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 ...