For Love of a Motorbike

Around The World In 8 Hours

2012-01-31T22:48:00.000-05:00

Happy Thanksgiving. Happy Chanukah. Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Happy Anniversary.

So much has gone on in the past month. Sometimes the smallest changes can be the most difficult to handle. I may backtrack at some point in time and tell you some of the stories. But for now, let's look to the future and get to the latest ride.

Well...the latest ride was Oilburner taking his bike in for the 6K service. And it having to stay a couple days extra to replace a leaking final drive seal. Ahhh...the beloved final drive on these R bikes. They arent getting any love, nor respect, these days.

So, the ride before?? We took a tour of the world. And we accomplished that in a mere 8 hours. OK. It wasnt really around the world. It was more of a European tour. I've always wanted to travel. Though I was hoping I would get to spend more time sightseeing. This was just a whirlwind tour that left little time to see or do anything. If we only saw the seedy part of town...so be it.

US Riders News is promoting world travel, almost armchair style. They want us to get out and see some International cities...that are located in our home, or neighboring, state. Submit 6 photos of you and your bike, or your bike and the magazine, and receive a patch.

I have a friend that is laid up after shoulder surgery, so he took on the planning. Of course you would think the obvious cities would be Rome, Cairo, Athens, Montezuma, GA. But really, so many names come from so many places. Of Europe. Since my friend doesn't run down the obvious path the first route he gave me, that was a day ride, covered Smyrna, Winston, Ithica, Bremen, Bowdon, and Fairburn. The other choice was a three day ride covering most of the state.

Now, I've heard of a couple of these international places...but Smyrna?? Fairburn?? I wasn't planning this shindig, so I'm not going to worry about it. I'm just along for the ride.
We figured the counter clockwise route was the way to go. We would get the speed up and the slab portion of the day out of the way and we could enjoy the back roads at the end. So Smyrna was our first stop.

Even though this wasn't my ride, I was the one elected to lead. I originally led us to a regular Public Library sign that wasn't plagued by vehicles passing by every few seconds. Invalid boy wasn't satisfied with that, so he went to find this one. We had the enjoyment of running up the sidewalk to park in front of the sign. We also had the difficulty of balancing the camera on a fire hydrant, set the timer, get across the street and dodge cars blocking the photos. Needless to say we were here for awhile. I'm happy the police weren't around.

Next on our itinerary was Winston. I didn't have much hope for a formal city. So many places here a merely bumps in the road. So I immediately made a u-turn for the Post Office with the official Winston name.

This was an easy one that didn't take any time. We were there and gone again in the blink of an eye.

The next city wasn't going to be so accommodating. Ithica.

If you read the rules you will see the first problem right off the bat. Our Ithica vs Greece's Ithaca. The cities need to be spelled the same. Therefore ours wasn't going to work. Unfortunately we didn't realize that until we had already ridden down the roads searching for an official sign for Ithica. Good thing there wasn't one. But now we were going to have to find another city on our route.

Our next stop was a more identifiable Bremen. Bremen I could handle. I would much prefer it be the one that is more well known though. Approaching town there is a great "Welcome to Bremen" city sign. However, it was on a major road with only an embankment to ride up. And the police officer turning behind us probably wouldn't appreciate us blocking traffic. I decide to just get to city center and we can discuss it, when this shows up. How fortuitous.

Forward Ho! Just a few miles down the road is the city of Bowdon. Oilburner seems to be flauting his use of the handicapped spot. Which really has an eldery gentleman perturbed when he came to pay his water bill. I think standing around and chatting with us helped calm him down. Then he realized this was Saturday and the office wasn't open at all.

Next stop is Fairburn. Invalid boy seems to remember the city name growing in the bushes somewhere. So apparently that means it is my job to find it. Find it I did!

This was also the location where I took the little GS off the curb! Rebel me. Quite daring. hehehe. Oilburner had blocked me in and thought I wouldn't have the guts to go forward. Looks like it was him without the guts.

Our last city idea was Hampton. But first it was getting late and we need food!!

Good ole BBQ.

A little too much time was spent eating and gabbing. We hit the road knowing full well we were pushing the clock to reach Hampton before sundown.

Yeah. I know what you are thinking. It didn't happen. So not only are we trying to photograph our last city in the dark, the only good place is the police station. And without a tripod the only way to really get it all in is to ride up the sidewalk and park in front of the sign. Luckily the police took pity on us and didn't give us a problem.

Update. I wasn't able to submit everything through the website. Kept giving me errors even though the images were tiny.

I also had the chance to speak with a US Riders News representative at the M/C show last weekend. She confirmed that the magazine does have to be present. So now this little tour won't receive official recogition. :(

We're just going to have to hit the road again and do a little more International Touring.

Hope you are able to get out and have some, two wheels or otherwise.

My Night of Danger

2012-01-29T22:58:00.000-05:00

I could have died! I could have died...and Oilburner was wandering around less than 100 feet away. He was oblivious to my screams for help. Oblivious or intentionally ignoring me. I will reserve my opinion for now.

I was in the garage and trapped by my bikes. Oilburner had walked away without a second thought as to my well being.

I was trapped with the only option being to spend the night there hollering my foolish head off or hurting both of my bikes. Apparently I was opting for the foolish. Come hell or high water I wasn't hurting my bikes if I didn't have to.

What happened, you ask? For a first, after pulling into the garage, Oilburner closed the garage door. Closed the door before the bikes were completely put up. He had dismounted and rushed into the house, taking care of the alarm. I wasn't in danger yet, and this was just standard operating procedure.

I sat there enjoying the bike under my butt, while slowly removing my gloves and helmet. I easily rested the helmet on the mirror of my other bike. The problem now rears its ugly head. I put the kickstand down, begin to lean the bike over, and bam...right into the saddlebags on the R12R. This wasn't going to work.

With the garage door down I was limited in how much I could maneuver the GS. I look a quick shot and tried to execute a 9 point sashay with the GS to move it a little farther away from the R.

Nope. Not enough. I sit there for a second and wonder where the hell Oilburner is?? He's normally right back in the garage polishing his bike. I make a quick holler but hear nothing indicating he might have heard me.

I take stock. I don't have the Flass2Pass on the GS. So I can't open the garage door. I can't reach the key on the R to get its opener working. As I am pondering I hear the front door open. What??

I take my chances and make another 9 point sideslip. Better. I can lean the bike farther, but still no luck in landing it all the way on the sidestand.

What is this? Where is Oilburner??

I start screaming my fool head off a lot louder. Oilburner finally comes running.

He takes a gander at my predicament and just about doubles over laughing. I wasn't as amused. He opens the garage door so I can finallly maneuver the bike enough...and I promptly attempt to set the GS on the side stand...without actually making use of the sidestand. At least Oilburner was there for that one.

The mess gets sorted out. I am finally able to dismount with both of my bikes intact. My pride isn't quite so lucky. I'm still screaming, for different reasons now, to find out that Oilburner had wandering around disrobing of his riding gear, actually plugging his helmet in, sauntering down to the mailbox and picking up the days offerings. All while I am in grave danger.

Wait. Strike that. I didn't almost die. But if Oilburner keeps up the snickering...he might.

If You Can't Laugh At Yourself...

2011-12-05T22:27:00.000-05:00

...you probably aren't riding your R1200GS. After all, we are on the White Horse of the Apocalypse. The Alpha and the Omega. ;)

Where's my little "strongman" emoticon when I need him??

How's the GS?

2011-11-27T16:53:00.000-05:00

I realize I have been away a little. Work and life balance is not one of my strong points. :) I was facing a product (software) release the week after purchasing the GS. Many hours of overtime and a Sunday deploy kept me grounded and merely watching the GS sit in the garage.

Really. A brand new bike and I get to watch it sit in the garage... Argh...

During the interval the GS has received:

1) It's 600 mile service (965 km). Do you conceive of how difficult it is to put 600 miles on a bike when you cannot ride on the freeway?? This was the longest and most difficult 600 miles I have ridden!

She got new oil:

New final drive fluids:

2) Received engine and tank guards:

3) Installed a Centech unit for all those electronic accessories. Oilburner did a great job, didn't he?

4) Auxiliary headlights, to better be seen:

5) Hyperlights (no pictures)

6) We took a quick trip to snag a tag and she saw her first bit of dirt...errr water:

I think the next item should be a Fender Extender to save those pipes. :)

Can you believe? Even the RT was showing RTA (Adventure) stripes:

What's In A Number, Part II

2011-10-31T18:14:00.000-04:00

Don't get me wrong, I don't much care that my bike has 42,000 miles (67,600 km) on it. I am quite proud of that number in all honesty. My shop tells me that I am one of their higher mileage bikes, and I like that.

Oilburner and I never purchase something with our eye on value retention or resale. We purchase what is good and plan on keeping it until it is worn out. After all, I drive a truck that is 18 years old with 230,000 miles (370,000 km) on it. And yes, we bought it new. It has been paid off for over a decade and hasn't required much work beyond normal maintenance. The engine should be good until 400,000 miles (645,000 km) at least.

So mileage doesn't mean too much to us. But I know it is important to some people. A friend was looking at used GT's and RT's that had 50,000 miles and 75,000 miles (80,500 km and 120,700 km). He was seriously concerned over longevity. We told him that shouldn't be the only limiting factor. But to him it was a deal breaker.

Of course, mileage really depends on your expectations. It might be a different story if you want a daily or long distance rider. Higher mileage may be less appealing. A collectors item that will be ridden less frequently might not be a problem.

Now, I did forget to add the winking smiley to the end of the last post. I have no qualms about keeping my R1200R in my garage. Truthfully, it would be next to impossible to ask me to get rid of it. (Sometimes I get really attached. Just ask Oilburner. He's been trying to bribe me for 17 years to get my truck.)

There are a couple people out there wanting to get their fingers on my R1200R. But I ain't listing to them. So yes, the beautiful R1200GS with the DOHC engine is appealing. After all, I have been drooling over GS' for years. It has always been a bike that was unattainable to me, a dream: too tall, too heavy, I don't need that kind of power. My eye sparkles and delights looking at the GS, but never at the expense of my "R". I just can't give up the bike I love for one that I don't know.

Rest assured. The R1200R is remaining in my garage.
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But that doesn't mean I don't have enough love to share...

So that "number" is now TWO. hehehe. I'm catching up to you Brady. :) And rIePe...have you ever been accused of being a prophet? ;)

What's In A Number

2011-10-27T23:27:00.000-04:00

24,901.55 - circumfrence of the earth at the equator, measured in miles
5280 - feet in a mile
451 - degrees in Fahrenheit at which paper burns
42 - The answer to Life, The Universe, and Everything

When can something be nicely worn in without being worn out?

For kicks, Oilburner and I have been talking bikes. (Like we've never done that before...) I was wondering where is that magic mileage sweet spot when a bike goes from "nicely broken in" to "too many miles". Where is that perfect line of a bike still being marketable versus someone having prejudices against the mileage.

My baby went in for her 42,000 mile service yesterday. I didn't even look at the new DOHC Classic R1200R. Well...I didn't look much.

I sat with the service manager and chatted and laughed. I stood in the service bay talking with the tech working on my baby. I played with the used oil, no metal shavings, no burnt smell. I inspected the valves, the chains, the springs.

Then Oilburner arrives...

He starts looking around. He starts talking. He starts asking me if I am going to take a test ride.

I've never demo'ed a bike before. I've never had enough confidence to jump on a bike that I don't own and take it for a spin. I mean, how much am I going to have to pay if anything happens to a motorbike that I don't own. This is the same reason that I never ride someone else's bike. I've even been resistant to riding Oilburner's bikes in the past. I had only ridden any of his previous bikes once each.

Somewhere along the way that changed. And I can't pinpoint when it occurred. A couple months ago, when he informed me that I would be riding his new bike home I didn't bat an eye. Didn't have any queasy butterflies in my tummy. I hopped on it and took it for a rrriiidddeeeee. I'm suspecting my trepidation left me for good after Oilburner totaled his bike. My subconscious thought process might have followed something along the lines that if he totaled a bike in one fell swoop, there wasn't much worse that I could do.

So back to the bike shop...

I decided to take that test ride finally. Steve, our friendly, neighborhood sales guy, rode the Classic R1200R off the showroom floor. Yes, I said rode. It went over to the service bay to get a couple pounds of air. Then she stood in the parking lot waiting for me to take her out.

We enjoyed a quick little romp, unfortunately rush hour traffic was closing in. I took her over to a short, twisty little road I know. Autos prevented full utilization of the best curves. We also scooted over to the main thoroughfare to enjoy the high speeds against traffic. She was an enjoyable bike. There wasn't a "wow" factor. She was so similar to my bike. There didn't seem to be enough differences to justify a trade. She was nice, just not nice enough.

Oilburner and I took a seat at the table, sipping some sodas and talking about the ride.

All the while is a big, beautiful R1200GS sitting in the sun, gleaming in front of me. Hmmm... In for a penny, in for a pound.

Steve checks it over and sets the seat on its lowest position. I swing around to turn her on, only to realize the key has suddenly disappeared. Explain that one to me... Yeah. Steve left the key in the seat lock. hehe

We only get to spend a short time together. Rush hour traffic had set in. Any direction we traveled was going to be hindered and just spent burning a clutch up. We went to a short little road with a couple of representative curves. Wow. WOW! Four miles was way too short a time to get a feel for anything. All I know is that I wouldn't mind spending a couple hundred more miles getting to know it.

So what would you guess that mileage line is on my precious bike? I was thinking 50,000 miles might be getting there. Boy was I wrong. It seems that my baby's time has passed. Those who didn't know her don't want her. She can be her 2007 model self, but would need to have 30 or so thousand miles on her, instead of the 42 that she has. Finicky damn men. Apparently no or old model doesn't matter. But they can't have been well ridden. ;)

Darn. I guess I will just have to keep her in the stable.

Cherohala

2011-10-16T23:28:00.000-04:00

I had to stop and play the last sentence of the conversation over again. Three grown men, none of whom had children, were talking about sippy cups. Really?!?!

I believe that many men act like children, but the use of a sippy cup? Well...yeah. I guess I can see where it would be beneficial. But I am way off track.

The conversation was actually chiding Oilburner for not having a cup holder on the RT. After all,Ken had one on his. And the discussion at hand was the only way Oilburner would be able to drink while riding with a full fact helmet. Sippy cup came up, but I think they meant something with a flexible straw.

I didn't care. I knew Oilburner wasn't installing one. That is a Goldwing farkle. So I tuned back out of the conversation and thought forward to the ride that was coming up.

We hadn't ridden to Cherohala or the Dragon yet this year. With the fall colors coming, and winter not far behind, those roads were going to be busy soon. Therefore the first "autumn" like weekend of year saw us headed there.

Who knew the first autumn week would have us experiencing 37.4 F (3C) at 12:30 on the Skyway. But there it was in all its blinking glory on my temp gauge.

Where were the 67 F (20C) highs they had predicted?

Nothing to worry about here though. Starting out in my winter jacket and four layers of winter clothes showed me that would not be sustainable at freeway speeds. So I switched the layers to the Gerbings heated jacket directly at the breakfast/meetup location. Two guys had fairings, and one of them heated gear. The Harley dude, sans a windshield, had on a down jacket. We were all prepared.

There isn't much more to say about this day. It was all about the ride in the company of good friends that were well matched in riding styles. The twisties were smooth and easy. The side trips were agreed upon. The route was up for changes. We were all willing to take a lead.

You can see more images on Flickr. And you can watch the video that sums it all up.

Cherohala With Friends from Love Of A Motorbike on Vimeo.

Wandering in the North

2011-09-29T21:43:00.000-04:00

"If you are going to ride naked make sure you have a clean can" the voice intoned.

"The Voice" belonged to Oilburner, and he hadn't quite realized what he had said until it was out and ringing in our ears. I immediately busted up laughing. He might actually have blushed a little at that one, if his face could have been seen through the helmet.

I was riding as close to naked as I ever had. No saddlebags, no top box, no luggage except for the tank bag. I did still have the luggage racks and windshield, so I wasn't completely bare.

The topic of conversation was the stainless steel "can" (exhaust). My bike and I had ridden in the rain since the last washing. And my dogs nose had left slime trails. The can was desperately dirty and didn't look like the lovely shiny can it can be.

Who cares? Not me. I wanted to ride, not was my motorbike!

This was the first perfect autumn weekend and I wasn't wasting it. Daytime temps were supposed to peak out at 77F (25C). Humidity should be around 45% mid-day. It doesn't get much better than this.

Unfortunately I also had an invite to make jam. I was interested since I have never made it before. But this day was not made to be spend indoors.

Oilburner and I saddled up and met up with a friend on the road. No one had a clue where to go, so we just figured "north" into the mountains. We wound up on some beautiful scenic byways and headed towards Hwy 60, a notoriously enjoyable twisty road up here. The day was complete with perfect weather, beautiful blue skies and leaf litter scattered across the road.

Our lack of destination gave us roads to head towards, but no restrictions on how we arrived there. I tried to navigate on the less traveled roads. I was plagued by slow drivers whenever I had to take the well-known roads.

Our food goal, for lack of finding another place, was the marina at Lake Burton. The food is good and the place can not be beat for ambiance.

It was a lovely day with no particular place to go. Such fun taking turns at random. Sometimes it back fired and we ended up somewhere we had just left. Other times we were introduced to roads we had never yet met.

I did force us to take the long way home. Adding a couple extra miles pushed my year-to-date mileage over 9,000 (14,484 km) to keep up with my goal of 1,000 miles (1609 km) per month. And it also kicked the odometer of the bike to 41,000 miles (65,980 km). Small victories. :)

I knew this trip was more about the ride and less about the scenery. I knew I wasn't going to be able to play with the cameras, so just brought the point and shoot. I also discovered a way to attach it to my tank bag. Therefore I was free to learn the complicated art of photography while riding. I wasn't so successful all of the time. For not taking many photos, I can't figure out how I had so many to upload. You can view the more successful ones on Flickr.

Work has been keeping me tied down lately. We've been working on a product release...that finally occurred last Sunday. I've been absent in the blogosphere, but look forward to catching up on all of your adventures. :) Chat with you soon!

What's It Worth To You?

2011-09-12T21:53:00.000-04:00

Baby Ruth candy bar:

$0.89

Diet Mtn Dew:

$1.29

A stranger excitedly exclaiming that yours is the superior bike within Oilburners hearing, even though it is sitting next to a shiny, new, loaded BMW with the new DOHC engine:

PRICELESS!!!

Look What the [Cheshire Grinning] Cat Brought Home...

2011-09-07T20:19:00.000-04:00

That's right. I rode the brand spanking new RT home today. Starts its new life in our household with 13 miles on it. I brought it up to 21. I took the slightly longish way home. I wasn't going too far out of my way since it was evening traffic. The only direction I could have gone was downtown if I didn't want to sit at stop lights. I wasn't terribly gung-ho on that idea. So we shared a few quiet lanes with a few quiet curves. I can't get too crazy on it during the break in period and brand new shoes. But we did have a little fun.

Oilburner was gracious enough to follow us home in the pickup. He asked me to ride it home to sustain tradition. When our group started back into the riding business, most of us were new enough that we didn't trust ourselves to ride our bikes home. So Oilburner was tapped to be the first rider on all our bikes. No one had done that for him, and look at his track record. He is hoping to break any potential issues by having someone else ride the bike home for him. Voila ME!

So...what can I say about the BMW's new Dual Overhead Cam (DOHC) engine? Nothing. Not a damn thing. Though I gave Oilburner the thumbs down on the way home. And I immediately called our sales guy and told him that I hated him and he wasn't allowed to play with Oilburner any more.

That is one flipping awesome engine!!! Lower torque, smooth, quiet. Almost has a little turbo diesel whine to it at times. Sweet. Just really super sweet.

I'm wondering if Oilburner's guilt is showing through. He keeps pushing me to upgrade to the R1200R Classic. Hmmm...that new engine makes it tempting...

Can you say "Dumbass"?

2011-09-05T14:16:00.000-04:00

Guest blog kindly provided by Oilburner.

Check you six...and your three...and your OH CRAP!! Call me Dumbass, my new nick name.

Well the week started off with perfect riding weather, especially for this time of year in Georgia. Morning temps are a cool 75 F with afternoon temps reaching 85-95F with low humidity. I am looking forward to riding every morning even it is means going to work. Although sometimes it's hard to keep all 1200cc pointed in that direction.

Check your six... I made it to work Monday and Tuesday, uneventful as usual, and for some reason wasn't really looking forward to the ride home Tuesday evening. Work has been a little hectic and after a long day I think I just wanted to be home already. It took a little while to put on all the gear and point her towards the freeway. I manage through downtown traffic fine, and enter the freeway by way of the carpool entrance. I have ridden this route home for a couple of years now, so it's become pretty routine, although I still look for the unexpected. So, seeing all is as expected I turn on some music and start to settle in for the 35 miles home. I've traveled almost to the I75/i85 connector (a distance of about 1/2 a mile) when, as I frequently do, I check my six and see an emergency vehicle approaching the cage behind me with its lights ablaze. I decide to exit the carpool lane early and enter the normal traffic congestion for 5pm in hopes of speeding him along.

Check your three... Both lanes were going approximately the same speed so I check my 3 o'clock and start the merge between two cages, with about a car length in front and behind me. Well, here's where I think that things start to go wrong... My peripheral vision is telling me I need to recheck my 3 o'clock again as something appears to have changed. So I quickly recheck my six and turn my helmet clad head to the right and look --nope, all is well--

Oh CRAP!! By the time I look forward again everyone is stopping very fast. Instincts kick in... this all seems so familiar to me for some strange reason... I feel the anti-skid kick in as I attempt to swerve to the left, back into the carpool lane. In slow motion I see the approaching cage and start to prepare for the inevitable impact. Luck has it that the bike responds flawlessly to my input and instead of impacting head on and possibly launching me over the bars, I feel the right side of the bike ricochet off the left rear bumper. The impact of the front forks and cylinder head on the bumper kicks the bike to the left. In an attempt to correct my trajectory I countered steered back to the right. The bike just caught and dumped us on the right side, sliding back behind the cage I just hit. My mind still registering this as familiar and lets me watch my luggage eject from the bike and the plastic parts explode and bounce across the freeway.

When all is stopped I am fortunate I only have two small injuries: a swollen ankle and elbow. My gear worked flawlessly with the only exception being that the sleeves of my jacket were too loose, allowing the armor to roll around out of place.

Oilburners name the past week has been "Dumbass". He knows this was his fault, though he maintains that he was not speeding or riding recklessly. It was just one of those accidents. I asked him to write a guest blog to help us all with a lesson...he just couldn't come up with one other than "don't pull over for emergency vehicles." See...the vehicle that was coming up wasn't an ambulance or anything. It was a HERO unit. In the south, these are response vehicles that come to the aid of stranded motorists whether it is an accident, flat tire, or running out of fuel. When the HERO stopped for this, Oilburner questioned where the guy was rushing to, and why had he stopped here. Turns out the HERO unit was headed towards a minor stall up the road...

Take what you will from this. I will continue riding cautiously, as usual, and leave plenty of gaps around me. Dumbass' dirt bike riding days were long ago, but I think they helped his reflexes in this instance. Don't feel sorry for him though. The bike doesn't appear too damaged, the damage just isn't readily visible. The bike has been totaled and Dumbass is currently in the process of signing the paperwork for a new 2011 R1200RT (with the new DOHC engine). I can't figure out if I am kind or stupid. I considered forbidding him to purchase another bike and make him ride pillion behind me for awhile. But that is just punishing me.

Be safe out there friends.

Watch your Six

2011-08-29T10:57:00.002-04:00

The instructors in my Experienced Riders Course gave us a statistical break down from which direction motorbikes are most likely to be hit. Not surprisingly, the front and front quarters had the highest statistics and most discussions centered around it. Accidents from behind, or called your "Six" had only garnered about 3% and the instructors glossed over that not much "real" danger comes from that direction.

My jaw hit the floor. I took great umbrage to the easy dismissal of watching out for your rear. Three weeks before class I might not have given it much more thought. But two weeks before class Oilburner had been rear-ended on his motorcycle and I was still reeling.

As motorbike pilots we have all encountered someone turning in front of us. In your case, hopefully it did not involve and metal or asphalt kissing. Though I know that some here have.

We are all aware of our front and always try to keep our eyes peeled. We know we are invisible. It is easy to keep our eyes peeled for dangers in front of us. We are looking in that direction anyways.

For me? My closest encounters and near misses have always come from behind. A direction we can't watch nearly as easily or nearly as frequently. I would just like to recount two incidents that will hopefully help you with being aware of your surroundings at key times.

I may have mentioned in passing about Oilburners accident before. It is a story that hadn't yet written itself and therefore hadn't been recounted here.

We were supposed to be on vacation. We had taken two weeks off and meant to haul the dogs and travel trailer up to Maine. A week before vacation my dog was diagnosed with inoperable cancer and had started on chemo. We decided to cancel the vacation travel, but take the time still and just hang around locally. We weren't sure how she would respond to the chemo and didn't want to stress her.

It was another one of those heat wave summers and was unbearably hot. We had been camping locally and decided to cut that short when our other dog wasn't responding well to the heat. Taking her to the vet, she was diagnosed with Autoimmune Hemolytic Anemia from a vaccine she was recently given.

This vacation isn't going as planned.

So Friday of that first week sees us all back at home. Oilburner and I decide to jump on the bikes for a leisurely ride across town to a motorbike gear shop. The time is currently the beginning of Sept 2008 a little after noon. I had just taken ownership of my BMW two weeks ago. I hadn't ridden it, except a couple miles around the neighborhood. We were on vacation remember? Oilburner was on his purple Harley Davidson 883. Such a great bike.

We ran our errands and were on our way home. We pulled up in the queue at a stop light, maybe the fourth position back from the light. We were sitting there side-by-side, he on the left, me on the right.

I hadn't yet transferred my blinking brake lights from my Suzuki and was feeling a little vulnerable. Oilburner and I were chatting through our helmet communicators and I "thought" I had seen the guy behind us stop.

I was wrong.

I suddenly am aware of Oilburner yelling "What the FUCK?!?" through the communicators and this black wall sliding along my left side, pushing Oilburner away, like a bug in the bow wave of a boat. Thinking the guy behind us had stopped, I assumed it was the guy behind him that was causing this accident. I'm watching Oilburner being pushed forward and this moving black wall sliding past, just waiting for an impact to me. I'm wondering what it will feel like. Will I be pushed forward or will it be a glancing blow that will just knock me over to the right?

Oilburner is gone. Replaced by the sparkling black death star. He was impacted hard enough to send him into the minivan we were behind (while Oilburner was engaging his brake). A minivan we had stopped about 6 feet behind. Hard enough to bend the forks and peel steel back. The black wall hadn't stopped yet and impacted Oilburner a second time. It was too much. Oilburner was a dirt bike rider of old but he couldn't hold onto this anymore. I remember seeing his helmet rolling off to the left, what little I could see over the hood of the black wall. In actuality he had "stepped off" the bike and let it lay down. He stumbled a little but remained on his feet, in the opposing lane of traffic.

I'm sitting astride my bike, untouched, and in complete shock. The entire time I'm watching this occur, and waiting until I feel that push that makes me a participant of this nightmare and no longer a witness. I am listening to a litany of incomprehension and outrage as Oilburner experiences all of this. My eyes are wide, my mouth is hanging open, and I can't figure out what to do next.

I figure I need to get off my bike. I just can't figure out how. I can't just put the kickstand down and dismount. That black wall is that close. I cannot lean the bike onto its kickstand! I consider just falling over to the right and tumbling me and the bike over. But the dirt shoulder is quite a few inches lower than the edge of the asphalt and there is a very large puddle of murky water right where I would be landing.

I finally work out that I should ride the bike forward 10 feet where the shoulder is the height of the road and it is covered in grass. I don't like riding on grass. I've only been riding 3 months by this time. On a very new to me bike that I didn't have any time on, and I felt was extremely tall and top heavy. I didn't care what happened to the bike, I just couldn't figure out how to get off the damn thing and get to my husband.

By the time those brain synapses finally function and get me dismounted Oilburner has lain down on the pavement to the right of his bike. And one young ass is running around waving his hands in the air (yes, one was clutching his cell phone) screaming "The brakes failed. The brakes failed!"

All the time I was forced to listen to Oilburner get hit, Oilburner now has to listen to me screaming at this idiot that his brakes did not fucking fail. See, that black wall was a BMW X5 only a year or so old.

I slowly realized that my "conscience" was talking to me in a low voice. My conscience is telling me to call AAA for his bike. At the time I didn't question. I was on auto pilot and there wasn't any way I could think for myself. I didn't call the police. I didn't call our good friend 5 miles away. I didn't take off my helmet and talk with Oilburner. I called AAA. What a frickin dipshit I am!!

Later...when I realized what I had done I asked Oilburner why he told me to call for towing. His response was "to give you something to focus on." He figured it would calm me down and keep me from killing this kid.

Kid he was. He was all of 19, and he called both of his parents who came rushing to the accident site.

Emergency response was quick, though there was confusion on their end about who should respond. East bound traffic belonged to the city and westbound traffic belonged to the county. :) Go figure. The good news is that the hospital was right in front of us. The bill for the ambulance had one mile transportation charge. The EMT's mused that this was their new record.

Oilburner was OK, just mild whiplash in his lower back. Physical therapy helped that. The bike was totaled, the kid was distraught and his father rode a Hyabusa. Hopefully this incident and his parents taught him a lesson about cell phones and driving. I don't know if the kid was texting or talking. I just know he didn't see us. If we hadn't been there we are 95% certain he would have rear-ended the minivan anyway. No one knows how I escaped unscathed. I wasn't any farther to the right in the lane than normal. The X5 had a good hole in the bumper from the Harley on the drivers side, so the SUV wasn't too far to the left. We just don't know. But we are grateful.

It was extremely difficult for me to get on the bike after that. But I did. And I religiously analyzed my "Six" approaching stop lights/signs for many months. Now can you understand my outrage in my class two weeks later?

The second incident was graciously provided to me on that slow moving, scenic Blue Ridge Parkway trip we just completed. It occurred on the first day we were on the parkway (so the second day of the trip). This one a$$hole felt the need to turn this scenic parkway into his own private Daytona 500 race track.

I led most of the distance and kept any tails on Oilburner in my sight. While we were clipping along a little over the speed limit (a very little in honesty), I tuned into people who might want to go faster and got out of their way at the first opportunity. I wish some people would have done that for us.

In this instance we were behind one of those oblivious drivers averaging 35 (in a 45 zone), without any chances of passing. Someone came up on Oilburners tail and hovered there.

After maybe 10 miles the lead car must have spotted something shiny and finally pulled off. We surpassed the speed limit again and the SUV stayed on Oilburners rear.

It took a couple miles for the next turnout to come up. It happened to be on the left and happened to be just over a little rise, and happened to have a fairly straight stretch of road which just happened to be a "no-passing" zone.

I appropriately signed my intent to turn and get out of this guys way. Just as I was preparing to turn I hear Oilburner in the helmet communicator yelling "Whoa!!" and hear his horn honking. I can't see the SUV in my mirror and suddenly see a gold wall passing on my left with the sound of a screaming engine wound up as it flew by. This all occurred in the span of about 2 seconds. The ONLY reason I was not already committed in the turn was because of some traffic cones and people milling about at the entrance of the overlook. I shudder to realize that if I hadn't paused for that split second I would have been turning across the left lane as that SUV accelerated to pass. There wasn't anyplace for that SUV to go, or if he even would have had time to respond.

I'm still going over the situation in my mind when Oilburner expresses his desire to go after that son of a bitch. I'm not shaking or in shock. This wasn't really a "near miss" or anything. But it could have been. Or it could have been much worse. Another fraction of a second, and while I know Oilburner wouldn't really "go after" the guy, I decide to.

Yeah, I know. Not a good idea. But this guy needs to understand just how close he came to taking my life.

He is already into the next curve when my throttle hand catches up to my thoughts. I whomped on the throttle and off I shoot. I am up to 75 mph before I catch the guy. When I slow to match his speed (and keep a safe distance behind in case he wants to retaliate by slamming on the brakes) we are doing about 70 mph. I lay on the horn and just flip the guy off. Oilburner has caught me by this time and is telling me the error of my ways. He takes the quickly flashed brake lights as a sign that the driver "understands me". I don't take it that lightly.

I back off and try to find my zen. That is rather difficult when I am scrutinizing every turnout for that damn vehicle. We considered calling the park rangers or the cops. But that probably won't do any good. I take solace in my daydream of finding this a$$hole in some turnout, taking my helmet off and using it to bash his fucking head in. However, I would be happy with just denting every panel on that SUV and breaking all the windows. That guy is lucky I never saw him again. But his license plate is burned in my memory and I will keep an eye out. And according to Twitter, I am not the only person that has had a run in with this vehicle and driver.

I'm reliving these instances to impress upon you how important it is to be aware of your surroundings. I know you are, but sometimes we need a refresher. In a Stayin' Safe class Oilburner and I took while at the Georgia Mountain Rally (local BMW rally), the instructor pressed us on to look at our six before braking or turns. If someone isn't paying attention to your actions, you might get in trouble. As for tailgaters? Try to keep the emotion and ego in check and just pull over for a break. I was honestly trying to do that. I wasn't trying to police this guys speed. I just didn't realize that he wanted to drive 70 in a 45 zone.

Stay Safe out there everyone. I want you around for a long time to come.

The Power of Suggestion

2011-08-22T20:31:00.000-04:00

Warning: If you are susceptible to the power of suggestion I recommend you stop reading now. To continue reading may set you up for having the wrong song in your helmet for a long time to come.

Phenomena

Helmet to helmet communicators can be a blessing or a curse. Of course, I've only ever been connected to hubby. So he is stuck with my rumblings and rants. I'm not sure I could do well with "on" communication with anyone else. I know it would be a connection with friends. But your friend isn't always in your head to that degree. And, honestly, do you really want them to be? I mean, the spouse has signed up for your crazy, but your friend doesn't necessarily know the depth of it.

Do doo do-do

Oilburner and I don't keep up a constant patter of communication. We have long periods of silence just listening to road noise, engine noise, wind noise. But the line is there in case we spot something interesting, to warn each other of obstacles, or discuss what's for dinner.

We each have a Bluetooth connection with our own phones. We can, and do, shut each other off and listen to music occassionally.

Phenomena

Many times I do enjoy listening to music while riding. It's usually on just as background noise to drown out my wind/helmet noise. But it is mostly when I ride alone. I rarely listen while riding with Oilburner. And he is the same way.

This isn't a new thing for us. Many times we will listen to the radio in the truck while driving. When we are pulling the trailer? The music is never on. Pulling trailers is a responsibility. I think we leave the radio off to tune into the trailer more, and keep alert for dangers.

Do do-do-do

I'm wondering if the same thing is true on the bikes. Are we keeping the channel open, even though we aren't talking, "in case" we need to communicate in an emergency? Or are we just concerned the other person will be offended if we didn't want to talk to them? A way of ignoring each other?

The handful of times we have disconnected from each other was on the super slab and we wanted to make some miles.

Phenomena

So we went on a group ride this Saturday. It was going to be a long distance day and the first leg was going to be slabbed to get us into Tennessee. The pace was "spirited".

Oilburner was polite and offerend that I could listen to music if I wanted. (Now I am beginning to wonder if he was telling me he didn't want to to talk to me, so he could listen to his music?? Hmmm....Why do I never think of these things at the time??)

I told him I was OK. I didn't need to listen to music. I would just sing in my helmet. Seriously, I really don't know the lyrics to too many songs. So the default song came in...

It was over. Oilburner had this song running through his head all day. Karma for all the time he and his coworkers subtly whistled different tunes each week that their boss would unconciously pick up and hum, whistle, or sing for days.

And just when Oilburner was getting over it?

Phenomena

I have officially put 30,000 miles on my bike in three years. I purchased my bike somewhere around this time in 2008, with 9,442 miles on the clock. I flipped to 39,443 at the Saturday ride meeting location It was a short lived victory since I went to put on an additional 400 miles that day. But I'm still happy. :)

The Saturday ride took us to places we have never been before. Not even in a cage. So it was lovely seeing a brand new area. The group we went with are people from the local tag games. So we "know" each other by avatar on the boards. Some know each other in person as well. This was our first time meeting most of them in person. They are some good people.

However, I just don't mesh with their riding style. I don't mind a spirited ride and allowing people to go their own pace. I am fine falling behind and catching up, if you are good with that. But please don't say you are good with that, and then not be in actuality.

Their idea of good riding was fast twisties come hell or high water and whisking along 45 mph roads at 60+ mph. This involved passing on double yellows and even passing in the twisties. I'm disheartened to say that I bowed to peer pressure and followed suit...as long as I was positive it was safe. (Though nothing would have saved me if there had been a police officer.) There came a time when it was not safe and I fell way behind without any way of catching up. Good. It allowed me to actually spend some time looking at the scenery that was completely new to me.

The day was meant for the twisties and a minor amount of sightseeing. Fine with me, except the roads where we were sucked!! Lots of erosion and heaving, uneven surfaces with poor patch jobs. There were a few decent areas, but many of the twisties were plagued by uneven drops. After having read a face plant recently of someone that suffered broken ribs from a very minor 6 inch wide sink hole, I wasn't going to push my speeds on new-to-me roads.

In all, the twisties were fun. It was wonderful being on new roads and having new vistas to look over. We managed to make it to a state park with a beautiful waterfall, that we didn't see. The heat was getting to Oilburner and he wasn't up to walking the trail to the overlook. So we sat in the shade and hydrated.

It was nearing 2:00 pm by this time and we were 4 hours from home. We had only progressed one third around the originally planned loop. Oilburner and I decided it was time to split off and head for home to rescue the puppy and have a leisurely ride home. We stopped at one overlook for photos. :) And the one patch of rain we hit was wonderfully refreshing, dropping temps from 100F to 74F (38C to 23C).

Staying Cool to the Extreme

2011-08-16T23:13:00.001-04:00

Saw a link to this video on Demenshea's site. The video itself isn't really news worthy. I am hoping my fellow riders won't go to this extent to keep cool while riding. But you have to watch until timestamp 2:10. That scream makes the entire video...

Motorcyclists: An Exercise in Patience

2011-08-10T23:15:00.001-04:00

Patience is the ability to idle your motor

when you feel like stripping your gears.

-Barbara Johnson

Patience, n. A minor form of despair, disguised as a virtue.

- Ambrose Bierce

As a motorcycle rider we can choose to be patient, or not, with many aspects of riding. Should I head through that intersection on the very amber yellow? Or not? Should I speed up to pass this slow cager in front of me at the next available pass opportunity? Or not? Should I hang in this guys blind spot? Or should I speed up? Slow down? Should I get on the throttle a little in these twisties that I know really well, but haven't ridden yet today? Or not?

Answering any of those questions will result in either less waiting, quicker gratification, an adrenaline rush, delayed arrival time, relaxed sightseeing, depending on how "patient" you want to be.

However...there is ONE thing we motorcyclists have no choice over and we are forced to be patient...

ITCHES!!!

What can we do if our foot itches? Nothing. Yeah, we can try moving our boot on the peg and see if we can satisfy the itch. Similar to amputees scratching the phantom limb/itch. Sometimes the psychosomatic scratch will work with that.

What can we do if our arm itches while we are properly attired? (Meaning armored jacket and gloves.) "Scratching" might actually work but can be unsatisfactory with gloves blunting and expanding our finger "footprints". It might work, but nowhere near as satisfying as fingernails would be.

Same thing goes with torso or legs...if the spot can be reached.

But what about those of us wearing helmets? (I am hoping that we all know the benefits of helmets and are wearing them.)

Facial itches are annoying, but are usually OK. Sure it's difficult stuffing sausage sized fingers through face shield space to scratch the tip of your nose. But it does get the job done. It's that itch on the top of your head that is not going to be satisfied! Wearing a full face helmet I'm able to gab the chin bar and wiggle the helmet around in a limited fashion. Unfortunately it rarely does any good.

It seems that our options are to "patiently" ignore the itch or patiently ignore the itch while safely finding a place to stop the bike, patiently remove gloves, patiently unthread the strap through the impossible D-hooks, patiently remove the helmet (and any scull caps or hair holders), then impatiently scratch the damn offending itch that has just disrupted your concentration!

As Seen Through the Lens of a Helmet

2011-08-02T20:25:00.002-04:00

Lying on my back with my foot pinned under the seat of my bike, it is surprising how much the view through the small window of the helmet resembles a movie screen. The fluffy clouds floated along the deep blue backdrop. The leaves on the trees fluttering in the snippets of breezes passing by. I could even hear a few happily chirping birds.

That little viewport prevented me from seeing my position in this world. I couldn't see that my bike was laying on the ground. A most unnatural position for a "cruiser." Thankfully I couldn't see my husbands frantic rush to get off his bike and rush towards me. I could only imagine my knight in matte mesh armor standing up and throwing a leg over his steed. Unmindful of actually killing the engine, putting it in neutral or putting the kickstand down, it would continue on down the road without him. Of course, I didn't see or think any of this until later. I was just watching the clouds roll by and wondering where it went wrong.

My left leg was free. No troubles there. A twitch of my right leg told me I hadn't gotten off that easily. It was under the bike somewhere. But I wasn't feeling any pain. That must be a good sign, right?

Oilburner did almost forget to put his kickstand down with all of his concentration focused on her. This is the bad thing of couples riding together sometimes; the unaffected spouse witnessing disastrous events, and not able to do anything about it. Approaching, he saw her foot was trapped and his stomach was in his throat. The trapped leg twitched a little and suddenly she is free. She still isn't moving though. Is she OK?

Kill the downed bike and he can hear laughter on the air. He leans over her prone body, looks into the little viewport and sees mirth and merriment in her eyes. If he could have seen her mouth through the chin bar he would have seen the smile he loves surrounding by laughter.

I lay there taking stock. If the leg doesn't hurt just pull it a little and see if it comes free. Huzzah! I remained laying there with my arms flung wide and just started laughing. A disembodied helmet leaned into my movie screen, with eyes big as saucers and full of worry. The worry subsided a little and was supplanted with confusion.

For my first "get off" I couldn't have planned it any more perfectly.

I was making a left turn from a stop. Here in America that means having to go to the far lanes in the road. :) I dutifully stopped and checked traffic in both directions on my little sub-division road. I "rolled" on the throttle, did not target fixate on the road edge, and leaned into my turn.

Hmmm...that edge seems to be getting closer, not moving to my right. Lean further. I'm executing such a perfect lean, I should be dragging knee. But that edge still is in my way...

I calculate that I'm still going to be executing my perfect lean at my healthy 3 mph when I reach proper travel direction DIRECTLY in that transition between asphalt road and grass. No curbs in this neighborhood. I don't want to still be leaned over when I hit that transition. I can just imagine the bike slipping out, dumping me on the road.

ABORT!! ABORT!!

As taught, I right the bike before applying the brakes. That much I did do correctly. But I seem to still be aimed at the grass. I executed my turn perfectly, how could this be? (At this beginning stage in my riding career any lean feels like knee dragging race track leans.) So obviously something went wrong.

As much as I want to panic stop, just pull in the clutch and grab a death grip on my front brake. I also don't want to go sliding across the grass that way.

I'm coming in hot at a 45 degree angle to the transition line. Luckily the grass is green, lush, level, and recently groomed. Unfortunately, it doesn't remain level very long and the beginning of a man dug drainage ditch that parallels the road is where I am headed. It's a small ditch here though, maybe a foot wide, lined with grass.

I reach the obstacle just before the ditch starts in earnest, so I only feel a minor bump. I safely, and successfully, brake to a stop on the top of the berm. I have a fraction of a second to realize that I AM ALIVE and still upright when my traitorous motorbike slips down into that 6 inch deep canyon and bucks me off to the right. I have a flicker of time to remember to roll limply like a rag doll. Most "older" people break things when they react by flinging an arm out trying to catch themselves. If I just roll with it I might not hurt anything.

This is how I end up laying on my back, taking an unexpected break, watching a moving cloud picture, arms and legs flung to the wind, laughing. This falling thing wasn't so hard.

Disclaimer: This experience occurred in June 2008. My pride wasn't wounded as I lived by the motto "Not if, but when." I knew it would happen, just not when. I couldn't have hoped for a better induction to motorbiking life. This occurred on my first bike, a 2005 Suzuki S50 (think Intruder 800). It broke a turn signal, but those things just begged to be destroyed.

Again: Can the Blue Ridge Parkway be Ridden in an Extended Weekend?

2011-07-23T18:44:00.002-04:00

Adventures of Day One

Adventures of Day Two

Day Three dawned after another wonderful night in a hotel room with air conditioning and a comfy bed with sheets. Oh yeah and a running shower. I didn't have any difficulty sleeping after my cocktails and dinner last night. I woke up refreshed and ready to climb onto my mighty steed and get moving. Oilburner was ready, but I still chuckled at his groans of soreness.

Forecasts were predicting chances of rain today. We didn't take that seriously for the morning hours that had a very low percentage. We were more concerned with the evening hours when the percentage was nearing 70% at home. So we left the hotel with a light heart and light clothing under the armor. We quickly became aware of the error of our ways since the ridge road we were on was shrouded in a cold, damp fog.

Why is it "fog" when you are in it, but someone looking up from the valley would say the mountain was shrouded with clouds? No need to answer, I looked it up and it has something to do with how it was formed (four types of fog formation) and proximity to ground.

Either way, we stopped and climbed into warmer gear.

Our biggest dilemma for today was defining what it meant to "ride the BRP". We had ridden a large portion from the bottom up last year. did we just need to ride what we hadn't ridden to say we have "ridden" it? or did we need to ride the entire BRP in one shot to claim that victory?

Technically speaking we only needed to ride a handful of miles now to reach the spot where we had turned around last year. We could do that and then do whatever we wanted. But we were a mere 180 or so miles (290 km) from the end. At yesterday's average we should be able to do that in 4 hours. (Then home would be another 2 1/2.) Or...we could just stay on the Parkway however long we felt like it and get off when we wanted.

Funny. We were both still on our high from the twisties yesterday and really wanted to say we had ridden the entire BRP on this trip.

We will not go into my stubborn insistence that I don't really feel like we can say we rode the entire BRP this time. I mean there is an 18 mile (29 km) section that was closed for renovations that our tires have not touched before. Can we, in all good conscience, say we have "ridden" it? I think it might be a different in definition. Legally we were not allowed to ride this section. Which is very different from choosing not to ride it on our own accord.

I took "riding the BRP" seriously and would always backtrack us to the location we exited from. And my strict nature still wonders about the 20 to 50 foot (6 to 15 meters) difference of where my tire turned to leave versus where it was when we re-entered. Yes. Sometimes I can be very exacting. hehe.

The bragging rights won out and we thrilled at the prospect of riding the entire BRP in two days. As I asked last year: Can the BRP be ridden in an extended weekend?

Why yes. Yes it can. IF you don't dawdle with all that sightseeing stuff and are willing to ride a teensy bit faster than the posted speed limit to make up for all the times you are stuck behind someone going far below it.

We had a few slow drivers. But generally the Parkway was quite empty since it was mid-week. What really slowed us down was the fog. We encountered some wispy fog that just blew across our path.

And we encountered thick, pea soup type of fog that reduced visibility to 20 feet (6 meters).

The temperature plummeted from 68F (20C) to 53F (12C). We had shrugged into the warm gear already, and now it was time to wriggle into the rain gear. This was thick, dense fog that was producing some good rain or clingy water droplets.

Strange how our eyes have a more difficult time penetrating the fog, identifying objects, seeing, than the cameras do. The pictures don't do justice to how much [human] visibility was impaired. We had been crawling along with our flashers on. This was my first time in fog. What an interesting experience. I discovered that I had a tendency to hover near the center line simply because I could not see the right edge well. (The BRP doesn't paint a white line on the edge of the road.) We can also attest to the light reflecting quality of the newly painted center stripe on a section that was recently repaved. Much easier to see!

After squinting to see I remembered we had amber lenses and we had to stop yet again to install them. Hopefully someday I will figure out to do these all at the same time. I can also attest to the beneficial difference an amber lens makes for visibility in fog. I was able to make out more looming objects in the fog than before.

We rounded a mountain into an unexpectedly clear zone allowing a glimpse to an adjacent peak still shrouded in fog, with a dense field flowing down into the valley. I stopped at the next overlook to see if we could capture it.

It was breathtaking to see the blue sky, wisps of fog swirl around, dense banks down the mountain that were bright white as the sun reflected off them, but gray ones up the peak that the sun wasn't reaching. This unexpected reprieve led us to find a comfortable spot on the bikes and close our eyes for a few minutes.

What can I say? The remainder of the trip was perfect. Aside from a few people that refused to let us pass, it gave us the chance to slow down and look around. Otherwise it was a perfect trip carving some twisties. In our ever ongoing discussions of riding technique through the helmet communications Oilburner reminded me of another "form" of connecting with the bike for better turning. It had been on my mind the day before, but I wasn't sure how to go about implementing moving my tush across the seat into a lean. He gave me a pointer of not "moving" but at least "shifting" the weight to that cheek a little. WOW! Huge difference that made me feel a more solid connection with the bike. I was able to lean and turn into the curve without any handlebar input. Then, if I felt I was coming in a little hot and fast I still had full use of the handlebars to push down and steer a little more into it. It instantly transformed how I felt with the bike through curves. Much more solid and stable.

Talking about it over lunch I was very aware of the thought processes behind this that could lead someone into trouble. While I had much more confidence in the turns and was taking them at speeds I had only dreamed about before, I was completely conscious of the fact that I didn't have the experience to recover from a road obstacle at those speeds. So don't think that I am getting a swelled head and will be running the Dragon at 60 mph or anything. I will fold this new knowledge slowly into my arsenal and practice, practice, practice.

And Yes, we did ride the entire Blue Ridge Parkway. :)

More images available on Flickr.

Blue Ridge Parkway: The Second Adventure

2011-07-21T23:10:00.002-04:00

After riding 521 miles yesterday "someone" luxuriated in a little extra sleep. I was game enough since the bed was comfortable. And I didn't bother masking my chuckles at his repeated exclamations of how sore he was. After all, that wasn't my longest day on the bike. It might have been his though. :)

The hotel we were staying at offered a continental breakfast. A must for getting an easy start in the morning. I need my breakfast before crawling onto the bike. But that led us into an entire dialog on the merits of pulling clothes on and getting breakfast right now versus showering and dressing first. As a girl I have a very different perspective than Oilburner. And I can only attribute it to a difference between the sexes right now. Oilburner just wants to throw shorts on and run out the door. Girls don't always have it that easy. Buxom ones need to install and position over the shoulder boulder holders. If long hair is present brushes and combs need to be employed. And some people of the South cannot be seen in public without some form of female war paint on. (Thankfully I am not of that variety!) If I am going through all that work it would be easier to just do it once. We will agree to disagree on this subject. Just another area we have discovered as a traveling difference. So I effectively booted him out of bed, told him if it was so easy go ahead. Then I crawled out of bed and happily toodled around in my PJ's just gathering gear and packing up electronics cords. Another point for hotels versus camping. hehehe

We knew we needed to hit the road soon. We had 280 miles (450 km) of parkway ahead of us. And we also knew that was an aggressive distance at 45 mph (73 km/h) max.

The last time we were on the BRP our distance to time ratio was out of whack due to all of the sightseeing at all of the overlooks. Aware of the distraction this time around we vowed not to pull into every single one. And certainly not the first one! We succeeded. We did turn around twice when an "exhibit" sign looked interesting. This sign caught our eye in passing. Just had to go back and read what that was about. Unfortunately, the 20-minute cliff has nothing to do with it's height in relation to any falling objects flung (or pushed) from it.

Down the road a little further the stone steps caught my eye making me back track.

We were able to forgo many overlooks soon. The day was warm and humid. Our temps at the ridge remained an enjoyable 74F (23C). However, the humidity was relatively high. The views from any overlook was hampered by the high moisture content. There wasn't much to be had in long distance viewing or blue skies. It also didn't help that the trees were in full leaf and difficult to see through.

We stopped at Otter Creek since every overlook leading up to this was "Otter" something or other. Great little rock dam.

Oilburner wouldn't let me turn around for Purgatory Overlook. But I surreptitiously steered us to Devil's Backbone.

We were actually making pretty good time without all of the stops. I did force us off the parkway to get fuel. I get antsy when the gauge shows two bars remaining. Holding my breath that the fuel station on my GPS still existed I led us into the unknown in the wilds near Floyd, VA. Wow. Nice scenery.

Our luck was in and the fuel station was still in business. Great place that the current owners have had in the family for 31 years.

I inquired about the "number of hot dogs sold" count. Seems that figure is a count of 31 years! We had already eaten lunch but ordered two for the road in case dinner was delayed. Unfortunately we never had the chance to eat them. :( Have to go back! :)

The convenience store is one of those throw back in time places that city dwellers don't usually have the opportunity to enjoy. Among the floating cooler ball for beer storage and canned goods stood the beautiful antique glass and wood cases. And within these cases were the hunting guns and ammo. We didn't even recognize the pattern on some of the boxes, making us wonder how old they might have been.

From the beginning Oilburner repeatedly drilled into me that our exit was at 280 (miles). A nice, even, round number to remember and day dream about as the road weary set in an hour before quitting time. (The Parkway has placed wonderful stone markers with the mileage etched in at each mile of the route. Therefore it is easy to pinpoint your location.) It was with a heavy heart that I had to chastise him when marker 280 came and went with no hope of an exit. The next marker came and went with my hopes dwindling more. Then the next... Oilburner lied to me... He had some making up to do. Which he achieved quite nicely with the fabulous strawberry martini that he had to force me to drink. Then the second one. Tsk. Tsk. Luckily the hotel was a short saunter away through a parking lot. The short climb up a 3 foot slope was navigable with him pushing my tush up the hill and my grabbing his arm and pulling so he didn't have to put much weight on his bum toe. We made quite the sight and laughed the entire walk "home."

It was a spectacular day. The weather and temps were perfect. The roads were spot on with curves and fun to be had. There was time enough for the few sights that caught our interest.

Interestingly, one of Oilburners headlights was out yesterday. We should have hit the parts store as soon as we reached Waynesboro, but the heat was just begging us to get off the bikes. So it was very interesting to see that he lost his second light today. He was running blind! A portion of the parkway was closed for renovations, detouring us through town. We made a quick stop at the parts store to recover two headlight bulbs.

Last Minute, Crazy Ideas on the Blue Ridge Parkway

2011-07-20T22:40:00.001-04:00

Divine inspiration was lacking. Champagne did not fall from the heavens, doors did not open, velvet ropes did not part to help us on our way. Months and months ago plans were made for a "one big happy family" July Fourth weekend. Those fell by the wayside when health issues for some came up that inhibited long distance travel. Then heavy work and work travel schedules prevented Oilburner and I from coming to a decision of what we might actually do now with that time. The ideas swirled in our heads, but one aspect always seemed to prevent "final approval." Many times it was "the dog." I didn't want to subject her to the scorching heat that is blanketing the South. She wouldn't have done well in the truck, that doesn't have air conditioning in the covered bed. Which means I didn't want to rent a cabin or house someplace to sit on their sofa either. It would have been difficult to get anywhere in the heat, and the separation anxiety she has means we wouldn't have done much so as not to leave her alone.

The decisions became infinitely more difficult when Oilburner decided it would be a good idea to break a toe while he was traveling for work. That efficiently put the kibosh on any idea I had of installing the master bath shower that has been hogging garage space for the last two months. I know we can be lazy, but I haven't wanted to demo the bathroom until I knew we had a chunk of time to work on it. Since we knew work travel was coming, there hadn't been an optimal time. And now it looked like vacation time was also going to be out.

The pet sitter was an option...during the week. She had already been booked for the weekends. However, I was not too keen on figuring out where to ride in 95+ F (35+ C) heat. It was simply impossible to stay cool. Besides, Oilburner's toe wasn't quite fitting into a boot yet.

Much nap time and movie watching was to be had. But there came a point in time that napping and movies just weren't cutting it anymore and we were both anxious to get out. The plan hatched and came together overnight. The Blue Ridge Parkway pull finally snagged us.

Oilburner's idea was to hop on the parkway, see how far we could get and then run the freeway home. I had a simpler idea that had higher motivation. How about running to the top of the parkway? Since we had already covered the closest 200 miles why do them again immediately? Wouldn't it be more enjoyable to see somewhere new? And...that would mean a less stressful last day heading home since we would be closer. Better than some mad dash from "wherever."

My idea won out and the plan was implemented.

We left early Tuesday morning and pointed the front tires towards Waynesboro, VA. (Yay, this will be my 7th state.) We had a long day ahead of us, but we had packed the night before and were well rested. Having the tanks already full made it doubly enjoyable to just be able to get on the bikes and go.

For a day that was going to be in the low 90's those gray clouds threatening rain were keeping it a cool 75F (24C). Wasn't doing anything to help the humidity though. After an hour the cold was getting to me and I made a deal with myself to put on my liner if it dropped one more degree. It did. this was a good thing since the rain started spitting down soon after.

We rode on in the drizzle for another hour or so, enjoying the empty roads. Traffic wasn't too bad on the major North/South Interstate 81. There were semi's to dodge and speeding cagers to avoid, but we managed quite well. Until... Construction of some sort had the two lanes almost at a stand still. It was an easy decision to speed down the breakdown lane. This act of defiance worked will for a couple miles. (Though we surmise now that this is probably where I picked up that stupid rod/nail in the rear tire.) We would pop back into traffic when we crossed a bridge. The shoulder wasn't quite wide enough and was completely littered with fairly large chunks of concrete that had come out of the bridge surface. Reports say that many bridges in our country are averaging 30+ years and many are in desperate need of repair. It is something that I think about, but usually speeding over them at 65+ mph doesn't require you to ponder it for long. The Minnesota bridge collapse does sit in the back of my mind many times, but I push those thoughts away. However, it is highly unnerving to crawl across a concrete bridge that is missing fist sized chunks of material!

We took the first off ramp to discuss if we wanted to continue in this manner or find a back road. This is where Garmin fun begins, as Gary France has discovered. Oilburner and I have different Garmin GPS units and have speculated for awhile about the difference in route calculation between the two. Oilburner's GPS directs us to turn left. Mine, that has been told to avoid unpaved roads, directed us to the right. Deciding on a course, we followed my GPS. Hmmm...that is normally correct.

About a mile and a half down the road we lost the pavement. Another two miles down the gravel my GPS directs us to turn left at the dead-end. But the sign in front of me clearly states it is not a through road. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. If we head right it appears to connect up with a nearby interstate. Three more miles down this gravel road and I have the sinking suspicion that our little gravel road will be going over the freeway and not connecting with it. I am not too proud to admit I don't want to go forward anymore and promptly stop to turn around. However, I'm a little frazzled on this gravel and just park the bike, letting Oilburner know that he will be doing the work.

I happened to stop directly in front of a worn out, pieced together house with a large lab crawling out from under the non-working truck, barking menacingly with his hackles up. Then the screen door opens and a child of about 7 stares at us. As Oilburner is maneuvering my bike the mother also comes onto the porch squinting through the light at us.

I gave the universal sign of confusion...lifting my shoulders, head titled to the side and yell that we are a little lost. Oilburner was a little concerned over possible Deliverance encounters, but I still like to think most people are good. And this lady was very nice, telling us what we already surmised about having to back track. On the side, Oilburner had an entire conversation with the boy about motorcycles and tractors. And the dog had gotten one good sniff of Oilburner and just rolled on his back exposing his tummy for scratches.

Funnily enough, we made it back to the interstate and decided to roll with traffic since it was moving. Turns out the construction was only 5 more minutes up the road. If we had just remained on the interstate we would have saved a 30 min adventure. But who would have thought we would be "off-roading" in Virginia anytime soon?

(Yes. It was also proven that Oilburner's GPS would have been better to follow in this instance. We watched the frontage road parallel the interstate to the on ramp directly after the construction. Now why wasn't that road on my GPS?!? I wouldn't have missed the old mill, cow on the side of the road and the Rock and Roll Mansion for the 30 minute savings. It was great!)

We continued down the road and finally experienced some of those highs we were expecting. My bike registered 100.4F (38C). Oilburner's consistently shows higher and he firmly believes it was 104F (40C). Either way, it was hot! We "enjoyed" a few more GPS mishaps reaching our destination. They were only time eating and not time wasting. But it sure was good to slip into the pool at the hotel and cool off.

The Parkway awaits the morning...

Taking Your Own Advice: A Bitter Pill to Swallow?

2011-07-17T15:35:00.000-04:00

Suited up and sweating like a pig. Getting ready to pull the bikes out of the garage to attend the BMW club poker run/monthly meeting/lunch. Washed them yesterday and went over the bikes. But happened to look down at the tire this morning and it was in the perfect position to showcase the rod that was embedded in the rear. It had been there for quite a few miles considering the grounding and polishing. And the tire pressure had been holding steady for the last week. Ride with it or remove it and see what happens.

Isn't it interesting how you just can't, in good conscience, ride on that type of thing once you are aware of its existence?

We worked the inch plus long rod out, hoping that it hadn't penetrated the carcass since its angle was almost completely parallel with the surface of the tire. There wasn't any hissing to indicate a mighty leak. But the soapy water revealed minuscule bubbling. As the tire guy said "There isn't such a thing as a little heart murmur."

So the decision: to patch ourselves, or replace.

I have never, in my life, worked with tire plugs. Actually, I've never had to trust my life to a tire with a plug in it. The riding lawn mower doesn't count. I know Oilburner has, and I know many other people that have. I'm just not sure how I feel about it. Oilburner was leaving this decision up to me.

With only 3,000 miles on the tire, it was a bit of a bitter pill to swallow. But I ultimately don't have any qualms about the $275 for the tire, mounting, disposal and MotoGuard replacement. Of course, purchasing that means that I won't get another nail in my tire. :)

Already removed the rod, but it had done some visible damage

I thoroughly enjoyed the tire mounting equipment. The gentleman performing the change was nice enough to let me watch.

Blogger Issues?

2011-06-29T18:50:00.000-04:00

I've been having difficulty leaving comments on some blogger blogs the last couple of weeks. Is anyone else experiencing this?

Please leave a comment...

hehehehehehehehehe

I hope your work, health and weather are all letting you get some mental health time with nature and your motorbike.

-Steel Cupcake

A Button. A Door. It's a Simple Thing Really.

2011-06-15T23:40:00.000-04:00

When is a door not a door?

When it's ajar!!

It's a simple thing really. At it's simplest it is some semi-flat and thin plank that can be set or pushed in front of some sort of opening to enable or prevent ingress/egress of some one, some thing, snow, rain, etc. Slightly more complex and the plank is attached by rope or metal or something that forms a hinge and the planking can be swung to admit passage. Add a little more complexity and the hinge can be at the top, and some electronic mechanism can even perform plank movement automatically. Really. I've seen it.

That fanciest of all versions contains an "Automatic Door Opener." Cagers figured this thing out long ago that allows them to carry, in the car, a small box with a button that will control that "Automatic Door Opener" remotely. When they leave, a press of the button will close the door. And when they arrive it will open the door. There is a matching button usually mounted on a wall within the garage that will control the "Automatic Door Opener" from an internal stationary location.

This is a spectacular achievement when the vehicle is going through that portal. The user does not have to exit the vehicle to open or close the door and get back into the vehicle.

So what about us no-account motorbike riders that don't have storage space to keep that box with the button? Or easy accessibility if one does? Or fingers that are not the size of a Christmas ham wrapped in leather casing?

We are "attached to another object by an inclined plane wrapped helically around an axis." Some people have devised a form of the boxed button that will activate that "Automatic Door Opener" with the honk of the horn. Unfortunately, that only seems to work when the appropriate receiver is nearby and tuned to your horn's frequency.

But wait!

A couple intrepid inventors saw a possibility here. Could something be created for a motorbike? Something other than velcro-ing or gluing the boxed button onto the bike?

One such system is the Flash2Pass.

Image taken from Web

This product involves hooking into the high beam wires for your motorbike, and then stashing the small attached mechanism on your bike somewhere. This will usually fit behind a fairing or headlight, but could be mounted under the seat in a pinch. A second mechanism is attached to/or replaces that button that is mounted on the wall internally. This is all wrapped up neatly, allowing the motorbike operator the luxury of pressing the "flash" high beams in quick succession to activate that lovely "Automatic Door Opener."

No, it isn't difficult to dismount a motorbike and open that door. But when it also entails unlocking the inside door, disarming the alarm, preventing the geriatric dog from breaking a leg as she jumps all over you panicking to be let out, unlocking the back door and escorting the dog through the screened porch, all the while looking and feeling like an astronaut walking on the moon with this heavy orbed object on your head, baubling along the rooms trying not to knock it against the cabinet or doors.

No. It isn't completely necessary. But it is such a simply thing and so nice to have. :)

Getting Lei'd, Running Sheriffs blockades and Slapping a Cop

2011-06-13T00:38:00.001-04:00

It was an eventful weekend. And I emerged relatively unscathed without an arrest record or moving violation. I was pursued. But it was a low speed chase and they didn't have a chance of catching me. Couldn't catch me even on the downhills.

I am surprised their cheers didn't wake the neighbors. And that is taking into account that the neighbors were not big party people. They were generally very quite, laid back people. Tough as granite and quiet as the grave.

Neighbors can be seen in the background on the left.

My third time through I stopped and told them how much their cheers and enthusiasm were appreciated. They draped my bike with leis. They may have been plastic, but the spirit with which they were given were sincere. They were here to help and motivate and took their jobs seriously. There wouldn't be anyone else like them.

One time, while waiting for a red light to turn green and allow me on my way, a sheriff coming from my left turned left to travel in the direction I was headed, only to turn on his lights, make a u-turn and sit across the intersection from me. The traffic light finally turned green and I started on my way. You may not believe it is possible, but we made eye-contact through two pairs of sunglasses. The connection between us was unbreakable as he pointed two fingers at me. Then flipped his hand over and folded his fingers in a "come here" motion that could not be denied. Mr. Oilburner will find it incredible that someone could summon me in this manner. But I actually did obey. I promptly executed my own u-turn and stopped next to this bastion of enforcement.

I pulled up to another intersection where another sheriff's car was parked. He was out of it and walking towards me when he saw me approach. I pulled up next to him and started to talk. You know how difficult communication can be through a full face helmet, so he was having a little difficulty understanding me and I was having to talk loudly. Then we had a Zsa Zsa Gabor episode where my hand just kinda reached out and slapped him. He was quite gracious during the episode and didn't even reach for his sidearm. Whew! Then he let me just ride away, where I stopped across the intersection and just watched him.

Elsewhere throughout the day I blatantly blew through police blockades. Sometimes I made eye contact. Sometimes I didn't. But they never turned their backs to me.

It was a grand weekend of law breaking, helping and heat exhaustion. The damn weather was so helpful by giving us a grueling weekend of 92+F degree temps (33C) when people were out killing themselves either pedaling bicycles 80 or 100 miles, depending on the route. The marshals were fully clothed in black armor on shiny steeds to save the day when we could. (The sheriffs pointed out that they were in Kevlar vests and polyester...) Our steeds shined and we would have glistened if your eyes could have penetrated the shaded lenses of our helmets. If you looked closely you could see the rivers of sweat flowing down our necks before it disappeared under the collar of our jackets. I expect it might have appeared like sun sparkling on the wavelets in a lake.

The FedEx volunteers manning checkpoint two would have been better at checkpoint five. At checkpoint two cyclists were still fresh and it was early. These enthusiastic volunteers were needed at the end of the day when people were questioning their sanity in attempting to ride a bicycle between Atlanta and Athens in the Georgia Foothills. Especially the damn hill that the riders were calling "The Widow Maker."

I had to agree with one cyclists observation that whenever there was a sign on the course notifying them that the next break point was a mere mile away, there was invariably a ball buster climb in between the sign and destination. It's only noticeable on the motorbike when you see the cyclist walking up the hill or stading on the pedals and still only crawling along at 1 mph. Three cyclists that I spoke with over the course of the weekend were also motorbike pilots. And they all posited that next year they might volunteer to be a motorcycle marshal instead. Yes, we marshals were volunteering to be under these brutal conditions. But these cyclists had to raise money for the privilege of abusing themselves on this course. My deepest admiration to them. There was a time in my life when I would have cycled that course with them. But that time has passed.

In all it was a great weekend. 188 cyclists, the pedal-powered kind, showed up to raise money for Multiple Sclerosis. We averaged 16 motorcycle marshals. Some working all weekend, others coming for Saturday or Sunday work. No marshals were hurt. There was a moderate accident among the cyclists when some no-account resident switched route signs and sent quite a few cyclists down a route that turned to gravel. Accounts differ, but even if the worst account was true the situation only resulted in a broken collarbone.

I came the closest I have come yet to dropping my bike as I tried to coast backward into a sloped driveway. I was trying to get safely off the roadway and course and out of cyclists way before calling a support van for someone too hot to continue. I am particularly grateful to the powers that be that helped me keep the strength in my big toe that allowed me to save the bike (and myself) from a spill that would have turned the bike not just on its side, but absolutely upside down, and tumbled me into a large patch of poison ivy.

This year the course was very long. This year we had the responsibility of patrolling the entire course, both days. Last year our group was only responsible for half. I can say that I saw neighborhoods in downtown Atlanta that I never knew existed. Some of that is good and some is bad. I can't believe the route really went through such down and out neighborhoods and other savagely congested streets. I sincerely thank the cops that stopped traffic for all the cyclists and generally allowed me to scoot behind the bicycles and get through some intersections that I would otherwise still be sitting at.

This year seemed to have better prepared riders on the whole. Last year I gave out tons of bananas and liters of water. This year no one wanted anything but a lift in the support van, and that was also rare.

I feel grateful to have offered a bit of support for people working for a good cause.

And by-the-way, the sheriff that summoned me asked me to contact control since he couldn't get through. A cyclist needed a support vehicle back along the route. And the sheriff that I slapped? He had a large spider crawling on his shoulder. He was grateful that I had spotted and removed it.

Remember, cops are our friends. :)

This weekend occurred May 21 and 22, 2011. I am late in posting, and decided to go ahead without the video. More images can be seen at Flickr for the Multiple Sclerosis weekend.

Commuting

2011-05-24T23:15:00.001-04:00

For as long as I have been riding I have had ~~excuses~~ reasons for not desiring to commute on the bike.

10 miles isn't enough distance to justify the time cost of donning ATGATT
A 10 miles commute that has 14 stop lights is painful
10 miles that generally take 35 minutes to traverse meant too much clutch action sitting at said lights through multiple cycles.

All of it combined to make it a fairly miserable commute. The benefits were never realized with all of the detractors.

Recently my commute doubled in length. And you might think my ~~excuses~~ reasons no longer held water. You would think that, wouldn't you?

Maybe. But doubling those miles also doubled the stoplights and quadrupled the traffic that I encounter. The new area is more business oriented and daily becomes mecca for a large portion of the North Georgia business people.

I held out hope that I would eventually be able to ride to work. I spend my first week scouting out every conceivable route between home and work. Things were not looking good as my 18.1-19.5 mile commute lasted anywhere between 60 - 85 minutes. I spoke with a few other people that lived near where I did and they confirmed their commutes were also in that range. I spoke with a couple of riders and they also confirmed the diagnosis. The only cure was changing arrival/departure time.

I realize I constantly remind you of my Atlanta location. But it really is relevant. There isn't one street that is straight for a distance longer than 300 years. To state another way, city streets are not laid out in a grid pattern. It is not reasonable to expect to be traveling in the same direction if you turn right at the next street, then turn left at the following. I does not happen here. Here, two roads can run parallel, then cross each other a mile down the way.

What does this mean in a commute? It means that if traffic is heavy on the street that I am currently on, I can't just turn at the next one and expect that I will be able to regain my heading at the next street. That first street I turned on could actually spin around and weave itself to travel in a direction exactly opposite the direction I was initially heading.

Than you have to add the river. The river that bisects from the Northeast to the Southwest and has all of its meanderings. Not many streets cross that river. So you are bound to certain paths in long lines with everyone else.

I have been informed, and confirmed, that traffic patterns are fairly reasonable if I planned on arriving at 7:00 AM. Yeehaw. At that time I could leave home about 6:20 and have a "decent" commute. To boot, traffic isn't too bad in the afternoon with a 4 PM departure. Some intersections can get sticky, sometimes, on some days. I haven't discovered any patterns.

Conversely, I could leave my house after 9 AM and generally make good time. However, I haven't discovered when evening rush hour ends yet. At any time between 4:30 and 7:00 I'm still seeing bad backups. And I really don't like working late. I am a morning work type person.

All that being said I have commuted on the bike frequently so far.

And I can say that I FINALLY understand why people enjoy it!! My current route has quite a few miles with few lights. And some sections actually go against traffic flow a ways. When I get a few opportunities to get up to speed and can get the wind to blow the cobwebs away I am all smiles.

But what I really enjoy is the necessity to stop thinking about work. Riding requires so much concentration and focus you can't be thinking about work too. So coming in in the morning I am not thinking about what I have to do that day. And leaving for home means I stop thinking about anything that happened during the day. What a win! My mind is clear to start the day and focus on upcoming challenges. And it is clear when I get home, allowing me to focus on family and relaxing. Wow.

Trite but the saying is true: you never see a motorcycle outside a psychiatrists office.

Not everything has worked itself out yet, though. I have a distinct aversion to wearing "proper" clothing. In many other activities you dress to how warm you will get. Not necessarily to the current temps. I know this isn't applicable to motorbike commuting since I am not performing anything physical to warm my internal temps. So I find that I way underdress for morning temps of 44F (7C) when I know the afternoon temps will reach 80+F (27C). I don't want to layer or get the heated gear out knowing that I won't need it in the afternoon. So a couple mornings I have really frozen. :) My palms are warm against the heated grips but my thighs have stuck to the gas tank like a wet tongue to a metal flagpole in the frozen school yard.

Another issue that I am still trying to work through is just the expectations of being a girl in a business environment. How do you dress nicely and manage long hair AND ride a motorcycle??? I don't agree with wearing one set of clothes on the motorbike and changing into a different set in the office. That may be the ultimate solution...but I don't like it. My current solution is to wear jeans to the office. I'm not supposed to, but nothing has been said yet. As for the top, I will either wear what I want under my armored jacket or wear an undershirt and shrug the nicer top over that when I arrive.

Unfortunately I still have a problem with my hair. I have long, curly, dry, unmanageable hair. I would cut if off, but would look even worse in short hair than I currently do. I can't wash my hair in the evening because it takes forever to dry. Which is also why I can't wash it in the morning if I plan to ride. My wet hair would freeze or completely saturate the padding of my helmet and jacket. And I would still freeze.

So what do I do with my hair? I normally wash, or get it wet, and let it air dry to maintain the natural curls. If I attempt to brush it after it has dried it separates every single strand and frizzes out. My hair is so thick that when this happens I look like the combed out pompoms of a show poodle.

I haven't solved this issue yet, but it will probably mean obtaining hair brushes and spray bottles that stay at work. A blow dryer might be pushing it since the bathrooms are utilitarian, without much space.

Thank goodness I don't wear makeup! I couldn't even imagine the havoc caused by sweating in my helmet as I get ready to depart, followed by freezing temps that chill the beads of sweat into place.

Western Corners - Part 3

2011-05-15T21:03:00.000-04:00

It took stretching, food, diet coke and some jokes with the wait staff to really wake me up. I headed on down the road refreshed. Mr. Oilburner and I had ridden this area a couple weeks ago and nothing had really changed. So I wasn't needing to sightsee. The main highway actually bisects the Fort Benning Army Base. There is one sign I would love to have an image of, however, I am not stopping on a highway going through a military base and whipping the camera out. Especially when the sign I want the image of is a directional sign for Sniper School. You will just have to imagine it on your own.

This area of the state is under-developed. Not many farms or houses. Though they are here. No, this area is for tree harvesting pure and simple. The terrain isn't quite as hilly as the north, but there are still a few peaks that give you a view of the miles upon miles of trees.

I've heard that New Zealand does not have any poisonous spiders or snakes. I've also heard that 22 of the 21 species of poisonous snakes live in Georgia. (...think about it...) These thistles are not poisonous, but given the threatening appearance it should be.

I'm on some of the craziest back roads to reach the park; back alleys of a town of twenty houses, barely paved roads cutting between farm fields, some strange cross road in the middle of tall, thin pine trees and dense ground cover. Approaching the park from the direction I did is obviously more fun than the main roads. And I can't believe that I am in the park when I see a large swimming pool. But given the industrial design and purely functional lifeguard tower, I have to be.

I''m still not seeing anything I would associate with Indian Mounds. Until I encounter a mown field and look over my right shoulder. Temple Mount is towering over me.

I have definitely entered the park from the less traveled direction. The visitors center is the last thing before leaving the park. :) And I find it a little strange that there is only one car in the lot. Is the recession taking its toll?

For all intents, this place should be open, but it it looking a little desolate. So I decide to give it a peek. Low and behold they are open! And this is where my road weariness becomes evident. When the ranger asks me what she can help we with my basic response was "I don't know." When she asks what I want to do, I stammer "See the mounds, but I won't be doing much hiking in these boots." But otherwise I just don't know my options. She looks at me as if I am mildly retarded and kindly lists out a couple options:

Pay the $5 park fee and wander outside to my hearts content
Pay $4.28 to wander through the museum, watch a short video AND wander outside to my hearts content

And by-the-way, there is a partially excavated mound INSIDE the museum.

hmmm...Air conditioning, watch a video, see a mount up close for less money? That's for me!

I pay my fee and we meet up again in the room with the excavated mount and video screen. It's a great room with seating set up in a stair fashion, and I have it all to myself. The lights go down, the video starts and my boots come off. My feet are burning up and I am hot. I had haphazardly pulled off my thermal shirt, but I was going to have to go to the restroom to remove my thermal pants. (Temperature/body cooling always seems fine while riding, but try walking in the heat with silk thermals and they will overheat you in seconds!)

I have never removed my boots for a refresh before. I always wait until the end of the riding day, seeming like too much work to get back into them. Boy is that WRONG!! I sat there leaning against the next riser and scooched by butt backwards a little. The seating/steps were so long that the platform that I was sitting on hit me about mid-calf. So i was sitting there like a little kid with my legs stuck straight out and just flipping my feet up and down. Just that little air flow produced a good windchill on my hot and sweaty feet. Sometimes my attention wandered from the video as I concentrated on the cool feeling of my feet. Pure bliss. As the video ends I hustle back into my boots. Hopefully the earthen smell of the Indian Mound masks my stinky boots. :)

Now that I have my history I am fee to wander the mound and museum. I'm not sure how I feel about a partially excavated mound being on display. Part of me wishes we would leave sacred places well enough alone. But another part of me understands mankind's curiosity and this allowed people to learn about another culture.

This mound happens to be the burial mound of a chief. The pit holding the ashes of the chief is 9 feet deep and the height of the mound is 11 feet. Please note that it is illegal ti display Native American remains. All skeletons are reproductions.

In building the museum they build a platform walkway over and around the excavated mount that really makes this a treat.

Temple Mound is 57 feet high (17.3m). And those 83 steps aren't terribly fun in motorcycle boots... :( But climb it I did for some great views.

Can you believe there is at least one place left in the US this is not bisected by cell phone antennae? I found it!

I was getting tired, but Bainbridge was only about an hour down the road. It is 5 PM by this time. Was I prepared for another hour on the road? Could I, in good conscience, call this my Southwest Corner? I don't have to head home tomorrow, but the thunderstorms and severe weather is predicted for Saturday. It would be nice to snuggle on a sofa instead of ride through thunderstorms.

I decide to head towards Bainbridge. Five miles down the road is a Day's Inn that appears clean, well kept and empty. The only vehicles are huge powerline utility trucks. I again ponder my moral "southwest" and pull into the lot. Still no cell coverage to call Oilburner and mull it over with him. If there isn't cell coverage now, there won't be any in 2 hours and that means no talking with Oilburner at all tonight. How am I gonna live without talking to sweetie?!?! No way. I'm going to Bainbridge. This way I also don't have any moral dilemmas :) Oilburner pointed out later that we could have Skyped. But I'm glad I didn't remember.

The ride into Bainbridge is easy. The hotel is nice. There are about 5 restaurants/fast food joints within walking distance. The hotel is directly behind a gas station for fuel in the morning. The Holiday Inn next door is newer, but here my bike is parked directly outside my room door. No such amenity next door. hehe

I go back and forth between reading a book, playing on the internet and watching Monster Quest on cable. (We don't have satellite or cable at home. We rely on rabbit ears. So it can be a treat seeing some interesting shows.)

I toss and turn most of the night. Not really sure what was on my mind, or if the bed isn't terribly comfortable. But I am ready to get on the road in the morning and see something new. I have the requisite fight with the air pump in the morning. This time I remembered to check air pressure before suiting up. And confirmed that it is the same two pounds low as it was yesterday. I planned ahead for that and was just going to air up at the gas station. The trouble?? I only have 3 of the required 4 quarters. And I'm not leaving all of my stuff in the back lot of this forsaken gas station to get the last one. I resort to unpacking one bag to get at the pump and just give it another go. I let it chug away for awhile and the on-board needle jumps from 34 to 44 in the blink of an eye. I've been siting here watching it and there wasn't any incremental increase, just this gigantic jump. But it is infinitely easier to let air out and all is well. Sweating and hot and grouchy, but well.
I believe I hit my groove yesterday at the mounds. Stress and worry had left me. I was good to stop and see some sights. I was thoroughly enjoying myself. My big decision for the route home was to take a more direct, back roads route or hit the slab. The back roads would be enjoyable but the slab led in the direction of the ONLY "Q" city in Georgia. And also near the current location of the Georgia tag. Hmm..."Q" wins. I don't know when I will be down this way again. (Yeah, I know precedence says I will be back within the month. LOL.)

The highway I am on, heading east, is one of the "updated" ones that is four lanes, divided. Makes it safer, but usually bypasses the interesting stuff, so you have to keep a sharp eye out.

I can't help but stop to collect a "C" city. I missed the town and should have circled back for a picture of the post office, but it's still cool.

Looks like I have found another "W" city. I love the old grocery story for Whitesville, but I prefer the police cruiser for Whigham. :)

Then I spied a strange historic site sign as I sped past it. Only to see another decrepit house over the edge of the road on the other side. Nothing unusual in itself, however, the rock monument and plaque is. I do turn around for this.

There isn't any information, just the plaque with the name of the place. The internet reveals a little history, but not much. And I'm no daring enough to take the bike down the rutted dirt road, but Google map view reveals that it might have been interesting. The Paul Hansell Bennet Wetlands Site was donated by said man to preserve the wetlands in this area that were partially destroyed by the building of the highway. I read that it is a good place to bird watch.

Back on the road and only three miles to "Q"! Yay! GPS says there isn't a post office, which can't be correct. But how do you navigate to someplace that software says doesn't exist? I stopped at the first spot that displayed "Q", but it isn't very attractive.

Another mile into town brings me to the city square with the courthouse...but no name.

Still, there is some great architecture here.

After Quitman it is ALL Super Highway to Atlanta. Boring but quick. I still have one more detour before heading that front tire directly home. There is the matter of this Georgia TAG sitting for the last two weeks down south. A small detour takes me to "E"nigma. The tag and another "E" city in one shot. Ephesus or Enigma. I can't decide between the two as they are both so cool!

Only two more things of interest occur on the way home. The winds are kicking up fiercely as the front starts moving through. Oilburner calls to tell me the wind is picking up in Atlanta, not knowing that I have already been fighting with them the last couple of hours.

And then comes the police... I'm only 90 minutes from home, but I absolutely have to stop for a stretch and get myself out of the saddle. (Reinforcing the term "saddle sore"!) The next off-ramp doesn't have any nearby amenities, so I just pull over on the on-ramp. This isn't generally a busy area. However, just across the way is the Argirama...an extremely busy area when an event is going on. I can see them gathering, but nothing too bad.

So I am standing on the side of the on-ramp and I happen to see a police car traveling down the frontage for the Agrirama. I don't think much of it until I hear a powerful engine revving up and I look up in time to see that the cruiser has turned around and is speeding up the frontage road to the entrance. My only guess is that he saw me and is coming to investigate. And I am correct. I feel it is in my best interest to remove my helmet now, hopefully to show him I am not a threat. When he takes all of 3 seconds to reach me from half a mile away I thank him for his prompt concern and attention and assure him that I am OK. All the while thinking in the back of my mind that my bike had better start when I get back on!!

:)

All is well that end's well. Of course I have to deal with crazier drivers the closer to Atlanta I get. Knowing that I am getting tired and that it has been a long day I just take it easy. Home is good to see, but depressing at the same time. The adventure is over for another while.

The storms ripped through the state. Lots of rain, thunder and tornadoes. We were spared.

It's nice to be home. I am so excited about visiting my five little corners. Hmm...how about other states? :) Still find it humerous that Oilburner has only visited one. Hehehe. He has some catching up to do.

I can feel the pull of the open road leading me further astray for longer and more distant destinations. Oh when will I get to fulfill those dreams???

My total trip mileage was 851 miles for the three days.

The weather was perfect, except for the impending storms.

Things that I learned:

Check tire pressure BEFORE getting all your gear on
Pack the compressor where it is somewhat accessible
Take your boots off and let your feet cool down regularly - does wonders for your outlook
Pink Floyd's "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" sounds great on empty country lanes with a fog over the fields