Where in the world is Paul Mondor?

For a couple of weeks now, Paul Mondor has dominated my thoughts. I’ve tried to restrain myself and not think about him every minute. But I’m hopeless when it comes to Paul. Last Tuesday night, I crossed the line. I began sleeping with him.

I am a respectable, unavailable woman, for whom this is entirely out of character. I have no business engaging in such behavior. Yet when I climbed into bed early this morning, Paul was right there. When I opened my sleep-deprived eyes this morning, I turned over and there was Paul, demanding my attention. I did what only an obsessed woman would. I rolled out of bed, turned on my computer and asked the only question I could: “Where in the World is Paul Mondor?” Is he cold? Is he of clear mind and strong body? Is mother nature treating him well? Is the throng of other Paul-obsessed groupies watching out for him, offering their warm beds, and feeding him well?

You see, although I’ve become a fanatical stalker, I have never met Paul Mondor. And, I probably will never meet the man. Probably the closest I’ll ever come to meeting him is to trace his coast-to-coast Canada route myself and dream of him while doing so.

For more than a year, Paul Mondor has been planning to ride a motorcycle from Victoria, BC to Newfoundland and back home in the dead of winter. Operative words: coast-to-coast; Canada; dead of winter; and motorcycle. The juxtaposition of those terms should have forced his family and friends to launch an intervention because evidently the man is either insane and/or has a death wish. Judging from what I’ve learned about Paul from bleary-eyed reading of more than a year’s worth of posts about his epic journey, Paul is a force to be reckoned with. His DNA is unlike most people; a brain scan, I’m convinced, will show spirited activity in regions that most of our brains show dead zones. Paul's a member of that select group of visionaries that see only the possibilities and rewards in following their dreams, regardless of the names the world's naysayers call them. When it comes to the inherent dangers that would give some of us pause and stop most of us in our tracks, Paul and his ilk see only worthy challenges to overcome while keeping their eyes on the prize.

For the winter bound, road-starved motorcyclists--and a lot of other riders and nonriders, we are living a bit of our own dreams vicariously through Paul. He calls himself the “crazy Frenchman” and if his tenancity and determination is symbolic of that moniker, folks had better just get out of Paul’s way when he gets a bug in his beemer loving heart. I could continue to wax poetic about Paul, but I really want to wrap this up as I hear him calling out to me. I will leave you with some more key words to capture his, man against nature, coastal journey on a BMW F650GS Dakar: killer windchills; 100 mph wind gusts; -33F; avalanches; icy roads; closed roads; zero visibility; harrassing policemen; truckers; genius mechanics; coffee; generous strangers; gravey and ketchup soaked french fries; and, a horde of people wishing Paul Godspeed.

...one crazy friend and one converted friend...

My friend Lucas, who was a guest blogger here and wrote about his trip to Tobermory, Ontario, has ruptured something in his brain--in a good way--he's cooked up an idea on doing a Saddlesore with a twist. He knows I've been planning one for the upcoming season. The Saddlesore, is 1000 miles in under 24 hours, the shortest distance to earn one the title of "World's Toughest Motorcycle Riders." I don't want to give out any details--we actually don't have any yet-because the plan is so novel that it just might earn us fame and fortune. That, in IRB terms translates into: a certificate, signature license plate and membership in this small, but growing group of long distance motorcycle riders.

If great-grandmother Ardys Kellerman can ride 80,000 miles in six months, complete 4 IRBs (that's 11,000 miles in 11 days) and 4 back-to-back Saddlesores (that's 1000 miles on four consecutive days) then surely I can finish a 1000 mile jaunt in less than 24 hours.

What I love about the IRB is that it defies logic. Some might think that the key to distance riding is speed. It is not. It is safe, consistent and strategic riding that wins the rally. In fact, speeding slows you down--get a ticket and you'll be stuck there waiting for a police officer to write you a ticket. When it comes to an IRB, think: slow--relatively speaking-- and steady wins the rally.
^^^

My dear friend, I'll call her EM, who now resides in NC is going to take a MSF course in the spring! She was bitten sometime ago. Once when visiting me, she spotted a little bumblebee colored Kawasaki Ninja 250 and she hasn't been the same since. When I first saw her sit on a bike, I could swear her eyes twinkled. She's got that sport bike look about her: medium height, slender build and muscular legs. Living in NC, she will get to ride her bike year 'round! How wonderful is that?! I'm as eager for her class to commence as I was for my own class to start. I promise to be a good moto role model for her. I will demand that she be ATGATT (All The Gear, All The Time)--but I don't think that will require much convincing. She's also very smart.

2007 Riding Plans--so far.

Mao Zedong said: "Á thousand-mile journey begins with the first step.” I’ve put the almost-finishing touches on my upcoming riding season. I hope to squeeze in a few more trips but these—not counting VA and NC—come close to 7500 miles. My goal for the season is 10,000 miles. Why? I like goals and 10,000 is a nice round number?

Start * Destination * RT miles

Chicago Rustic Roads WI 300.00
Chicago Gills Rock, WI (Door County) 570.86
Chicago Saddlesore 1000 + 15
Chicago Galena IL 326.30
Chicago Lake Geneva, WI 152.16
Chicago Niles, MI 198.62
Chicago Shawnee National Forest 640.66
Chicago Iowa City, IA 436.30
Chicago Sauk Trail/Chicago Pike 570.00
Chicago Lake Superior Circle Tour 2295.00
Chicago Spring Green, WI 372.12
Chicago New Glarus, WI 311.38
Chicago Starved Rock, Utica, IL 193.14
Chicago Arlington, VA 1402.72 (iffy)
Chicago Raleigh, NC 1729.24 (iffy)
Chicago Sharon, WI 177.70

If I ever want the map at the end of my blogpage to fill up with red, I must get out of the Midwest! Only with the Lake Superior Circle Tour will I add a new state (MN)--and Canada. But you'd think with all these miles, I'd substantially expand my riding range.

Hmmm? I think I hear Alaska or a nice perimeter jaunt around the USA calling me for 2008.

Sharon to visit Sharon

Late last season, I thought of some quirky rides that I could turn into interesting ride reports. I’ve never really liked my name, mainly because I rarely meet anyone under 70 with the name—not that there’s anything wrong with that. I started wondering just how many cities named "Sharon" are out there? Wouldn’t it be neat, I thought, to visit each one and take a picture underneath the city sign, possible with me holding my own cardboard sign with “Sharon” crudely printed on it with an arrow pointing to me? Why that’s interesting to me, I don’t know. Winter boredom, perhaps?

Here are the Sharon cities I’ve found along with mapquest one-way estimates that assume interstate travel, which underestimates the miles I’d travel to get to each given my preference for backloads and scenic routes.

Sharon, CT 850.17 miles
Sharon Springs, KS 800.70
Sharon, MA 989.26
Sharon, MI (Kalaska) 313.06
Sharon, MI (Washtenaw) 251.46
Sharon, ND 735.22
Sharon, PA 413.86
Sharon, WI 83.63

If anyone knows of other Sharon cities not listed, please let me know. I can begin chipping away at the Midwest Sharon cities this summer; the others will require more planning.

UPDATE: Thanks to those who have helped expand the list of Sharon places to visit!
These miles reflect approximate round trips (RT).

Sharon, LA 1,016 miles
Sharon, MS 1,446.28; 1,713.40 miles (requires visiting two counties)
Sharon, VT 1,860.32 miles

Sharon, Kalmykia Russia!

Update: 1/28/07--Ask, and people answer. I have a bunch of additional Sharon cities since asking on this blog and on the Motorcycles.About.com forum. I haven't done the mileage and city research on these yet, but I wanted to place them here so I can get back to them.

Sharon, CA
Sharon, ID
Sharon Grove, KY
Sharonville, North Cincinnati, OH
Sharon Center, OH
Sharon Township, OH (Columbus suburb)
New Sharon, MA
Sharon, NC (in 4 different counties)

And, Sharon, Queensland, Australia (to be continued...)

"Crack" Bike -- aka Queenie

One of my friends has taken to calling my bike a “crack” bike to convey what she feels is my addiction. I’m as anti-drugs as they come, but I must admit to being stone hooked on this bike. On many occasions I’ve given myself whiplash by instantly spinning my head around to the telltale sound of a motorcycle engine—V-twin or not. I’ve never been a clotheshorse; in fact, I detest clothes shopping and I never try on anything but I have the coolest motorcycle wardrobe--I fuss over and change in and out of jackets and pants a lot. I’ve never cared much about what makes my car operate, but I want to take apart my bike and put it back together again. I read my bike’s manual like it’s the latest Toni Morrison novel. I care about the looks of my car and when it gets a scratch, I take care of it right away. When I found a microscopic paint chip on the tank of my bike, probably from a pebble, I nearly gave birth. I asked the shop how to get ride of it. After nearly kissing the take to find it, I was told to take some clear nail polish and put it over the chip to contain it. It was “too tiny” to warrant a new paint job.

Many years ago, someone tried to steal my new fire engine red, three-door Honda Civic SI. I don’t know why ultimately they decided not to pilfer it. Perhaps the person was turned off from it being a stick shift. They left the door open. They smoked cigarettes and tossed the butts on the floor and they really finked up the car. I was furious! I filed a police report and when they didn’t ask, I ask them when they would come to dust for fingerprints. Chicago’s finest said, “We don’t dust for fingerprints—you’re lucky they didn’t take the car. We’ve got your report—contact your insurance company if there is damage.” That was it! I’m convinced that stick shift averted the thief. I complained about the police department for a couple of days and bellyached about the nerve of thieves. However, this past summer someone tried to steal my bike. I hope it was the audible alarm that thwarted the plan, it probably made him (I know it was a male) jump off the bike and in doing so--the despicable, so-called human being—dropped my bike, breaking the brake lever, putting a major stress bend in the handlebar and damaging the right mirror. The right frame slider prevented a lot of potentially costly frame damage.

When I walked into the garage and saw my gal-pal in a heap on her right side, I stood above her in stunned silence. It did not look good. After up righting her and surveying the damage, I immediately yearned for revenge, a payback just short of murder. I imagined catching the person and disconnecting his penis from his body, hacking with a machete I would buy for the occasion, all the while yelling at him, “How does it feel to have someone take something from you that you cherish?!" I envisioned electrifying the bike and enticing the thief to return to the crime scene where I would watch his body illuminate as he settled atop the bike. I saw myself screaming one of those evil shrieks that Hollywood characters make when they take over planet Earth. Sometimes I saw the person mounting the bike and being instantly Krazy glued to the handlebars, seat, and sides so that there was no way to extricate himself. My perverse joy would come from finding him stuck there where I would then proceed slowly to pluck his eyebrows and eyelashes out one by one. Then I would pour honey on him or hot grits--the topical varied with my mood--and let loose a bunch of honey-loving/grits-loving bugs to devour him. I spent weeks of this crazy-thinking about the person who had the audacity to try to steal my bike.

I’m ordinarily a nonviolent, peace-loving person—I even took a “How Evil am I” test that proved I’m “good.” People will make you lose your religion, if you have one. I know now that all my nonviolence talk and practice will fly out the door if someone messes with my family or my bike. So I can see what my friend means about Queenie being my “crack” bike. Crack makes you do really crazy things, things you wouldn’t ordinarily resort to. That’s true. I now maintain an ever-growing list of things I want to do to the person I catch trying to steal my Crack-bike.

Thich Nhat Hanh and Mindful Motorcycling

What in tarnations does Thich Nhat Hanh have to do with motorcycling? Why when reading the essential writings of this gentle, Vietnamese Buddhist monk, am I thinking that his words resonate with how I feel about motorcycling? Maybe I’m a lot more desperate than I know and I’m now imagining motorcycling references embedded in spiritual texts. Or perhaps something of note really is there. So, I started thinking hard on Thich Nhat Hanh's concepts of being mindful in all things and applied mindfulness to the readings. This is what I figured out about mindful motorcycling.

By mindfulness, Buddhists mean deliberate, conscious and purposeful attention or awareness brought to one’s life, minute by minute. One lives in the moment. The past is gone; the future isn’t here yet. It is the now that is right here before us; it is the now to which we must be attuned. While few people ever achieve total mindfulness, one can live a life that includes far more mindfulness than one currently practices. So, I was thinking how being mindful of the present and being “in the moment” is entirely conducive to motorcycling excellence. To stay safe, one cannot afford to think of anything else while on two wheels. Riding and its related tasks like scanning the environment, keeping a space cushion, anticipating the moves of people and cars, especially people in cars require a tunnel vision that is simultaneously myopic and hyperopic. Safe riding demands constant monitoring of the road and the environment. Mindful attention necessitates a focused hyper vigilant. Does that make sense?



One of the things I love about motorcycling is that it requires me to center my energies on the riding task. Every fiber of my being thinks only about the ride. Whenever I feel my thoughts wandering, I have a strategy for reigning them in. I talk to myself a lot; the talk becomes mantra-like as I command the senses to attention. Its effect is not only relaxing, it is centering. And when I do it right, which sometimes happens, I feel at one with the bike, the road, the universe. I recall a time when I was riding west on Hwy 2 in the upper peninsula of Michigan, when I’d travel for a mile or so without seeing another car. On the north side was the Hiawatha National Forest, on the other side of the road, more trees, and open space. The ride had a quiet and surreal quality but I never experienced loneliness because the sounds emanating from the forest, like the rustling trees, chirping birds and the snapping and crackling of twigs, filled the air and made it all seem alive and miraculous. In retrospect, I recall being mindful and purposeful and at peace, totally aware and alert, but relaxed and it all happening rather concurrently. I remember moving with the bike, thighs tightly yet comfortably hugging the tank, feeling in perfect harmony, and relishing being in the moment--and mindful.

How evil am I?

I found one of these evil-o-meter tests on a friend's blog recently and came out "good." Perhaps I didn't believe it or maybe I'm just fishing for things to do, but I found another one and took that too. Here is the result.

You Are 16% Evil

You are good. So good, that you make evil people squirm. Just remember, you may need to turn to the dark side to get what you want!

How Evil Are You?

Now I have confirmation that I'm not too bad. And, even 16% is nothing to brag about--I do plan to improve myself! No, I don't need a test to tell me how evil I am. Not having a bike to ride every day results in this kind of time-robbing activity on my part! Bear with me...I hear that the riding season is not far off.

Welcome "Motorcycle Views" & old "friend"

I've never thought of myself as someone who doesn't handle change well. But the changes over at About.come have bothered me--a lot. I rarely visit anymore. The new place where many of the old timers now congregate has just not pulled me in enough to want to visit there often either. I've hung around other forums, one specific to my SV650, one aimed at touring CA, one aimed at adventure touring. But mostly I've just felt homeless, so to speak.

In these wee hours, as I lurked around Delphi to peek in on some familiar names, I learned that Walt Kern, former leader of the About.com community of motorcyclists, had started his own blog. I don't know Walt outside of his former job at About.com, but I know this: I, like everyone who frequented that site, learned from the best. It wasn't just Walt, it was also the stellar group of experienced riders assembled in that one spot. They always were ready to transmit sage advice, encourage triumph over one's fears, and chastise anyone who showed poor risk management skills. It is because of Walt's instructive content on and about motorcycles and motorcyclists that kept me coming back day in and day out. I posted a lot on that other forum because the provocative "conversations" always made me think and want to share information.

Walt's new space is aptly called Motorcycle Views. According to the stats on my blogspace, many lurkers drop by here. Well, here is some advice to all you lurkers: add Walt's new blog to your lurking list. This I know for certain: apply what you'll learn there and it just might save your life.

A Three-Wheeled Ride and a B&B for Motorcyclists

Source: http://www.motorcycledaily.com/16december06_piaggio.htm


It's funny to me that the Piaggio three-wheeled scooter --a really cute machine--is being touted as a ride for the "young and hip." I am neither. I don't want to be a motorcycle snob, but "young and hip"? I would never ride a scooter by choice. A scooter is something I'll reluctantly embrace when I'm just too old and the accumulated rust in my leg joint refuses to swing over my 31.5 inches seat height SV650. Still, I'm glad cute scooters are becoming de rigueur and that some have robust displacements and can hold their own on the highways and allow one to travel great distances. Every car I've owned has been a stick shift; I love my bikes that way too!

May my joints never fail me!

^^^
While reading Road Runner: Motorcycle Cruising & Touring (one of my absolute favorite magazines) an ad for Motorcycle-travel.net caught my attention. Went to their website, read testimonials, loved the idea being able to stay with liked-minded riders while out there on the road. All around, this sounds great, right? Then why the next day, after feeling really excited about this network, did I experience tremendous dread about this as a viable option for me? Rather than spout off the top of my head what's now bugging me about this service, I will give this deeper thought. For most people, I'm convinced that motorcycle-travel net will be a great addition to one's travel comfort--just as the testimonials confirm. My anxieties are my own prison. I'll try to articulate them in words so that even I can understand me better. I hope I can convey here what's the matter now!

(to be continued...)

HAPPY NEW YEAR! & a discovery

If you ride a motorcycle and you're reading this, and happen to reside in a place where you put your bike away at the end of fall, it means that you survived a full season of riding. Celebrate being alive and vow to keep it that way.

I became reflective this morning, thinking about all the 'cycle trips I want to take in the summer of '07. In addition to circling Lake Superior, I want to ride east to visit friends in Ohio, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Washington, D.C. I'd love to go south too, to see folks in Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee and Georgia. Time limits me severely, so I have to make choices. It's times like these that I regret (sort of) my decision to eschew a career in academia. Had I, I could spend the whole summer traveling via motorcycle. But I didn't and I don't and that can really tick me off if I let it.

After circling all the great lakes, I want to do a perimeter trip around the USA. So, I did a Google search to see if other motorcyclists who have done so had written about it. Almost immediately, I came across Mark Logsdon's site. Not only did he take such a journey, he did it for an extremely good cause. He did it to heightened awareness of ovarian cancer, a disease that caused the death of his beloved wife and motorcycle riding partner. I've only read some of his blog but plan to read it in its entirety. I had the idea to ride the Superior trip for a good cause too but abandoned the idea because I didn't want to put any undue pressure on myself. I'm willing to reconsider that now. I have some charities in mind and should at least find out how a trip I'm going to take anyway might also benefit others.

Here's the link to Mark Logsdon's blog. Check out his ride story--I think you'll find it inspirational. You know how sometimes you just get that feeling that you are destined to meet someone? I felt that way while reading Mark's blog. More than likely we'll never meet beyond his words, but reading them made me feel as if I know him a little.

Only one win-win resolution: I resolve to do all I can to ride safe, and stay safe, to ride always with confidence and within my skill level, to pay attention to the angels' voices who whisper cautions to me as they sit on my shoulders during rides. And always, always, ATGATT!

“…Of the big lake they call ‘Gitche Gumee.”

If you are a Gordon Lightfoot fan, you know that the blog title is the second line from the misty ballad, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.” Lightfoot’s amazing voice turns this into a haunting tale set to beautiful music. For reasons not clear to me, “The Wreck…” has been circling in my brain for some time now. It led me to wondering about Gordon, what’s happened to him? I did a Google search (how did we ever live without the immediate access of search engines?) and printed out the lyrics to the song. Lightfoot's depiction of men lost in water and the mysteries of Lake Superior are profound. Interesting timeline of the ship's history.

I was surprised to learn that Lightfoot had, at one time, been near death but appears okay now. I’ve since downloaded my Lightfoot favorites on the MP3 player and the “…Edmund Fitzgerald” is now permanently etched on my brain! This led me to researching the name “Gitche Gumee,” which is an Anglicization of the Ojibwa “Gichigami,” which means “big water.” Who remembers the Wadsworth poem “The Song of Hiawatha,” where Gitche Gumee is mentioned? I think that’s the very first time I heard the term, when I had to memorize parts of the poem. Call it ocean envy, but in many ways both Lake Michigan and Lake Superior have always seemed like oceans to me: massive, deep, beautiful, and unpredictable, calm yet able to produce whipping waves, high winds, and deadly tombs. Scary sea creatures are the only thing missing in the lakes that I know of. But many other mysteries abound in lake waters.

While doing research for the Lake Michigan trip, I remember a couple of guys who endured my relentless need to go over every detail ad nauseum. They implied that I should just get on with it, go with the flow, and be more spontaneous. Given that, the preps for the Lake Superior tour are going to bug them. I’ve already started and the trip is about six month away! But in my defense, what may sound like anal retentive behavior to some, is my way of mentally preparing for the exploration, demystifying every aspect of the route, and facing whatever apprehensions may lurk beneath my skin about being out there alone. The preparation process produces a calming and anticipatory response. Remember, I’m alone out there. In my opinion, I don’t think any woman in her right mind ought to go anywhere—including—and perhaps especially on a motorcycle without having prepared a great deal. No offense, men, but some of you guys make venturing out alone difficult and sometimes dangerous for women. I wish I could throw caution to the wind, just hang loose and get out there too. Sorry, I don’t trust men that much. I’m not afraid to go anywhere, but I am going to to be smart about where I’m going. I expect the best, but prepare for the worst.

I need to know where I’m going; I need contingency plans; I need to see in my mind’s eye the curves and dips in the route--not so many as to detract from the fun--just enough to feel confident about riding my own ride. It’s when I’ve mastered my plans and reigned in my unconscious anxieties that I can comfortably and freely venture off the beaten path. I realize too that riding with someone can eliminate some of these rituals I create, but that hardly addresses the real issues, does it? We enter the world alone, and we will leave it alone. Riding solo is my mediation on being with me, myself, and I. It’s one of the few things I do now where my full and total presence is mandatory. Okay, before I get too maudlin, I’m going to close…

Airplanes, Steve McQueen's stuff and the Zumo...

Lately, my thoughts have turned to flying. Not taking the gal-pal out and riding fast as lightening, but to thoughts of learning to fly an airplane. Not sure where this desire originates. I don’t buy the midlife crisis junk because most of the stuff I want to do now, I’ve wanted to do way before midlife. The difference is now I have the freedom to do the things I once could only think about. I’ve felt a natural association between flying and motorcycling but remain inarticulate about this. Then I received my February 2007 Cycle World magazine, which, by the way, always arrives with the cover hanging on by one staple. In it, moto-journalist Peter Egan’s “Leaning” column talks about how he’s been filling up his winter days by reclaiming his dormant flying skills. He’s become a "re-entry" flyer, so to speak. It’s an interesting piece that makes convincing parallels between riding and flying. Egan states, “You tilt the horizon and forces act through your own personal vertical axis. Bank, accelerate, zoom. Grin. Your inner ear is hard at work, as it is nowhere else. In full flight, with either bike or planes, all your senses are engaged and you become hyper-alert. Maybe that’s the link: The thing flying and motorcycling have most in common is that you simply must pay attention. Your life depends on it. Both sports, you might say, are naturally riveting.” Egan closes his article with, “I’m never really comfortable or completely awake—around people who are unacquainted with the invigorating joys of mild panic.” Yes, Peter I hear you!
***
The lore and lure of Steve McQueen has not abated on iota! His third wife has recently auctioned off items from his vast collection that once included 130 motorcycles and 35 cars. Here are some of the items and the extraordinary amount of money people are willing to shell out for a piece of the legend. In every case, the auctioned items far exceeded estimations.

1 sweaty tee-shirt with holes and rips, $3,250
1 baseball cap w/ sweat, $2,500
1 personalized license plate w/ McQueen Reform School ID number, estimated
to go for $100. Sold for a whopping, unbelievable $4,500!
1 waxed cotton Belstaff motorcycle jacket, $28,000.
1 folding pocket knife given to McQueen by his friend Von Dutch (famous in his own right) sold for $32,500.
1934 Indian Sport Scout went for $155,000, which one magazine said made
it more than $135,000 more than its market value.
1 pair Persol sunglasses, worn in the movie, The Thomas Crown Affair.
Estimated to bring in $2000-3000; instead, sold for $60,000.

It’s hard to believe that McQueen has been dead for more than 2 decades. No doubt about it, the man loved motorcycles.
***
Sunday while strolling along the Mag Mile, my head snapped at the sight of a brand new black Kawasaki sportbike, the Ninja ZX-14, sitting in a store window. The bike is considered the "fastest (zero to 60 in 2.5 seconds fast) bike ...to ever grace the planet." As I backed up and looked up to see if a new motorcycle store had opened on Michigan Avenue, I saw the sign for Garmin, makers of what some believe are the best GPS devices around. I felt reeled in and that’s how they get you. The bike, by the way, belongs to Jay Leno, a 2007 Kaw that he supposedly has yet to ride. It’s on loan to the store as they promote their new digs. I asked to see the new Zumo, the $1000 GPS designed "by motorcyclists" with motorcyclists in mind. That’s a hefty price tag but it includes all the mounting brackets for a motorcycle and a car. It includes the North America maps and miscellaneous software.

What makes the Zumo different from, say, the Quest, the Quest II and Garmin’s other motorcycle oriented gps systems? One is design. The screen is larger for one thing. It is a touch screen and sensitive to a touch from a gloved finger (some screens are not touch sensitive and some are cumbersome to touch accurately with a gloved finger). It is also waterproof, whereas some are only water resistant. Did I say, design? It’s a sharp looking device. Not too big, not too small. It fits nicely in my hands, which are small and the controls are on the left side. Amazingly, the controls on many GPS devices are on the right side of the device. It is a better ergonomic design to have the controls on the left side. You don’t really think about this until you play around with one and experience how much better this set up is for reaching the controls.

Ok, I have a GPS. The Magellan eXplorist XL. I’m okay with it. Not thrilled about it by any stretch. I’m good with technology but it took far too long to learn how to use it. It is not intuitive at all. Even if I spend only $400 on a GPS, I expect it to work well and easily. Such has not been the case with my Magellan. I even had to buy additional software for another $125 bucks to get the map I wanted! Perhaps, I’m not being fair to it, as I never mounted it and pretty much used it as an expensive compass and supplement to the maps. But were it user-friendly, I know I would have used it more. They even made the downloads unnecessarily cumbersome. The Zumo took 2 minutes to understand and begin to use. If I purchased it, I’d get my money’s worth out of it. I want it. But do I need it? I’m so tempted, really tempted. Since I’m planning to get into distance riding, I deserve a reliable gps that I will use! I had secretly hoped Santa would bring that Zumo, but, you know, all my life I never believed that some chubby white guy would come to my neighborhood, shimmy down the chimney (did we even have one?) and leave me gifts. If nothing else, Santa has been consistent. Stay tuned for more Zumo news…

Weather Wonders...and miscellanous bike chat...

Friday, December 22. It is nearly 1:00 a.m. and the temp is 51F. Thursday was mild, drizzly, and foggy. If my gal-pal were with me, I would have taken a nice ride today! The last few weeks have been more ride-worthy than not. Lesson: at the end of next season, if for no other reason than to squeeze in as much riding as possible, I will winterize the bike myself and keep it with me. Chicago's weather is notoriously schizophrenic. There's no certain way to ever tell when winter begins here. We can get slapped with a mammoth snow-thunder storm like the one on December 1 and endure consecutive days of below zero wind chills and the next week, bask in temps in the 60s! Oh, well...live and learn.

***

Found a 1974 Honda CB360T on craigslist for $375! No title, but that's not a huge problem if the VIN is legible, I can pay to get that resolved. Supposedly, the bike is in decent condition but hasn't been ridden in a long time. It's the motorcycle I learned to ride on. So the nostalgic factor is huge plus. I think the bike would be an excellent machine on which to learn wrenching. Called the owner, spoke with him and he promised to send pics of the bike. No word from him yet. I'd love to get my hands on that bike.

***

The BMW F800 series bikes are calling my name! I'm looking forward to Cycle World's International Motorcycle Show here in February. I'll wait until 2008 before seriously considering purchasing this bike. Right now, it seems to be a good step up from Queenie, which I'll keep, should I move up, and turn into a track bike--she excels at being a fine track bike/racer, I'm told. My mechanic races two SV650s and swears by them.

***

Finally, I've been dreaming about the Kawasaki KLR650 to do the Lake Superior Circle Tour. I will check out this bike at the cycle show too. Looks like there will be plenty of opportunity to ride off road on this tour and it would be great to take advantage of such excursions, which I'd be forced to pass on if I take my little blue SV650.

1 down 4 to go: Next stop: Lake Superior Circle Tour

My plans are underway for the Lake Superior Circle Tour. If this solo journey is even half the fun as circling Lake Michigan turned out to be, I'm in for a really great adventure! Started collecting and ordering maps, magazines, and reading tales of others who have made the journey. I've not come across many solo efforts--and definitely none of women. Yet, I remain steadfast in my determination to go it alone.

I've said it before--but it bears repeating--the best book--IMHO--for anyone wanting to ride any road that includes in part or in whole the state of Michigan is, Motorcycling Across Michigan by William Murphy. He sees Lake Superior as the mother lode of all the lake tours in terms of its sheer beauty, size, and the variation in terrain. On this trip, I'll have to watch for a lot more wildlife than on the Lake Michigan trip, where I watched for: deer, moose, wolves and the same small critters I encounter in Illinois. Lake Superior, however, promises more: deer, elk, moose, caribou, bear, wolves--and someone told me, mountain lions but I've read nothing to confirm the veracity of that claim. Don't mountain lions hang out around mountains?

One thing I only now realize is that this over 3000 miles journey will only increase by 1, my goal next summer to cover as many new states as possible. That right, all that riding will only add Minnesota to my list. For a brief moment I debated the value (i.e., pay off) of the trip and considered picking something else for my "big" '07 trip. Now, I am embracing the notion that my riding should not ever be solely about how many states I can add to my list. The idea is "the ride." I hear motorcyclists talking about that all the time and after one summer riding around with my gal-pal, I'm a true believer.

So far, the Lake Superior Circle tour looks like it's going to be one heck of a ride--that's what I need to appreciate and remember.

Warm weather...crazy motorcycle forum decision...

Weather:

If I hear another weather report that tells how "unseasonably" warm our weather is, I really think I'm going to march to the nearest television station (two are near me) and stand outside with a huge "Duh" sign! It is nearly 11pm and the temp is 56F. For shoppers and retailers it's been great. Overzealous spenders pack the streets along Michigan Avenue and State Street, restaurants are replete with hungry folks with credit cards they are all too willing to plop down. For those of us who do not participate much in the seasonal rituals, it is difficult to carry on normal life, especially to simply walk down my neighborhood streets. Let me let you in on a secret: Unless you just want to walk down Michigan Avenue or State Street and battle all the people congestion, there are alternate walking routes that will make the trip so much less arduous. This is the time of year I try to avoid Michigan Avenue and State Street as much as possible. To navigate most easily along Michigan Avenue, walk one block west or one block east of Michigan Avenue,--Rush Street and St. Claire Street respectively. These streets parallel Michigan Avenue. Do this if you need to get somewhere. If you like crowds, especially those that tend to stop in the middle of the sidewalk and congregate, by all means take the major streets and prepare to go slowly. I can't hardly wait for it all to end. Bah Humbug!

Crazy moto decision:

One of the forums I frequent, one of the best, is undergoing some crazy changes. The various moderators on About.motorcycles.com have been literally locked out! They have been excised out of the communities they have painstakingly forged. No real explanation to the forum from the powers that be. The only explanation--and it makes no sense to me--has come from the head guy, Walt. Who has remained respectful, diplomatic, and considerate, which is a whole lot more than the folks behind the motorcycle site. With our wonderful forum hosts denied access to the folks they've nurtured, taught, protected and cared about for many years, some forum members are scrambling for other places to regroup. I'm really ticked about this. It's just a dumb decision and to do so as if the members would stand idly by and not have a reaction is even dumber.

I have other forums I frequent, so it's not like I don't have other places to post and exchange ideas and info about motorcycles. That is hardly the point. People don't passively trade info and chat together and not eventually form relationships. When people have not posted for a long time, someone will invariably ask the whereabouts of the person. Although I never participated in the weekly chats, I often thought about it and I certainly enjoyed hearing the tales of those who had gotten together to ride and have fun at the annual motorcycle gathering. Of the forums I frequent, hands down, the About one is the best because collectively, people seem to care and care enough that they watched out for folks. I had several incidents with posters, rather trollers, who tried to disturb the peace and disrupt the lively art of communication. Not just the forum hosts, but the members in general were johnny on the spot about stepping in there to support me and let the trollers know that their comments had crossed the line of respect. Some shaped up after being given a warning, others were blocked and not allowed to attack others. I've visited other forums where flames and personal attacks are par for the course. Yet none of this seems to have mattered to the site owners of About.com. They've literally yanked the carpet from under the hosts as well as from the forum members. What a stupid, really dumb move where it seems that once again, the powers that be, value things over people and have no shame about point blank about it!.

Bound to happen...and an article on SVrider.com

Well, the weather the last few days has been great! Today, mid-fifties, a little wet at times but not enough to stand in the way of a great ride. Only thing is, my bike is in hibernation. Not nearly as bummed as I thought I'd be about that. This is Chicago, after all. I put her away the day before a huge snow-thunder storm.

Today might be nice, but around the corner there is you know what to pay! No sense taking the bike in and out of storage. OK, who am I trying to convince? I totally wanted to ride today. I miss my gal-pal something fierce!

I have a hastily put together ride article on SVrider.com . I had a couple of days to turn it in, which happened also to be smack in the middle of the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) affair, which meant I had way too much to write in a short amount of time--I hate when that happens! If you've followed my Lake Michigan trip, the article won't add anything new. Still, it felt good posting on a site devoted to my beloved Suzuki's SV650.

Wear a Helmet? No-Brainer--ATGATT!

This is my long-winded position on helmets. After this, the subject will be laid to rest on this site.

Fred Rau, the legendary, well-respected moto-journalist recently wrote a not too convincing article on helmets. Specifically, he wrote about his support of one’s right to wear or not wear a helmet. Rau said all the right things and was sufficiently balanced to not make most people upset with his position. In a nutshell, Rau believes in freedom, that is, the right for motorcyclists to choose protective head gear or not. Interestingly, after all his pontification about accidents, bad drivers, individual rights and freedom, he comes to the conclusion that he always wears a helmet. To me it is the only conclusion a clear thinking person could make.

I keep running into people who try to engage me in conversations about helmets and freedom. The two (helmets and freedom, that is) in the same breath really ticks me off. With nostrils aflare, they tell me how the government is encroaching on “our rights;” how motorcycle helmets do not “prevent” accidents; how a motorcycle helmet in the event of an accident can make you vulnerable to serious neck injuries; and, how, if it's “my time,” it’s “my time,” yada, yada, yada.

Frankly, I’m weary of this! So tired that I just want to upchuck when the conversation is broached. I’ve met way too many anti-helmet riders trying to convince me of the lucidity their position. Out of respect, I listen. That’s not always reciprocal however. Thus, my listening days are over. I’m saying this now: Do not talk to me about freedom and helmets in the same breath! I will no longer listen to a person on the verge of an aneursym, shrieking and screaming about a conspiracy of eroding personal freedoms and how we’d better all stand up to protect our individual’s rights (of which the right not to wear a helmet and face possible brain damage as a result of an accident, is high on their list).

Talking to me about helmets+freedom gives me the same feeeling I get in my gut when folks wax nostalgic about “the good old days” and a desire to return to a simplier time, when life was easier, the pace slower and people were kinder. While there are microscopic elements I’d like to preserve from the past, for the most part the best thing about the good old days is THAT THEY ARE GOOD AND GONE! Too many people talk like the past was some universally agreed upon idyllic, good time. It is a myth just how good these time were for anyone-- particularly for a whole bunch of people who were excluded by law, who were formerally and informally prevented from the most basic of freedoms other groups (even foreigners) could take for granted. The only freedom most folks who looked like me had was the freedom to live under an apartheid like system or die early to escape its chains. Yes, I’m being dramatic, but this is exactly how I feel on this subject.

Where was the moral outrage from the ancestors of these freedom-loving folks about the lack of freedom a whole bunch of people suffered under the Stars and Stripes? Where is their outrage today? It’s good I was born when I was because had I been born pre-Civil Rights and in the South, I’d be one dead woman. I’d either starve to death (because I’d never work as someone’s domestic help) or be lynched—oh yes, women were lynched too (because I would not take orders from anyone or kowtow to them either. And sit on the back of a bus? Never! On general principle I won’t even do that today! And slavery? I wouldn’t have lasted. I’d be one of those women whipped and beaten until dead because I would do everything to thwart that system and to hurry my demise from that cruel, peculiar institution. Thank goodness not everyone back then felt as I can only imagine I would.

I think seat belts are a good thing. Regardless of the nation’s law, I’d feel that way. I snapped up pre-law because the idea of becoming a human projectile in an accident just didn’t sit well with me. Yes, I’ve heard of people sustaining injuries caused by wearing a seat belt or being imprisoned in their car by a jammed belt after an accident. But I’ve heard far more tales of seat belts lessening the severity of injuries sustained in an accident. It makes sense to wear them.

I feel similarily about helmets. I wear a helmet for bicycling, rollerblading, and motorcycling. I have a considerable amount invested in my brain (I realize that some others might not and that might influence their decision to not wear a helmet). On a two-wheeled vehicle, I do not trust “cagers” to see me, share the road, or to drive with a higher consciousness of the presence of motorcycles. In fact, much of the tirade I hear from motorcyclists pertains to how atrocious are the skills of the average car driver, how utterly stupid many drivers are when it comes to abiding by the rules of the road—not to imply that most even understand the rules. Most motorcyclists I know and have heard on the subject would never put their safety in the hands of a “cagers” – motorcyclists learn not to trust anyone on four wheels. Period. For those reasons alone, why wouldn’t one want to don a helmet at all times? A ‘cyclist might be the most skilled, safest rider on the road, but there exists those horrifyingly awful cagers out there. As long as they drive the roads, seems to me that everyone who rides a motorcycle might want to do all that is necessary to protect his or her brain and body as much as possible from that which s/he cannot control. When I mentioned this, one person said, “Yeah, but a helmet won’t protect me from road rash.” Uh, yeah! And your point is? Bottom line: if you want to use your body to make a political statement, to go without a helmet on priniciple-- even if it means putting your self at risk and contradicting your views on trusting cages, then go right ahead. People should have the right to make their own decision about personal safety.

Still, when people rail on about helmets and freedom to me, I can’t help but laugh a little on the inside. Why all the blather? To me, the argument is not about government and freedom as much as it is about me taking as much responsibility as I can to protect myself to whatever extent my helmet permits. I think it’s entertaining that people, to prove a point, will wear the little German beanie helmets to circumvent the helmet laws. Just don’t waste your time trying to convince me that I too should think like you. Go helmetless. But leave me alone. And prepare yourself for being denied additional medical treatment when your insurance coverage runs out yet your catastrophic injuries require extended medical care. If you are mowed down by one of those careless cagers and you suffer brain injury, your complains could fall on deaf ears. Still, you should have the freedom to put yourself at maximal risk.

I just wish some of that freedom-loving talk extended beyond helmets and included a similar outrage about some real erosions of freedom, such as the inequities in public schools, communities devoid of public libraries, housing and job discrimination of all kinds, and what about how a so-called “family-values” society refuses to pass universal health care legislation for every child! We will fight to the death to bring democracy somewhere else but won’t execute it to the fullest on this soil, and on and on and on. Where is the same moral outrage from the freedom-loving folks.

Few will dispute that we need better rider and driver education and that we need more thoughtful, informed legislation on a host of issues. I, for one, will always wear a helmet. Always! Yes, I might still die in a motorcycle accident, but with one on my head (not strapped to the back of my bike—I really don’t get that?) my chances are very good for surviving both a non-life and life-threatening accident. The individual I had my recent conversation with will never read this blog response but I’ve gotten it off my chest. I hope he never goes down and is forced to put his brain where his principles are.

ATGATT!
(All The Gear, All The Time)

Queenie, the long distance Great-grand mother!

Whenever I come across an article about my hero, solo motorcyclist Ardys Kellerman, I have to post my findings. She is a continuing source of inspiration and at age 74 she shows no signs of slowing down. Came across this article on Kellerman and couldn't help feeling both inspired by her feats and envious of her 50,000 miles in six months! Certainly retirement permits her the time to pile up the miles but Kellerman rode long distances way before she retired. Always a BMW rider, she has completed more Iron Butt Rallies (11,000 miles in 11 days) than any other woman (three to be exact) and many Saddle Sores (1000 miles in under 24 hours), some of them done back-to-back. What a role model for all motorcyclists.

Weather and the Kawasaki Versys

I will resist the temptation to turn this motorcycle travel oriented blog into one huge rant about the weather--although that feels the natural way to go--it is currently 14 degrees F.

A friend turned me on to this new motorcycle from Kawasaki, the Versys. It's a sharp looking bike, unique visuals and smart lines. I especially love the shape of the headlight--very distinctive. I like odd looking motorcycles, like many of the BMW bikes. For example, the F800S looks like a rhino from the side view; look at the F650GS and the R1200GS Enduros... from the side they look like birds. I saw one once in sunflower yellow and it looked like "Big Bird," the Sesame Street character.

Back to the new Kawasaki Versys... The specifications/features indicate that the bike has a seat height of 37 inches! By far, that makes it the tallest bike I've heard of and I can't help wondering if that's an error. If anyone is listening/reading out there and knows something I don't, please enlighten me about this bike's features--I'd like it a whole lot more if I didn't need a ladder to mount it!

Thursday, November 30, 2006—The Season’s End

I tucked Queenie away at Motorworks Chicago to begin the winter hibernation. Prior to taking her in, I took a mini-ride. The city was preparing for its first winter storm to hit late Thursday night. By the time I reached the shop, a light freezing drizzle had started. The temperature was around 36 degrees. I rode comfortably—even the fingertips stayed warm this time. I inserted the little air-activated hand heat warming packs inside the glove—worked exceedingly well!

Arrived at the shop and watched my bike logged in. Milan said I could come and visit her anytime. Hung around for a little and talked to the shop guys. Discussed all the upgrades/add-ons that will be done over the winter. Looks like I’ll be able to take a few private lessons maintenance classes over the winter. This is fab news. One gap in my solo riding that hovers over each long ride, is my concern that the bike will encounter a break down in a place where MoTow can’t reach me. Some of the areas in the UP of MI were remote enough that my cell phone had little or no reception. In such situations, I need to be able to get the bike back on the road on my own. Thus, I’m looking forward to expanding my woefully limited maintenance skills.

Friday’s storm did not disappoint! The lightening and thundering woke me in the wee hours. I dismissed the sounds and flashing sky as just a bad rainstorm. When I finally left bed and peeked out the window, it was snowing—horizontally blowing, fat flakes and heavy. Turned on the weather report; before 6 a.m. most of the major highways were experiencing heavy delays, spinouts, and blizzard conditions. American Airlines and United had cut their flights by 100% and 50% respectively until the afternoon. The wind, well, we have lake effect and it showed its strength. The winds were reported to be around 40 mph but the gusts were at least 45 mph and the waves were furiously whipping off the lake. From the window it all looked beautiful, but some northern suburbs already had over 8 inches of snow and with schools closing left and right, the kids were going to have fun over their long snowy weekend.

Glad I heeded the weather warnings and took the bike in Thursday. I'll try not to complain too much about the season ending. It has been a long—good—riding season. Gal-pal and I stayed upright and safe. What more can I ask?

Oops! “Officer, I swear, I didn’t know my license had expired!”

Linking the driver’s license expiration date to one’s birthday is a great idea for jogging the memory. Not only did I receive a couple of reminder notices, supposedly, I received some sort of “good driver’s” invitation that would permit me to do the necessary renewal work via phone or electronic submission. But did I remember? NO!

I had been riding Queenie a total of four carefree days before seeing the renewal notice on the kitchen counter. Instant panic at the through of being pulled over or worse, being involved in an accident carrying an expired license. Yikes!! It’s probably due of the expiration that I wasn’t able to renew later via phone. Took care of that yesterday. It’s all Nanowrimo’s fault!

Today’s weather will climb over 60 degrees F. I’m hoping to take a ride with one of my motorcycle safety instructors. But it’s looking and smelling a lot like rain. Unfortunately, today is predicted to be our last unseasonably warm day as a cold front is expected here by tonight and it might bring with it snow with some minor accumulation. I will not complain much; the last week has been sensational.

Two Wheeling and Nanowrimo countdown

Rode both Thursday and Friday but still haven't completed the post. I am combining the two given that they were similar. I had very good intentions this morning, but a certain someone, who shall remain nameless, called around 6:30 a.m., right around the time I was planning to complete the post and talked for nearly two hours about, among other things, Louis Althusser, the French Marxist, and Marcel Proust. The first I know a bit about; Proust, what I know could fill a thimble. So that's my excuse for why the post will have to wait. I did learn some new things from our conversation and for that I'm a more enlightened humanoid.

Also, this is the fourth week of Nanowrimo, I am in the home stretch. I have less than 2000 words to go. I will post my final word count Sunday by midnight. I want the official verification done asap so that I can avoid any unexpected system crashes on the November 30th deadline. Now that I'm almost done, I feel like I'm just realizing what my book is really about. So, I will continue writing until November 30 to finish up what Anne Lamott calls the "shitty" draft. If I say so myself, it doesn't look bad at all, nothing a bit of tinkering, post-nanowrimo won't fix once the editing phase begins.

Last week, a woman wearing white leathers and a cabbie type hat, made an appearance in the novel. She rode up on a 1953 Indian motorcycle. I don't know where she came from or why...she just showed up. My book is a young adult novel set in the summer of 1963 on the westside of Chicago with pieces of the northside thrown in. I've been wondering how I'll get through the winter without riding. Now I'll have a completed novel draft to keep me busy until Spring--at which time I must be finished for that when I'll be shouting, "Let the riding begin."

On another note: it is already 51 degree F here. Looks like we're in for another excellent day of riding after the writing is done.

(ride reports pending)

Another ride on LSD!

Learned this lesson: short rides during the cold, are better than no rides. I decided to take Queenie for a short spin on Sunday. Road about 50 miles before crying "Uncle" over the cold temps. Cold weather riding takes a lot out of you--as more demands are made on the body to stay warm. The temp wavered between 41 and 43 degrees F most of the time, which felt great as long as I was standing still. At 60 mph, let's just say it's more than a little chilly. A strong wind reminded me of the city's moniker, "The Windy City." Still, it was nothing like the 40 mph winds experienced a few back, which had me fighting to keep the bike upright. Still, Sunday had its share of humbling wind gusts now and again, especially while riding along LSD. Even with my helmet visor only slightly cracked, to prevent fogging of my supposedly “anti-fog visor,” my eyes teared from the whipping the wind served up.

Although my feet typically do not get cold, I wore the battery-operated socks. My feet were noticeably toasty-warm, perhaps, a bit too warm for my taste. Still having issues with my cold fingertips but that's my fault. Too lazy to hook up the ‘lectric gloves. I wasn’t out long enough, I felt, to warrant the extra effort. At the mid-way point, I stopped at Medici’s Bakery, to warm up with a cup of hot chocolate. I couldn’t resist the carrot muffins either.

When I enter the bakery, a young woman says, “That was you on that bike.” Affirmative. “Really, that was you?” Affirmative. “Wow, that’s amazing. That’s truly amazing—is it hard.” Negative. “It’s not hard, really?” Affirmative. “Wow, I think that’s something, you being a woman and all.” Such reactions are always a little surprising in 2006. She finally remembered to take my order. I should have taken a picture of the muffin—perfect in every way. The hot chocolate was yummy too. Just the right combo to warm numb fingers and get me "on the road again." I think I hear a little Willie Nelson...

Took LSD back and encountered some oily stretches on the curves that made me sit up and take immediate notice. Oil+curves+wind gusts make for an interesting, humbling, and challenging ride. Speed limit on LSD is 45mph. No one and I do mean NO ONE obeys that! Most often folks are driving 60. I’ve tried to do the speed limit only to anger drivers who then will cut closely in front of me or ride my collar! I am forced, therefore, I really am, to keep up with traffic or suffer the consequences. So, it was 60 mph all the way in.

Supposedly, a warm up is on the way with near 60 degree F on Turkey day. I’m thankful that I haven’t yet retired the bike. I plan to take to the road and give glorious “Thanks” in my own way. All I ask upon return is a hunka Sweet Potato pie and a cup of chamomile tea.

A little payback and a nice ride...

Saturday night I needed a ride. Badly. Probably wasn’t the best night to venture out given that the downtown was readying for the Festival of Lights procession, a huge extravaganza that draws a bunch of folks from the city and suburbs. It’s a part of the city’s winter fun festivities that run throughout the season. But I graved a fix, just a little ride on the gal-pal. Besides, I needed to replace a dying telephone.

Suited up. Uncovered the bike, which, as a friend pointed out, looks so sad standing in the corner all covered up. Bike checked. Pulled the choke forward. Pushed starter button. She sputtered and died. Pushed started again. She sputtered and belched. Pushed a third time, she sputtered, belched and coughed. Now I’m worried and sorry that I hadn’t taken a spin in a week (at least). Payback?

I know I tend toward anthropomorphism when talking about Queenie, but I think she agreed to start only after I did some negotiating and promising to ride out these cold days and buy her that new Givi windscreen. When I tried again, she started. I let her choke run a little longer than the 30 seconds recommended.

Eased the bike out of the garage. The night air was chilly but comfortable. An earlier report put the temp at 41 degrees. It felt exhilarating. The people and vehicular traffic crawled and Michigan Avenue looked like 5:00 p.m.on a Friday when everyone is rushing to leave work and jumpstart the weekend.

The ride to Staples Office store was longer than necessary. Traffic bottlenecked at Michigan Avenue. On the return trip, once on Michigan Ave., I had three lanes of traffic to cross to make my right turn. Few drivers were playing nice and allowing other to merge. No such thing as maintaining a space cushion tonight. An extra-long CTA bus tried to get into my lane, while I’m tried in vain to get into its lane. I doubt that the bus saw me. No winning against a bus; I decided to let the bus take my lane. I eased over to the newly created space. A little car, no bigger than a motorcycle, lets me merge ahead of it and into the next lane. Eased again into the next lane and made my turn at the next light and headed east, away from the crowd. Short little hectic ride. Glad I ventured out.

The Going is tough...

Well, I said I wasn't going to be a wimp about the weather, that I was going to "just ride." Call me a wimp; I don't care. A number of things have kept me from that--the weather is but one. It's been on the cold side in the mornings, although this morning isn't too bad at 46 degrees. It's been damp and windy. Still, I could have ridden on a few of those days. But I think I deserve a pass if I'm physically depleted. It's never a good idea to ride when you're wiped out, right?

Notice the new logo to the right--Yes, I've joined the ranks of those frenzied, masochists who spend the month of November each year pumping out a minimum of 50,000 words to write a draft of a novel. Like thousands, I started penning words to paper on November 1 but didn't get around to being an official NaNoWriMo entrant until this past weekend, when I posted my two week word total.

Yesterday I reached the half-way point. My friend, Martha, from VA is also participating. In an email, she said, "...it is amazing what an unfettered brain can produce..." This truth has become my mantra. If you sit long enough, something will come if you get out of your way and let it happen. By 6:00 a.m., I usually am finished with my 2000 words a day goal. Actually, knocking on my wooden head, I am ahead of my goals and should post 50,000 before the month's end.

So, you see, I've not been a total slacker about riding. Been juggling a bit more than usual and by the end of the day it shows. Even on the day the winds were expected to reach 45 mph, I had good intentions and were it not for being blown home practically, I would have taken a bike ride that evening.

I do have some motorcycle news, well it's more a comment. I'm currently reading Riding with Rilke. The author, Ted Bishop, is a scholar who rides his Ducati from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada to the University of Texas at Austin. Before starting the book, I wondered if people who like books and reading about books but who don't ride a motorcycle, would like this book. Similarly, would someone who rides a motorcycle but is not a fan of literature and literary pursuits, find the book interesting? Although I'm only mid-way through the book, it's a hard questions to answer since I don't fit either camp. I loves literary pursuits and I ride a motorcycle. Did Bishop write his book in hopes of attracting that audience? Did he even have a particular audience in mind?

I don't think it's true that anyone who rides a motorcycle will like this book. That's too bad, because it's really good. Bishop is an entertaining writer and tells a great tale. I can envision someone being uninterested in the literary figures he writes about, such as Virginia Woolf and not go beyond reading the back cover. That's unfortunate too because s/he would miss the wonderful, unexpected parallels Bishop makes between motorcycle riding and unearthing the esoteric information that invade scholars' brains. The Woolf papers give Bishop a reason to leave the towers of this academy and mount his Ducati and ride some scenic and not so scenic roads to TX. It is also just as much his desire to ride his Ducati that makes him venture out to examine Woolf's papers in the lone star state. Once you settle into the ride with Bishop, you don't care why he's heading to TX, you care only that he is. You go along with him to witness his adventures and become green with envy that you are not on those roads riding your own motorcycle.

More later...

Wimp no more...

Never thought it would end like this. This is a first for me. I’ve gone an entire week without taking my gal-pal for a ride! More than anything, the torture was mental and self-imposed. Of course, having a million and one things to do helped me survive the week. Still, I thought about riding every 10 minutes. But 37-degrees mornings are not inspiring; slaving beyond my normal hours is not inspiring; juggling several time-robbing extra projects isn't inspiring. Blah, blah, blah. Excuses, excuses!

The ground is clear. That’s all I truly require. I know I’m going to regret this come January when even walking will demand super human feats--no pun intended. I could swear that the last time I passed her in the garage, all covered, standing tall and proud on her new kickstand legs, I witnessed her headlight flash and modulate in a pleadingly “come hither” holler. I did a double take and she did it again. But I ignored her cry. Then I think I heard her roar: “RIDE ME, YOU WIMPETTE!” I quickly uttered the old “sticks and stones…” retort, but I didn’t convince myself. The name-calling hurt. I thought about riding the entire week. Yeah, I know, "Action speaks louder than words"--yada, yada, yada.

Ok, let’s get logical here. My moto days are numbered and the weather will soon render riding impossible. Here and now, I vow to shelve (temporarily) some of those "million and one things," which will all be here to tackle on snow-bound days that will make venturing out insane, right? I’ve got to ride now when I can or curse myelf later when I can't. I shall not go out quietly; I will eschew wimpette ways!

My gal-pal and I will rage against the growing cold and oppressive, time-zapping wage labor system and ride this week no matter what! Mother Nature notwithstanding!

DOWN with capitalist pursuits! UP with riding ‘til the ground cracks and the cold makes you scream for your momma!

Onward and Upward!

...and then came Joy!

Wednesday started out foggy with severely restricted visibility. I had hoped to ride to Sharon, WI but it is more than 100 miles away and I would need an early start to get there and back before dark. So the late start foiled that idea. Eventually the skies cleared and the fog burned off. Wednesday turned out to be PERFECT! By noon, the temperature had hit the mid-60s with a gentle breeze, sunny skies and everyone and their mother out and about.

I decided to visit relatives, which required riding in heavy traffic to and fro. Oh, well…I figured it would be an opportunity to practice urban street strategies, which I can read about all I want, but nothing, and I do mean “nothing” beats the real thing. It is easy to avoid these situations if one lives in the boonies and never bikes in the city. But when you reside in the city, you need to know your terrain. No matter where I venture out, I can’t avoid downtown traffic. Before reaching those desired back roads, I am guaranteed to have at least one wrestling match with a cabbie who behaves as if playing Pac Man with me.

Thus, I try to stay sharp by scheduling planned rides through my auto and people congested neighborhood. I know no better way (to hone my scanning skills, exercise good risk management and stay mindful of the zoo out there that demands keeping my head in the ride every second) than to get out there and do it in real time.

I rode 50 milesRT that demanded a lot physically and mentally. I admit that there are occasions when I can sneak a peek at a building sign along the side of the road. Not true for Wednesday. Every brain cell, every muscle fiber focused on the ride, the road, and all the death-wish pedestrians who walk around as if they have bumpers on their butts, darting into the street, chasing down greatly missed sunrays or something equally crazy.

My neck aches this morning, which I attribute to excessive head checks and perhaps a little tension in the shoulder area from the ride--I don’t know. Still, nothing diluted the unadulterated joy the glorious weather provided. If this could last another six to eight weeks, I’d promise not to whine too much about the long harsh winter that I know is coming.

“The Mother Road”--US Route 66 & another St. Park

Sunday promised to be a sunny day with some major warming up on the side and from the window, it all looked true. I left late, around 9:45 a.m. and the temp was 41 degrees. Still, I felt it not cold enough to try out my new battery operated socks, the new gloves with the micro fiber, heat-holding liner insert. Instead, I wore a less hefty pair of gloves with the new liners. I also didn’t use the heated hand warmers that slip into the knuckle pocket atop the liners. I should have stuffed these items into the tank bag just in case I needed them, which I did eventually. I did wear the ski socks I recently purchased. My feet and toes stayed warm all day even though the temp never really warmed up and maxed out around 51 degrees. The day was nippy but the only thing cold were my finger tips.

Destination: U.S. Rt. 66 and Silver Springs State Park, near Yorkville, IL. One thing this bike has done for me it heighten my appreciation for Illinois. I know we’re the “Land of Lincoln” and all, but outside of Chicago, let’s just say I’ve got a lot to learn. I’ve lived in the suburb a huge chunk of my adult life but always favored the city whee I grew up with some myopic notions about suburbs that living there reinforced and challenged all at the same time. Queenie has gotten me outside the city, into the suburbs, into small IL towns, such as Ashton, Harvard, Oswego and Somonauk. Places I’ve driven through but never desired to stop. I’m still a reluctant “visitor” but somehow riding through on a bike makes me feel less resistant and more open to such places that in the past just seemed way too Wonder Bread-ish to me. But I digress…


Lately, I have been reading about US Rt. 66, that famed route that has become legend in music, myth and TV. If you’re of a certain age, who doesn’t hear Nat King Cole's velvety voice singing, “Get your kicks on Route 66.” The tales of motorcyclists trying to ride the original route are often compelling. In fact, the list is long of riders getting confused, missing the road and never finding pieces of it because the original route has been switched, paved over, neglected in spots--you name it. Still, people come the world over to ride it. I am fortunate to live a few blocks from the start of Rt. 66. I’ve dreamed of following it to CA too but lately feel that riding it, at least, through MO would suffice as I’ve read that much of the original route along this stretch is easy to follow and quite nice. I like to explore too and experience the serendipity of a trip, but I wouldn't want to work that hard to trace the original route.

Directions: I start out on an old favorite, US Rt.34 (Ogden Avenue) which co-exists with parts of Rt. 66. You’ve got to not mind traffic going this route. You can avoid most of it by starting early and on a Sunday. I’ve driven this stretch many times and ‘cycled it a few but never desired to stop and pay much attention to its sights and sounds. A hunk of Rt. 66 is in Berwyn, IL, a town with a history that has definitely influenced my bad attitude toward it. But like things and people, Berwyn has changed and you can feel it riding through. I now have no hesitation stopping there, which I did.

Proud blue and white banners announce that you are on Rt. 66. Even a “beverage” place uses the name to advertise itself. I travel on Rt. 34 for many miles, looking for state Rt. 71 South. At that point, take it and travel to Van Emmon Road where you will take a right turn. Take it north to state Rt.47. Well, at least that’s what the map says. I never found a Rt. 47 this way (again, get that GPS mounted or what’s the point?!). I checked and rechecked the map and it looked as if I was to take Van Emmon until it ended, which I did. But take a right turn there and you end up in some dead end gravel filled abandon railroad area—scary stuff to anyone with a morbid imagination. I retraced my route a little; still no Rt.47.

While riding up and down, I happen to glance up and see "River Road." The road that Rt. 47 was to lead me to. I back tracked and realized that “Bridge Road” must be Rt. 47. So why not say: “Bridge Road (Rt. 47). See, this is one reason why I don’t like these places…insiders know this information and they must figure “why bother” making it clear to the rest of us! Outsiders, well…go away, we don’t want any!” Yes, I take this stuff personally.

Got onto River Road and it was worth the hassel, I admit. It is a rolling, tree shaded, back door to the state park—this is why these people must want to keep it to themselves! It’s sweeping and undulating in all the right places. To this point, most of the roads getting here have been great, but this is part of the reason to ride. I’m following the Fox River, a tributary that is part of the Illinois River and Wisconsin River. It is worth looking up on an IL map to see its rolling, twisting snake through this area known as the Fox River Valley.

Not many people in the park. A friendly couple walking two large dogs waved and smiled at me. I snapped a few pics and watched the river flow. Motoring through the park’s curvy grounds (20 mph speed limit) was pure joy--just what I needed to shake off the mini-hassle of finding my way here.

Return: In a word, uneventful. I abandoned the one scenic route back I mapped out and just reversed my steps and took Rt. 34 in. It looked like rain and the sky was darker. I didn’t want to be caught on dark, unfamiliar back roads with visions of lynching clouding my brain. When in doubt, go with the familiar. The warm up turned out to be a “no-show.” Besides, I was now cold and hungry— never got around to breakfast, it was now nearly 1:30 p.m. and my stomach was screaming for lunch.

Stopped at Panera’s for soup. A bike is truly a conversation piece. A woman seated behind me asked me how my riding was. That’s all I need to get started. After my overly long answer, she said, “I feel guilty not allowing my husband to ride today, listening to you…he wanted to but I had work to do so he had to watch the kids.” She seemed sincere sitting amidst a stack of papers and a laptop computer. We had a long conversation about women and riding; she told me about the bikes her husband had owned and her ever present concerns for his safety. I recommended she learn to ride too, to which she seemed open. Then, I told her to “let” him ride on Wednesday since the weather is supposed to be nearly 70 degrees and that soon we’d be forced to put away the bikes. “Then you’ll have him all to yourself.” She brightened at that and said that she would definitely get him to take a ride on Wednesday. At that, she smiled.

I hope I helped a fellow biker ‘cause I know I’m looking forward to Wednesday too.

Silver Spring State Park pics

Winter Gear: An Introduction...

"Introduction" because I'm just dipping my toes in the vast and growing array of riding gear for outdoor, winter comfort. I'll admit to being a bit overwhelmed with the choices. For years, Gerbing and Widder set the standard for heated motorcycle wear. I've been researching their gear--as well as some of their competitors--and I've come away questioning just how much I want to invest at this point to own all that I want--particularly given the winter modifications I'm planning for Queenie. That unanticipated "almost thief" was a cost I could have done without. My mods could have had a nice head start with the dough I spent. Thus, I've started looking for alternative winter wear, gear made for x-country skiing, winter hiking, and hunting, for example. These sports offer loads of items worth a closer look as some work for motorcycling too. Some of it is cheaper, some not.

My tab for the "must" items I want total around $1000! Yes, I could do without some of it, but this price includes what I consider the basics: heated vest, heated armour pants, heated socks, heated gloves, two temperature controllers. That's it. It's a lot of money for riding on the days when the ground will be free of snow or icy conditions. In Chicago, that could mean many days or about ten total!

Here's the wear I've accumulated thus far:


Inherited 20 year old winter leather gloves. I purchased a microfiber (heat-holding) liner for them that has a pocket on top in which packs of hand warmers can be inserted. These hand warmers are environmentaly friendly, non-toxic (thanks for that!) pads that warm up and lasts for 5-7 hours. A fleece neck scarf that can double as a face mask. My favorite: battery operated socks! They definitely work, I tried them out last night and my feet warmed up almost immediately. My inherited battery operated socks didn't work, but I sure appreciated getting them from a former motorcyclist. Total thus far: $47.00. To that I should add, electric glove liners, which haven't arrived yet. They are from CozyWinters and cost $70 and the purchase includes the glove/sock harness needed to hook up to the bike at no extra charge. Thus, no need to buy a temperature controller. Total for my alternative approach: $110. I can handle that without weeping.

My Firstgear Kilimanjaro jacket has always kept me warm with its system of liners, so I'll rely on it to carry me through the winter. I have Firstgear pants, which I'll wear with its liner or, wear my leather pants and long johns underneath.

Fuller comments on winter wear later. I'm heading out for a glorious ride this beautiful crisp fall morning. It's now 40 degrees but warming up to 57 degrees. That's good enough for me.

MOTO-STAMPS !

These are enough to make me want to write to family and friends I usually avoid! I came upon an announcement for motorcycle stamps in a magazine. Why buy Christmas stamps? I will grace my cards with these cuties! I heard that the USPS keeps specialty stamps in circulation based on demand. So, let's get the word out to every motorcycle enthusiast and her mother to buy these stamps--reach out, send a card or letter to those embarrassing relatives and friends--just omit a return address.

Riding today? It is 31 degrees! Enough said.

Fall moto trip to the Kankakee River

Kankakee River State Park. My planned trip to Lake Geneva, WI didn't pan out. Instead, after staying up late reading about the Iron Butt Rally National Parks Tour , I started yearning for a visit to a park. The trip should have taken maybe 90 minutes, 2 hours max. It took me four hours to arrive at the park.

I mounted the bike and left the garage at 6:30 a.m.. The early morning cold made me want to return to bed. True to its name, "The Windy City" was kicking full force and it made the low 40s feel more like 20 degrees. After 25 miles, my fingers felt, well...I couldn't feel them, really. Stopped for hot chocolate and received a free glazed donut--a rare treat that I devoured! The hot chocolate was awful, but the cup served as an excellent hand warmer. If I aim to log another 500 miles before retiring the bike for winter, investing in heated gloves is mandatory!

The back roads heading south turned confusing in spots. I had the GPS in the tank bag but have come to rely most heavily on maps. Lack of a suitable mount for the GPS, makes it cumbersome to use. It's easier glancing down at a highlighted map in the tank bag's vinyl pocket than stopping to check the GPS. At one point, I realized I was lost--or so I thought. It seemed like I was riding around in one huge square. The roads had names like 4800 N 1200 W or something equally illogical. In some places, new construction forced me to head in an unexpected direction. I need to trust my gut more as I was often correct. Still, I had a brief weepy moment when I became so turned around and lacking understandable street signs, I caved in to my emotions.

Stopped, took out the GPS and used its compass feature to regain my bearings. It was then that I discovered that I was going in the right direction. Wide open country roads allowed the wind to do its kicking full force. At times I felt like I was riding side ways. A couple of times the bike's rear tire wagged heartily. Even though I know that counter steering works, it is still a breath-taking experience to be suddenly shoved by the wind; I can't help wonder if there have been bikes that have become airborne or flipped over due to the winds.

Finally, arrived at the park at 10:30 a.m.--four hours since leaving the apartment. The park was relatively isolated, saw a few hikers, walkers and a couple of bicycles. The ground was covered with crisp-crunchy leaves. Some trees were still in the midst of changing colors, others were naked. The four hour ride there resulted in only a 40 minute visit. Isn't there some saying that it's not the destination, it's the journey...Twas true in this case.

Scheduled to work at 3 p.m. So I pushed the ride home by taking the interstate one quarter of the way. Expressway traffic was light, which allowed me to push the little blue bike homeward, reaching ...well, I'll keep the speed to myself. Stopped for lunch in the south suburbs. Picked up Rt. 50 north and managed fairly heavy traffic to Chicago. Great practice on scanning, emergency stops, space cushion management, and self control (i.e., not acting on wanting to strangle the cellphone talking driver who wants to share a lane with you). With the exception of the lane-sharer, one vehicle weaver, the return trip was uneventful. Saw more bikes out today than I've seen in a long while.

Pulled into the garage at 2:30 p.m.. Amassed 156.6 miles. Arrived at work 2:58--two minutes early for my 3:00 meeting. Perfect timing. Perfect ride!

Kankakee River State Park pics

Queenie’s blazing rear

The new turn signals look fabulous. Initially, I desired signals fleshed against each side of the bike. Thankfully, the shop realized this wouldn’t work because my saddlebags would conceal them. Instead, we opted for the pricier stock signals. The wait is over--everything is now in place. Here’s how the lights operate: The Priority Lights are added to the turn signals and they transform the lights into running lights. Just as the headlight is always on when riding, the rear lights are now always “on.” When I apply the brakes, the turn signals are rewired to behave as additional brake lights. Exactly how this works differs by the type of wiring done. Some systems just light up, no fancy light work, like flashing, pulsating, or rotating. On my bike, the wiring is set so that the lights flash when the brakes are applied. If I hold the brake, the flashing eventually stops and the glow remains static. A tap on the brakes will reactivate the dynamic flashing mode. Mind you, this is beyond a simple flash. It’s a bright (LED) blinking that seems to say, “Back away from the bike buster!” I realize that clueless drivers still might claim not to see me, but I have an increased sense of safety knowing that I’ve maximized rear end conspicuity.

Didn’t think to take a short video of the bike in its flashing mode and share that—perhaps later.

Now for the luxurious bar end mirrors. I love them! Looking into them puts my head and glance at a more natural angle than the original mirrors, which required a distinct head movement that had me looking up and off to the side. These are snazzy and about as much chrome as I'll ever want on a bike! Notice the different mirror positions I've set. As I've said before, one of the best features is the ability to fold down the mirrors and tuck them out of sight, behind the handlebars. Hopefully, this feature will reduce the likelihood that some pea brain will walk by and pull on the mirrors just for the sport of it. Still wanting some way to rig the bike up with electricity for just such people.

Edelweiss Bike Travel, dying and daylight saving time

It’s bad enough that I begin work and return in the dark. October 29th, at 2:00 a.m., we’ll “fall back” and end daylight saving time. That’s cruel! I already feel the doldrums taking hold… I look up doldrums to see if it really captures my pitiful mood. Doldrums... Merriam-Webster Online says..."Etymology: probably akin to Old English dol foolish

1 a spell of listlessness or despondency
2 often capitalized : a part of the ocean near the equator abounding in calms, squalls, and light shifting winds
3 a state or period of inactivity, stagnation, or slump."

One and three about does it for me! Topping it of, I'm battling a potentially lethal case of…

wanderlust. It’s painful and utterly self-absorbing, I know. Again, Merriam-Webster, “a strong longing for or impulse toward wandering. Etymology is German, from wandern to wander + Lust desire, pleasure." I got it BAD! (forgive the grammar)

Edelweiss Bike Travel. The big, boldly colorful 2007 “brochure” arrived—it transcends brochure status and is more of a travelogue of world adventures. It is more seductive than the company's website, which convinced me to send for the "brochure" in the first place. Now I'm wallowing in seasonally induced misery!

Edelweiss Bike Travel bills itself as “The World’s Leading Company in Guided Motorcycle Tours.” I don't even like group rides, which interfer with my hermetic disposition! Nonetheless, the sage folks at Edelweiss reel me in like a wet sock! I am there! I am on one of their tours, having a blast, acting like I like the other people on the trip too. Then it crosses my mind that the only people in pages of the tour "brochure" who look anything like me are the poorly dressed "natives" in Africa. Hmmm...

I finish reading the narratives by detesting the motorcycle tourists for smiling back at me, saying na na na na-nah, rubbing it in that they have enjoyed an amazing adventure. They appear to be adding an exclamation point to my recent visit to the Museum of Natural History (down the street from me) that it is about as close as I’m ever going to get to visiting any place the brochure beckons the reader. Still, it’s a mesmerizing—albeit excruciating—way to dream, that is, if you can resist sinking into self-pity and masochistic thoughts of how you’ve clearly gone into the wrong profession and seriously need to make a quick couple of mil to make this mood go away.