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.

ATGATT

It is amazing what the mind can do, even (especially?) in times of danger.

A few weeks ago I took the four day course "Ride Like a Cop" offered by the Northwest Motorcycle School. The training consisted of various slow- and high-speed exercises and at the end of the four days we were tested against four benchmarks: high-speed braking and evasion; a timed slow-speed precision course; lock-look-lean (tight figure eights); and counter steering.

The high-speed braking exercise required that we enter a gate (a set of cones) at a miminum of 40 MPH and then come to a complete stop within 62 feet, all the while down-shifting into first gear, checking the rearview mirror, and then immediately turning left or right around an imaginary object stopped in front of us and pass through another gate without knocking over any cones.

I was doing well and all through the course had been trying to increase my entry speed. The precision drill looks neat and requires skill, but it is the braking and evasion that will save your life. The instructors had both praised and warned me that I was coming close to the edge (the edge being locking up the front tire). Feeling quite confident of my ability, I hit the gate at 48 MPH and pressed on the brakes ... too hard and too long on the front brake as it turned out.

One of my fellow students later said all he heard was a screech and turned to see me flying sideways off the bike ... at 48 MPH, according to the radar gun. At that moment time slowed down for me, and as my kevlar covered shoulder skidded along the pavement and my DOT approved helmet bounced off the blacktop, I thought to myself "Huh. This is why you buy good gear."

I was later told that I came up kicking and cussing at my own stupidity. The instructor immediately came over and asked if I was OK, to which I replied in the affirmative. Not a scratch. He then asked me if I knew what I did wrong, and I responded, "You mean besides crashing the @#&* bike?"

He later said that when I came off the bike I did a perfect shoulder roll. To which I must thank all the years of martial arts training. My martial arts instructors always said our most dangerous opponents would not be others, but ourselves. Who knew how right they were ...

I thought of this moment often during the past two weeks as I engaged in another summer Long Ride. Too many times I saw other riders with little or no gear on whatsoever. While in Sturgis I happened to see a man in shorts on a bike, with a three or four year old child in front of him and an eight or nine year old behind him, neither of whom had any gear on what-so-ever. Though I am not really a confrontational kind of guy, I turned around to have a word with him but he had disappeared by the time I returned. That man was an idiot and his own hubris will get him - or more tragically someone else whom he claims to love - hurt.

At another time I chatted with someone about wearing gear and he simply said "I don't plan to crash."

No shit. So who does? I certainly didn't, but it happened. I am an experienced rider and had been practicing that particular exercise under controlled conditions for four days. But nonetheless down I went, and good gear saved me from road rash and sprains at best to something potentially far worse. Far bigger surprises can happen in a nano-second while on the road and faced with so many other X factors.

None of us plans to crash, but we better be prepared if we do crash. This is true not just for motorcycling, but for many things in life. None of plans to lose a job, but we better be prepared if that crash comes; none of us plans to hurt others, but we better be prepared to respond if we do; none of us plans for all the hurts in life, but we better be prepared when they come, for they will.

ATGATT: All the Gear, All the Time. For motorcycle riders and for life.

Motos, Modernism, & Metaphors

Modernism is the name given to the period which began roughly with the Enlightenment, as rationality and science began to replace superstition and religion as the primary arbiter of truth. It really gained steam with the Industrial Revolution and served as the philosophical foundation for most of the Twentieth Century. But throughout that period Modernism had its detractors, those who argued against universal truths, until finally towards the end of the Twentieth and the beginning of the Twenty-first centuries a new school emerged, which is referred to as post-Modernism (which says more about what it is not, than what it is). Science itself has lent credence to this movement, as the new physics, specifically Chaos Theory, is demonstrating that at the sub-atomic level there appear to be no rules, or at least none which are detectable to us at the present. Modernity as a system of approaching ultimate truth is rapidly crumbling in the face of various truth claims from science, philosophy, and religion.

I have been struggling with this changing reality for some time, as it has a tremendous impact on my professional life. The Christian faith, so long held (or at least given lip service) as the arbiter of Ultimate Truth, has found itself challenged in this claim from various fronts, including from within.

And now, after having read a couple of recent essays dealing with motorcycles and Modernism, I find that my struggle is extended from my vocation to my avocation! Sigh ... is nothing safe!?

Let me share my pondering. In a blog written by Paul d'Orleans (The Vintagent), he discusses the history of the "industrial suit" or one piece utility suit (coveralls). First developed as a "boiler suit" in the early 1800's to protect workers who had to climb into the fire box of coal burning steam engines to clean them, it rapidly gained favor in many industries as a pragmatic tool and became a symbol of industrial progress. d'Orleans goes on to state that Adolf Loos declared the one-piece industrial suit as the ideal expression of Modern dress, devoid as it was of useless ornamentation. The industrial suit, connected with ideas of efficiency as demonstrated in Henry Ford's mass production techniques and the Bauhaus School of architecture ('form follows function') became the "model for humanity's salvation from itself."

Let's explore this a bit. Anyone who is an aficienado of Moto GP knows full well the advantage and value of the ubiquitous one-piece riding suit, contructed of the latest in space-age developed and wartime-tested material and armor. In virtually every race one can see one of the superb riders taking a spill at VERY high speeds, man and machine sliding along not inconsiderable distances; when the dust settles 99 out of 100 times the rider stands up, basically unscratched to bang his head at the mis-step that led to the fall.

And therein lay the rub, so to speak. While it is certainly true that on occasion the machine will fail and result in a wreck, most often it is the man that fails: a poorly chosen line, an overly optimistic entry speed, a moments hesitation, a little too much brake or many other acts of pilot error usually cause the spill. Man puts himself at risk through his own hubris.

That is the Modernist error - thinking that we can save ourselves from ourselves, if only we have the right knowledge, applied correctly. The Utopian ideal of which thinkers such as Charles Fourier, Comte de Saint-Simon, Marx, Engels, William Morris, and Edward Bellamy all wrote. Yet they all failed in the same fashion; the very concept of Utopia came from the work of future Chancellor of England Thomas More, who used it to describe a perfect world which does not exist!

What does this have to do with one-piece riding gear? One must differentiate between protection and salvation; the riding suit protects us from the results of our own hubris, but it does not save us from the hubris itself. The post-Modernist understands that salvation lay beyond the self, just as the motorcyclist understands that good gear protects, but only right understanding (how to pick a good line, how to apply brakes - information which comes from beyond oneself) combined with right action (actually picking a good line and actually applying proper braking - choices one makes) saves.

Leadership & Group Riding

When I lived in Arizona I was part of the Black Mountain Motorcycle Club, a group of folks dedicated to having fun and riding safely. Group rides were always well organized, planned, and carried out with maximum fun and participation the goal. Ride Captains had scouted the routes prior to our group ride, rally points were established to make sure that if someone fell behind they were not lost, and if the group consisted of a large number of bikes (which was often the case)you were assigned to a smaller, more manageable group of ten-twelve riders.

Having relocated up here to the Seattle area some nine months ago, I have really missed the camaraderie of a club. Plus since I really don't know the area at all, I thought it would be great to connect with other riders who could show me around.

I looked around for a club and the one that caught my eye was affiliated with a local moto-store; although the store sells just one brand of bike, they are smart marketers and have a group which is open to everyone who is interested. They of course offer regular test rides of their bikes in hopes that you will eventually buy their brand, which is actually kind of fun.

I kept waiting for good weather to sign up for a ride, but finally decided that if I continued to wait for good weather then I would never ride with the group, so I signed up and headed out last weekend.

The weather wasn't bad, the scenery was lovely, the people were nice, but the group riding discipline was AWFUL! Probably 2/3 of the bikes were high-end sport tourers (that BMW K1600 GTL is absolutely gorgeous and transcends the mere sobriquet 'motorcycle' as it is something else ... but I guess it should be at $30,000+), with a couple of bigger cruisers (my VN 1600 and a dude on a Honda Rune ... a beautiful, funky bike with a wheel base about as long as my chevy), and a couple of smaller bikes - a V-Star and a V-Strom (both 650 cc's).

Anyway, all 17 of us gathered at the store, we were handed a sheet with directions, and then it was basically every man for himself. No real ride captain, no sweep, no smaller groups, and no rally points along the way. The leader pulled out of the parking lot and the friggin' race was on. I got cut off at a stop light with about half the pack behind me (figures the AZ guy with no GPS and no clue where he is going gets put in lead) but once we got through the city and on to the highway another guy whizzed past me (for which act I was actually quite grateful, as he had GPS and I was glancing down at poorly written directions in small font) and seemed to know where he was going, so I just twisted the throttle and kept up.

I don't know if these guys have ever had any group ride training; no hand signals, the leaders just zipped out or around other vehicles with no thought to the folks behind them, no use of good intervals or staggering, poor use of lanes, and many took curves at VERY high rates of speed. I can carve as good as the next guy on a cruiser, but there is no way on God's green earth I could keep up with the speed the sport touring bikes were holding through those blind and unfamilier curves. I've had enough pucker moments in my life, thank you very much! So I had to use every bit of track day training & technique I have ever learned and a lot of straight-away throttle just to keep up ... and you can imagine what it was like for those poor guys on the smaller bikes, as well as others with little or no training.

We went to this one beautiful spot overlooking Skagit Bay (the road up the mountain was narrow and pretty hairy, with tight switchbacks and decreasing radius turns - a neat technical piece of riding) and after parking all spread out kind of looking around when suddenly the "leader" (an employee of the store) and a few guys mounted up with no warning and headed down the mountain and on to the resturant! So the rest of us hopped on our bikes and headed down as well ... hoping for the best.

This was not a group ride; this was a pack headed in the same direction. There is a great difference in life between the two assemblies and I think we have forgotten that reality in America. We have confused individuality with autonomy, and thus lost the ability to self-differentiate which often leads to a herd mentality. At first I tried to keep up with the "leaders" but quickly realized that so doing would probably get me hurt. I decided that they could call me a punk if they so desired, but I was not going to get killed just for bragging rights while doing something stupid. Looking at the faces of some other folks I had to wonder if they had not succumbed to the herd mentality and survived mostly through luck and superior machinery that kept them from killing themselves.

Leaders have a moral obligation to act in the best interests of the whole; ripping out ahead of others because you like to do it or just for fun is irresponsible and thoughtless. While leaders in every endeavor in life must be out in front, blazing the trail and establishing new goals, they must never get so far ahead of the community that by so doing they endanger others. True leaders move forward in the manner best suited for the whole; true leaders share expectations with others. If a ride is not really a group ride but the chance to show off one's ability, then say so in order for others to make free choices about participation. There is nothing inherently wrong in going fast and pushing your limits; it only becomes wrong when you do not allow others to make informed choices on their own.

Leaders don't show off nor do they lead others into blind and unfamiliar territory for which they are unprepared. Leaders are not leaders when those behind them do not trust that choices made are in the best interests of the whole. Morality dictates not in constraining oneself to the least common denominator, but nurturing and protecting the most vulnerable. A group - any group of any size, whether a moto-club or nation - that neglects that rule has by definition become immoral.

Guess I'll be looking for another riding group ....

How Big is Too Big?

Some buddies and I have been giving thought to the question: "Generally speaking, if you could only own one motorcycle, what would it be?" We are not talking about manufacturer (that debate been beat to death) but rather about type and size of engine. We have gone ‘round and ‘round, but having ridden on the wide roads of AZ for several years and now with a whole eight months of commuting in an urban center under my belt, I personally keep coming back to ... "It depends."

It depends on what type of riding will be primary for the rider, as well as the location in which s/he is riding. If you are city type with lots of commuting, then a smaller displacement, lighter weight bike is definitely the way to go. As much as I love my VN 1600 Cruiser and as great as it is on that 5,000 mile long ride each summer, it is a ponderous beast in city traffic, especially on hilly terrain. I often practice tight maneuvers at slow speed and am reasonably adept, but flickable this Kawi ain't. So, while I would love a bit more torque out of my KLR 650, it is great in traffic and with the high center I have on more than one occasion jumped a curb and parked next to a building, avoiding the cost of a parking meter.

As a result of these experiences I have come to the conclusion that if one is going to have a single, all-purpose bike, something between 650 and 900 cc's is probably optimal. Light enough for traffic, big enough for longer cruises. After a couple of decades of emphasis on Brit Twins that ran in the 500 to 650 cc range (Marlon Brando rode a Triumph 6T in The Wild One) and with the Harley 74 ci (1200 cc – think Peter Fonda and Easy Rider) considered an absolute bad-boy monster, the introduction of a 750 cc bike was considered HUGE to the average rider. Remember that classic long distance trips such as Robert Pirsig’s famous Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (Honda Superhawk CB77 – 305 cc’s) and Ted Simon’s Jupiter’s Travels (Triumph Tiger 100 – 500 cc’s) were made on pretty small displacement bikes.

This of course is in opposition to the American standard of “bigger is better” but how big is big enough or, dare one even whisper it, too big? A modern liter sport bike can generate over 70 HP and run a quarter mile in 12 seconds, right out of the box. A BMW R1200 RT can produce 109 HP with 88 ft. lbs. of torque! Either of those, along with a list of others as long as my arm, will get you where you want to go with speed and style, or kill you in a New York minute. But a 2200 or 2300 cc bike? At what point does a motorcycle turn into a Frankenbike?

But maybe excess is the lesson for the day. Experts agree that the current economic recession is due in large part to a bigger and more is better gluttony, at both the individual and corporate levels. How many square feet in a house are enough? How much money is too much? How much credit is dangerous? Just how much can you squeeze workers before they pop?

Gluttony and greed are not limited to food or money but have to do with insatiable appetites. Winston Churchill pointed out that we shape our buildings and then they shape us; Sherry Turkle argued that in the 21st Century we shape our technology but then our technology shapes us. Is that also true with motorcycles? Is there a point at which we lose control and allow our appetites to own us? And if our appetites own us, who is consuming whom?

Welcome Back!

The weather has turned better (not great, just better) in the Seattle metro area so we are starting to see more bikes on the road. To this reality I have three distinct and parallel reactions:

1) Welcome back, it's great to see you!
2) Where have you sissy's been for the last eight months?
3) Oh-oh.

Now let me unpack each response.

WELCOME BACK! It's always great to see more riders on the road. I pulled up behind two other riders at a stop light the other day and it was fun to head down the road as a group, something I have not done in quite a while. And now I often find riders at the supermarket or coffee shop and take the opportunity to chat, discuss bikes, and get to know folks in this region, to which I am still a newbie.

WHERE HAVE YOU SISSY'S BEEN FOR THE LAST EIGHT MONTHS? With daily commuting in all types of weather comes a certain arrogance; having endured rain, sleet, ice, hail, snow, and all the crap that comes with it, such as freezing one's jujubes off and having to pry one's fingers off the handlebars, one tends to romanticize one's Moto Creds.

OH-OH. The truth is that motorcycle skills are perishable; that is, if one does not ride regularly and/or practice certain skills, those skills will diminish. Any idiot can ride in a straight line at 70 MPH; only a skilled rider can manage stop and go commuter traffic at 5-10 MPH. Basics such as throttle management, picking an appropriate line, and carving curves at a decent speed must be re-learned to a degree.

So we are now in what I would term the Danger Zone. Folks who have not been on bikes in several months have checked the tires, filled the tank, zipped up the leathers, loaded momma on the back and are hitting the road. But too many of them forget that their skills have gone rusty; just like a fifty-five year old who thinks he can do everything he could do when he was twenty-five, they imagine that they can pick up right where they left off at the conclusion of the last riding season. But they can't.

I ride every day and every day I practice figure eights, tight turns, and weaving through parking lots and the truth is that some days I am really on and some days not so much so. Thus it is fair to say that one who has not ridden in several months may not be at his or her best performance level.

All this makes me wonder what other skills that we imagine are up to par have in fact diminished. Skills like listening, relating to others with compassion, or sensitivity to others. Humans are by nature self-interested. This is important for survival and not necessarily immoral. What is immoral is when naturally self-interested persons become unable to transcend themselves when appropriate so as to recognize the needs and concerns of others.

There is nothing wrong with choosing not to ride in inclement weather; in fact it may show a certain intelligence that I appear to be lacking! However, to imagine oneself a better rider than one actually is can result in putting oneself - and others - in harms way, and that is by definition immoral. And so it is with many aspects of life; living as a moral person does not come easily and requires daily practice.

Pre-programming

Many years ago when I was young enough to play Little League Baseball, I had a coach who worked very hard at teaching us not just how to play the game but to use lessons from the game for life. One of the first things he taught us was to think with about what we would do if the ball was hit to us in our position in the field. For example, I was a first baseman, so if someone was on first and a ball was hit to me, I was to "pre-plan" what I would do with that ball - would I tag the runner, touch the bag, throw it to second, etc.

When I began receiving professional motorcycle training I got the same advice, though with the advent of computers and new studies of the brain it was now called "pre-programming." But regardless of the name, the principle was the same: the best way to avoid trouble is by being prepared. For example, if you are riding along in traffic with proper following distance and you see a car coming from a side street and the wheels are still rolling - if they try to sneak into that space between you and the car in front of you, what will you do? Hint: accelerating, laying on the horn, and flipping them the bird is probably not a good strategy.

Last weekend I took a class with a former Motor officer trainer; we worked on control at slow speed through manipulation of throttle, clutch, and rear brake as we rode through various course layouts. There were eight of us and at one point we were broken down into two groups of four as we practiced riding figure eights. The class consisted of riders of various skill levels, and with that many machines in such a small space, something was bound to go awry. Experience has shown over and over that when riders get a bit nervous they tend to look at the problem and grab brake; in a figure eight this translates into a low side to the inside of the circle and with four bikes in tight formation if one goes down the odds are pretty good that everyone will go down.

I have enough experience dropping my bike without any help from others, so I asked myself: "What am I going to do when bikes start tumbling?" Once again, experience has indicated that people at slow speed will grab the front brake, which means they will fall towards the inside of the turn. So the answer was simple: "Keep your friggin' hand off the front brake and turn sharply to the outside."

We were having a ball but sure enough one guy lost RPM's, grabbed the front brake and went down, followed in quick succession by two other bikes repeating the same mistakes. I was the guy left standing because I turned outside and throttled away from danger.

Now, I would like to say that it was my superior skill and reflexs that helped me avoid the pile-up, but that would be a lie. I have pretty good reflexes for a middle-aged guy, but they are certainly not what they were when I was 25 years old! The truth is that I simply used my brain and pre-programmed my response. When you are an old dude you gotta' compensate with your brain for lack of physical ability!

This notion of pre-programming has many applications. In my professional life I often find myself asking "What is the worst possible outcome of a certain action?" and adjusting my behaviors accordingly. Too often we let emotion over ride intellect and honestly that is a poor use of resources. We have been given this amazing tool called the brain which can be used to keep us out of serious trouble, if we only use it. Too often we resort to a sort of "Yeehaw" default setting in our actions; we need to re-program by pre-programming. Taking a tumble at three miles per hour is not a real serious problem; getting run over at fifty miles an hour, or making a decision that will negatively affect the rest of your life is a serious problem.

Middle-aged Adolescent

When I was in High School I would on occasion perform an act that required forethought and consideration; on other occasions I would act as a typical adolescent male, by which I mean I would do something impulsive and stupid that lacked any rational explanation. Examples of the latter were usually followed by my mother shaking her head and saying somewhat wistfully, "Sometimes a man, most times a boy." The advantage of aging is that with enough life experience behind you (read: reflection upon stupid stuff you did), the middle aged man is better able to make decisions based on rational thought and consideration of logical consequences rather than impluse and a "Cowabunga!" mentality.

Better able does not translate into always.

A few days back I was cleaning and lubing the chain on my bike and noticed it seemed a bit loose. No problem: loosen the adjusting screws and axle nut, slide the wheel back a bit, retighten everything and you are good to go. Except the axle nut would not budge. I tired every wrench I had and even bought a bigger one using a pipe for leverage. No good. Not too many years ago my response would have been to get a hammer, yet larger wrenches, more pipe, and pushed-pulled-banged until the I sheared the nut or twisted my back. But experience has taught me that I would never get the bloody nut loose, so I simply called up a buddy who has a pneumatic impact wrench, set a time to load the bike up on his lift, and all was well. The middle aged man acting upon experience and rationality.

It was a glorious sunny day (rare this time of year in Seattle), the appointed hour came, and I rode the bike over to my buddy Pat's house. We pulled his project bike off the lift and prepared to put my bike on. Now, I know that one should not try to ride a bike onto a lift - it is simply too narrow for good balance and if you don't get the throttle just right the momentum can actually push the lift forward. This is why professional's never ride a bike on a lift - they wheel it on. But do you think those facts stopped me? Nah. The middle-aged adolescenct acting out of some ancestral gene labeled "Stupid - remove through evolutionary process". Except there seems to be a flaw in evolutionary theory, as it appears you can never evolve out of stupid.

So I fired it up, let out the clutch, rode up on the lift, couldn't quite get the back wheel over the lip, gunned it again and set down my foot - remember I said that lift's are narrow? - which of course slid off the side, causing me to lose momentum and balance. I looked at Pat as I toppled in slow motion and very calmly said, "I'm going over." You could just read it on his face: "No kidding." He later claimed that I was already shooting up the lift before he could suggest this was not a good idea; I personlly think he just wanted to see me do something stupid...

Anyway, over I went. Now, Pat has a small work space crammed with cabinets, half-disassembled motors, and various tools and parts laying around. There is only one small space in which one could fall and not smash oneself against various sharp objects. I landed in that very spot. It is said that God watches after young children and fools. I am proof positive of that proverb. We picked up the bike, levered it up on the lift, strapped it down and got to work. And as we were working, I swear I heard a heavenly voice: "Sometimes a man, most times a boy."

Yep.

Don't Do Anything Stupid ...

The three most valuable pieces of advice I have received during many years of motorcycle training are "Assume everyone is trying to kill you," "It's not personal," and "Don't do anything stupid."

Actually they all go together.

With millions of vehicles of all shapes and sizes on the road, driven by millions of folks with varying degrees of experience, ability, and attention, it is a wonder there are not far more accidents. At any given moment there are more distractions effecting one's driving skills than can be counted: road and weather conditions, emotional turmoil , bio-rhythms, amount of sleep, a need to urinate ... all impact one's ability to navigate a three ton missle on wheels.

And that ain't good.

So Admonition #1 is simply the realization that motorcycles are small, cars and trucks are big, and folks are probably not paying as much attention to their driving as they ought to be. Lack of attention equals bonehead moves, which put your life in danger; ergo,Assume everyone is trying to kill you.

Which brings us to Admonition #2: It's Not Personal. Just because folks are not paying attention does not mean they hate you personally. In fact the problem is that they do not even recognize that you exist! Human beings - each and every one of us - are pretty self-absorbed, and I mean that as an observation rather than a judgement. We get caught up in the multitude of things listed above and we just don't pay attention to others. But if while tootling along on a beautiful day some knucklehead drifts into your lane while chatting on a cellphone, makes a left turn in front of you because the friggin' GPS told him to, or travels at 29 MPH in a 40 MPS zone trying to figure out which street is the one he wants, it feels quite personal. Especially if said actions result in you having to lock up the breaks, swerve off the pavement, or arrive late at an important meeting.

Here is where we key Admonition #3: Don't do anything stupid. Which is hard when your adrenaline is pumping, your whole body is shaking, and your emotional mind is bent on payback. Flipping someone off seems like the minimal appropriate response and thoughts of putting a series of steel-toed boot prints along the offending car's doors seems quite rational. But discipline is the key here, as one must let the rational mind over-ride the emotional mind. Nothing, I repeat, absolutely nothing, will be gained by either of the above responses or anything in-between. Feeling pissed off is an appropriate response to almost getting whacked by some thoughtless, self-absorbed chump. Getting into a fight, causing damage that could result in your arrest, or risking another accident because of a pride-filled, adrenaline-fueled act is stupid.

Bruce Lee often spoke of emotional content when speaking of the martial arts, and by that he meant you use the energy generated by a negative experience to acheive a positive result. There is no positive result in continuing the cycle of stupidity or violence.

The same is true in all of life; often we find ourselves in situations where we need to remember that actions that effect us are often not meant to be personal, even if they are harmful. We cannot control the actions of others, only take responsbility for ourselves by both watching out for the harmful behaviors of others and remembering not to do anything stupid ourselves. So we choose to yield to reality, shake off the anger, and live to ride another day.

It's not easy, but nobody said riding, or life, was easy!

That's No Bull!

It was along Highway 50 in Nevada - "America's Loneliest Road" - that I pulled into the sho' nuff' honest-to-God old fashioned roadhouse. You just don't see those any more, and after a hot and dry hundred and fifty miles and a visit to the Shoe Tree (which I have learned was just cut down by vandals), I was ready for a break and some lunch.

The building was a Hollywood set and the staff was right out of central casting: the barkeep was a skinny, bowlegged cowboy with a handlebar mustache on his face and a "Howdy" on his lips. The cook was a pretty little gal with a ready smile and a fast hand on the grill. I sat down and ordered a burger and a root beer and with a "Comin' right up" the slab was on the fire and the taters in the grease. By the way, you can call me a sissy but I follow the "no booze when you are riding on two wheels" rule, as given the number of cagers out there who seem to have as their singular purpose in life the goal of running me over, I have enough diffculty staying alive without adding my alcohol addled brain to the mix.

So I drank my sody, watched Ms. Grill Gal work her magic on my meal and listened as a city slicker hit on her. There was some construction going on down the road and some pretty boys from DownTown were pretending to be roughnecks. Funny. She handled him with grace and charm and the song "Brandy" by Looking Glass kept going through my mind (listen to it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N-tRXewCAmU). Following this delightful entertainment my meal came, I chowed down with gusto, and had fun people-watching as other folks slowly drifted in.

After licking my plate clean of any possible trace of french fries (a rare treat for this middle-aged, pre-hypertensive white boy) it was time for this Mysterious Stranger to empty his bladder, wash his hands, and head off into the Sunset.

I asked Cowboy Bob behind the bar to direct me towards the toilet; he pointed to the next room and said "It's just behind the pool table, to the left." So I headed on over to the next room, opened the door to the left of the pool table and just as I stepped in I thought to myself, "Funny, there's a bull on that door over there but this one here has a cow on it."


You ever those moments when even as the brain is screaming important information you still go ahead and do something stupid? Those moments are getting more frequent for me - I guess as you age the doggone processor slows down.

So of course as the door closed behind me I was standing in a sparkling clean, pink-frilly, not a friggin'-urinal-in-sight bathroom. I had, in all my leather clad, motorcycle riding, masculine glory, just stepped into the ladies room, clearly marked by a sign with a Cow ... not a Bull.


Merde.


Great. City-boy don't know the difference between a cow and a bull. Except he does, having been shipped out to a farm for a year. But that doesn't do any good if city-boy's perspective is different from Cowboy Bob. My understanding of "behind the pool table" was different from that of the proprietor of the establishment and I had just followed instructions ... obviously incorrectly, much to my consternation.

I now had a decision to make: stay and go, or go and go. Scheise. I thought to myself, "I'm here and nothing's going to change that fact - I can't unmake my decision. And how much worse could it get (I made sure to lock the door to avoid it getting any worse)?" So I lifted the seat (wife and daughter's have trained me well), finished the business at hand, flushed and closed the seat and lid (did I ever say how scared I am of wife and daughters?), stalled for time as I washed my hands and then finally opened the lock and prepared to walk into a room full of smirking derision.

But nothing happened. No looks, no laughs, no snarky comments, not even a glance my way. And as I moseyed out the door (you always mosey in a western Roadhouse), I was reminded of two things: 1) generally speaking, most people don't give a hoot about the dumb stuff you do so long as it ain't dangerous; 2) clear communication is EVERYTHING!

Relative to number 1, most of us worry a great deal about things that just don't matter. Because our world revolves around us, we assume that everyone else's world revolves around us as well. But it just ain't so ... their worlds revolve around them, so about 999.9 times out of 1000, other folks really aren't paying attention.

As to number 2, when training in grad school we role-played techniques for establishing clarity in communication: repeating, re-phrasing, double and even triple checking .... all to make sure that we really understood what the other person was saying. We practiced these technique because communication is actually a very complicated process involving numerous opportunities for screw up between what is actually meant and what is heard and understood. Language, perspective, inflection ... a million tiny concepts go into communicating effectively, and if any of those gets misunderstood, the whole thing gets wacky. Even something as simple as walking into the correct restroom.

Kind of like the NASA project a few years ago, when they forgot to convert metric measurements into SAE measurements and missed their target by - oh, about a million miles!

This was a great reminder of how important clarity in communication really is, whether one is at the negotiating table, trying to understand another's point of view, or just trying to find a toilet.

So, stomach full, bladder empty, dignity somewhat rumpled and humility re-established, I continued my mosey to the bike, fired it up, DID NOT drop it in the parking lot and headed on down the road, laughing at my own foibles and thankful for a beautiful day. You see, if on any given day the worst communicaton error you make is to walk into the wrong toilet, it's a heck of a good day.

Not All Who Wander are Lost

... that is a bumper sticker given to me some years ago in recognition of my joy in traveling unguided, with only the foggiest of destinations in mind and little in the way of navigational equipment. This in spite of the fact that my proclivity for directional confusion is well known in my family. Take my wife blindfolded to any state in the Union, spin her around, and she can find north. I have a hard time finding north with a compass on a sunny day and have pretty much been lost everyplace in the US and many places in Europe. But I always find my way home.

It's kind of like the story attributed to the frontiersman Davy Crockett who, when asked if he had ever been lost, replied: "No, but I was a might be-wildered for three days one time."

We live in an age where one should never get lost, what with MapQuest, Google, Smart Phones and GPS. But not all who wander are lost ... and not all who follow the soft voice transmitted from a GPS are found. I read a study that says we humans tend to respond in a positive fashion to a human voice and thus are wont to do whatever the voice says, in spite of all evidence suggesting that so to do can lead to disaster. Add this to the fact that we are dependent upon technologies and you have some of the most bone-headed moves imaginable, like driving into a canal in front of you, down private roads clearly marked "DANGER" and turning into trees because the voice told you to Turn Right, Now!

The truth is that as humans we have developed automatic responses for dealing with the vast amount of information that comes our way; we cannot possibly process it all in such a way as to keep us safe, and so we default to tried and true methods of coping. But by so doing we often become captive to our creations, and they slowly begin to create us. The more embedded we become to technologies like GPS the less able we are to be reflective about their impact on us. The end becomes pre-determined by the means.

This is not a diatribe against modern technology or the use of GPS! There are times when it is great to simply plug a destination into to your GPS and get a route. And although I have heard horror stories to the contrary, I have found MapQuest to be pretty accurate.

But when I hit the road every summer, I just want to wander a bit. I have found some of the neatest people and places, seen some great sites and had wonderful conversations, when I was "lost." Lots of fascinating sites are not listed in any guidebook, like the broken down and shuttered bar in Mississippi where I stopped to eat my lunch one day and discovered a plaque on the wall, rusty and dusty, announcing that the birth of a famous blues group began right there. Or the fellow in some grease spot in New Mexico, who drank his malt liquor at 8 AM and told me about how he had kicked Troy Donahue's ass back in the 1950's for making a pass at his wife. Cool stuff ... and it never would have happened if I had not wandered into those places.

There is a time to be found and a time to be lost ... we just have to discern the difference.

TC Bank- Dream Rangers

If picture is worth 1,000 words, then this short video is worth more than I can write in a lifetime; it is the heart of Mu-shin Riding! Dream on ...

Slow in, Quick out

I am one of those folks who likes to head into a new project at full throttle. When starting a new job I am energized and excited and generally spend an incredible amount of time and energy reading, learning, reflecting, developing a plan, and then acting. And generally that approach has served me well.

But as with so many strategies in life, a quick entry is not always the best approach. Sometimes you have to take it slow (what ever that might mean within a particular context), ease into the project, and then accelerate out. That is particularly true when you are entering some unknown territory, just like you do when riding through a curve.

Twenty-five percent of all motorcycle accidents involve only a single vehicle (nothing but the motorcycle) and 3/4 of those accidents involved over-braking or sliding the bike on the road, generally in a curve. Stated simply that means that the dirver entered the curve way too hot, panicked, grabbed the brake, and ended up in "collision with a fixed object" (DOT speak for "on a beautiful day with no one around the idiot was not paying attention and rammed his bike against the guardrail-road-telephone pole-etc.").

One of the most exciting parts of riding a bike is taking the curves at speed; there is a definite adrenalin rush as you lean the bike into the curve. That's fun. But there is also a rush when you smack your face onto the pavement or freak out and fixate on that wall that is drawing ever closer. That's stupid. The only real pucker moment I have had riding at speed was when I was getting cocky and entered a curve way too hot and realized that I needed more lean in the bike than my skills would probably allow me to achieve. I started looking at the wall as it got closer and closer, and it was only through the shear discipline affected by the teaching from good instructors that I tore my eyes away from the wall, looked down the road, and arrived home safe and sound ... though not without a bathroom stop prior ...

Over and over again instructors hammer into us: Slow in, Quick out. Watch the pros and you see this pattern every few seconds as they run the course. And these are the big boys and girls, folks with incredible skill riding machines that have been tested and re-tested and fine-tuned to travel safely at maximum lean through curves. But they slow down (relatively speaking) as they enter and then accelerate out of the curve: Slow in, Quick out. Experience has taught them the prudence and pragmatism of this approach, as if you want to win you have to finish, and a crash is not the kind of finish that leads to winning. It's a long race which is won not in any single curve but in prudent control of many curves.

And in normal riding, Slow in means paying very close attention to the posted speed limits for curves; they are not posted there just to piss people off or in an attempt to reduce personal freedom, but to keep everyone as safe as possible. The regulations are there to help, not hurt.

One of the hardest things to teach anyone who is excited about his/her profession is Slow in, Quick out. Most of us, when we come out of our educational programs, think we know it all (or just about all of it) and are ready to take on the world. Certainly this is true for clergy and I suspect the same principle applies to all professions; we are ready to go and tend to enter very quickly, certain that we can handle it. And sooner or later we find that we are moving way to fast for our abilities and either get lucky and avoid a crash ... or not. In my own life it has taken a long, long time to learn how to apply the principle of Slow in, Quick out to my profession. It's a long race which is won not in any single curve but in prudent control of many curves.

I personally believe that a contributing factor to the current economic crisis is the failure to apply this Slow in, Quick out concept appropriately. In an ever accelerating material world the demand for enormous and immediate profit over-ruled prudence and any sense of long range thinking. Enter fast and Exit faster seemed to be the operant norm. And riders of any skill level will testify that sooner or later you over reach with only one option left: a crash.

In riding it's one thing to make choices that - at least theoretically - involve only your own life. I say theoretically because the truth is that we all exist in relationship and any decision I make will have an effect on others. And ultimately there is no excuse for making choices that involve the lives of other innocent folk, like passengers, other riders, some guy walking his dog, or anyone else on the road. Such reckless behavior is immoral, all protestations of individual freedom aside. My freedom ends where it impacts the freedom of another, and crashing into someone else is a definite impact.

The reckless behavior of large businesses and the dismantling of appropriate reguations designed to protect people led to a crash from which many of the drivers emerged relatively unscathed even as they left others devastated in their wake. It is as though the rider of a motorcycle entered a curve far faster than safe for circumstances, hit a slick spot and went into a slide, but was able to dismount the bike as it careened through a crowd of people. Slightly scruffed up they could yell that the slick spot was not their fault (or that 'somebody' should have posted a warning!) and escape prosecution even as their insurance paid for the replacement of the bike. It is irresponsible and immoral but perfectly legal.

Slow win, Quick out. That's what not only wins the long race but keeps others safe as well.

Perishable Skills

Every rider will tell you that getting a motorcycle running at high speed in a straight line is not a problem - all the dynamics of physics and engineering reinforce the natural desire of a bike to head in a straight line. Within five minutes I can teach anyone who is able to ride a bicycle how to control the throttle, clutch and brake and get rolling down the road.

Slow speed manuevers on the other hand, are where we separate those who love to ride from the weekend warriors, since at slow speed one loses all those wonderful dynamic forces which keep you upright while roaring down the road at full throttle. So those who love to ride and seek to improve ability (and thereby increase average life expectancy) constantly train at what are referred to as "perishable" skills.

Perishable skills are just what they sound like; skills which although once learned and perhaps even mastered, perish over time without practice. One would think, "How hard can it be to make a u-turn on a little motorcycle?'" And the answer, from every rider who has grabbed brake and fallen, or had to stop and push the bike back in what is in effect a three point turn, is: "Harder than you imagine!"

Because the dynamics of speed, gyroscopic and centrifugal forces disappear and are replaced by gravity, it requires great finesse to turn a 750 pound beast (or a 400 lb lightweight for that matter) at slow speed without dropping it because the bike's natural tendency is to fall in the direction of the turn, which is helpful when navigating a curve at 5o MPH but a real pain when trying to manuever around a parking lot at 5 MPH.

So at every opportunity I practice u-turns, tight circles, stop & goes, or swerves. The Church is located in dowtown Bellevue, WA next to a big parking lot and every morning before I park the bike for the day I make it a point to perform several u-turns between parking spaces and tight circles around a light post. No doubt observers wonder if I have lost my mind but it is a simple and convenient way to keep up my skills. And having dumped my bike on more than a few occasions at slow speed (once even standing still, before I had turned the engine on), I figure I need to keep up my skills!

And I wonder what other skills I possess that are perishable without practice? Listening, for example. Not just hearing but really listening, with all my senses. Or caring. If you don't care long enough, can you reach a point where you can't care? And playing; how long has it been since I just played with no worry about scores, or winning or losing?

We are given so many gifts and so many abilitie. I wonder how many we squander for lack of practice ...

Carpe lux Solis!

One of the most obvious advantages to living in Arizona is Aeterna lux solis - eternal sunshine. Bike dirty and need a good cleaning? Sunny, warm and dry out today, the perfect combo for cleaning up the ride? No problem ... do it today or don't, because tomorrow will be much the same. A re-run of "Big Trouble in Little China" playing on TCM for the umpteenth time? Hey, the bikes can wait until tomorrow. Livign in Arizona for six years I got pretty comfortable cleaning the bikes when I felt like it rather than when the weather offered me the brief opportunity. What a luxury!

The same is not true for the Seattle area. Up until last Saturday we had experienced only one twenty-four hour period without precipitation in the entire month of January - one day out of twenty-two. Obviously with my every day commuting in such muck my bikes were less than gleaming, and so on Saturday when the sun came out and dried up all the rain, I headed out to the garage with bucket, sponge and sham in hand because it was unlikely there would be a sunny tomorrow - literally. Thus there is a certain 'seize the day' attitude necessary if you want to keep your bike clean around here.

Some say Why bother? since it is more than likely that the rain will return and the bike just get dirty again. But to me a part of what makes us human is our refusal to give in the inevitable, to make some choices not 'because of,' but 'in spite of.'

And I had a ball, as I am one of those guys who really likes to keep his bike clean; I follow the proverb that says take care of your machine and it will take care of you. So for two or three hours I was washing, scrubbing, and polishing; contorting myself in all sorts of odd positions to get at dirt and grime in curious places ... just how in the world does grit manage to get thrown where it does get thrown, but no matter which way I twist the hose the water jet will not reach it? Weird.

As I was cleaning I began to wonder how many opportunities I had missed in life because I imagined (or convinced myself) there was a guaranteed sunny tomorrow? How often had I sat on my butt rather than engaged life? How many times had I missed a chance to make a new acquaintance, ease someone's burden, or simply enjoy the view because I had not been disciplined enough to take advantage of the moment?

I have buried enough people in my career to know that there are no guarantees. And I am not advocating an 'eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die,' anything goes lifestyle, only a recognition that our own lassitude may prevent us from enjoying life in a multitude of ways.

Those bikes got a good scrubbing on Saturday and sure enough on Sunday the rains returned. All might appear to have been for naught as my bike got dirty again ... but not for me. Although Sunday was rainy, it was still a Sun day inside of my soul.

TCB - Taking Care of Business

The traffic was light, the morning was clear, and the roads were dry - a delightful morning for my MLK Day commute to work. I snicked the bike into gear and headed out, unimpeded by traffic, catching every light for the first half of my commute and enjoying the curves of the road and the scenery around me.

As I approached the half-way mark of my morning commute there was an eighteen wheeler in the left lane beside me. Long haul trucks are big, motorcycles are small, and I watched him carefully, concerned that he did not see me as he drifted slightly to the right. Then I noticed his left blinker was on and I figured he was just doing a bit of the old "edge right to go left," which is understandable with those big rigs. I continued to watch and when I saw his brake lights come on I glanced up to see the left turn signal become red. All was well.

Except it wasn't.

This particular juncture of my commute has a bit of a blind curve to the right as you drive through a freeway overpass. There are signal lights just beyond the overpass which are not visible as you make the curve and you have to be sure you look up and watch for the light as you drive through the overpass. I know this because I have been driving this route five or six days a week for three months. But knowing and doing are separate acts, and on this particular morning I was paying so much attention to the truck and his driving that I was not paying enough attention to my own driving.

Just as I glanced up and saw his red light, I observed that my light had just turned red as well. It was one of those "Oh, crap!" moments as I realized I was going too fast to stop before the intersection without locking up the brakes and probably skidding into the intersection. I glanced right (it is an off-ramp so no traffic enters from the left) and saw that the front wheels of the car had not yet started moving, so I punched it and roared through the red light. And as I did so I caught the eye of the driver and thought to myself, "Great, I have just added to his list of why he doesn't like motorcyclists."

He didn't have to say it of me, because I thought it of myself: Moron.

Paying attention to other drivers is important for safe riding, but doing so without paying attention to your own behavior is dumb. I was safe from the truck on my left but not from the poor schlub on my right, and it was my own fault.

How often in life do we get so worried about somebody's else's behavior that we don't pay attention to our own actions? How often have I heard one person screaming about another's inappropriate behavior without recognizing their own faulty actions? It is very easy to criticize the other guy, to observe his behavior and provide our "shoulda-woulda-coulda" commentary without taking a moment to ask questions about our own behaviors, our own culpability in complex situations.

TCB - Taking Care of Business means taking care of your own business before worrying about the other guy.

The Little Things

I have about a ten mile commute to work. The route itself is delightful, with hills, nice gentle curves, and some very pretty scenery. But between rain and traffic I am rarely able to really enjoy it. Only on occasion am I able to get into fourth gear, let alone fifth, and spend a lot of time practicing slow speed driving in first and second gears as I try to keep good intervals between the driver in front, beside, and behind me. It's not bad as commutes go, and riding a bike sure beats driving in a car, but usually it's just a commute.

But every now and then ... I have been working long hours for a few weeks so the other day I decided to head home early. I got on the KLR and remembered that it had not rained for about 24 hours so the roads were dry. I pulled into traffic and realized that I was late enough in the day to beat the lunch hour rush and early enough to be ahead of the home bound commuters. I had a few blocks of downtown lights to get through before hitting the less impeded part of my travel ... and the road suddenly opened up. No traffic, no slick streets, temps about 45 degrees. Perfect.

So I opened it up a bit - nothing nuts, it is still an urban area after all - but enough above the speed limit to really be able to lean into the curves and enjoy the zip of the bike. It didn't last long, maybe only three or four miles before granny pulled out in front of me and proceeded to drive five miles per hour UNDER the limit, but it was long enough to keep me smiling all week long.

We live in an incredible land with so much which goes right that I think we often take the good things for granted. We have come to expect life to always be good, food to always be tasty, conversations always to leave us fulfilled, and traffic to move as we want it to move. When it does not, we get cranky because we have forgotten how complicated life is for most folks in the world.

But every now and then something small happens - an unexpected smile, an "atta boy" from a boss or colleague, a sunny and dry day with no traffic - and we remember how important the little things are in life. We remember to be grateful, to appreciate what we have been given.

Especially given the tragic shooting in Tucson this week we should remember how precious is all of life and to appreciate every moment as a gift ...

Loud Pipes

There is a saying among MotoFolk: "Loud pipes save lives." This saying is popular with - imagine that - those who like loud pipes. The problem is that there is absolutely no statistical information to back up this claim, and I can add to the anecdotal evidence that refutes its veracity.

The only moving accident I ever had was riding a project Harley with really, really loud pipes. I bought the bike from a kid who had positively trashed the bike, stripping the excellent Vance & Hines pipes off and replacing them with straight slash-cuts, which provided no muffling what-so-ever. I was working the bike over and got the wiring replaced and a new front end put on and thought I would take it out for a quick test-run. The biggest mistake I made here was thinking that since it would just be "around the block" a couple of times I would not bother with any protective gear, including a helmet.

I fired it up, snicked it into gear, and headed down the road. All the electricals worked, the front end held true, and everytime I twisted the throttle the bike would rear up with a mighty roar. It was a beautiful day.

I came around a curve and pulled up beyond a senior gentleman in a monster SUV. I dropped it down into first gear and followed him at a safe distance for a block or so. He continued to drive more and more slowly until he finally pulled over a bit to the right and came to a stop. Thinking he wanted me to pass I checked the mirror, eased it to the left, and hit that throttle for a quick pass.

Then of course he turned left in front of me into his driveway. Pull to the right, stop completely, don't use a turn signal, don't check your mirror, and then execute a left turn. That's how they teach it in drivers ed, right?

I registered about an Eight on the sphincter scale, locked up the brakes, skidded the rear tire to my right, twisted the front end into the skid, and thought I was going to miss him.

Then of course he stopped. In the middle of the street and his own friggin' driveway. He later told me he didn't know I was there and didn't realize he had stopped (again), he just ... stopped.

It's funny how while the bladder and bowels are emptying themselves the brain fills with images, a series of snapshots which are permanently imbedded in the "Oh, shit" file in your brain. I saw my front wheel bounce off his back tire, I heard a "pop" while watching my handlebars swivel into the rear panel, and then observed the bike laying on its' side with fluids pouring out. The most amazing thing is that I saw all of this from a distance of about fifteen feet, standing straight up, not a scratch on me, observing it all just like a pedestrian who happened to be walking by. That "fight or flight" instinct ain't all bad.

I immediately ran over to the driver to make sure he was OK. He just looked at me and said, "I had no idea you were there."

No idea??!! I had the loudest pipes one could have and they were definitely roaring when I hit the gas, and he had not heard a thing. So much for loud pipes saving lives ....

The end of the story is that neither of us was hurt, my bike was OK, and his side panel was repairable. But it sure made me think about some things, like how dumb it is to even just "go around the block" without gear. I was very, very lucky. The other item for reflection was "loudness."

Ever notice how when people are in conflict we tend to raise our voices? As temperatures rise so does volume, as though louder will win ... but it doesn't. Loud pipes don't save lives or win arguments. You may shout the other person down but that does not really constitute winning, does it?

Loud pipes on a bike don't save lives, thoughtful driving does, and thoughtful driving is the product of listening to and observing the environment around you and then adjusting accordingly.

Loud pipes in a disagreement doesn't win the argument, thoughtful discussion does, and thoughtful discussion is the product of carefully listening to and observing the other person, and then adjusting accordingly.

Funny how those Hebrews from 3,000 years ago knew what they were talking about: "A gentle answer turns away wrath but a harsh word stirs up anger." - Proverbs 15:1

I wonder if they had any sayings about loud camels ...