I lied! (Sort of..). & fellow bloggers help out!

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.

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.

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.

My friend, Claire, 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.

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.

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.

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

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.

Not any interesting pictures of my beloved bike as one has to park far from the garden. The short ride was a good one.

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.

To me amassing miles signals movement, transformation--even voluntary displacement; it means stepping outside my ordinary and embracing new experiences.

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 is 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.

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).

***

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 blogger pal, this site will soon have nice video!

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!

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!

The Healing power of the sun...

Been dodging some curve balls lately. I won't complain. I guess if we don't get some occasional challenges we'll get out of shape and not be prepared for the really big stuff that inevitably comes along. 

Another sleepless night (well, I did get three hours). Woke up early and peered at the blackness outside. In the distance I could see a new day dawning. I dressed as fast as I could. Got my camera ready, geared up and left the house.     At 5:30 a.m., the road was whizzing by. 

As I rode northbound, high on LSD,* I peered to the east, my right side, and watched the sky transform from dark blue to soft reds and golden hues. Lake Michigan is east of the city. Any place along it, is a great setting to watch a new beginning each day.  (Click photo for better view)

My latest favorite spots to watch the sun present itself are near Wilson Avenue or Montrose Harbor. Wilson is best because the parking is readily available. When I arrived it was 5:47 a.m. According to the sunrise and sunset almanac, the sun would perform it miracle soon after 6:oo a.m. To catch the kaleidoscope of colors one needs to be on site early.

(Click photo for better view)

I found my favorite spot and prepared the Nikon D80. I waited while looking out on the lake, which still looks like an ocean to me.

I took picture after picture and in between I felt new energy as I watched the sun rise and the gulls' incessant racket overhead. By the time I left, I felt renewed. I had let go of the disappointment of having to cancel my weekend trip; I permitted myself to embrace whatever waited ahead today, tomorrow, next week.  Every where I wanted to ride, will still be there...waiting. 

*LSD=Lake Shore Drive

It doesn't get any better than 3 in 1...

Another canceled weekend trip turned out to be a very good thing. On Saturday, I was able to ride all three bikes. I used the ST to do some general errands. Afterwards, I dropped by Motoworks to retrieve the SV650 to take home to the suburbs. When I arrived, I took Dave's BMW F650GS on a little trip (still helping out to keep the GS running well). This is tough work (hehe).  Riding three bikes in one day is pleasurable beyond description. Each on required a different touch: the throttles had unique personalities. The ST is smooth, even and tame. The SV is twitchy, itching to go and a tad on the wild side. The GS is jeepish, solid and gets the job done without the drama of the SV, for example. Friction zones too have different personalities with the GS being the most forgiving--from a dead stop, it pulls in second gear without hesitation--the ST will too but it doesn't like it. The GS and I headed for Kankakee River State Park in Kankakee, IL.

I avoided the Interstate in favor of back roads and long stretches of emptiness and sweeping curves. Corn and soybean fields lined each side of me much of the way. 

For the most part, the roads were devoid of traffic. At times, the isolation was interrupted with an attractive old farm house or a fancy, modern mansion sitting on vast land. The GS seems made for roads like these. The road shoulders are replete with gravel that I didn't find objectionable. I never hesitated to pull over in because the bike enters and pulls away easily from such shifts in road surface.  I think these roads will make for some nice early morning photos and I made a mental note to return in the near future.

When I arrived at the park, I spent a little time at the river. I parked near another motorcycle because that's where an empty space existed. Had I known what was in store for me, I probably would have parked farther way. As I turned off the bike a couple sitting at a park bench turned. I thought the man was saying something but I couldn't hear him until I removed my helmet. He looked like he belonged to the Harley Davidson I parked next to. 

"Hey, aren't you hot with all that stuff on?" He motioned to his head and body. 

I hate when this happens. I mean, I don't ask folks anything about the gear they wear or don't wear. Why do I seem to always get people who shun gear asking me about mine.  It bugs me.  His voice is not questioning, it's more of an accusing statement. Inside I want to tell him to leave me alone. Instead, I just say, "No, I'm not, I'm fine." Frankly, I am ATGATT (all the gear, all the time). If I were burning up, sweating profusely, ready to drop of heat stroke, I'd never admit it to people who adopt that tone with me. It was a warm day but donning weather appropriate gear is possible. It requires an investment of money to find the right gear and a commitment to wear it. Period.

I reversed my route and headed home. While on one of those lonely roads, I thought about why I love solo riding so much. I am able to ride my own ride. Whenever I've ridden with Dave, for instance, I am paying attention to him and thus slightly distracted. My thoughts are interrupted as I watch him for and ignore the rode. Out there alone, I quickly settle into my own zone; I self talk about the ride and potential hazards; I vary my speed; I stop when I want; I do not need to synchronize my nature calls with anyone else. Solo riding. It's all about me and that's not a bad thing.

Stay tuned to hear me yak about Monday, my first Track Day of fun-filled learning.  

Images from the BMW MOA Rally, Johnson City, TN

I arrived home Monday night around 11:30pm after riding 680 miles that day from Wytheville, VA. My goal was to get to Indianapolis to have dinner at Shapiro's, which readers here know by now is one of my most favorite places to stop for a meal. I arrived at 6:30pm, plenty of time for dinner--or so I thought. It really was 7:30 EST and I had only 30 minutes before Shapiro's closed. Had I gotten there and found it closed, I would have wailed like a hungry infant! I ordered my usual tuna sandwich, side of vegetables, slice of cake and a tumbler of sweet tea. It's that meal combo that always gets me back to Chicago in a flash.

(Welcome to the 37th Annual BMW MOA Rally!)

I left for Knoxville, TN on Wednesday morning and arrived before dark at my friend's house where I spent the night with her and her husband, cousin and granddaughter. For ten years I've been promising to visit. Well, I did it and my friends laid out a welcome mat I will never forget.

(These bikes were calling my name!)

Early Thursday morning I headed out to the Appalachian Fairground in Johnson City, TN for the 37th annual BMW International Rally. The ride along I-81 is far more scenic than many interstates I've traveled and the beautiful landscape and long sweeping curves on the road kept me entertained. At every gas stop beyond Indianapolis, I spotted one or more Beemers. We didn't speak but shared a dip of the head in recognition of our mission. The rally call had been sounded and heard around the globe and the pilgrimage to Johnson City was on. When I'd see two or more Beemers motoring down interstate I'd feel my heart swell with pride. It felt great to belong to a group that seems to take wearing head to toe gear seriously. The riders looked sharp, focused and determined. I like my people.

(This Frenchman loved his K-bike. He got a ticket in Johnson City. He said the officer

was nice and gave him a "break" on the ticket)

(Tents and shelters of all kinds provided respite for weary bikers)

The rally was spectacular, filled with people passionate about bikes and riding. You could see it in their faces, in the gear they wore and in the ongoing wipe downs of their bikes. I didn't see all the people I needed to see, people I had truly wanted to connect with. But all those I did see, I enjoyed spending time with. I had one ongoing issue that nagged me throughout the rally but I'll write about that later. It was almost enough to make the rally really annoying but I went there mentally prepared to ignore the annoying... Still, it is worth exploring in the next blog. Overall, I had a grand time with friends and appreciated my alone times in the evening. Unlike the majority of folks, I did not camp. After a long ride, I need a bed, a hot shower, and quiet.

(A constant parade of bikes made for interesting bike and people watching)

The rally ended on Saturday evening. Sunday morning, I visited dear friends in Durham, NC. Getting there from Johnson City required travel on some very twisty roads through mountains that dipped, tipped, banked and switched back. In several places roade changes snatched my breath away. I kept within five or six miles above the speed limit, which one car and several motorcycles behind me clearly didn't appreciate. When they all zipped past me I loudly called them "speed demons" inside my new Scorpion helmet I bought at the rally. After that, there was never a two or four wheel vehicle behind me and I could, in peace, allow state highway 321 to swiftly move me into highway 421 with its dips and twists. Without shoulders to pull off the road to catch my breath I could only focus on good riding skills. Even when I think back on it now, I wonder how I managed it all as some of those tight descending curves made my brain vibrate! As I sailed by, I recall only the blurring of trees and rocks as I seemed to float up and down and around bends in the road. I reached Durham in four hours and spend far too little time with friends who don't live in the mountains but still lack level ground. Before leaving, I dropped my bike and again appreciate the pricey frame sliders I have to protect that beautiful blue frame. I have more to say about the rally but it must wait for the next blog.

I've had a challenging day and looking at the photos from the rally rekindled good memories of a few days ago. Until I can steal away some real writing time, I am sharing these photos in hopes that you'll get a feel for the bikes, the event, the weather and the folks who ventured there. One of the highlights for me was learning at the closing ceremony that the oldest BMW rider to Johnson City won not only that age category but also won for the oldest combined age category. He was 92 years old and his wife-passenger, who came along in a sidecar, was 87. Pretty impressive.

Enjoy some photos.

(If you didn't want to walk the vast fair grounds, you could hop a ride on one

of the many omnipresent truck driven carts)

("Teach" does things with a motorcycle that defy gravity and logic)

(This "Mac Pac" photo is proof of my tireless search for Jack of Twisted Roads)

(At the closing ceremony, we all hoped we'd win one of the two GS bikes that were raffled off)

(This little doohickey allows the motorcyclist to see what is behind him.

Power it on and the camera shows you "live" what's behind you)

(Etched on this plate is a USA map with gems adhered to the states that the rider

(young man on the left) has visited. Very cool!)

(The guys above (I hope they don't mind me using the photo) really made me feel welcomed.

I first met the one on the left and right at the BMW Rally in West Bend, WI)

(I'd like a bike with a side car. In it, I'd ride with a highly trained German Sheperd dog).

(Time to head home along the long and winding roads...)

(Homeward Bound!)

Looking forward to Redmond, Oregon, site of the 38th BMW Rally in 2010.