I'm taking the week off.
Nothing like spending a few days in the garage, cutting, drilling, shaping and polishing new aluminum bits for the Sportster...
Monday, November 19, 2007
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Nothing to prove
You might wonder why I haven’t posted anything here for well over a week. Easy answer; I’ve had a cold.
Which also means I haven’t been riding. Yes, hard to believe but when I feel like crap the last thing I (usually) feel like doing is putting on a helmet and getting on a motorcycle.
Riding tends to demand very clear concentration and helmets tend to make headaches (even sinus headaches) worse.
In many years of frequenting various internet motorcycle lists, I’ve met plenty of hard-core bikers who (claim) to ride regardless of the weather, regardless of their health and they have no qualms about telling you all about how dedicated and tough they are.
Peachy. I’m so happy for them. And I will certainly take a moment to reflect on how inferior I am.
Or not.
Truth is, I have nothing to prove. I could care less if I’m a ‘real biker’. In fact, I don’t ever refer to myself as a ‘biker’ and I never have. (Even when I had hair down to the small of my back, slathered myself in black leather and rode a Harley every day.)
If I get up in the morning and it’s raining, I take the car. That’s one reason why I own a car. It has a heater, a roof and a stereo. Nice and comfy when it’s cold and wet outside. Sure, I’ve ridden in plenty of rain and I’m sure I will again, I just don’t do it on purpose. I’ll ride in the rain if rain happens while I'm riding.
I’ve never understood why so many riders feel the need to elevate themselves, to be ‘better’ than someone else. Weirdly enough, this is one aspect that’s not more prevalent amongst younger riders. Many older riders act this way also.
It doesn’t matter how many miles I’ve ridden in my life, someone has ridden further. It doesn’t matter how fast I can slice through a twisty road; someone can do it faster. It doesn’t matter how many miles I can ride in a day; someone can ride further.
I’ve got nothing to prove to anyone and I don’t need bragging rights.
Which also means I haven’t been riding. Yes, hard to believe but when I feel like crap the last thing I (usually) feel like doing is putting on a helmet and getting on a motorcycle.
Riding tends to demand very clear concentration and helmets tend to make headaches (even sinus headaches) worse.
In many years of frequenting various internet motorcycle lists, I’ve met plenty of hard-core bikers who (claim) to ride regardless of the weather, regardless of their health and they have no qualms about telling you all about how dedicated and tough they are.
Peachy. I’m so happy for them. And I will certainly take a moment to reflect on how inferior I am.
Or not.
Truth is, I have nothing to prove. I could care less if I’m a ‘real biker’. In fact, I don’t ever refer to myself as a ‘biker’ and I never have. (Even when I had hair down to the small of my back, slathered myself in black leather and rode a Harley every day.)
If I get up in the morning and it’s raining, I take the car. That’s one reason why I own a car. It has a heater, a roof and a stereo. Nice and comfy when it’s cold and wet outside. Sure, I’ve ridden in plenty of rain and I’m sure I will again, I just don’t do it on purpose. I’ll ride in the rain if rain happens while I'm riding.
I’ve never understood why so many riders feel the need to elevate themselves, to be ‘better’ than someone else. Weirdly enough, this is one aspect that’s not more prevalent amongst younger riders. Many older riders act this way also.
It doesn’t matter how many miles I’ve ridden in my life, someone has ridden further. It doesn’t matter how fast I can slice through a twisty road; someone can do it faster. It doesn’t matter how many miles I can ride in a day; someone can ride further.
I’ve got nothing to prove to anyone and I don’t need bragging rights.
Monday, November 5, 2007
The Rude Riders
The other morning I was blasting up the 5 freeway north of Los Angeles, almost to work. For some unknown reason there was almost no traffic and I was rolling along at 80 mph. Ahead I noticed the distinctive wide, hard saddlebags of another FJR though it was a few years older than my own 2007 FJR. The FJR is an expensive and somewhat rare bike so anytime one of us owners spots another we tend to wave a little more vigorously than when we see some other more typical bike.
As I gained on the rider I noticed something even more interesting; he was wearing a Harley-Davidson jacket. Yes, while riding a Yamaha. And this was no inconspicuous Harley jacket, it had the H-D bar and shield logo about three feet wide, covering it’s back. (Ok, maybe it was really only about a foot, but it was big.)
Since I own both a couple of Harley Sportsters (and a Buell) plus a couple of Yamahas, I immediately thought, “wow, here’s someone like myself! Someone not wound up in some specific marquee bigotry!” So I twisted the throttle and pulled up to him in the next lane. I glanced over, made eye contact and gave him a big ‘thumb’s up’.
His response? Zip. Nada. Nothing. There I was, barely five feet from him, waving my left paw, my leather clad thumb pointing at the sky and his response was to do nothing. I know he saw me, I could see his beady little eyes through his helmet as they quickly tried to not look my way. I was almost close enough to hook my upturned thumb up his helmet...
I turned back, grasped the left grip and continued on past him. Once I was well past him, I checked my mirror and noticed that he slowed and moved over to the right a few lanes. I guess he not only didn’t want to acknowledge me, he wanted to make sure that I didn’t bother him again.
Or maybe he was scared of me... “Oh my god, that other human tried to bond with me!”
What the heck is up? I showered that morning. Ok, maybe my bike was dirty, but not that bad. Perhaps he was embarrassed by his jacket? I don’t believe my thumb’s up could be interpreted any other way than “hey, cool!” But his guy couldn’t even manage a nod of his head, let alone a friendly wave of response or thanks.
It used to be that riders always waved at each other. It didn’t matter what type or brand bike you rode, you waved. Always, always, always, as long as it was safe to do so. An unwritten rule of the road. A sort of an ‘us against them’ comrade that’s existed for many, many years. Yet, every year fewer and fewer fellow motorcyclists wave.
It’s come down to Harley riders will only wave at Harley riders and then it’s often they’ll only wave if you’re riding the RIGHT Harley. God forbid, when I wave at a weekend Harley rider on a Fat Boy from the saddle of my Sportster, they won’t wave back... “Ewww, he’s on a lowly Sportster... Must... not... make... eye... contact...” So they keep their eyes averted and maintain their nasty poser biker scowl. You should see the shock and amazement I get when I wave at a Harley rider when I'm on one of the Yamahas, or visa versa... It's all they can do to try NOT to look at me.
Still, I keep waving.
I’m sure I’ll talk about this one again...
As I gained on the rider I noticed something even more interesting; he was wearing a Harley-Davidson jacket. Yes, while riding a Yamaha. And this was no inconspicuous Harley jacket, it had the H-D bar and shield logo about three feet wide, covering it’s back. (Ok, maybe it was really only about a foot, but it was big.)
Since I own both a couple of Harley Sportsters (and a Buell) plus a couple of Yamahas, I immediately thought, “wow, here’s someone like myself! Someone not wound up in some specific marquee bigotry!” So I twisted the throttle and pulled up to him in the next lane. I glanced over, made eye contact and gave him a big ‘thumb’s up’.
His response? Zip. Nada. Nothing. There I was, barely five feet from him, waving my left paw, my leather clad thumb pointing at the sky and his response was to do nothing. I know he saw me, I could see his beady little eyes through his helmet as they quickly tried to not look my way. I was almost close enough to hook my upturned thumb up his helmet...
I turned back, grasped the left grip and continued on past him. Once I was well past him, I checked my mirror and noticed that he slowed and moved over to the right a few lanes. I guess he not only didn’t want to acknowledge me, he wanted to make sure that I didn’t bother him again.
Or maybe he was scared of me... “Oh my god, that other human tried to bond with me!”
What the heck is up? I showered that morning. Ok, maybe my bike was dirty, but not that bad. Perhaps he was embarrassed by his jacket? I don’t believe my thumb’s up could be interpreted any other way than “hey, cool!” But his guy couldn’t even manage a nod of his head, let alone a friendly wave of response or thanks.
It used to be that riders always waved at each other. It didn’t matter what type or brand bike you rode, you waved. Always, always, always, as long as it was safe to do so. An unwritten rule of the road. A sort of an ‘us against them’ comrade that’s existed for many, many years. Yet, every year fewer and fewer fellow motorcyclists wave.
It’s come down to Harley riders will only wave at Harley riders and then it’s often they’ll only wave if you’re riding the RIGHT Harley. God forbid, when I wave at a weekend Harley rider on a Fat Boy from the saddle of my Sportster, they won’t wave back... “Ewww, he’s on a lowly Sportster... Must... not... make... eye... contact...” So they keep their eyes averted and maintain their nasty poser biker scowl. You should see the shock and amazement I get when I wave at a Harley rider when I'm on one of the Yamahas, or visa versa... It's all they can do to try NOT to look at me.
Still, I keep waving.
I’m sure I’ll talk about this one again...
Friday, October 26, 2007
Where have all the good roads gone?
What makes a “good road”?
Let me backtrack. A while back some friends decided it had been too long since we’d all had a good ride together and started discussing destinations, routes, etc. Noting that their destinations were all a good distance away I commented that I wasn’t interested in much more than a 350 mile Saturday ride.
They were shocked.
In the past I’ve ridden with these same folks many times and for long distances. Perhaps the most remembered example was when we left Long Beach for Yosemite and started out by heading south to San Diego first. Great way to get someplace, head south to end up someplace north... We managed to turn what would have been a 240 mile freeway ride into roughly 700 miles in one day on almost entirely two lane highways. Great times... Still, that was a few years ago and I’m getting old and lazy. Amazing (at least apparently to some folks) I have a life beyond motorcycles.
Today though, they were shocked that I wasn’t interested in putting in a 500 plus mile day.
“But, Bill, you’ll be on your uber-tourer FJR, can’t you ride that thing like a thousand miles in one day and still be comfy?”
Probably, but that’s not the point. I simply didn’t want to spend an entire day riding. I wanted to go to an art show that afternoon, a certain restaurant that evening, etc... A life, remember? I suggested that we pick a more reasonable route, just a little closer, just a tad shorter.
“But Bill, all the good roads are further away.”
“What,” I asked? “Did they move them all?”
Of course they didn’t, but their definition of a “good road” and my definition of a “good road” are different. Years ago (for other reasons) I came to a personal epiphany; a realization that I needed to learn to enjoy whatever it was that I had rather than wish for whatever it was that I didn't have. My philosophy goes far beyond possessions, it encompasses everything in my life including my commute to work.
I know people with similar commutes to mine on various freeways through LA, and a common reaction to the commute is to hate it. Hate the other drivers, hate the wasted time, etc. I don't; it's pointless and a waste of my time to be upset about something that I have no control over. Instead, I've found how to enjoy the time I spend commuting. I enjoy splitting lanes, I enjoy riding my bikes even though I'm surrounded by cars and semis. I don't care, I'm on my bike and I enjoy exercising the skills it takes to move through the traffic quickly and safely. Yes, I have days where it gets to me and I dread the commute and on those days I get in my car, turn up the stereo and just follow the car in front of me... But, most times I enjoy the riding I get, regardless of whether it's a twisty, scenic back road, a weekend ride along PCH or the 5 freeway at 8am through the east LA interchange.
Yes, I suppose I’m weird. I can find enjoyment riding on a huge slab of concrete with 10,000 of my closest friends in close proximity. (Ok, so none of these other commuters are my friends, but you get the picture...) I’d love to be on some scenic, twisty two-lane backroad but that’s not going to happen today. Or tomorrow. But I am going to be on the LA freeway system tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that. I might as well enjoy it.
Is the Santa Ana freeway a “good road”? The 605? How about the 210? Perhaps the 91? Not sure I’d go quite that far, but they’re what I have and I’ll make the best of what I have.
You should see the lean angle I can get on the offramp I take to go home...
Let me backtrack. A while back some friends decided it had been too long since we’d all had a good ride together and started discussing destinations, routes, etc. Noting that their destinations were all a good distance away I commented that I wasn’t interested in much more than a 350 mile Saturday ride.
They were shocked.
In the past I’ve ridden with these same folks many times and for long distances. Perhaps the most remembered example was when we left Long Beach for Yosemite and started out by heading south to San Diego first. Great way to get someplace, head south to end up someplace north... We managed to turn what would have been a 240 mile freeway ride into roughly 700 miles in one day on almost entirely two lane highways. Great times... Still, that was a few years ago and I’m getting old and lazy. Amazing (at least apparently to some folks) I have a life beyond motorcycles.
Today though, they were shocked that I wasn’t interested in putting in a 500 plus mile day.
“But, Bill, you’ll be on your uber-tourer FJR, can’t you ride that thing like a thousand miles in one day and still be comfy?”
Probably, but that’s not the point. I simply didn’t want to spend an entire day riding. I wanted to go to an art show that afternoon, a certain restaurant that evening, etc... A life, remember? I suggested that we pick a more reasonable route, just a little closer, just a tad shorter.
“But Bill, all the good roads are further away.”
“What,” I asked? “Did they move them all?”
Of course they didn’t, but their definition of a “good road” and my definition of a “good road” are different. Years ago (for other reasons) I came to a personal epiphany; a realization that I needed to learn to enjoy whatever it was that I had rather than wish for whatever it was that I didn't have. My philosophy goes far beyond possessions, it encompasses everything in my life including my commute to work.
I know people with similar commutes to mine on various freeways through LA, and a common reaction to the commute is to hate it. Hate the other drivers, hate the wasted time, etc. I don't; it's pointless and a waste of my time to be upset about something that I have no control over. Instead, I've found how to enjoy the time I spend commuting. I enjoy splitting lanes, I enjoy riding my bikes even though I'm surrounded by cars and semis. I don't care, I'm on my bike and I enjoy exercising the skills it takes to move through the traffic quickly and safely. Yes, I have days where it gets to me and I dread the commute and on those days I get in my car, turn up the stereo and just follow the car in front of me... But, most times I enjoy the riding I get, regardless of whether it's a twisty, scenic back road, a weekend ride along PCH or the 5 freeway at 8am through the east LA interchange.
Yes, I suppose I’m weird. I can find enjoyment riding on a huge slab of concrete with 10,000 of my closest friends in close proximity. (Ok, so none of these other commuters are my friends, but you get the picture...) I’d love to be on some scenic, twisty two-lane backroad but that’s not going to happen today. Or tomorrow. But I am going to be on the LA freeway system tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that. I might as well enjoy it.
Is the Santa Ana freeway a “good road”? The 605? How about the 210? Perhaps the 91? Not sure I’d go quite that far, but they’re what I have and I’ll make the best of what I have.
You should see the lean angle I can get on the offramp I take to go home...
Thursday, October 25, 2007
What's this all about?
So, you might ask, what is “Life in Half the Fast Lane”? Good question...
I live in Southern California, specifically in Los Alamitos. I work in Glendale. My kids (living with the Evil Ex) are in Yucaipa. For those of you unfamiliar with SoCal, these points are all over the map. Between commuting to work and going out to see my kids for dinner once a week I travel over 470 miles per week. That doesn’t include any weekend travel, nor does it include trips out and back every other week to pick my daughters up for the weekend and take them back out. (Since the Evil Ex won’t do any of the driving.)
Traveling over 500 miles per week on SoCal freeways is daunting. Traffic here sucks. My commute to work can easily take over an hour each way and the drive out to see my girls, (about 75 miles one way) can take over two hours.
So, as much as possible, I use my “alternate” means of travel: a motorcycle. California is the one state in the US where splitting lanes (legally known as “lane sharing”) is legal. Yes, those maniacs that you see screaming between cars on the freeways are doing so legally, though many motorists don’t seem to realize this.
Anyway, it’s what I call “life in half the fast lane”. It’s where I spend hours of my day every day, squeezed into half of the fast lane, splitting my way past thousands of cars.
So, why talk about it? Well, many people don’t understand why I’m willing to do it. (“That’s so dangerous, Bill!”) Perhaps I’ll be able to answer that to some degree. Also, I’ve been doing this for well over 14 years and in the last few years I’ve seen an amazing proliferation of stupidity on the part of other motorcyclists attempting to split lanes. Though I doubt any of them are willing to listen, I thought I might try and give them some advice. As you might imagine, after doing this myself for so long, and for so many miles (roughly 200,000 miles of riding in that time) I think I know how to do it pretty darn well. I’ve only been in one accident in that time and while I was on the freeway, I wasn’t splitting lanes at the time. In fact, had I been, I wouldn’t have been hit...
I live in Southern California, specifically in Los Alamitos. I work in Glendale. My kids (living with the Evil Ex) are in Yucaipa. For those of you unfamiliar with SoCal, these points are all over the map. Between commuting to work and going out to see my kids for dinner once a week I travel over 470 miles per week. That doesn’t include any weekend travel, nor does it include trips out and back every other week to pick my daughters up for the weekend and take them back out. (Since the Evil Ex won’t do any of the driving.)
Traveling over 500 miles per week on SoCal freeways is daunting. Traffic here sucks. My commute to work can easily take over an hour each way and the drive out to see my girls, (about 75 miles one way) can take over two hours.
So, as much as possible, I use my “alternate” means of travel: a motorcycle. California is the one state in the US where splitting lanes (legally known as “lane sharing”) is legal. Yes, those maniacs that you see screaming between cars on the freeways are doing so legally, though many motorists don’t seem to realize this.
Anyway, it’s what I call “life in half the fast lane”. It’s where I spend hours of my day every day, squeezed into half of the fast lane, splitting my way past thousands of cars.
So, why talk about it? Well, many people don’t understand why I’m willing to do it. (“That’s so dangerous, Bill!”) Perhaps I’ll be able to answer that to some degree. Also, I’ve been doing this for well over 14 years and in the last few years I’ve seen an amazing proliferation of stupidity on the part of other motorcyclists attempting to split lanes. Though I doubt any of them are willing to listen, I thought I might try and give them some advice. As you might imagine, after doing this myself for so long, and for so many miles (roughly 200,000 miles of riding in that time) I think I know how to do it pretty darn well. I’ve only been in one accident in that time and while I was on the freeway, I wasn’t splitting lanes at the time. In fact, had I been, I wouldn’t have been hit...
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)