, yada. I'm not a stranger or unsympathetic to those feelings nor the adult concerns that bloat us. But snow, it isn't something we can do much about. Depending on where one lives, the snow is inevitable. It will come. We cannot control when or how much of the fluffy white stuff we'll get when it makes its appearance. I want to be a little child-like and enjoy it.

When I heard we were bracing for a snowstorm starting on Saturday and continuing through Sunday, I went out and tried to document it. The two day results are linked below.

Mother Nature, reminding us who is in charge.

December 15th snowstorm starts...

December 16th snowstorm in full bloom...

Atlanta, GA and welcomed whiplash!

Recently I returned from a work-related trip to Atlanta, GA. I have issues with the South--let me get that out there up-front. Before anyone tells me that's an irrational, prejudicial position to hold, let me say that my issues are highly rational--in my view--and deeply rooted in historical fact and unfortunately reinforced by some past ventures to the South. I admit to falling short here. So, as part of learning to "let go" and not sweating small stuff, I openly looked forward to the trip.

The change from the Midwestern snow and cold was much welcomed! I expected a sweltering Atlanta; instead, it was just pleasantly mild. Walking around the city was light jacket weather the entire time. Four days is not a lot of time but on the day I left, temps were inching up to the 70s.

Work, however, prevented me from any deep city explorations. I was so near the Margaret Mitchell house but because I've never seen the movie Gone with the Wind nor have I read the book (a boycott and ban on both that I launched in high school remains in effect) it didn't make sense to go there. I had hoped for the Martin Luther King National Historical Site, a CNN tour, the Zoo, and the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. If I could, I thought I'd try to get to the Carter Center, and Stone Mountain, GA, which made me curious given its historical symbolism and reference in one of King's most famous speeches. Unfortunately, I managed only the Martin Luther King site and the neighborhood surrounding King's childhood home. Additionally, I did a lot of walking and admired the Downtown and Midtown architecture.

The Interstate system in the Chicago area trains us well. I-75/I-85, were easy to navigate and I imagined riding along these fast roads to quickly ride beyond Atlanta's business district and the shopping malls. I spotted many snaky arteries and backroads that both excited and frightened me. Backroads in the Midwest also pose a challenge but it's more familiar territory even if the same dangers lurk. Backroads in the South, however, are unfamiliar and tainted with a nightmarish history I can't shake easily. While driving, images of Bull Connor, "strange fruit" dangling from trees, and Emmett Till crossed my mind. Yes, I have issues with the South, and I guess a degree in American History fuels my regional psychosis.

Yet, every time I heard a motorcycle, my head would whip around and watch the rider zoom by and I'd think of living in a place like Atlanta where the riding season doesn't end. While out walking, I met up at the same corner at the same time with a guy riding a Kawasaki Ninja. He waited for me to cross the street and I waited for him to make his right hand turn. I wanted to watch him ride off. I wanted ogle until he was a dot in the distance. We both waited for the other. I stood there looking at his bike, which was navy-blue with silver "Ninja" written on the side. He finally tired of me hugging the curb and cautiously maneuvered his turn. He wore head to toe gear. He, his bike, and the modular helmet were color coordinated. I wanted to tell him that I rode too and talk motorcycles with him. I was close enough to reach out and touch him. Feeling I'd appear nutty, I kept quite and stood there staring at his bike, balancing on the curb, ignoring the "Walk" signal.

Riders in the South get to ride their steers throughout most of the year so not needing to store one's bike engenders considerable envy. What a bunch of lucky folks! City life at one's finger tips, boonies not far away, and the really great roads tucked within easy reach to provide unlimited opportunities for amazing day and weekend trips--what more can one ask? On many levels, the South has come a long way. Perhaps, I have too.

Atlanta is a place I'd
revisit and face my southern backroad fears to freely enjoy the roads. I'd try not to drag the entire suitcase of history along with me.









Light, after all, is the best way to travel.

More Atlanta pics here!