Good, good, good, good Vibrations?

If you do not care much for metaphysical speculation, quit reading now. If, however, as so many who ride you speak in almost spiritual tones to describe the feeling you have when you ride, read on.

More and more scientific research in is providing empirical evidence for what spiritual traditions have claimed for millenia. Not always is science proving that which is claimed in the holy books of various traditions, but it is helping us to understand the why and wherefore of that which certain traditions have held as truth. For example, some of the laws which are found in the Jewish Torah or what Christians refer to as the Old Testament, are clearly understood today to be health related; foods and practices prohibited by certain of those laws we know today to be clearly unhealthy. Through observation and using the knowledge available at the time, the ancients recognized a certain relationship and thus created laws related to protecting members of their tribes.

Now we also know today that some of the established laws and beliefs were based on cultural norms not necessarily related to what we would deem as scientific, and we have discarded adherance to those beliefs, such as the Earth being 6,000 years old and the center of the universe.

With those caveats, let us consider what science and some spiritual traditions have to say about vibration, and combine it with some thought about motorcycles.

In the Hindu tradition it is believed that all creation - plants, animals, humans, everything - comes from the Primordial Vibration; in Sanskrit this concept is referred to as the Unstuck Sound or "the sound that is not made by two things striking together." One might also use this imagery related to vibration when considering the Muslim, Jewish, and Christian traditions which embrace the narrative that "God said" (speech pathology having taught us that speaking is in fact the result of vibration) as the prelude to the creation of all matter: "God said let there be light ...God said, 'Let us make humankind ..." and so forth.

In the material world we recognize that all ordinary audible sounds are the result of two objects in concert: vocal cords, waves against the shore, wind against the leaves, etc. In physics it is held that everything is the result of occilation or vibration; E = MC2 is the mathematical foundation indicating that all matter is an expression of energy (supposedly Einstein stated that "Everthing is vibration" though I have as of yet not discovered the original source quote).

What does this have to do with motorcycling? First, we know that motorcycles vibrate; since the advent of the self-propelled two-wheeled riding machine engineers have been seeking ways to reduce vibration to endurable proportions. Yet for all of us who ride, the "vibe" of the machine is in fact important. In an interesting book by Stephen L. Thompson entitled Bodies in Motion, the author sets out to explore this aspect of the rider-machine relationship, the response of the rider to the vibration produced by particular motorcycles . He argues against the assertion that motorcyclists ride only for social reasons and instead maintains that we ride for primarily psycho-biological reasons. He holds that while culture can induce one to first try riding a motorcycle, it is genetic heritage that causes one to experience the pleasure (he is not speaking here in sexual terms!) that many riders describe and thus keep on riding.

One must agree that at some level there must be something different about the rider who chooses to experience the viscissitudes of wind, rain, temperature, and the danger of riding a two-wheeled platform that is relatively prone to de-stablization. It certainly would not appear to be the most rational of decisions ... yet we ride. Why? And the answer "If you have to ask you would not understand" does not suffice for me, for I AM a rider and yet at times wonder why, even as I clamber into my gear and climb on the bike for yet another wet and cold sojourn.

That is why I was so intrigued by Thompson's thesis. We know riding is not a rational event, but is it necessarily an irrational event? Is there something simply non-rational, something one might even call spiritual, that results in such a choice? More and more science is experimenting with the interface between biology and spirituality; for example researchers are discovering that certain parts of the brain light up in response to practices such as meditation and prayer. It seems that some humans are hard-wired in such a way as to be more receptive to so-called spiriutal stimuli. Tomio Hirai has done much to map the brain in response to Zen Buddhist practices and simply because we can understand how something works does not mean that we have discovered the why or first cause. Hence my excitement about Thompson's thesis.

Alas, Thompson provides us only wth an intriguing thesis backed up by no real empirical evidence nor reasoning. His "book" is really a series of disconnected essays with a veneer of scientific research applied. Half the book is a series of charts that demonstrates the results of vibration testing on various bikes, conducted at Stanford University. The ultimate conclusion is that different bikes vibrate at different rates in different places.

No shit. I can put my seven year old grandson on my Harley, my Triumph, and my Kawi and he can tell me they feel different. I don't need two hundred pages (!) of appendixes from tests done at Stanford to tell me that.

And that is the disppointment. I think Thompson is on to something; in Zen Buddhism it is believed that any activity can result in the achievement of Enlightenment if only one pursues that activity with full mindfulness. So why not through motorcycling? How often have I heard motorcycling referred to as "the lazy man's Zen"? Perhaps it is the physical vibration of the bike that somehow triggers something in the brain that connects in ways we do not yet understand with that which we label "spiritual". I know in my own life I have had experiences on the bike that I would call spiritual, and I know that although I see value in all types or motorcycles, I do have my "default" preferences for riding and would be at a loss to explain exactly why. So perhaps differing vibrations from differing bikes do resonate in different ways with various people - although I would not entirely discount the social aspects in discussing why someone rides a particular bike.

So keep riding; maybe the Beach Boys were more right than they realized?

"I'm pickin up good vibrations,
She's giving me excitations,
Good good good good vibrations ...."

Image or Authenticity?

A couple of weeks ago I went to the International Motorcycle Show here in Seattle. I go every year as it is an opportunity to get out, see the some of the latest and greatest from the major manufacturers, and it is just fun to hang with some buddies.

Like most years, this show had displays of classic bikes which are always neat to see, lots of vendors selling all kinds of crap that I have lived without for years but now must have, and of course the plethora of outrageous bikes along with jaw-dropping prices.

A bike in latter category that gave me pause was a heavily tarted up $35,999 V-Twin Bagger, loaded with a comfort fit gel seat, fairing, backrest, grip warmers, every conceivable electronic device possible to load on a bike, a primo paint job, all topped off with a chromed skull emblem on the front of the fairing.

A bike with a chrome skull ... for $35,999? Anyone who could afford this bike probably does not live a skull lifestyle. I stood in front of that bike for a long time, thinking that a purchase such as this is about image, about the look, not the living. But goodness knows there is a great deal of image around motorcycling.

Years ago I was fed up with the ministry and was offered a job in sales with a deal of a major US motorcycle manufacturer. I was ready to dump the collar and don the chaps until the sales manager concluded his pitch to me by saying, "We don't sell motorcycles, we sell a lifestyle."

That's when some bells went off. I realized that if I was going to sell a "lifestyle" that I much preferred it to be one that comes through belief in something more than a material object that has built-in obsolescence. So the local church is my vocation and riding my avocation ... a decision I do not regret for one minute!

Recently I came across a website dedicated to thrashing all things Harley-Davidson and though the author is quite witty I thought some of his rants a bit extreme, especially as he claims that he does not care about image but just rides what he wants to ride. Which sounds good except that what he wants to ride is always a sportbike, which definitely has an image associated with it. I challenged him on this in an email and never got a response ...

But the truth is that in challenging him I was challenging myself as well. My first bike at age fifteen had nothing to do with a biker image; it was just the next step in extending my freedom. But isn't that something to do with image, with who I wanted to be?

Soon I came to love riding in and of itself; on my Long Rides five hundred mile days are minimal and it is an act of discipline for me when I am with buddies who love to stop and smell the roses. I take two or three classes each year to improve my riding skills, and although my default bike tends to be metric, I currently own a Kawi, a Triumph, and a Harley and appreciate each for what it has to offer. The only reason I don't own a sport bike is that after about five minutes of that hunched over position my middle-aged back is screaming at me ... but man, do I love the power and zip those devils possess!

So on the one hand I could claim that I don't care about image but yet ... in my heart of hearts, I know that I do care. When I was fifteen and riding my little Honda down the road and a dude on a chopped H-D gave me the upraised clenched fist in a sign of moto-brotherhood, I became part of a tribe and still have that image of unity burned in my memory. I love it when I am on the road and stop at a gas station and have some kid who is dying to get out of that one-horse town talk to me about his dreams. I love it when at that same gas stop some old guy will talk about the ride he had back in the day. I love it that my parishoners are tickled that their pastor rides a bike up the ramp to the front door of the church each day. When people ask me about my riding, I always make it clear that I commute every day, rain or shine (mostly rain in this part of the world!) and am not just a fair weather rider. And honestly, all of that is about image, at least to a degree.

So how do we differentiate between what we do for image and what is somehow authentic to our selves? I honestly don't have an answer ... perhaps it is a chicken and egg sort of question. Maybe we try on images, not unlike clothes, as we seek to determine who and what we really are. In my life I have known people who imagined themselves rebels or pioneers or laid back when in fact they were really quite traditional settlers who had little patience for that which was beyond their control! But they tried on the image for a while before becoming comfortable with who they really were, but in my opinion were often better for trying on that image (and here I am not talking about being some sort of gangster or bad ass biker, but folks who try the Nine to Five and find it does not fit, or the pseudo-Hippie who realizes he likes a regular paycheck).

I know that in my own life my struggle with image has in fact made me a better human being; the truth is that I am a pizza loving, beer drinking redneck; I grew up around a beer distributor so can be quite profane, patience is not a virtue I possess, and I still think flatulance is funny. These are not necessarily the top qualities one seeks in a pastor. But by modulating what some might call my "authentic self" with an image that is in fact important to my profession, I have become a better person. There is nothing wrong with discipline and in fact I think it may be quite neglected in our time.

So on the one hand maybe image is not all bad. Maybe image can help us extend our own boundaries, or become better people, at leat when we choose positive images. And while I have my doubts about the image of a chrome skull on a $35,999 bike, who am I to judge?

These are the Good Old Days

As a middle-aged Boomer, every now and then I get a hankering for something from "the good old days," a piece of nostalia from my youth. This craving is no doubt fed by watching such programs as "American Pickers" where every week I see something that reminds me of my long ago!

Like the memory of my first car, a 1964 VW Beetle, the first year the crank sunroof was available. The car was cheap, great on gas mileage for the time, easy for a sixteen year old to repair, and greatly extended my nomadic range... not to mention my date-ability. So the hunt was on and I anticipated some sort of nostalgic epiphany as my middle-aged self connected with my youthful self.

I followed up several leads, only to find junk at the end of the rainbow. All it takes is a couple of minutes to spot a cracked head, twisted frame, or some other malady that the seller is trying to pass on to an unsuspecting buyer. But finally I found a 1968 model in cherry condition with no major issues (you will always have some issue with a used vehicle). So my wife and I jumped in for a test run, drove up and down a few streets, accelerated, stopped, shifted gears, and the car continued to prove road-worthy. Finally we returned to the home of the seller, I thanked her for her time and we got in our car and drove away.

My wife was quite puzzled; "You said it was great?" "Yep," I responded. "It was great ... for a thirty-five year old car. But what a piece of crap to drive!" My nostalgia for youth had been superceded by my appreciation for 21st century technological improvements such as EFI, disc brakes, and power steering. Luckily I got that "Bug" out of my system BEFORE I bought it.

But it bit again a few months ago when I decided I needed something better than my KLR for commuting daily. Having learned at least a little bit from the Great VW Hunt, this time I decided to upgrade my nostalgia a bit and looked at motorcycles that had a retro look but kitted with modern technology. I focused on the Brit bikes that were the "must-have" of my youth, such as the modern Bonneville and the updated Royal Enfield. But even updated they were puny; when I twist the wrist, I like to go and when I squeeze the brakes I like to stop. I had become spoiled by all that modern tech has to offer and so the brain overrode nostalgia once again and I ended up with a Triumph Tiger 800, a relatively new model which is perfect for me.

All of this got me to thinking about nostalgia and about how often I hear "The times were so much simpler years ago; those were the good old days." No, the times were not simpler, YOU were simpler. In childhood and youth I got up, ate breakfast, went to school, played with my friends, ate lunch and dinner, watched some TV, went to bed and did little more than anticipate the next day. I was the simple one: my needs, wants, hopes and desires were focused in the moment and with the task at hand, which is actually very Zen like.


As I was riding to work on Christmas morning, I felt that way again. It was a lovely dry morning, the Christmas Eve services had been wonderful, my kids and grandkids are doing well, the roads were clear, and I felt that wonderful sense of simplicity wash over me. That is when it hit me. What made the good old days ... well, the good old days, were not things, but me. If I had different possessions back in the day, like if my first car had been a Corvair instead of a VW, then that is the car I probably would have been seeking. And if it was me that provided that wonderful sense of simplicity back then, it could be recovered, since it is not dependent upon a possession but an attitude. Simplicity is a state of mind, not a possession.


So maybe the lesson here is that THESE are the good old days.

Throttles

Long ago, when I took the Basic Rider Course through the Motorcycle Safety Foundation, the instructor, a retired motor officer, recited over and over again his belief that there was no such thing as an accident. His argument was that every accident was in fact the result of inattention and/or making poor decisions. We offered example after example and in each instance he could lead us to one final conclusion: trouble could have been avoided if the rider was simply more aware and thus more in control.

I can't say I liked his thesis, but I must admit I could not find a hole in it. Perhaps I did not like it because it placed responsibility on me! As I thought of my own close encounters (thankfully only one of which involved an actual collision) I kept reaching the same conclusion: the "accident" could have been avoided with increased awareness or a different decision.

As a result of his teaching, one of the games I play on my daily commute is "How much can I control the bike without using the brakes?" I accomplish this by using the throttle and clutch, trying to maintain safe following distances and approaches to traffic signals with subtle inputs with the throttle and downshifting to match rpm's to the throttle input, rather than a touching of the brake. It is simply a means of staying in control and acting, rather than re-acting, to potentially dangerous situations. It is one means by which I can affirm responsibility for my own riding and thereby avoiding the need to exclaim: "It was an accident!"

For example, as I look down the road beyond the vehicle immediately in front of me, if I see brake lights coming on from the cars down the lane I decrease throttle and downshift at the appropriate time; if I see a car approaching an intersection from my right, I watch the wheels move left in the lane while decreasing throttle thus giving myself time and distance to brake if necessary; if I find myself in the blind spot of another driver I either increase or decrease throttle to move out of the blind spot. It's all about awareness, anticipation, and subtle input.

It seems to me that such an approach to many emotional encounters might be valuable as well. How often has someone let loose with a barrage in anger only to later say, "I didn't really mean it." They were angry and couldn't brake fast enough to prevent the anger from coming out of their mouth. Throttle control - input - might have helped avoid the crash! It's all about looking ahead, acting rather than re-acting, and taking responsibility for one's own situation.

Maybe my instructor was right ... there are no accidents!

Adapting

Riding a motorcycle at high speed in a straight line is not hard; give me ten minutes and I can teach anyone who has ever ridden a bicycle to balance and accelerate. What is hard to develop is the ability to effectively read and ride curves and turns. A well trained rider can watch another rider take a curve or turn and tell whether that rider is a novice, a weekend warrior, or an experienced biker.

Like all skill sets, there is a standard taught by MSF courses, referred to as Outside-Inside-Outside, which simply means that as you approach say, a left hand curve, you enter the curve from an apex on the right side of the lane (outside), move towards the left side of the lane (inside) as you round the curve, and then accelerate towards the right side of the lane (outside) again. This process allows the rider to keep the machine in an upright a position as possible, which is the safest means to take a curve. While it may look cool to stay in the center of the lane at a constant lean, by so doing one reduces the contact patch of the tire on the road and is riding with less traction. And traction is what keeps us in control!

That having been said, as with all teaching this one comes with a caveat: You can't always maximize Outside-Inside-Outside and thus have to adapt. For example, what happens if there is gravel or a pothole somewhere on your perfvect line of travel? Do you stick with Outside-Inside-Outside and just run through the gravel or pothole? Of course not, for if you do you risk sliding, blowing a tire, losing control, and all the possible injuries that come from such events! The purpose of Outside-Inside-Outside is to keep the rider safe, but when adhering to the letter of the law could result in greater danger, you have to remember the spirit of the law and adjust. That adjustment might include not only picking a different line, but slowing down so as to maximize the safe entry as well.

Much of life is like that; we have general rules for living but at times we must adapt to new or unexpected circumstances. To adhere to one way of thinking is to create an idol, seeking to cram a universal concept into a specific circumstance, and that just does not always work. As the old proverb goes, "The tongue is soft and remains while the teeth are hard and fall out."

Grapes of Wrath II?

It was the end of this years Long Ride; a buddy and I hit the road early on Friday out of Ely, NV and we had a brisk but lovely ride together into Austion, where I turned north while he continued west. Folks call Highway 50 the "Loneliest Road in America" but trust me when I say there are far more empty roads in Nevada and Oregon! But I stray from my thoughts ...

First, two observations about signage in Oregon ... well, actually one observation. It sucks.

Point 1: coming out of McDermitt there is a sign saying "100 miles to next gas." I glanced down at my gauge and saw four bars ... four gallons. I am a bit of a ninny when it comes to gas, having literally coasted into a gas station several years ago, so I did not take this information lightly. But at the very worst consumption I have ever had that gave me 140 miles, so no problem. Of course about five miles later the fourth bar disappeared and that left me with 105 miles at worst ... still fine.

What no sign tells you is that about 85 miles into the journey you come to a junction and of course the 100 mile gas is off to the right, while I needed to head to the left. Son of a .... so anyway, I head fifteen miles to the right, for a total of 30 miles off track and the privilege of paying $4.50/gal for 85 octane. I could just see the monkey's grinning when I drove up ...

But I am back on track after about forty lost minutes.

Point 2: Hours later I come to another junction with the next highway I need, but of course I have been winding around back and forth, it is mid-day, and so I have no idea which way is north or south. I make a decision, stop and fill up with gas and ask how far to my next marker, and the fellow responds by pointing and saying "about 200 miles down the road." So off I go ... in the wrong friggin' direction. All along the way signs tell me I have the right road, but no indication of north or south, and as I said it was mid-day so I could not even use the sun as a guide. About fifty miles down the road I happen to glance at a sign from a cross street that DOES tell me which direction I am headed, which is of course the wrong way. So I whip around and start back ... another 100 mile detour. So on the longest day of this Long Ride I add an extra 150 miles to the trip. Moron. If it were't for bad luck I would not have any luck at all (and don't start on me about GPS ...).

Now, I am not one who thinks God meddles in our day to day lives, but every now and then I think God gives me a nudge to show me something new, which is actually the point of this tale. Throughout the day I had noticed far more folks at truck stops and gas stations than I have ever seen in all my years on the road; they were all moving from here to there looking for work. Throughout the day I chatted with them and wondered at this fact.

By 7:30 PM I was bone-tired after having traveled 844 miles and badly in needed to get off that bike. So I said to myself, "The next motel I pull over." Moments later I saw a sign for a motel: "Under New Management. Truckers welcome." Cool - truckers know value. So I pulled in and as I did so I noticed there were plenty of cars, some very nice but some ... not so much so, and only a couple of trucks. Nonetheless I asked about a room, was told there is one available for $30 and I quickly forked over the cash. Only then am I told my room is "around the back." Oh-oh.

I pulled around and was shocked by what I saw. All kinds of piece-of-crap cars, about 15 ratty looking little kids running around, and a scene right out of Grapes of Wrath. I got off the bike and chatted with some folks and found a world most of us don't know about ... the world of the working poor. These folks live in this dump (kinda clean but VERY well used) because that is what they can afford. Hard working folks ... low-skilled laborers, waitresses, you know the type. All looking for work, migrating from here to there, trying to take care of their kids. My wife wondered if since it was Friday it would be party night, but these are folks with real family values and by 9 PM everyone was indoors and they were putting the kids to bed. The AC was a joke so I had the windows open all night, and my room was on the second floor right next to the stairs. I didn't hear a single footstep all night. These were decent, hard-working folks who just wanted to do an honest days work, get paid a fair wage, and take care of their families.

There was no resturant within miles, so I broke out my emergency MRE and ate it, sharing the gum and cookies with some kids. Dirty and dressed in ragged clothes, they were normal kids just trying to have fun. And very polite - "Thanks, mister." Their parents were good people - not college educated or prepared to share a learned discourse on geo-politics, but folks with integrity who expected no one to take care of them.

I continue to spend a great deal of thought on this experience. I read that the market has fallen and I have lost most of my 2011 gains .... and I have three motorcycles in the garage and plenty of cash to take a two week wander with my friends. In fact I have enough cash that I can choose to spend $90 a night or $30 on a motel room. I am so privileged ... these folks don't have that luxury.

Our so-called leaders argue and fuss based on ideological perspectives and the latest election popularity polls instead of considering how this great country wastes such precious human resources. I listened to some "religious" TV the other day and heard how America is a Christian nation, and I almsot threw my coffee cup at the TV. How can we call ourselves "Christan" when we refuse to adapt to new economic realities and help the least among us find jobs and take care of themselves? Authentic Christianity is not the nonesense about homosexuality or individual rights, but about taking care of the least among us. At least that is what Jesus said, and it seems to me he should know.

From the files of "You're kidding me!"

The following is for your entertainment pleasure and should be consumed along with copious amounts of alcohol, which will make the tale quite palatable.

Having exahusted my search for a higher "umph" commuter bike with ABS (more accurately, too cheap to pay $12K for a higher "umph" with ABS fourth motorcycle) I did my reaserch and discovered I could increase both HP and torque by about 10% on my lovely little KLR, and more importantly drop peak torque by about 500 rpm's, if I purchased an aftermarket exhaust.

Once more I did my research and found two suitable candidates, the Jardine RT 99 or Two Brother's M7. I preferred the sound of what was purported to be the Jardine, so placed my order with said company.

About ABS I can do nothing for the KLR, but I can improve braking simply by changing out the OEM pads and replacing the rubber lines with braided ones. Said order was placed, I received confirmation via email, and the parts arrived as promised.

As to the exhaust, not a word. I tried for two days to contact the company, with no success. On the third day some poor sap answered the phone and I asked about my order. I was put on hold and when he returned he explained that the pipe was on back order. "How long for back-orders?" I queried. Again I was placed on hold, but to his credit he returned and said, "Well, actually we will not start manufacturing that pipe for another eight to twelve weeks."

You're kidding me!

Needless to say I cancelled that order, made some gentle suggestions about customer service, and headed on down to the local bike shop for the Two Brothers M7, which just happened to be on close-out for 50% off. Nice!

The Missus was off to San Diego to care for our newest grandchild as his mother goes back to work, so the weekend was free and I looked forward to the task at hand.

Saturday morning I was up early, had a stout breakfast, laid out the tools, reviewed my plan, and started to work.

Old exhaust off - no problem, just filthy from this nasty black stuff I ran through in the desert in Arizona. New exhaust on - no problem. Fired up the bike, more umph as promised and the sound is definitely a neighborhood irritant if I should arrive home late at night. Nice.

Now for the brakes. Bleed the line dry - no problem with my handy-dandy Mity-Vac bleeder. Remove the caliper and OEM pads, replace with new aftermarket pads, and replace caliper. No problem, all by the book.

Remove the old brake line, replace with new braided line (in Kawasaki green, of course), thread the line through all the various parts of the friggin' front end, hook up the banjo bolts. A bit of twisting for an old man to get the line where it needed to be, but no problem.

Now, according to Mr. Clymer, the last thing you do is open the master cylinder, remove any remaining fluid, and refill while bleeding. No problem. Except that the screw holding the cover on is made of putty and with a simple twist of my wrist I sheared the head off.

You're kidding me!

Mr. Universe I ain't; for that screw to strip so easily is a statement in poor quality control.

So it was off to Ace Hardware, where for $8 I purchase a titanium bit (I had already busted two bits trying to tap the friggin' screw) and a little reverse threaded goomer which is placed in the pre-drilled hole and then screwed out with a pair of pliers. Nice.

Instructions followed, the screw comes out. No problem.

So it's off to the local Kawi dealer to get a replacement screw. I was going there anyway to get a new air filter. Even thogh the OEM foam filter is reusable, mine was so filthy from Bud making me ride in that black shit that I thought I would give the new exhaust a fighting chance and buy a nice, new clean filter.

Arrive at Dealer, get filter and inquire about screw. Here is the dialogue:

Kevin: "Hey, I managed to shear off the head of the front master cylinder screw so I need a replacement."
Parts: "No problem."
(pause)
Parts: "Well, we don't carry those in stock."
Kevin: "I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood. Can you repeat that?"
Parts: "We'll have to order the screw."
Kevin: "OK, how long?"
Parts: "Seven to ten business days."
Kevin: "You're kidding me!"

So here I sit, beer in hand, KLR on stand, for seven to ten business days. The moral of the story: "Always have more than one motorcycle in your garage."

So when I sober up I think I will take a ride on my trusty Vulcan .... always have a Plan B.