Two (rides) a day--keeps the doctors away!

Recently, I received some sobering news about which I will blog about in the near future. I wrote it up and then just didn't feel like making it real just yet. Now that the weather had “broken” I am on the bike as often as physically possible. Like Chris, in Everyday Riding, I'm aiming to ride each day; it's a great goal but when it doesn't happen, I'm learning to let it go. So far, I'm able to ride to work two days a week. The only reason I can't on the other three days is that my place of work on those days is only four blocks away. I've decided that on those mornings, I will get up hours before needing to prepare for work and take a ride somewhere to watch the sun rise, which is always a grand way to begin any day.

Now, when I say the weather has “broken,” let me be clear. The snow has vacated! The cold remains much of the time. *Sigh.* Thus, my mornings begin in the cold but depending on when I return, the day usually has warmed to the mid 50s—perfect riding weather in my opinion. Last Thursday was a perfect riding day—at least it ended that way. It started off cold enough to use my heated hand grips on “high” and by the time I reached the campus, where I teach a couple of days a week, my hands were definitely a bit cold. But four hours later the weather couldn't have been more perfect with an azure sky that dotted heavens with small puffs of clouds.

As I've mentioned before, I'm charged with babysitting Dave's '09 BMW F650GS. He's only has about 4900 miles on it and a chunk of those miles I claim. Last summer, when his knee surgery prevented him from riding I stepped in to help ;-). This year, it's his shoulder that will keep him off the bike until June; I'm encouraging him to take as long as he needs to heal—his bike is in good hands! Yesterday, I rode my bike to work and back downtown, unloaded bike and rode off to the suburbs. I superslabbed it most of the way but it was great just to be moving along on two wheels. I was able to get in a good 50 miles even before I decided to take the F650 on a spin.

The F650GS is definitely an easy bike to love. The one thing I usually need to adjust to is the the distance from the ground to the pegs. Compared to my ST, it is a short, lift of the feet that requires only a minuscule tuck of the legs. I am always missing that and tucking up my legs way too high before lowering them to the pegs. I left our winding suburbs and headed toward the back roads. While riding, I thought of how much easier it might be to do a SaddleSore on the F650 because the legs and seating position are quite relaxed. I will probably never get to take it on a SaddleSore given Dave's belief that such long distances are “dangerous.” Of course, as one who has done two SaddleSore rides, I totally disagree. But it is his bike and therefore, his call. I think his attitude may be changing. I've been a BMW owner longer than he has and I have yet to get the urge to job the club. He has and he's hearing a lot of LD riding adventures and that notion of such rides being “dangerous” may be shifting.

I only did about 65 miles on the bike but each mile was fun and it made me think about how a bike's set up can help or hurt one's skill development. Those little Honda Rebels in the training classes are confidence building little bikes. I love them. One doesn't have to worry about weight of the bike too much and when you sit on one, it just feels friendly. That's how I felt while on the GS. It makes for easy maneuverability. For reasons I don't understand, doing a u-turn on the GS is easy. Think about it. And it happens! Part of this may be that it is a relatively light bike? U-turns on my bike are easy only because I practice them and I'm very used to the bike. But each execution on my bike takes a bit more thought IMHO. The friction zone is also different on the GS. It seems to have a wider tolerance for silly mistakes. Like pulling off in second gear—it does so without hesitation.

The one yucky thing about the bike is no longer an issues because Dave has installed a Sergeant seat that is not only more comfortable (anything would be) it is taller, which means I no longer can get my heels on the ground. When the new seat is broken in, I don't anticipate this being an issue. It's also, I think, the lightness of this bike compared to mine that I makes the GS a breeze to push around as in back peddling it out of the driveway.

I took the back roads to Kankakee River State Park. It made me think about how I need to get the helmet camera mounted as it has collected dust since I bought it two ride seasons ago. I'm even thinking of selling it and getting something newer. The problem has been not being able to find a screw long enough to mount the thing and the one that came with it doesn't fit around the thingy that goes circles the handlebar. I should have returned it but who would have thought that finding a screw would be difficult. Yes, I've been to hardware stores that specialize in European screws and a little elderly man from Poland, I think, who owns a great little neighborhood hardware store, searched old bins and couldn't find anything that would fit either.

The roads leading to the park are lined with farms and tall prairie grasses and the occasional subdivision tucked in. The smell of manure is overwhelming in places. Mostly, however, there is old, small town life. My route took me through Manteno, IL., a place I thought, as a child, was where insane people were sent to live out their days. I remember overhearing adults say things like, “If he keeps acting out, he's going to get himself sent to Manteno.” It was always described as a snake pit of sorts. Yet, I glance at the few people on the Manteno streets. They look like you and me. Still, I wonder about their mental state. It's a perfectly good looking, quaint town, in spite of the labels that adhere to it.

Time on the GS flew by. The bike sang with a pleasing engine hum marred only by a slight, but unmistakable. rattling of the newly installed V-Stream windshield.

Kankakee River State Park was virtually empty, which is in stark contrast to lazy summer days when the place is packed with visitors.

By the time I arrived it was early evening, the Kankakee river that runs through the park moved swiftly and the bright setting sun shone brilliantly on the darkening water. I parked the bike several times and looked around and stared at the foliage. Finally, I stood along the river's edge and daydreamed into the water.

I wished I had come earlier; I wished I had brought a book and a blanket and one of those Kashi Honey Almond Flax bars that I've developed a slight addiction to. I wished it was warmer to spread a blanket and rest on the grasses and read and lose myself even if just for an hour so I could shelve all the world's problems and all the personal little dramas that make up a life, my life.

I left the park reluctantly. But not before dismounting at the gate one last time and looking back at the ground I had traveled. A mirror image captures a bit of the tree-lined winding road. Only when I left the park did I realize just how cold it was turning.

The warmth of the setting sun strained against swiftly moving clouds that made it dark one minute and light the next. The ride home was uneventful. For miles nary a car was behind me. I passed through Manteno again and thought perhaps I ought to visit that State Hospital on the next outing that brings me this way.

F800ST = 55 miles

F650GS = 65 miles

Ride total: 122 miles o' smiles!

Bringing Jesse Owens home, notes on the SV650 and F650GS, and dogs I love...

Wednesday: Another soul-sucking day at job#1. My panacea? I took off early and headed for Motoworks Chicago to retrieve my gal pal! I've said this before and I'll say it again, few things bust stress like a nice long moto ride where one's attention must focus precisely on the task at hand. To ride safely, all the other troubles of the world must be shelved. Period.

While at Motoworks I spotted an old friend, Queenie, my beautiful blue 2001 Suzuki SV650. It sat on the showroom floor, shining and looking sad at me (forgive my anthropomorphisizing). It seemed forlorn. The day before, I had photographed a six week old baby boy who couldn't possibly be cuter and met the energetic Jack Russell Terrier the baby's parents were dog sitting. As a breed, JRTs often are hi-energy, smart, totally wired, air-leaping, ready to bolt right out of the gate kinda dogs. Tireless little buggers. When I spotted Queenie, I thought of the Jack Russell I had met the day before.

My BMW F800ST is no Jack Russell terrier. I do not hold that against it. It reminds me more of a beloved dog I had in my youth. Sheba was a stray who followed me home. Although she became the family dog, Sheba seemed to know she belonged to me. She slept in my room; I never ate pizza I didn't share with her. We were inseparable. On school days everyone had to be careful about opening and closing the door because Sheba's goal was to sneak out and follow me to school. I would yell at her to go home and eventually she would turn around and appear to comply. But on more than a few occasions I was called to the office to "either take my dog home or call someone to come and get her." I'd scold her but Sheba didn't care. We resorted to locking her in the basement while preparing for school. She'd do a wolf howl the whole time. Except for those times, Sheba was sensible and obedient.

Sheba was obviously German Shepherd but it looked like a bit of Husky was in her too. She took orders directly from my father and me. She obeyed the other siblings only if we were not present. She was loyal, smart, fit, and just about the coolest dog ever. If she were in the backyard and saw me pass by, that dog would cry until I was out of sight. Fence jumping was her hobby. Back then, I rarely if ever put that huge dog on a lease. She just seemed to know not to automatically chase people or things or leave my side. When neighborhood boys would tease me (a seemingly favorite activity), she would charge them and they would beg me to call her.

One time she chased a boy atop a mailbox and everyone laughed. Sheba never bit a soul; never held a grudge for long. Her size and carriage made that unnecessary. In the end, it became almost a status symbol among the boys to have Sheba chase them. But even those she repeatedly had to chase, she would let pet her and scratch her head.

One time a man, obviously not from my neighborhood, slowed his car and pretended to need directions. I walked on the curb side of some hedges with Sheba was on the other side, invisible to the man. His passenger window, which was on my side, was down. When he stopped the car he made a lewd gesture. I gasped. I don't remember what happened next. But in a blink, half of Sheba's body flew inside the man's car! Sheba released a deep guttural growl-snarl that I'd never heard before or anytime after that. I remember how it frightened me and how snow white the man's face became. Sheba was trying to get inside his car. It threw me into a panic and I started screaming at my dog to "get down." The man froze! I remember that Sheba's hair was high and stiff and she sounded like a dog gone mad, as in mental! When the man got his wit about him, he took off with Sheba running behind the car--despite my please for her to stop. That event circulated the neighborhood because people watched my dog chasing a car and me running after my dog. Eventually people knew not to bother Sharon and her "crazy" dog. When I was without her, neighbors asked where and how she was. When Sheba died, Chicago's Mike Royko, Pulitizer Prize winning columnist, wrote an article about her. (Note to self: hunt down that article).

I know this sounds strange, but my ST is a lot like Sheba. It doesn't expend energy for the heck of it. It's mature and doesn't show off needlessly. It has mucho kick--more than this rider will ever maximize-- but on those rare occasions when I summons it (e.g., on early morning rides along old country rodes devoid of traffic), the power is there, eager to answer the call. True to his name, Jesse Owens pulls out silky-smooth--smooth as baby's skin. Its sheer ease at acceleration, the way it kerplunks into gear, the sound of the engine, all works together fluidly. It doesn't snatch the breath away; still, it's gone before know it. A palpable difference between the SV and ST is in how speed feels, which is perhaps the biggest adjustment I had to make transitioning from the Suzuki to the BMW. What was 65 mph on the SV650 was about 80mph on the ST. Too often I would think I was doing the speed limit (I'm no speed demon) only to glance at the speedometer and surprise myself at traveling nearly 20 miles over. It felt easier to do the speed limit on the SV--despite it being an incredibly fast bike. I'm not technical and don't know how to explain better how it feels/felt to me.

Both the SV650 and my ST have huge fun factors but show it in different ways. I remember the SV, no matter how long I rode it, skillful throttle control was mandatory. I credit my SV650 for teaching me, if i say so myself, excellent throttle use. I can inch my motorcycle so slow it appears to be barely moving. Practicing slow maneuvers is one of my favorite skills to keep sharp. I'm convinced that slow practice sharpens one's motorcycle skills for better overall technique. On the SV650, one careless blip or lazy twist could immediately increase the heart rate because the bike is instantly responsive. It often felt like a wheelie-waiting-to-happen. I love the friskiness of that bike and remain distressed that I sold it to my husband who now has decided, after a season of riding her, to sale Queenie to focus on his '09 BMW F650GS.

Perhaps it is because last summer I failed miserably at trying to keep three bikes in running shape while he adjusted to his new knee. I don't know how folks with multiple bikes do it. Thing is, I love my ST way too much to want to ride anything else. When I did ride the other two bikes, I would think of how that same trip would be on my bike. I know it's probably more a matter of just making up one's mind to rotate their riding to keep each bike in shape. Once I would actually get on the SV, for example, I couldn't contain my glee and I'd realize how much I missed that bike. Just on the bike would send endorphins coursing through my body. And, I would always ask myself: "Why did I ever give up Queenie?" I'd have to remind myself again that while a thrill to ride, after a 600 miles day on her, my legs cramped badly and my lower back would complain and nag me the next day. Still, I'd ride her and take a tight twisty curve, which the SV650 carves like no other (IMHO) and convince myself that the painful, crampy legs and backache weren't really that bad. I'd wonder why I never lowered the pegs and added handle bar risers. My SV650 was the indefatigable Jack Russell terrier, a dog I' like to own one day--no offense to present and faithful dog, Noel.

My other task last summer was riding the BMW F650GS. It too is a fun bike. Overly practical and functional. It is efficient and eager to tick of miles on varied pavement with nary a complaint. I enjoyed every mile I put on that bike. But it's no Jack Russell or Sheba. No offense to GS650 riders, it simply doesn't have the charisma and irresistible appeal of the SV or the ST. Others have said it and it bears repeating, the F650GS is the Swiss army knife of bikes--and there's nothing wrong with that. It gets the job done. Like last summer, this summer I will keep the GS running as Dave recovers from rotator cuff surgery (he's going bionic and clearly planning to get all new parts). I'm looking forward to some GS fun.

When I mount Jesse Owens, my F800ST, the grin is immediate. The bike fits me; everything about it works for me. I've added farkles to make it distinctly mine but even in its raw state, I knew the moment I sat on it that it was made for my extra long legs and aging back. It can be a Jack Russell if I want it to be. It plays smooth; it too is efficient. It hides its wild streak until called. Another huge difference I experienced between the SV605 and my ST800 is that the former is ready to snatch your attention from the moment you twist the throttle. It can behave rather bat-out-of-hellish right from the "git-go." The ST, at the start, is tamer, its pull has never bolted me to attention. It promises to stay in the ground even if I happen to start a wee throttle sloppy.

So, when I retrieved my bike from winter camp, my heart swelled at the reunion. I took the long way home; still, it was too short. Despite an exhausting and soul draining day at work, I felt alive by the time I parked the bike in the garage. Before going inside, I stood there and stared lovingly at Jesse Owens.

I vowed to rise early the next morning and find a quiet spot to watch the sun rise--a great way to start any day.

My gal pal is back and since then the weather has cooperated with temperatures in the mid-60sF.

That is, until today, Saturday. It is snowing--a wet, blowing, cold snow. After all, it is Chicago. And like many of the politicians here, the weather always has a few tricks up its sleeves. But, "this too shall pass."

We are ready to ride!

Joy.

Gallimaufry (aka lots of stuff, little time)

The Bike

Jesse Owens (the name of my new F800ST) continues to amaze me! While I'm still adjusting to the engine sound of this parallel twin (I don't know if they all sound like this), I love the bike! It has a low, deep-throated thunder that sounds so unlike my V-twin. It makes me think of a scooter when I'm riding it--not that there's anything wrong with that. One of the guys from MotoWorks said to me following a ride on my bike, "There is nothing scooter-like about that bike."
Jesse has a scratch! To most, it is barely noticeable. To me, it is as big as Godzilla! I don't want to talk about how it happened. Folks at MotoWorks suggest that I leave it alone, that it gives character to an otherwise perfect bike, that it is but one scratch of many to come. I've had plenty of people see Jesse, walk around him, marvel at his beauty and not see this imperfection. But my heart aches at the sight of this unavoidable mishap. The bike isn't a month old, for heaven's sake! Someone even suggested that the story makes an excellent conversation starter. Yeah, right! Repair estimate... Let me just say, I soon may be in need of a prosthesis for a missing limb.

Jesse's suspension remains one annoying thing. When I hit a road elevation--any bump, really--I am tossed out off my seat! Recently, I went over a fairly good size series of unavoidable bumps on Lake Shore Drive (Rt. 41). Not only did this jar some internal organs, I literally was hurled scary inches above seat. Seriously! Help from the F800ST riders forum confirmed that the suspension needs adjusting. You don't know what you don't know. My reference point is my SV 650, which was perfect in this regard. Someone on the forum told me that the stock suspension on the SV is set up for a more lightweight rider and that the suspension is usually one of the first adjustments riders make on the SV. Jesse is definitely set up for a heavier rider, I guess. It's like a bucking bronco! Fortunately, suspension adjustments are easy to make on the ST.

The Ride

I've read and heard this: the third riding season presents particular challenges for motorcyclists. After two successful ride seasons under one's belt an over confidence can creep in and one's guard can drop here and there, which is why it's a good idea to launch each season with a skills class. I realize that not all accident can be avoided but we can never be too skilled and there are many things we can control. The Hurt Report (still considered the best work on motorcycle statistics, investigated over 1,100 accidents over a two year period and analyzed over 90o. One third of these motorcycle accidents resulted from rider error (e.g., "...motorcyclist goes wide in a turn, ...sideswipes a car or overcooks the rear brakes trying to stop and then slides out," etc). Quoted in Hough's Proficient Motorcycling.

The majority of accidents were collisions with other vehicles. Here are some Hurt Report stats: Approximately 74% of motorcycle accidents were multiple vehicle, the rest were single vehicle accident. Of the 26% of single vehicle crashes, 17% were rider error, 2% surface hazards and about 6% resulted from animal, blowouts, etc.

Of the 74% multi-vehicle collisions, 28% were the deadly left hand turner and about the same (29%) resulted from angle collisions. If you don't read anything else, read Hough's first chapter in Proficient Motorcycling for a reader-friendly, in depth analysis of the Hurt Report.

The Rider's Guru: AKA David Hough

I met David Hough at the BMW Rally in West Bend, WI last year. Well I sort of met him. Actually, I attended his standing room only workshop. I remember him perched at the head of the room, his mammoth audience in rapt attention. He wore a denim shirt, khaki colored pants and a floppy hat. Before him was a large screen and on it was projected a variety of road situations and rider challenges. He asked his pupils questions, some of which we failed and all of which he gently corrected and elaborated. He was funny, serious, and sagacious. Long before gas hikes and motorcycle specialization, Hough was there, writing tales and instructing riders for Motorcycle Consumer News. He doesn't know me from Jane, but he's one of my ride mentors.

I recently learned that my riding school, Ride Chicago, is again offering the SRTT class. If you are in the Chicago area, this advanced street riding class is worth every penny--and more. It is many steps above the msf's experienced rider course. I plan to take it for the third time next month. But if you can't get to Chicago, read or re-read Hough's canons: Proficient Motorcycling: The Ultimate Guide to Riding Well, More Proficient Motorcycling: Mastering the Ride, and Street Strategies: A Survival Guide for Motorcyclists. Although I have many favorite motorcycle books, I am always drawn to Pat Hahn's, Ride Hard, Ride Smart: Ultimate Street Strategies for Advanced Motorcyclists. I am particularly fond of Chapter Seven. Here it is in its entirety:

Chapter 7 "Riding At Night"
DON'T RIDE AT NIGHT.

The Risk

Recently, I rode at night. I started out at about 3:30 p.m., ran into horrible traffic on I-57 (I later learned that a worker had been killed) Now, I'm sorry for whining about being stuck there, literally in first gear, for more than an hour. Eventually, it turned into a two-bike riding day, with me riding Queenie about 25 miles--the SV beats the ST in friskiness IMHO. It ended up that I didn't return home until 11:00 p.m.

In general, I agree with Hahn's command. I do, however, believe it comes down to risk management, right? How much are you personally willing to assume? The need to scan, maintain a proper space cushion, watch people and cars--anticipate their every move, is heightened at night. Seeing the road is a challenge. Some of the roads around here are in wretched condition. Don't override your headlights! I know many of these roads and that night, for example, I knew that the ramp that leads off the Bishop Ford Expressway toward Stony Island is crazy-cracked and bumpy. I avoided it and just took I-94 in, which has its own challenges too but the road is new and smooth. I will on occasion go out for a purposeful night ride. My goal is to feel confident, competent and comfortable on my bike regardless of conditions. And, the only way to get practice for night riding is to ride at night. I've forgotten what Hahn says about riding in the rain. But I like that too. Were it not for having been caught in more than my share of torrential rains without a place to stop and wait it out, I might try to avoid rain riding. Now, a nice, soft and quiet ride is a non-issue.

Work continues to suck the living life out of me and now that Jesse is my sole means of transportation, I need frequent rides beyond the daily errands. Thus, I'm off this morning to find some dry, high ground in the Midwest.

Ride Smart. Ride Safe. (Sorry for sounding so preachy). As I write this, it is 2:30 a.m. and I blame the wee hours...
***

R.I.P. Tim Russert

Jesse's break-in is OVER!

We've exceeded the 600 miles break in! Jesse goes in Tuesday for its first check up. Glad the break-in is over! It was tough in that I had to stay cognizant of rpms. It wasn't difficult staying within the prescribed range--just annoying, just one more thing to keep track of while riding.Today's ride goal was to see how it felt to ride the bike long. I had no real destination in mind but ended up in Champaign, IL, approximately 140 miles from my start. I made one stop getting there, not because I needed to, but because I felt I should. While at a gas station a man pulled up next to me and said, "I saw you on the highway, so what is that you're riding." I stepped back from the bike so he could see. "Oh, a BMW?. How do you like it?" I told him. He asked a gazillion questions (thank goodness I had read the manual and had done a year's worth of research) all of which I could answer (e.g., "What is the drive on it?", "Is that a single swing arm?", the weight, the cc, etc.). He told me about his new bike, a Harley, that he should have been out riding. We chatted some and said our goodbyes. I must confess, when he pulled off, I waited some extra time as fears of him bumping me off the road from behind ran through my head. Ugh!

Arrived in Champaign. The town was dead! In fact, the roads all along the trip there were thinly populated. The town appeared as if it had been evacuated. It's the home of the University of Illinois, Champaign-Urbana and most of the college kids have left, which explained the vacant streets. Before leaving, I stopped for lunch at Nitaya, a Thai-Japanese restaurant that I just happen to pass and thought looked interesting. There were more people in the restaurant than I saw on the streets. I ordered crab fried rice after making sure real crab was used and not that imitation stuff. The elderly Asian server looked slightly hurt when I inquired about the crab. She assured me that they only use real crab. I ordered it spicy. It arrived. It was perhaps the best crab fried rice I've ever had! I thought the same dish I had in Seattle was exceptional--this was even better! I would return to Champaign for another meal there is a flash!

Feeling renewed, I gassed up and headed home. Was there a memo for all drivers that stated that turn signals are optional. I saw so many people switching lanes without signaling. This is another reason to stay away from people. When they make their inexplicable moves without alerting those around them, you'll be far enough away to not be effected. Geeze!

I did the return trip nonstop. The ride was exhilarating. Here's one huge difference between the SV and the ST. The SV's ready to ride position bends the leg fairly tightly. I've written before about my leg cramps after about 120 or so miles and how annoying this became. I went from thinking it was a potassium deficiency to the onset of rigor mortis! The ST's leg requirement is also bent ; however, it is slightly less flexed and that makes for a more relaxed leg and ride position. I experienced no leg fatigue or need to stretch--absolutely no muscle whining. It makes sense that a sport-tourer would have a more relaxed ready position.

The Speed Challenge

The return trip seemed quick and easy and the bike performed smoothly. Jesse is so easy to ride. One adjustment I'm still making pertains to speed. I am not a speed freak. I like doing about 5-10 over the limit. Even though people are zipping by me, I try to stay within that range. I'll admit to going a wee bit faster when the roads are clear and conditions are ideal. I've looked down at the speedometer many times and to my utter amazement, I see that I am going faster than I thought. The SV feels a particular way at 65 mph; the ST feels this same way but is 15 mph faster. I thought I was doing 65 the minimum on one long stretch of road. In reality, I was doing 80! On the return trip, I monitored my speed closer and on many occasions, I had to slow down. I guess that's the difference between the pull of a 650cc engine versus an 800cc?

Once in the city, I navigated some congested roads for about a 12 miles stretch. One silly (to me at least) incident occurred when a man tried to strike up a conversation with me at a stoplight. His greeting was way too familiar--as if he knew me well and it way too cheesy. He smiled way too much and asked me how I was. I glanced at him briefly and only nodded my head. But I got a good look at the woman sitting next to him. She looked annoyed, really ticked, which he didn't see as he was too busy hanging out of the window trying to engage me in conversation. But I bet she gave him an ear full later.

Chicago to Champaign 285 miles RT
Highlight: Lunch at Nitaya Thai-Japanese Restaurant

Jesse and I break 100 miles!

It is nearly 5 a.m. when I flipped on the TV for some news. Instead, the movie, "The World's Fastest Indian" is just beginning. What a treat!

The ST had 18 miles on it Thursday when I drove off the lot. It now proudly displays 118 miles! The goal is getting the 600 miles break in period and check up out of the way before any super long trips.

Observation: Although the ST is a heavier bike, it feel weightless compared to the SV, which is a relatively light bike. One reason the SV feels female to me has to do with it being a bit top heavy. The ST, which is narrow, slight and sleek lacks the weighty feel in the tank area. I straddled the ST with both feet planted and moved it from side to side as far as I could to see how it felt to support its weight. The point at which this feels uncomfortable occurs sooner with the SV. Ignorance, in this case, is bliss, because I never felt this to been an issue with the SV. It handles superbly, effortlessly and I have no complaints. It's all relative, isn't it?

Now, I know that the ST while factually heavier feels lighter and I think it has something to do not only with it not being top heavy but more importantly, that the fuel tank is located behind the rider, which does something to lowering the center of gravity (I think). On the SV, the weight of all the fuel is up front, so every time I turn or lean or paddle walk the bike, I'm feeling that weight. This isn't a complaint, just a difference I've noticed.

No engine kills Friday. No surging as I reach for the turn signal cancellation button. And, after reading the manual, I discovered that the turn signals cancel automatically. That, I like! Felt confident on all leans but still taking it easy due to the new tires. It's fun varying the speed and the rpm limitations don't detract one iota from the fun.

One of my favorite scenes in "The World's Fastest Indian," is when the motorcycle gang, previously unkind to Burt, shows up on the day of his departure to American and they escort him to the airport. The gang leader gives Burt "beer money" and says, "Show 'em Kiwis can fly to, eh?"

The movie is replete with pearls from the wise old Burt. His young admiring neighbor asks Burt, "Aren't you scared you'll kill yourself if you crash?"

Burt responds, "No...you live more in five minutes on a bike like this going flat out than some people live in a lifetime."

It's the weekend. Go riding. Stay safe--lots of distracted drivers out there...