Pat Henderson's Life and Motorcycle Travels Blog

Some Lessons We Learn from Our Grandchildren

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 14:16:00 +0000

In my last post I spoke about reaching our goals, and how time plays a role in achieving them. Our goals can often seem so out of reach as to be unattainable. Sometimes it can feel as though we are deluding ourselves in the belief that we can reach them. I write about these concepts on how to stay focused for me as much as anyone else. I am not immune to the negative self-talk we give ourselves on a daily basis. We often are unaware of the little voice inside spewing all that negativity. Listen to your inner voice. I bet you too will be shocked to discover how poorly you speak to yourself. Listen also to what you say out loud. It’s a sure indicator of what is going on inside.

This negative self-talk is the end result of years of conditioning. Someone may have suggested we are not capable, smart enough, or that something we want is unattainable. We believe it. Maybe we make a mistake and are told we are stupid, dumb, or useless. We accept what others say about us instead of knowing who we are. We should be challenging these beliefs or rejecting them altogether. We should set our feet on the path of what we know to be true about ourselves and embark on a wonderful personal journey of self-discovery.

This lesson was reinforced when I saw again the video of my grandson’s first attempt at crawling. I knew instantly its value in teaching all of us about staying focused on our goals. In the video my grandson cannot coordinate his knees. When he pulls one knee forward the other comes too, so that he looks almost like he’s hopping. Would he have cared is someone told him that this wasn’t the way to crawl? Did he say to himself “oh I’ll never be able to get it right!” Of course not! He persists. At one point he tips over and plants his face squarely into the carpet. He doesn’t cry or get deterred, but gets up, and keeps going. Three quarters of the way to his destination, he pops into a sitting position, surveys the landscape, notices the progress he’s made and rewards himself with clapping hands. Then back to his knees until the toy he’s after is in his hands.

Children teach us so much about life. They have not been poorly conditioned by the judgments of others. Their little hearts are pure, and they live deeply in the moment and concentrate on each step they need to take. They don’t worry about the wrinkle in the carpet that might catch their feet. They are single focused in perseverance. Learn from them. Keep your eye on your goal. Don’t let others tell you how to get there. If the goal is a long way off, take small incremental “baby” steps in reaching it. Don’t give up at the first wrinkle in the carpet. Stop occasionally and notice how much closer you are to reaching your destination. Give yourself applause for sticking with it. After all, even babies are capable of reaching that which they are after. I’m not sure about you, but as for me, I will keep this image in front of me to stay focused on my resolutions as I head into the New Year.

How Long Will It Take?

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 00:17:00 +0000

A friend and I, by an outside view, could appear to be our own private book club. It’s true; we are on a path that has us reading some of the best books on the shelf to self improvement. Yet we are serious in our efforts. We are learning so much about ourselves. What we believe a thing to be, how we came to believe a thing to be, what we believe ourselves to be, and how we are challenging the very nature of all these beliefs. Mostly, what I am discovering about myself is how the beliefs I hold are not “global” truths about a topic, but really some fabrication of my own mind. I had never challenged or even considered some of these beliefs to be challengeable. Sound confusing? It sometimes can be, even for us on the journey.

My “new year of resolutions” is coming to a close. It’s been an excellent year for challenging myself, and seeing where I have come from and where I am now. Most notable to me is the realization of just how many fears hold me back, keep me from where I want to be, and once even resulted in illness. The thing about fear is that we don’t walk around saying to ourselves, “oh, I have to stay away from that because…” . We keep our distance from many things in the course of the day out of fear and never recognize it IS fear. We are blind to ourselves in this way. So imagine my shock when out of the blue, it occurred to me that one of my goals has been elusive because I’m walking around with an unacknowledged “fear” of my own.

What my fears are and toward what topics are not really relevant, only that I am now recognizing I have them. I learned the hard way in April, after a bout of shingles, and that I might possibly have brought this on during a period I considered close to crises. The crises of course had been a manufacture of my vivid imagination. Much of it was my own mind playing the fear game of imagined outcomes. Most of what we fear it turns out is what we “think” could happen up ahead. I had a lot of time to think during the illness, and decided to “get over myself” so to speak. I got back up, walked back into my life, and looked each day in the eye. I don’t assume any particular outcome anymore. I visualize what I want, not what I don’t want.

On the path to “better” there are humorous moments too. Like the constant reminder not to give up too soon.

“It will take two years to reach your goal” my friend is always saying to me.

He’s trying to keep me bolstered in the realization that our progress isn’t always visible in the day to day things, but over time looking behind us we can see the tremendous progress we have made. The two year mark was reinforced last week while my husband was watching golf. Tiger Woods had finally won his first tournament since the big scandal. When was that? You guessed it. That was exactly two years ago!

With the new year approaching I realize that I will need to extend my “new year of resolutions” at least for another year. I’m going to do as I do in business and assess where I am, make modifications where needed, and set new goals. But the journey will continue. For as in the words of my dear friend Lee Mowatt, “our up ahead has to look better than our behind.”
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Reading List for your own journey:

360 Degree Leader by John C. Maxwell

Attitude is Everything by Keith Harell

Creative Visualization by Shakti Gawain

Developing The Leader Within You by John C. Maxwell

Getting Things Done by David Allen

Go Put Your Strengths To Work by Marcus Buckingham

Healthy At 100 by John Robbins

Infinite Possibilities by Mike Dooley

Linchpin by Seth Godin

Maximum Confidence by Jack Canfield

Meditation in a NY Minute by Mark Thornton

Mind-Mapping by Michael Gelb

Quantum Memory Power by Dominic O’Brien

Ready for Anything by David Allen

The 21 Indispensable Qualities of a Leader by John C Maxwell

The 7 Habits by Stephen R. Covey

The Angel Inside by Chris Widener

The Biology of Belief by Bruce H Lipton Ph.D

The Happiness Advantage by Shawn Achor

The Power of Intention by Wayne Dyer

The Success Principles by Jack Canfield

You Don’t Need a Title To Be A Leader by Mark Sanborn

You, The Owner’s Manual by Roizen and Oz

How Much Can One Person Do?

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Sun, 20 Nov 2011 13:11:00 +0000

I’m sure this has happened to you. You anticipate the weekend thinking of all the things you want to do, and stressing about all the things you need to do getting in the way. This particular dilemma is causing me a considerable amount of angst these days. Typically in November I begin to play catch-up, but with the weather being unseasonably warm, it’s almost a crime not to take the motorcycles out for an afternoon. So there goes another day when little is accomplished and the chores stack up, not to mention cutting it close to the wire on the bills sitting in the queue.

It was during a typically long commute that I felt as though a melt-down was imminent, thinking I could be writing the next great novel, spending time on staying fit, or just getting some much needed R&R, when I heard again this story. Maybe you’ve heard it too. A teacher puts a jar on the desk and fills it with rocks. When the jar is full of rocks he asks the students if there is anythng more he can put in the jar. The students look at the jar and it’s obviously full, so they tell him that of course he can’t fit anything else in there. He then pulls out a container of gravel and pours it into the jar. The gravel trickles into the air pockets left by the larger stones. He asks his students again if they think the jar is now full. Amazed, they nod their heads and tell him certainly it is full now.

“Oh is it?” he says, and pulls a container of fine sand which he pours into the jar. The sand filters down and into the jar. Again he asks his students the same question, but they are on to him now.

“We don’t know what else can fit in there, but I’m sure there is something.”

The teacher grins and pulls out from under the desk a pitcher of water and pours it into the jar.

In the link above, this story asks us to consider what the “big rocks” in our life are and to make sure to put them in first. Yet, this same story has been used in moral and ethical questions and ingenious ways to manage time. It has also been used to challenge our perceptions as the teacher did with his students. What we see and believe can so often be challenged in ways that surprise us. It had me looking at a typical day in my own life. The jar full of rocks so to speak. Those rocks can seem so big and so heavy; I can’t imagine how I can ever manage the gravel, sand and water. My perception it seems is skewed.

For those of you connected to me on Facebook, you’ve noticed me talking about cleaning the house of unwanted junk that has collected over the years. I know you’ve all cleaned a closet or two in your life and know what a job that can be. It can eat up a good chunk of the day. Yet Andy and I don’t have big chunks to devote to this, but we could spare 15 minutes a day. (If you think 15 minutes can’t make a difference, think about what one drop of water a day can do to your roof over time.) So productive is our 15 minute sessions that we actually look forward to it each day. It’s not taking away from our life, we spend time together, and we learn a few funny truths. Closets are a lot like empty jars. We put the big rocks in and over time we test the theory of how full it really is.

PS: A special thanks to Lee, who always challenges my perceptions and offered up by example how to find the lost minutes of time in the hours of my days.

Observations in the Dark

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Sun, 06 Nov 2011 14:18:00 +0000

Sitting in the dark for a week can offer a wealth of information to a person if they are attuned. The historic October Nor’easter here in New England, plunged us into darkness for days on end. Trees, power lines and poles all came down like dominos. Here in Wilton, not only did we lose power, we lost land line and cell reception. Ham radio operators arrived and set up at the fire station to serve as our emergency communication with the outside world.

This might sound like a nightmare to many, but there are hidden gems in being confined to the dark in the evening with nothing but your spouse for entertainment. And before your mind goes down the wrong path, let me assure you the entertainment was enjoyed fully clothed. One of the benefits I find in being in the dark is that when speaking with your spouse by candle light, without the distraction of TV, is that he looks you in the eye and actually participates in the conversation. I discovered my husband has a sense of humor. (Or he rediscovered this on his own.) We reviewed our day, or I read short passages of my favorite book by candle light after which we would chat about what we thought it meant to each of us. We assessed our current state of affairs, talked about the future, and aligned our goals in harmony with each other.

The result of our week without power also showed us just how much useless junk we have laying round. Just think a minute of everything around you that depends on electricity. Not one of these things is of any use without power. Just how much we really “need” some of these things became quite apparent. This led to a conversation about “cleaning house” of the useless things we hang onto. How much of the items we have tucked away are of any use to us? We dust around them, move them around to make room for other “stuff” and sometimes even forget something is there, only to be discovered by accident 20 years later. In the dark, looking each other in the eye, we pledged to devise a plan to clear away the clutter that holds us back from really being free to do what we wish because we are spending all our time taking care of our useless possessions.

When the lights were restored and we looked around, the pledge we made looked like a daunting task we would never accomplish. While the notion seemed to make sense in the dark, the reality of what we really faced was more frightening in the light of day. After some contemplation, I took an idea from a friend who had cleaned his whole garage by spending 15 minutes a day picking away at it. Yet I knew I needed to embellish that if I were to keep Andy focused and engaged. With that in mind, I hatched a plan that worked for both of us and hooked right onto one of our future goals.

So far the plan is working. Each evening we point to a spot in the house. Then I set the timer on my cell phone for 15 minutes. We go to the spot, and start holding up objects. When we are in doubt, or someone starts to get sentimental, we ask ourselves this question. “Do we really want to pack this when we move?” If the answer is “no” we get rid of it. We have no plan to move anytime soon, yet it’s in our long range plan. If the perfect opportunity arises, we will now be ready to take advantage of it in a New York minute.

The temperature this morning is 24 degrees, yet forecasted to rise into the 50’s. When the mercury reaches that point, we are off on the bikes to enjoy a ride, possibly for the last time this season. Another benefit comes to mind as I wait for the sun to warm things up. The less stuff I have to be responsible for, the more time I have to really enjoy life.

Recognizing Value

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Sat, 22 Oct 2011 17:28:00 +0000

In today’s world of social media, text messaging, and video calls, the value of face to face conversations and interaction can sometimes be overlooked. The impact we have not only on others but on ourselves is being diminished in some ways by the very nature of the physical separation it causes. We must learn to build lasting friendships and relationships with others and then use the social media to keep us glued together.

I think that Shawn Achor would agree. His principal #7, social investment, is ringing loud and clear to me in the “investment” part of that statement. As when we make a deposit into a high yield bank account, it takes time for a return on that investment to be realized. That value came to me in vivid living color on three separate occasions and showed me that one-on-one conversations and connections with people must be, and should be the first level of order in sustaining and making a difference in not only one’s life, but in the lives of others.

On Monday I had lunch with a professional technical writer friend of mine. We hadn’t seen each other in some time. She has been trying to write a book about her Mother and the wonderful work she did for people suffering from Multiple Sclerosis. She was looking for advice on an outline for this book. That someone, who writes for a living, felt comfortable talking about outlines to a writer “want to be” was a humbling and at the same time an honoring feeling for me. I did my best to give it justice and offer advice that was useful to her project.

Then on Wednesday, I received a call that gave me more validation as a serious writer while again pointing out the value of social investment. Another professional technical writer from “the old days” called out of the blue. During a particularly difficult time for him, he had read something in one of my blogs that seemed to spur him in some way. At the time he had called to talk about it, but I had not heard anything since. The follow-up conversation on just what that meant to him left me a bit teary eyed. (Note to self: ALWAYS call and say thank you to the people who make a difference in your life.) Here again, someone who writes for a living gave me validation as a writer and at the same time revealed that my social investment had indeed accrued over time.

One of the aspects of my job not listed in the description is to assist in employee morale building activities. I’m well suited to this, and seem to do it naturally. My company gives me free rein in all my ideas, which is a bonus. Recently I took a page from the “old days” and began to display employee talent on a long naked hallway with an “art in the hallways project.” My intension was to bring out the hidden talents among us. I had my ideas about how that would unfold, yet I am more than pleased at the ways I’m watching it happen. As the project began and the first pieces of photographic art went up, people who would not generally have connection with each other began to speak and interact as they stood together and commented on the works before them. It was a delight to witness. Then for the third time that week, I had conversation about writing.

As we stood admiring the photography, I asked an individual “do you have anything to contribute?” The answer was “yes” and that he seemed to enjoy a variety of arts including writing. He wants to write a story about his Dad and the great person he had been. His Dad, an average Joe, had touched the lives of so many people that 1,000 of them came to pay respects at his wake. It was yet again, a definitive example that how we relate and connect with others. His Dad had made small deposits over time that swelled into a vast wealth. People still are affected in positive ways for having known him.

I am reminded of a segment in Stephen Covey’s book, “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People” in which he asks “what do you want your children to say about you at your funeral.” I have had two beautiful examples of that this week in how my friend and the co-worker wish to honor the life of their parent. Years after they have departed this world, their deposits continue to enrich the lives of others.

I have had a small hiatus from writing to my blog, but I am back. Its title “Life and Motorcycle Travels” is more fully focused on the ”life” part in these adventures. The saddle, however, is where I get a lot of my inspiration. It lends itself so well to analogies for everyday life. Recently, it was lending information to me that I didn’t want to look at or acknowledge about myself. It can be hard to look in the rear view mirror and confront our weakness, fears and flaws. I could not write about them. It felt too raw. Yet these are the very examples I must talk about if I am to faithfully make deposits that will continue to pay dividends well into the future. I have after all been given a peak this week into my own account to witness firsthand how my deposits continue to grow. It’s an investment I can’t turn away from.

The Universe Has Its Own Agenda

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 19:45:00 +0000

We are making preparations for a weekend at Lake George. This reminded me that I have not yet attended to an oil and filter change that Blaze is in dire need of after her long trek to South Dakota. I look at the odometer and realize that my procrastination has increased the miles since last oil change to more than 5,000! Since Andy has a small part on order at the Kawasaki dealer, I ask him to pick up an oil filter for me as well as a new light bulb since the high beam has gone out too. On Friday evening I hear that he has picked up the part for his bike.

“Did you pick up my filter?”
“Dang! Why didn’t you remind me?”

Well, I thought I had, but he’s a husband and I don’t need to tell you ladies about that. Saturday, we get up and I pull Blaze out for her oil change. At least I have a case of oil from the Biker Makeover so I’m all set with that. Andy takes off on his own bike to pick up the oil filter. I set up and begin draining the oil. Andy arrives back with the filter and as we wait to make sure the oil is all drained, I ask if he remembered the light bulb.

“Dang! Why didn’t you remind me?”

Again ladies of long term marriages, no explanation needed. Again he gets on his bike and heads off to pick up a light bulb for me. While he is gone, I look at the filter in preparation to remove it. The filter I’m looking at on Blaze does not look like what I’m holding in my hand. In addition, I can’t find the tool to take it off anyway. I wait.

Andy gets back with the light bulb and we install that. Any bike owner knows this is never as quick as it sounds. You unscrew this. Then you unscrew that. Then you pull this off and then that off. Make sure not to touch the bulb and repeat the whole process in reverse. The bulb is finally in place and all seems to be working well. That is when I show him the filter. I mention I can’t find the tool either.

“Dang! The lady looked it up. I can’t believe she gave me the wrong one!”

I make a call and sure enough, we’ve been given the wrong part. Andy looks for the tool so I can remove the old filter while he’s gone and discover it’s broken. “Good thing” he says, at least he won’t have to make a special trip for the tool. Again, he gets on his bike and heads out returning with the right filter and a new tool. We remove the old oil filter, install the new and put the right amount of oil, per the manual into Blaze. We stand back and admire our work. That is when I open my mouth and say,

“I can’t remember when I last changed the air filter.”

We pull of the cover and the air filter is in a state that leaves us wondering how this engine is breathing at all!

“Dang! Why didn’t you say something before?”

OK, I’ll eat that one. We both get on our bikes and head out. After all, the Kawasaki dealer, who is closer to us can’t help us with that, and we head off for a 45 minute ride to the Yamaha dealer. We get there before closing and install the new air filter in the parking lot. Yes, you read right, just before closing. This simple task has now taken us all day. Andy is moaning that as much as I have cost him today, I might just as well own a Harley.

After the filter is on and we can’t see anything else we need, the next thing to do is ride for riding sake. We are in Hudson and its September 10th. We wiggle our way to Benson’s where a new memorial will be unveiled tomorrow in memory of those lost on 9/11 ten years ago. We pause silently and stand before the 9 ton beam from the World Trade Center. I am thinking of my colleagues lost on that day; a day that feels like only yesterday. At first, our day seems to us to have been a waste due to poor planning, yet I think the universe had other ideas. The events unfolded as they did to put us in this very spot. I realize then just how many women would be happy to have their husband say one more time.

“Dang! Why didn’t you remind me?”

Sturgis August 2011

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Sat, 20 Aug 2011 19:34:00 +0000

Click here to view this photo book larger

Kadoka, the Paranormal Experience

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Fri, 19 Aug 2011 01:28:00 +0000

For those of you who followed my blog, here is the paranormal experience that Andy and I had in Kadoka.

To refresh your memory, Kadoka is a dinky little town in South Dakota with a population just over 700 people. The place seems stuck in time by the things we see around us: circa early ‘60’s. We decide to stop here for the night so that our arrival in Sturgis will be timed just right for exploring Sturgis and then head for check-in at the University in Spearfish.

We investigate a couple of motels, before deciding on a campground that also had motel rooms. The place looks clean, has a pool and is away enough from the main traffic to offer a quiet night’s sleep. We check in, and the room is indeed small with few amenities. The only clock in the place is on the wall. I take out the smartphone and the wall clock is an hour behind.

“Did we cross a time zone?” I ask, “because my phone does not match the wall clock.”

Since the phone has been so good at changing with the time zones, I check the GPS too. It still shows central time as well. Andy resets the clock to central time. We then decided to take a ride through town to check things out. I point to the sign for the business district, and off we go. Well, the ride turns out to be 5 minutes if that. It was nothing more than a postage stamp of a few streets, complete with church and school and local bar. We are back in no time to our starting point.

There is one more street we haven’t checked and Andy take off down the small lane. It ends abruptly at a small patch of cemetery. Just as I am wondering how I will turn around in such a tight space, Andy proceeds into the cemetery to loop around and come out the other end. I am appalled at first as it seems so disrespectful. There are not more that 20 plots. The small drive leads in, left, another left and back out. After a moment, I gently take the bike through this path making sure the engine is as quiet as possible out of respect for the dead. I breath a sigh of relief when back out. I did not like the feel of the place at all.

Back at the motel with daylight still to be had, we thought a dip in the pool would be the thing to do. We get back into the room and the wall clock is back to being an hour behind. I examine the clock and although it doesn’t say it’s an atomic clock, I figure it must be; that we are in mountain time after all and it has reset itself. We enjoy our dip in the pool then head to the local diner only two streets away. As I’m finishing my meal, I look at the clock on the wall, and it matches what my phone is telling me. I ask the waitress what the time is, and she gives me Central Time. Now I’m really confused. Are we just on the line or something?

That night Andy and I have trouble falling asleep. There seems to be a strong smell of disinfectant we hadn’t experienced upon check-in. It’s keeping us awake so we turn the TV back on and let that numb our brains until we think it’s foolish to keep it on any longer and both go to sleep.

I wake up with a start from a nightmare I’m having, the sweat dripping down my forehead, and as I try to calm myself from the vivid images still dancing in my mind, Andy gets up and uses the bathroom. I pick up my phone to see what time it is; ten minutes to three.

“I know why I’m awake” I say to the dark, “but why are you?”
“I just had a bad dream” he tells me.

Now this is just so odd that we are both awakened by bad dreams, that I do something I’ve never done in our more than 30 year marriage; I ask him to tell me his dream and I’ll tell him mine. With that he begins to recount the nightmare he has just had. The goose bumps begin in earnest then, as the dream he is telling me is mine! Oh, the characters in his are different, but the theme is the same. In each of our dreams we have let ourselves into a place we don’t belong; a vacant building. Yet in my dream a spirit appears in a nonthreatening way letting me know that this is not where I should be and pointing the way out. In Andy’s dream he knows he has to get out, yet the only exit is out an upstairs window onto a slippery roof, where he clings for his life. We are both quite for a moment. I notice that the disinfectant smell is gone, and we both go back to sleep. In the morning, we awaken to find the wall clock has stopped at ten minutes to three!

As I ponder the dreams we each have had, it’s as if Andy were chastised for trespassing on sacred ground. Although I knew better, and did not want to, I also took the bike through the cemetery. The spirits wanted me to know this was not correct, and pointed me the way out. Andy however, was less thoughtful, the exit he was provided a bit more frightening; I suppose to hammer the lesson home. With Kadoka giving us both bad vibes, we were more than happy to kick the stand up and depart. One thing is for certain; I know what Blaze and I will think twice about next time!

A Fond Farewell to South Dakota

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Wed, 17 Aug 2011 00:50:00 +0000

Saturday we toss the tour packs on the bikes, and with the Black Hills State University to our backs point our fenders eastward. Our destination this day is the Badlands National Park. It will be our last day as the fearsome foursome. Before we enter the park, we stop at Wall Drug to see what all the fuss is about. It turns out to be the perfect place to get a few more antics under our belts. Enjoy a few of the photos below, and don’t forget to ask Lee to post a particular video from this location.

On to the Badlands we go. This area does not disappoint, and in fact reminds me a lot of Canyonlands National Park in Utah. The view goes on to the horizon, and appears so inhospitable that only a geologist could love the place. Yet we discover later in the day at the visitor center, that wildlife does exist in this harsh area. If one could sit and watch as the sun rises and falls, we would witness even more wonders than a day’s ride can offer. In this place I feel my smallness in the world. At the same time meditative qualities begin to affect the mind. We need to sit a moment and let the place wash over us. If feels holy somehow, and reverence is due to the spiritual aura that has enveloped each of us.

We enjoy one last meal together, and in honor of South Dakota, make it a meal of Buffalo Burgers. We wave goodbye and set our sights eastward, each at our own pace. Andy and I take refuge for the night in Mitchell. I feel a pull at my heart here and am reluctant to put South Dakota behind me. Yet I know that this segment is only the second or our three part vacation journey. Ahead now is our leisurely ride home. Our plan is to drop a bit south, avoid as much interstate highway as possible and really take time to feel this great country of ours. One cannot do that dodging trucks on the interstate system.

Mount Rushmore

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Mon, 15 Aug 2011 01:53:00 +0000

Friday we point the fenders toward Rapid City where we drop off the interstate and head south toward Mount Rushmore. We twist our way toward Keystone, sometimes at breakneck speeds around the blind sweeps that weave the way toward our destination. Deb and I take up the rear, and it would sound like Lee is in the lead, but its Andy who is setting this pace. Deb and I do our best to keep up. I wonder what the hurry is all about. I’m beginning to think, and possibly Deb would agree, that the testosterone levels are getting a bit too saturated for comfort. We arrive all in one piece thankfully.

We took the kids here in 1991, but the place does not look at all like we left it. There are several levels of tiered parking, and the entrance now has a portico of sorts. Just below Rushmore is stadium style theater seating, and it is my understanding that a light show is displayed in the evenings. The pomp to me is diminishing the grandeur of what I remember Rushmore to be. For those who are here for the first time, it is still an amazing site. Deb and I enjoy the information inside the visitor center, especially the quoted words of one worker about the fear twisting his stomach when hauled up in the basket which gave him nightmares that had him clinging to the bed at night.

Then we are off again to find Crazy Horse. This is not a monument I have seen. Crazy Horse Monument is a work in progress, and as such is not much to see at the moment. We decided to just loop around take a peek and be off. With Lee in the lead, Deb second, me next and Andy taking up the rear we were pointed by the ticket booth attendant where to take our U turn. Lee, zipped around without effort, but as Deb began her U turn Thor had a different idea I guess, and before I knew it Deb was tossed from the saddle. Thor’s rear wheel began a donut spin that nearly caught Blaze’s front wheel. Andy was quick off the bike, and before I could even get the kickstand down, he had Deb and Thor back upright. Deb was fine and unhurt and took being pitched from the saddle in stride.

While Deb was cool and calm about the whole thing, and didn’t want anyone to make a fuss, it threw me off my game. So while I had intended to request a ride through the Needles, I instead let Andy lead us to Hot Springs. We bypassed Custer State Park, saw one Buffalo along the way and discovered Hot Springs not such an exciting place. Quaint; but no one wanted to pay ten bucks to dip our butts. Instead we took ourselves to Rapid City to check out the excitement there. I stopped at the Mustang booth and tried to find John, who helped me in Carlisle, but he was on break. The next booth was Kuryakyn, and there I found Willie, who installed the items I won in the Garage Girls contest. We also discovered that today was the first day Rapid City was without rain. So far, we have planned all our days perfectly and been blessed with the sun’s rays. I checked out a few pinstripe vendors here, but so far nothing seems good enough for Blaze. It’s back in the saddle and west on I-90 and back to the dorms to end another full day in South Dakota.

Devils Tower

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Sun, 14 Aug 2011 03:07:00 +0000

Our days in South Dakota pick up speed and for the last few days my eyelids slam shut before I can post a blog about the day’s events. Thursday finds us slipping into Wyoming for a visit to Devils Tower. The weather once again treats us well and we enjoy the roads to our destination. We drop into towns that have populations of 15! In a town this size what type of town government runs the place?

Devils Tower is as I remembered, but getting there is certainly a whole lot different on two wheels than towing a camper. For one, roads, sky and endless views are not encumbered by the confines of a vehicle. The grasses and natural earth scents are not filtered by an air conditioner. However, there is only so much you can do once you look at a rock, and we need to decide where to head next. Back to Spearfish? Or back to Sturgis?

We slip back into Sturgis, this time to park along busy Main Street for some people watching. This is where the antics are performed. We aren’t disappointed as we watch what walks by us. People watching isn’t the only thing we are doing. Lee is feeling companionate and is donating money to the poor folks standing in all those hot booths. They offer him small tokens of thanks which he carries off in tiny plastic bags. It turns out that Sturgis over Spearfish was the correct choice, as the announcements are telling us that Spearfish is being pounded my rain. We have been very fortunate this trip as we have always managed to be where the rain is not.

Sturgis, Buffalo Chip and Beyond

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Thu, 11 Aug 2011 03:55:00 +0000

How much can a person fit into one day? We wanted to answer that very question as we set our intentions for the day’s activities. Pointing the fenders east from Spearfish we drop off I-90 at exit 32 into Sturgis. A few blocks down we park the bikes and start our investigation of Pinstripe and Airbrush vendors. Lee of course has a new bike with too much blank space just screaming for attention. Blaze of course has not had any body art done at all and Sturgis seems the perfect place to get a stripe or two. Lee works his haggling magic and we leave the Voyager in the hands of the air brush artist and with he and Debbie two up on her bike, we head off to the Buffalo Chip in search of Sara Liberte. We aren’t disappointed and Sara takes a break from her busy day to chat with us a bit. She and Lee strike a bargain (he can’t help haggling) and she poses for a photo and he gives her one of his signature hand stands.

Off we go again, and drop off the road just piece to the Full Throttle Saloon. We make our rounds and we get an eye full at times, but all is pretty tame this time of day. Music and liquid refreshments are being enjoyed. We stay away from the hard stuff and visit a vendor or two. We have a few laughs and one proprietor is quick with the whit and keeps us in stitches. As we pass through the FTS on our way to the bikes, I enjoy, (really they were nicely done) a pair of body painted breasts at the bar. Back on the bikes we are return to the airbrush guy in no time. He hasn’t yet sealed the paint as he was awaiting final approval, so we head for lunch at Chives while the work is completed.

Back to I-90 we head and drop off at the next exit for 14A to Deadwood. The plan is to stop there and just walk up and down inspecting the place, but it’s so packed when we arrive that we wiggle our way through and continue on to Spearfish Canyon. It’s a good choice as this canyon is one place of beauty. We stop at Spearfish Falls. To truly enjoy the falls there is a ¾ mile hike down, but it is well worth the effort, as the coolness and mist from the falls is refreshing indeed. At the end of the canyon ride we pop off 14A only minutes from the BHSU and we point the fenders back from a perfectly packed day of adventure. Later we mount the bikes one last time this day to enjoy a quick meal, and discuss the strategy for tomorrow.

Road to Sturgis Arrival Day

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Wed, 10 Aug 2011 03:59:00 +0000

With a big breakfast in our bellies we bid adieu to Kadoka and take to interstate 90 once again. It’s the Badlands that has our attention today and we are seriously tempted to divert. Andy comes over the radio and reminds us that this is something we plan to do with Lee and Deb. We fight the desire to follow the signs at the next exit and content ourselves with the view from the saddle. In a few more miles we do pull off the road in Wall and stop at the Buffalo Gap National Grassland Visitor Center. I am a fan of the National Visitor Centers around the country. This one in particular has exceptional displays. I get my stamp too in the Passport Book.

At a rise on the next bluff is a spectacular view of where we are heading; the Black Hills. I dismount and take in the 360 degree view. There are many scenic views in New England, yet they are but pie slices compared with the panoramic vistas on this wide open range. Your mind can’t help but think of the hardy souls that first settled this land. Indeed the farmer’s prayer I read in the visitor’s center comes to mind, of the sod that yields not to plow, and the winds that beat down the tender shoots.

As we near Sturgis, the excitement builds. Finally this day we are seeing many motorcycles. We take exit 32 and are dropped right into the heart of activity. The Bikini Bike Wash girls are there to greet us. Yet it’s the Mustang Saddle folk staged right behind them that have my real attention. The saddle has been acting like a sponge, much to my dismay and I want to speak with them about it. Not only do they take the time to listen to me, they are quick to action, and provide me with instructions, a can of spray sealant and a cover to keep it dry in the meantime.

We are only about looping through to check out the area, as we want to do our serious Sturgis activity with Lee and Debbie. Andy pulls over to find restrooms, and we decide to break here for a bit, watch some activity and have ice cream. Suddenly there is a roar like none other, and above us zips the B-1 bomber, drowning out even the hundreds of rumbling bikes before us; a seriously fantastic salute to our military personnel. All eyes are on the sky, until the B-1 is but a pinprick in the distance.

Towards late afternoon, we are reunited with our friends, and enjoy swapping tales of the road. We enjoy an evening meal seated outdoors at a biker friendly location, and try to converse as best we can with the roar of bikes as our background music. We swap stories with other riders too, before we finalize our plans for tomorrow. Now for some much needed rest, unlike last night’s sleep disrupted by bad dreams, which both Andy and I experienced. This is something I will write about later, which will have some of you paranormal fans rubbing the goose bumps from your arms.

Road to Sturgis: Day Four

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Tue, 09 Aug 2011 02:59:00 +0000

This was our leisurely day on the road to Sturgis. Our check in time in Spearfish is not until Tuesday. We took our time packing and leaving Sioux Falls, which suited me just fine. The South Dakota landscape is not as I remembered from our drive though here in the ‘90’s. It’s a lot greener it seems to me, and there is standing water in places one wouldn’t expect. More flooding? May be as we find ourselves crossing the Missouri once again. The weather is beautiful! We decide to stop in Mitchell to visit the Corn Palace. Now we know we should do this with Lee and Deb on the way back, and we don’t mind a second visit at all, but not being able to predict home bound weather or any other incident, like exploding bikes, we decide to take advantage of the moment.

Had lunch here. Andy checks out the "lady" upstairs.

I enjoy a chat with a local.

As we travel there are several things that are top most in our minds. One is that we both have memories of passing this way with the kids. We had stopped at many of these sites when they were young. The second is that we have not seen the number of bikers one would expect. Sure there a “pods” of two or three, but most of the motorcycles are heading east. This has us scratching our heads in bewilderment. Then we pay closer attention and see that many of the bikes heading west are in trailers and truck beds. Still not enough to account for what we have read about the numbers that converge each year in Sturgis.

Earlier in the day we put our finger on the map at a spot that seemed reasonable distance to Sturgis. Something that puts us in easy riding distance yet allows us to enjoy a bit of the area before our check in time at BHSU. That spot is Kadoka. We didn’t know much about Kadoka before we stopped here. The town has 736 residents according to the signs. After we check in we decide to follow more signs to the “business district.” A nice ride through town we thought. Around the block we went and were done with the evening ride in five minutes. So much for that idea. We put on our suits and took a dip in the pool instead. We had it all to ourselves too. The town is so small that Pat, yes that would be me, did not wear her riding jacket, helmet or gloves. What for? There are no cars, pedestrians or even animals to obstruct our way. Take a look at the photo of me with the buffalo if you need photographic proof.

Still not very hungry after our lunch in Mitchell, we once again opt for beer and appetizer. Beer is another item Pat does not typically indulge in more than a few times a year. Can’t say why it’s so appealing, but it hits the spot each evening. Oh, and yes, another first. Pat did not walk to her beer, but rode there and back; helmetless, jacketless and gloveless. Andy is beginning to wonder if Pat will be shopping for pasties when we hit Sturgis. Time will tell.

Road to Sturgis Day Three

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Mon, 08 Aug 2011 13:49:00 +0000

We left Ottawa IL at 8:05 and set out sites West. With advice from a fellow New England Rider we have diverted to 80 from route 90 to avoid the Chicago area, which tends to be very congested. The roadside continues to grace us with farmland, although the corn sometimes changes to another crop, which I am not familiar with. The vegetation is low and a very deep green. As the miles slip beneath us, another “crop” pops into view; miles and miles of wind turbines. While people are divided on both sides of the wind power issue, I do not find the turbines a blight to the landscape at all. In fact, to me they are like a well choreographed dance, each turning in smooth rotation, synchronized in a delicate tribute while offering up to the energy hungry people of the US a food they consume like candy; electrical power.

Andy needs fuel so we pull off the highway and make a three mile trip into the nearest town, Anita. Well, here is my sister again, yesterday with the old Buick and today, her name plastered all over town, with banners waiving from power polls, and one big welcome sign saying “Anita, A Whale of a Town.” Well, it was a little whale; the main street was empty except for a few cars, and the place is very quite. On the way back to the highway, the slower pace along country road lets me watch the wind turbines in their graceful dance and feel awed by their majesty so up close and personal.

So far we have only met a few motorcyclist, which I find odd. At a rest stop we discover the possible reason why. We are along 680 heading toward 29 North to route 90. A few folks at the rest area tell us of all the flooding. Flooding? Then I remember all the news stories of the rapid snow melt to the north that has flooded great sections of the states south. We are fortunate as 29 North is open, but for those heading south it is still closed for many miles. We see the great destruction along this route with giant swaths carved right through the corn fields. The Missouri has spread wide beyond her banks, and local roads are still under water. Our route is often squeezed down to 2 lanes, one north bound and one southbound. Many of the bridges are newly reconstructed. We watch miles and miles of water covered landscape slip by us. It won’t be until October, from what we are made to understand, that this water will recede.

We pull off for the night in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, at the Red Roof Inn. The rates are great, the room comfortable, and the place is biker friendly. I forgot to reset the trip meter on the GPS, but you can subtract yesterday’s and see that we rode 555 miles. We enjoy beer and nachos for dinner. Not exactly what you would think would hit the spot, but yesterday we ate a regular sit down and it seemed too much. Also, I think the salty chips may be something our bodies need as despite drinking lots of water, we still tend to feel parched.

(Can't figure out how to rotate this?)

Monday we will leave later, ride leisurely and pull off within striking distance of Sturgis. Our reservations are not until Tuesday at the Black Hills State University. We hope to arrive and spend some of the day in Sturgis on Tuesday before heading to Spearfish and checking in for 3:00 pm and meeting up with Lee and Deb.

Road to SturgisDay One and Day Two

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Sun, 07 Aug 2011 01:14:00 +0000

Day 1
Platea; our stop for today in our journey to Sturgis, is a quaint town near Great Lake Erie in Pennsylvania. It was an uneventful day, which is really what you want when traveling 523 miles on a first leg. Our room here at the Green Roof Inn is quite the surprise with a hot tub in the room, which Andy is enjoying at the moment. Our light meal at the local pub rounded out the day and I will test that tub out for myself in a moment to get a kink or two out of my shoulders.

The traffic today was fairly pleasant. Although it does seem that our country is in dire need of milk and cookies, judging by the trucks on the road. Enjoy the few photos below, of our mileage for the day, our lodging, bonus hot tub and the restful view out the pub window.

Day2
Today, we get off the road in Ottowa Illinois, at a time we think is early enough for me to do a decent blog post. The surprise is on us, when we discover we’ve traveled through a time change, and while it’s still a decent hour here, my brain knows how long I’ve been riding. Today’s miles are 492.7, some of it is detours. Route 80 which we were advised to take to Des Moines, is actually under construction. The exit we needed to take was actually closed. The signs pointed us a few more exits down, but we took a wrong turn and had to back track a bit. While the construction didn’t slow us down too much, the east bound lane was at a standstill.

As for the weather, we encountered rain just west of Toledo, but it only lasted a half hour and actually felt good. It yesterday I thought the US needed milk and cookies today all we see is corn; corn for us, corn for our cars and probably corn for the hogs too. In fact, our lodgings tonight are smack dab in the middle of corn.

Just before we stopped for the night, we met some nice folks towing a 1972 Buick, which looked so much like my sister Anita’s first car; I had to strike up a conversation about it. Turns out, one man’s wife has had a Skylark since it was new, and is in need of restoration now. The other guy with him will do the restoration, but the Skylark needed a new frame. In this photo is the car that will donate the frame. These guys went to Michigan to get it and were shocked at all the original parts under the hood. I wish them well. They seemed excited to get their project under way.

It’s been many years since Andy and I traveled 90 west and we are shocked by the tolls we are paying. So far, we have spent more than 50 dollars for the two of us, and we are only ½ way. There goes my mad money for the vendors in Sturgis.

Natural High

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 01:07:00 +0000

There are many examples of a natural high, but nothing can compare to family, friends, colleagues and total strangers voting you into first place in an essay contest. I thought watching the numbers climb on the vote tally was a thrill. I soon learned differently this weekend at the Carlisle Bikefest. With the placement of a VIP sticker on my windshield, to the last goodbye, my entourage and I were treated like celebrities.

Getting to Carlisle wasn’t without its challenges. We endured some of the most brutal heat Mother Nature can deliver. We went through 5 tires, (four trailer and one car) paid over $4.00 a gallon at one gas station, and I cracked the touch screen on my GPS by carelessly slamming it into the glove box. (The great Garmin service I received later is a story for another day.) Yet, I would do it all again for the experience of meeting great people like Sara Liberte, Mary Pinkerton and her husband Joe, Rick (Carlisle Event coordinator), John the manager at the Mustang booth, and Willy who installed my new Kuryakyn parts. I also met Beth a visitor to Carlisle Bikefest, who, as we watched my saddle installed, struck up a conversation that lead to us connecting in the mutual experiences we share.

There are bike events all over this country, and I have now visited four of them from one coast to the next, and soon I will head to a fifth. Each has their own personality trait. Carlisle by comparison is low keyed and indeed we saw many a baby in the pram. Carlisle is a place for the family. The event workers and industry sponsors were welcoming and genuinely friendly. Their concern and caring for us went beyond the promotion, when understanding how far Mary had driven to the event, added to the sum a prepaid gas card to the prize booty.

The amount of “stuff” I came home with is almost shameful, in way one would feel about gluttony. Yet one of the simplest of these prizes is a pair of Harley boots. The leather is soft and supple and certainly fine grain leather, with a low heal that treats my back nicely. So comfortable are they, I wore them with my shorts all the way home. Dave is probably thinking I sleep in them.

With the mention of Dave, an emotional tear of gratitude comes to my eye. Dave endured the worst heat imaginable to take loads of photos for nothing more than that we are friends. So it pleased me beyond words to see him get one-on- one time with Sara and talk about photography. Being a fan of hers this is possibly the best serendipitous gift one friend could give to another. I need a whole box of tissue with that one thought alone.

I’m off to Sturgis soon, and Sara will be there. On my list of things to bring is the Garage Girls tank top which I will wear proudly when I next seek out Sara’s booth. If you’re headed to Sturgis, keep an eye out for Blaze. She is stylin’ sporting her fender chrome and new saddle. You can’t miss us; we’ll be the duo blasting tunes on our new Kuryakyn Sound of Chrome speakers.

Note: The group photos is from the Garage-Girls Facebook page. I will be posting some of Dave’s in the near future.

Shortage of Data

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Wed, 20 Jul 2011 01:27:00 +0000

Our Sturgis trip is coming up fast. I’m not ready. There is so much to do and I seem to have little time to prepare. I might have the time, if I could figure out what I need to put aside until later so I can focus on what I need to do now. I pop open the MapSource file to work on the GPS routes. The task seems daunting, and I feel I won’t get it done. I remember the POI Factory web site that Rich pointed me too last year. This could save me some time. It was very helpful in gleaning all the waypoints for the lighthouses on our Maine Lighthouse Tour. The site did not let me down when I searched for Sturgis waypoints, and Rich even assisted in converting some data for me that I easily transferred into my files.

While I was lining up a route using the new waypoints, it occurred to me that I may be reinventing the wheel. Surely someone out there has already done a batch of routes and would be happy to share them along with their experience too. After all, 500,000 people head to Sturgis each year. So off to the New England Riders I went and posted my plea for Sturgis routes. It was another Richard that came to my assistance. Not only did he have GPS files, he had hard copy maps and flyers of all sorts to share if we wanted to meet.

“What can he possibly say to us?” Andy said to me.

“How will you know if you don’t talk with him!” I responded in utter disbelief that someone would pass up the opportunity to dig up something that could be useful.

I am often accused of suffering a malady called “shortage of information” syndrome. I suppose it’s true. When I think I don’t know all I should about a topic, or if I think others know about something I don’t, it causes me to feel deprived, lost, uniformed or possibly jeopardized in some way. This compromised feeling results in habits that annoy others, or sometimes just amuse them. Both of these reactions do not leave me feeling the best. Andy relents when I tell him of the hard copy maps Richard has. He likes to touch, feel and read maps, “like in the good old days.” It was my ticket to meet Richard and his lovely wife Irene.

While I read some “fun facts” aloud from one of the flyers, Richard readily perceived my “need to know” and joked with the others questioning if I were the keeper of facts and figures. (Or something to that effect.) Wow. I am so transparent that complete strangers can spot my need for detail even on first meeting. However, a visit with Richard proved to be valuable after all. He had great advice about sections of highway we should avoid, helpful hints, and great stories about the Sturgis area. Even Andy agrees. Of course being me, I had to point out once home, that you don’t know what you don’t know until you do.

Having my personality quirks so visible to the world may not feel comfortable, but I take solace from Stephen Covey’s words, “When we are left to our own experiences we constantly suffer from a shortage of data.” EXACTLY Mr. Covey! And thank you for the great quote I can use anytime someone feels I need treatment for my “syndrome.”

Creating Our World

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Wed, 13 Jul 2011 00:52:00 +0000

I’ve noticed something about people, and I’m sure there are many of these elements within me too, and it is this; that people will complain about their circumstance, other people, or events for the way their lives are unfolding. Yet, they have little awareness of exactly how they are creating the very circumstances they complain about or suffer under.

There is a quote I like very much. "The best way to predict the future is to create it."(~Peter F. Drucker~). I had a prime example of this on Saturday, while on a ride with the New England Riders. The day was absolutely beautiful, the company marvelous, the roads and scenery of the Connecticut countryside breathtaking. We stopped for lunch at the planned stop along with many other people enjoying the day. Other motorcyclists, not a part of our group, were out for a day’s jaunt too.

We were enjoying our meal and pleasant conversation with our riding mates when what I would describe as a “biker dude” backed his very loud straight piped motorcycle into a spot very close to our seating. My first thought was that backing up to people sitting at a bench with such loud pipes was a bit unthinking. He should have pulled in (in my humble opinion) and spared us the full blast of those pipes. Here we have the first example of how this “gentleman” was creating his world. By not having an awareness of how startling it was to the diners, not to mention all conversation had stopped as we couldn’t hear each other, he created in our minds the image of rudeness.

We soon took up our conversation where we had left off, the busyness of this location buzzing about us, when this same dude jumps up and begins to shout. And shout quite discourteously he did, to the driver of a car that was backing into a spot near his bike. Now from my vantage point the car was nowhere near hitting his precious loud piped Harley, yet he proceeded to shout and gesticulate to the poor driver. Mister Dude was creating and cementing his world into place, and giving bikers everywhere a bad name while he was at it. How much better would it have been if he had stood between his bike and the car, and waved the guy in saying, “you’re doing OK” or “cut it a little to the right”. Can you see how we would have perceived him then? We would all know he was worried the bike would be hit, but seen as cordial and kindly as he helped a stranger back into a parking spot in the crowded lot.

Unfortunately, that is not the world he created for himself. Instead, I am left with thoughts of how rude, self centered, and full of self importance he appeared to be. I imagine him going home pissing and moaning about stupid people, and giving his dog a good kick to round out his day. All the while not realizing that his day is shaped by his own actions, thoughts and perceptions and not one drop of how he could have created something better for himself. Had he, we may have wanted to know him better, chat with him about his bike, ask where he was heading, and generally taking up friendly conversation and introducing him to the New England Riders.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to create for myself these days, instead of just letting things “happen” to me as they do. What I’m seeing is I have more control over the events in my life than I imagined. Once I begin to feel controlled by others, I look away from the situation and around for my opportunities. I’ve not mastered my world yet, but am amazed at how much better things look and how much people want to give you exactly what you ask for. Biker Dude can teach us all a lesson in how we create our world. What is it you want to create for yourself? It’s within your reach. All you need is awareness.

Now enjoy a few photos from Gillette Castle in Easts Haddam CT, and one taken at the Vanilla Bean.

KABOOM!

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Sun, 03 Jul 2011 13:11:00 +0000

As with the rest of the country, Andy and I along with Deb and Lee made plans for a July 4th adventure. While many flock to beaches, campsites or boating, we of course rolled the bikes out for a little overnight adventure to Newport Rhode Island. Our plan; to loop leisurely around Newport and then head over to Greenwich for an overnight stay, followed by some riding through a few Connecticut State Parks and then home. I could talk about our route, stops and destination, but frankly, I can’t quiet concentrate on those details this morning.

The ride, until we reached the corner of Thames and Touro Streets seems dull in comparison. Newport of course is a great tourist destination, so we had plenty of company trying to make our way around the island. We pulled up at a light, in the left hand lane waiting our turn to head down Thames. Lee and Deb were ahead, side by side, with Andy and I behind. I was behind Lee and Andy behind Debra. Lee came over the radio saying he had a warning light come on, and we planned to pull over at a parking area we spotted across the way to check things out. While we waited for the light, my gaze went beyond the intersection and toward the water down the next street, where I could see lots of people milling about, when suddenly…KABOOM! My first reaction (as the mind works at lightning speed) was that a celebratory cannon had just been fired and maybe that’s what all the people where milling about for down the street. I saw Lee jump, but of course the sound had made me jump as well, but Lee was more than just jumping. Steam was rising from his motorcycle and he was leaping off, dropping the bike right there. The inside of his leg sprayed from the hot fluids just released from pressure.

All of us were off our bikes in an instant. Lee and Andy picked up the bike and moved it out of traffic. Debra and I followed to the curb with our own bikes. I took a look at Lee’s leg and grabbed a half finished bottle of water out of my bag and poured it over the area sprayed by hot radiator fluids. A kindly motorist at the light handed me another and although Lee was telling us he was ok, I didn’t think that was really true. While this was going on, the ambulance arrived along with police and fire truck. Now this might sound a bit cold, and none caring, considering the circumstances, but the arrival of the emergency vehicles, before we even fully assessed our plight, was like something out of a cartoon. You’ve seen these. Someone drops, two characters run into the scene instantly, pick up the injured party on a stretcher and race off stage right. We discovered later that the emergency personnel are directly around the corner. Thank you to the kind person who dialed 911.

As the ambulance arrived we pointed to Lee and requested they have a look. It was fortunate too, because the pain began to make itself aware to Lee as his adrenaline began to wear off and we would have had to pick him up off the street. They tended to him, asked us questions; did he hit his head, does he take medications, etc. All the while the activity continued around us. Sand was spread over the antifreeze puddle in the street, and the firemen were pulling apart the bike to see if a hose had blown. Andy headed to a local bike shop a few streets away to see if he could get help. My awareness of these activities escaped me, but once Lee was in the ambulance, and the questions by the EMT were done, I turned to see the slick covered with sand and Andy and a fireman looking at the bike.

It was decided that Lee needed a trip to the emergency room, and while Debra got on the phone to make arrangements for the motorcycle, I turned my attention to the bike. I was shocked along with the rest of them, to find all the hoses intact and the reservoir still full. We still don’t know for certain what happened, but Andy suggests a bad pump. The pressure built up, and BOOM, it had to be released. Debra left for the hospital as soon as she had made tow truck arrangements, and Andy and I waited for the truck. All the while, Patrolman Eric Adkins stayed with us on the scene. Once the bike was on its way, he even escorted us to the hospital, carrying a few of Lee’s things we couldn’t pack on our bikes. His sensitivity and sense of humor helped us relax, and calm ourselves. On behalf of all of us thank you Eric Adkins; Patrolman, Newport RI. Your assistance, as well as your 17 years of service to the community are greatly appreciated.

Eric Adkins, Patrolman, Newport RI.

Once we arrived at the hospital, Lee gave us a gander of just what that leg looked like, not a pretty sight. Andy and I left Lee and Deb there for a bit, while we went to get a bite to eat and talk about a few scenarios for our next steps. When we returned, Debra and Lee, (who would not be kept overnight), had made arrangements with their son for a car to get Lee home. Debra’s bike would stay at the son’s place, and she will retrieve it the next day when she returns the car. Andy and I bade them goodbye and pointed our fenders home. Lee will recover from his second degree burns, and is still talking Sturgis. We’ll see. I will close here with this last comment, Lee on drugs; uncensored. Now that’s a story all by itself!
__________________________________

Before all the excitement, we did have time to pay respects at this war memorial.

Pat and Andy Join Lee on the Dark Side

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Mon, 27 Jun 2011 20:42:00 +0000

You won’t find anything on Wikipedia about motorcycling on the “dark side.” In fact it’s hard to find information from conventional sources about the topic. A search of the internet will turn up videos on You Tube and posted comments pro and con from two camps; those that have gone to the dark side, and those who have not. I’ve noticed that those who are against it warn of tragic endings resulting in death. They have put their faith in “all the research” the industry has done on their products. Yet we have not found one incident posted that indicates a person’s motorcycle death resulted from his moving to the dark side. There are unfortunately plenty of death notices of people riding in the conventional way, with conventional equipment.

Those who have moved to the dark side, in fact want to keep under wraps the number of people who have converted for fear of big brother regulating us through the state and federal laws, or the insurance industry taking issue; a death worse than whatever fate the naysayers believe is in store for us. Yet, despite the controversy, Andy has been watching Lee riding the dark side for a year now with a bit of awe and indeed envy. So it came to be that as we both watched our rear tires wear away all too soon, he had me place an order for two car tires for our own cruisers.

The Vulcan goes first
Blaze waits her Turn

Blaze is up next.
Our local motorcycle dealer installed them for us on a Saturday afternoon. They dutifully gave us the party line, which I noticed to be delivered without emotion or judgment. We were treated cordially by Thomas, our technician, who took each bike for a test ride and reported his honest opinion of what he experienced. That was that, and off we went to test them out for ourselves.

Andy stopped 10 miles out and needed to adjust his air pressure right away (not the recommended method I might add). He adjusted mine too, although all I had felt was a bit of stiffness. Up and down the roadways, highways and byways we went until the sun went down. Blaze, as is her custom of being dignified, found no issue with the car tire she now sports on the back. We glided smoothly along. We did not encounter the dreaded “wobble” at high speeds. The Vulcan on the other hand seemed to be demonstrating a dislike for speeds of 80 to 85 mph by which Andy discovered firsthand what this “wobble” talk was all about.

Andy’s determination at finding the “sweet spot” carried us all over a tri-state area on Sunday. We headed west blasting up 101. We then meandered south to test the tires on back roads and twisties. Off we went again, high tailing it westward on route 2. At one stop for an ice cream, we even chatted with a local cop (who it turns out rides) about the bikes. Andy was proud to point out his car tire and even mention what happens at 80 and 85 mph. The officer, didn’t bat an eyelash, but did wave a friendly goodbye and asked us to keep it under 100 mph. The end of the day had us blasting once again up 91 until we crossed the Connecticut River back into NH at Charlestown. Andy never did find that sweet spot, but Blaze remained her unruffled self, and carried me home without giving that back tire another thought; probably because she’s thinking of those new Avon’s we won and will be installed in Carlisle in a month’s time. As for me; I profess to try just about anything at least once. This little trip to the dark side is for me, turning out to be not such a big deal after all.

The Tally Is IN

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Sun, 19 Jun 2011 13:09:00 +0000

photo by Doug Carrier
“CONGRATULATIONS, you are the grand prize winner of the Ultimate Biker Makeover!” Don’t you just love emails that start that way? This was followed by some questions about what size I wear and questions about Blaze too. What’s her make, model and year, what size sneakers does she take etc. It’s all very exciting, not for the prizes alone, but the opportunity to travel to Carlisle Bike Fest, and to meet Jody and Sara too. Then there is meeting all the people in the background; those that will be taking care of Blaze. I’m not going to say that I’m not nervous about what might be in store for her. Then too, I’m sure nothing will be done to her that I don’t first approve of in advance. Just to be prepared for more questions in this regard, I’m making a wish list and thinking of what is best for Blaze.

The thought occurred to me that if Blaze and I will be the focal point of interest along with Mary Pinkerton the runner up, how will I take pictures and document what’s happening? Then it hit me. I know someone who loves taking photographs, has a love of motorcycling, and just might be interested in coming along. So I tapped my good friend David on the shoulder (so to speak) and without hesitation and indeed with enthusiasm, agreed to come along with Andy and I to Carlisle in July. The adventure is taking some nice twists and turns that I very much like. With Dave’s great talent with photography, and maybe a few words on the page from me, we can collaborate together and produce one great article about the event, experiences and people we meet.

I am especially thankful for all the people in the background who voted for me to produce the 2,526 votes that put me on top. My colleagues at Compuware and the Gomez division, friends and family, all the forums I visit and belong too, such as the New England Riders, Women Who Ride, The Rumble Sisters, VStar 1300 forum and all those connected to me in the first, second and third degree of social networking. You have all been fantastic. Thank you very much.

By now you have all read the essay that put me in the top four posted on line for public voting. I meant every word about my dream to ride into Sturgis on Blaze. Those plans are unfolding nicely too. I’ve discovered some reasonable accommodations, am working on the routes for the GPS to include our destination, and the rides we want to take in the area. Our riding buddies Lee and Debra will meet us in Spearfish and enjoy the days we have there.

In the meantime, between the planning phase and work obligations, I’m taking a weekend away from Blaze listening to the boats in the harbor, and enjoying the grandkids. That wild little bunch of rascals is building up my tolerance of energy levels, something I will surely need considering the excitement unfolding in the days ahead. I’ll be watching all of you this weekend as we pass you on the road. Ride safe and keep the rubber side down.

How the Season’s Change

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Wed, 08 Jun 2011 00:37:00 +0000

When we first found each other, there was no keeping us apart. Every moment we were not together I would be thinking about the next time we would be. I guarded every spare moment selfishly and kept at bay anything or anyone who would come between us and our time together. I shirked off household responsibility. I was sometimes “sick” on spectacular days so I could stay home and we could play together. Soon, as things usually go, the urgency faded, and we come back to reality. That’s how it is with infatuation.

While I am still very much in love with Blaze, it is becoming harder for me to shirk responsibility. My conscience nags at me when I selfishly hoard precious weekend hours just for us. There is so much that needs my attention, especially after so much neglect. So here I am, another riding season with what I consider way too few miles for my satisfaction, with Blaze in the stable more that she deserves. My options feel limited, and here is the kicker. Our options are only as limited as we believe they are.

For the past several weekends, it has been Andy, without his own knowledge of it, showing me just how many options there are for me and Blaze to spend time together. “Do you see how glorious it is out!” he’ll exclaim. This will follow a lament of wanting to get on the road and “just keep going forever.” Yet Andy finds the options where I have failed. With his coaxing, we are finding time, getting things done, and riding the roads to where we can go with the time we have.

If you listen to Andy he is preparing me for the long ride to Sturgis. Not so much in miles, but in the way two people can ride together and read each other even from bike to bike. Sure, we have headsets, but there is so much to understand that is not verbal. A twist of the head, the tandem lane change, understanding the body language of the person ahead, are all nonverbal queues we learn about each other in time spent riding.

He is also helping me balance work, home and play so that I’m getting equal doses of each, and not shortchanging any one part of our life. So it is in this way the weekends are unfolding as we investigate every nook and cranny a day’s ride will offer us. Is there really this much wonder so close to home that we haven’t investigated? Yet it’s true. And in addition to visiting these places we are preparing ourselves for the journey ahead. One country lane, one busy interstate, and a few gravel roads named Sugar Hill and Quaker Road tossed in for unexpected surprises.

Where have we been these past few weekends? We’ve found ourselves at Saugus Iron Works National Historic Park, in Saugus MA, learning more about our early beginnings than is found in my childhood textbook. Hopping over a series of highways, we find the coastal lanes that lead to Hammond Castle in Gloucester MA, then on to enjoy seafood in Manchester by the Sea. We loop around New Hampshire back roads to stop and read the historic signs where a village has been sacrificed for the Everett Flood Control Project. Yes, we even found our good friend Dave one weekend and discovered Nashoba Valley Winery, where the trees that line the lane here, appear to have been planted when King George ruled.

I see a basic truth revealed; that as all relationships must morph, mature and evolve. So too does one riding season to the next. It does not mean that Blaze means less to me than she once did, or that we should pine for the days of infatuation. It means simply, that we’ve arrived to the end of one journey and are now moving forward to the next, and it’s all good.

Hammond Castle

Saugus Iron Works

Villiage Lost to Dam

Quaker Meeting House Henniker NH

View of Monadnock from Croched Mountain

Nashoba Valley Wine

The Boys

Freedoms We All Take for Granted

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Sat, 28 May 2011 13:54:00 +0000

Recently, during a tenuous break in the cloud cover, Andy and I threw a leg over the saddle and rendezvoused with our good friend Dave. It was no iron butt ride, just a pleasant jaunt to a randomly selected spot on the map; Nashoba Valley Winery. None of us had been there before, the mileage fit into our day, and it was an excuse to see Dave, and ride too.

I don’t think too much about how easily I am able to move about the world, or even as a married woman have such a great friend as Dave, who by the way is liked and respected by my husband as well. I drive, ride a motorcycle, work outside the home, have a great social network of men and women friends, and can go where I want without permission from anyone.

Many of the freedoms I enjoy are the direct result of those behind me that have put themselves on the line. The men and women of World Wars I and II for example, or the people here at home, like the Freedom Riders or the Suffragettes. I read about these things, watch documentaries on TV, and their stories are played out in dry text for us to study in school. Yet we know so little about what a toll it takes to each individual personally. The cost to them is often great, sometimes with their lives.

As this Memorial Day rolls around, their sacrifices are becoming clearer to me than ever before. Why? Because I am watching a friend fight for basic freedoms, is risking her livelihood, her family and even her own life to bring awareness and a hope for change to the women of her home in Saudi.

I had the pleasure of spending time with Manal Al-Sharif know to us here as Mia, when she spent a year working in the US at the company where Dave works. She is a vibrant, outgoing and caring individual. At the time, I felt as if my eyes were opened with the stories she had to tell; I could not have been more wrong. Stories, of how she had needed permission from a male family member to travel abroad. How her young son had to be left behind because the men in her life did not permit him to travel with her.

Recently, Mia found herself standing on the street corner crying. She could not get a cab, calls to her male family members went unanswered, and she was putting her life in danger just being on the street late. Saudi women are not permitted to drive, they must hire a driver, take cabs or have their male family members drive them. There she was a 32 year old woman; mother of one, and an intelligent hard working woman sobbing like a child because she could not get a ride home. It was the event that propelled her to become and activist.

Mia, who learned to drive while here in the US, videotaped herself driving in her home country. Please read more about it here. http://arabnews.com/saudiarabia/article427723.ece. There is no specific law in Saudi the prevents women from driving, yet as a result, Mia has been imprisoned for five days, has had another ten days tacked on and the religious clerics are calling for her public flogging. I urge all of you to read Mia’s story and then sign the petition to the Saudi Embassies and Diplomatic Missions abroad here: http://www.petitiononline.com/FreeMnal/petition.html, Mia is putting herself at great risk for the women of her country and at a great personal price to herself. It is a small token of support we can do for her. Then as you sign your name, send a small prayer of thanks up to those behind us who sacrificed so we can enjoy the freedoms we take so carelessly for granted. And if you have a loved one who served our country, make sure to seek them out this weekend and hug them.

See Mia's video here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/05/25/manal-al-sherif-driving-campaign-saudi-activists_n_866347.html

Six Degrees of Separation

noreply@blogger.com (PatnWilton) — Sun, 22 May 2011 13:11:00 +0000

I have been on a phenomenal ride this week as a direct result of stumping for votes; votes to win the Garage Girls Ultimate Biker Makeover! The support from the biker community, co-workers and family and even complete strangers has been phenomenal. I have alternately felt exhilarated, humbled, amazed, and stupefied. The one thing that has become very clear is that we are more closely connected to each other then we imagine.

Back in the 80’s when I sold Real Estate we would take continuing ed courses to maintain our state license. One of these courses explained to us sales folk that each person knows at least 200 people. If we were to be successful in our effort to earn a living in sales, we would need to start by telling each of the 200 people we knew that we sell houses and to ask them to tell their friends. Each of these friends also knows 200 people.

Also too, is the six degrees of separation theory working for me to win this contest. Six degrees of separation (also referred to as the "Human spider Web") refers to the idea that everyone is on average approximately six steps away from any other person on Earth, so that a chain of, "a friend of a friend" statements can be made, on average, to connect any two people in six steps or fewer. In this age of social media, I am sure those numbers of 200 have been adjusted; but the six degrees of separation theory is proving more evident.

In an effort to gain public votes for myself, I started of course with family, friends and colleagues at work, then I branched out to my own social networks; Facebook, LinkedIn and the New England Riders primarily. I am also a member of a few others such as V Star 1300 Riders, Rumble Sisters Biker Sisterhood and Women Who Ride forums. I was not prepared for “shock and awe.” The New England Riders came to my aid with fingers punching in the votes and posting a request at their own personal social networks such as the GL1800 forum and the Riders Rally forum. The Rumble Sisters posted a call for votes on their own Facebook page and the Bee, on her own site The Bee Hive, and again on Facebook. Bee (AKA Kate) along with the New England Riders have been tireless in their campaigning on my behalf. This is the humbling part of the emotional ride for me.

Karla
Another fan of mine is Karla my tireless campaign manager in the Asian Community in Lowell MA. Karla manages our front desk, always with a friendly smile and enthusiasm. I can’t thank her enough for all she is doing to help me win this contest. Then there is Dave our facilities manager out of our Detroit office. Dave sent out a message that touched our offices around the country, and the votes rolled in. The people who are championing for me to win this contest have shown me just how much each of us affect the world around us. The Six Degrees of Separation is evident, and the lessons are clear; what we do not only affects us directly but has a ripple effect in the world. Thank you all for your tireless support. The real winners of the contest, whatever the outcome, are all of you who took time to click and vote.

A special thanks as well to David K. Headley Photography and the Amherst Motorcycle Club.