Wasted opportunities

I had the luxury of spending last week golfing and ‘gator-dodging in and around Orlando. It was a too-good-to-be-true deal that I just could not pass up – especially as the snow was already starting to fly in these parts.

Over the course of 7 days we drove nearly 700 miles to and from various golf courses and just around the area itself, and during that entire time I don’t think I saw more than a couple of dozen motorcyclists on the road. I couldn’t believe it. Here we were in 75-80 degree temperatures, dry conditions, and I saw fewer bikes in an entire week than I would see here in Ottawa on a nice day in October when the temperatures might creep up to 55 or 60 degrees. Now it did seem that every second corner – the one that didn’t have a Starbuck’s on it – had a Harley dealership or clothing outlet, so money is clearly being spent on the industry, but where were the riders?

And this isn’t the only time I’ve remarked on this in the US. I used to spend quite a bit of time in Phoenix and there too I noticed a dearth of bikes on the highways. Now in Arizona there’s at least an excuse, sort of, as 100-plus degrees in ATGATT makes an air-conditioned cage seem pretty attractive. But for those of us who measure our riding season in weeks this all seems like such a wasted opportunity to get out and enjoy two wheels.

Can anyone explain it?

To my American friends

Happy Thanksgiving!

Wishing you all a great Thanksgiving weekend with friends and loved ones, and - weather permitting – some time on two wheels. Enjoy.

“The ladies’ is broken”: A tale from the road.

It had been a long, hot day on the road through the southern Prairies – mile after mile of absolutely nothing on the horizon, with only the odd tree or ramshackle homestead to break the monotony. It was harvest time and the dust was everywhere, in every crevice and pore even under the eyelids… especially under the eyelids. I felt like I’d just done 300 miles in a sand blaster and when we finally pulled into a campground for the night all I wanted was a nice long shower, and a beer. In that order.

After registering and getting our tent set up and our gear unpacked, Miz Liz headed off in search of a couple of cold beers and I headed to the bathrooms.

The hut was typical campground chic – cement floor with peeling green paint, urinals and toilets down one side, sinks on the other, and 2 shower stalls at the end, both of which were occupied.

I didn’t expect the wait to be very long, so I started getting ready. And that’s how it happened that I was wearing only a towel – around my neck – when the first stall opened and this absolutely stunning brunette stepped out.  Not being the first time in my life I’d stumbled into the wrong bathroom, my first reaction was to make sure I was in the right place. Yup – those were definitely urinals on the wall.

“The ladies’ is broken” she said as she nonchalantly reached past me for her towel.

“Uh… Yeah… No problem…” I stammered as I tried not to stare too obviously at the best (and only) scenery I’d seen all day. Slowly gathering my wits I was just about to offer to help her dry her back when she said, “Hurry up hon” and out of the second shower stepped Hulk Hogan’s lost twin brother. All of six-feet-and-a-bunch he was huge; even his muscles had muscles, all covered with fine renderings of skulls, knives and assorted other examples of the tattooist’s art.

So discretion (and self-preservation) being the better part of valour I shut my mouth, averted my eyes and darted behind the curtain before he got any ideas about any ideas that I’d already got.

Later, when I returned to the campsite Miz Liz asked how the shower was. “Fine” I said, “but the ladies’ is broken” as I reached for a cold one.

Lest we forget.

A bonus day!

Just when you’re beginning to think your riding season is over for a few months, Mother Nature tosses you a bone.

This morning’s forecast called for a high of 17 degrees (54F) and sunny, so nothing else for it but to make myself unavailable for a few hours and ride.

So with no place to go and no rush to get there I headed out, randomly picking a new direction at each major crossroads. Probably never more than 50 miles from home, I still managed to find a few roads that were new to me – some scenic with beautiful homes and farms, some nearly impassable with potholes and broken pavement, and most somewhere in the middle.

There’s no doubt that autumn is a beautiful time to be in the countryside. The trees have lost all their leaves and are now showing us their bones, the corn is ripened, and the milkweed seeds float lazily on the breeze. Everywhere the farmers are bringing in the last of the harvest and are putting their fields to bed for the winter. Overhead, flocks of geese are making their noisy way south. It’s a busy time of the year, but also kind of peaceful and calming.

It was all good.

On balance, I’d rather have 2 wheels.

Someone recently sent me this picture of an MV Agusta 60cc  Monomoto Superleggera, reportedly built for the little-known sport of Italian monocycle racing in the 1950’s. So I did a bit of research to get the story behind this creation.

Unsurprisingly, there are two stories. The “official” story is this:

“This MV Augusta 60cc Monomoto Superleggera is the experimental machine ridden by a wealthy young Italian by the name of Luiggi Bandini. During practice for the 1954 Milano-Taranto road race, Bandini tragically lost control in a misty mountain section while waving to a pretty spectator. His grief-stricken father, Count Enzio Bandini (also known as “The Falcon”), never again permitted anyone to ride or even view this advanced design. Knowledge of its whereabouts faded. Eventually, rumors of this fascinating machine reached the motorcycling bon vivant Todd Fell. On a trip to Naples, his quest to find it was rewarded at the Bandini country villa, where in 2004, fifty years after the tragic accident, the late Count’s family was persuaded to part with the treasure."

Second story:

The bike was recently built in Mexico out of spare parts and was never intended to be ridden.

I’d like to believe the first story as it has a certain class that just isn’t present with a junk-yard build, no matter how pretty the outcome. But, sadly, I expect the latter story is closer to the truth as the bike predates all the necessary electronics needed to maintain balance a la Segway when starting, stopping, etc. Also the inevitable oil leak from an old Italian engine would spell certain disaster.

But regardless whether it is actually rideable or not, someone thought enough of it to pay $17,500 for this objet d’art at a Daytona auction in 2007.

Baby’s got new shoes.

Those of you who follow this blog know I just recently acquired a new toy – a dual purpose Honda XL. The bike is a 1981 model, so spare parts are a bit difficult to come by. However I have been able to locate new rubber.

The only problem is that I made the mistake of mounting all lefts on the rear and all rights on the front. On the first ride I just about spun into the ground so I had to re-shoe her so that they are alternating front and rear. She now tracks straight – or I should say straighter.

As an added bonus, with a wife who’s a marathon runner there is no shortage of slightly used replacements.