On Two Wheels

What’s in the box?

2012-01-29T18:16:00.001-08:00

Before I had a chance to open the box, a distraction of a more mundane nature reared its ugly head. That’s right, work! So the box sat unopened, but never far from my mind, for a few days while I was otherwise occupied.

What is it about an unopened box that so intrigues and interests us? I knew what I’d ordered, and I assumed that’s what was in the box, but what if it wasn’t? What if they’d made a mistake and shipped a pair of riding boots that, just coincidentally, fit perfectly and looked great as well? Or worse, what if a critical component wasn’t in the box but backordered for delivery some time in August? What if… ? And so we let our imaginations wander, playing these little games, knowing that the only way to be really sure is to open the box.

But not knowing for sure also has an appeal. It’s like Christmas that way. Sure you could rip the wrapping off, tear open the package, and see what’s inside. But do you? Most people will feel the package, shake it, turn it over in their hands as if looking for a label that says, “It’s a pair of socks, dummy!”, even smell it. Of course few external inspections actually result in knowing the contents, but for a few seconds you let the anticipation enhance the experience, and then you shred the wrapping.

Which I finally did earlier this week, only to be slightly disappointed that the box contained exactly what I’d ordered - nothing more and nothing less than the new stainless cables and brake line along with sundry clips, gaskets, and washers for installation.

They are now installed, along with the stock bars that I put back on which also accomplished one of my New Years’ objectives. But the diversion was short lived, and with lots of snow and ice still on the ground I now need to find something else to work on, or better yet, pick one of the many projects lined up that never seem to get started.

Surviving winter, but barely

2012-01-26T06:47:00.001-08:00

Some days, when the temperatures hover below freezing and the roads are covered with ice and snow that will persist for at least another two months, I feel like this:

That’s when I need a diversion.

And, fortunately, one arrived today.

Hell’s Angels, 1965

2012-01-22T08:27:00.001-08:00

LIFE has just released a number of photographs taken by LIFE photographer Bill Ray back in 1965. Ray and writer Joe Bride spent several weeks photo-documenting the Hell’s Angels, photographs which were never published until now.

The pictures are like a mini time machine, taking us back to an earlier, and perhaps simpler time when the Angels were more motorcycle ‘club’ than criminal enterprise, and the term ‘outlaw’ referred more to being unconventional or rebellious than ‘outside the law’. It’s worth linking over there to have a look at some great pictures.

http://www.life.com/gallery/47471/image/ugc1129811/never-seen-hells-angels-1965#index/0

(Photo: LIFE)

Turning the page

2012-01-05T09:03:00.001-08:00

There’s something about the New Year that leads people to contemplate the year just ended and look forward to the next 366 days (2012 is a leap year). Sometimes it’s “Thank God that’s over!” but more often it’s just a recognition of another year come and gone with no major drama that affected our lives one way or the other.

By that measure, last year was a pretty good year up here in Canada’s hinterlands. I got the Dyna set up just the way I wanted it, we had great weather for riding and golfing (both of which I did far more of than in 2009), I took some interesting trips (none of which involved doctors, ambulances, or police cars), and generally kept the wolves at bay for another year.

The only real negative of 2011 was that the arrival of 2012 meant I was another year older. But then again, getting older is always preferable to the alternative.

So 2011 will be a tough act to follow, but in the spirit of News Year’s resolutions, I do have a few motorcycle-related objectives for the year.

I want to do a couple of bike trips this year – not just long day rides, but honest to goodness trips with a destination somewhere other than back home for dinner after 300 miles. I have no interest in the real long hauls, so riding to Sturgis is out (tempting though it may be), but there’s a Friday the 13th in July, so perhaps southern Ontario and Port Dover will be one destination. And I’ve been mulling over the Wharf Rat Rally in Digby, NS on Labour Day as well. It’s about 1,000 miles from here, so that would be a good 2-3 day ride each way through some really pretty country in eastern Quebec, northern Maine, New Brunswick and Nova Scotia.

And related to that, while the new flat bars on my bike gave me the look I wanted, some discomfort on long rides leads me to believe they’re not ergonomically right for me. So there will be some changes in that department over the winter, possibly reverting back to stock. Other than that I’m really happy with the setup and appearance of the bike, so any further changes will be limited to possibly a few farkles.

I want to either learn how to properly use my GoPro camera, or sell it. I’ve had it for quite a while now and have yet to really enjoy it. Although I have learned a lot about the GoPro from fellow bloggers who have mastered the device, I have not yet been able to successfully put those lessons into practice and as a result I am still not very happy with the results. So I need to invest some serious time and then decide on its fate once and for all.

And finally, I need to clear out some bike inventory. It’s time to get rid of the XL500, the FT500 and the TL125 and the various and sundry boxes of parts, manuals, spare tanks and frames, etc. None are being ridden enough to justify keeping them, and certainly not enough to warrant the exorbitant cost of insurance up here. Besides, a bit of spare cash might allow me to acquire another project bike for next winter.

So that’s it. As the saying goes, “God willing and the Creek don’t rise”, 2012 is looking to be another pretty good year for me and, I hope, for all of you as well.

Last of a dying breed?

2011-12-29T07:44:00.001-08:00

In a comment to a recent post where I described an early experience with motorcycle repair, Gary France made the followng observation: “It makes you wonder where children today will get those same sorts of skills, but more and more they cannot even begin to repair things, so are faced with a life of throwing things away when broken.”

This got me thinking. For many years I did all the work on my own vehicles – engine rebuilds, transmission repairs, brakes, etc. I did it all, often with little more than a basic tool kit working in an apartment parking garage. (Some of the neighbours were less than impressed, but doing regular maintenance on the building superintendent’s car made that issue go away.) But now when I have a problem and look under the hood of my 2011 vehicle I realise the best thing to do is take it to the dealer. With the reliability of modern engines and components, the most likely culprit is one of the dozens of ‘black boxes’ and there’s no way any backyard mechanic can afford the $100,000+ worth of specialised electronic gear to test, upload, and re-calibrate any of those computers. And if a firmware fix doesn’t solve the problem, into the scrap bin it goes, to be replaced with a brand new part sourced from China or Mexico.

This means the role of the mechanic is changing. The old style “fixer” is being replaced by the “diagnostician”, the stethoscope by the computer, and years of experience by a parts book and a telephone (or, more commonly, a direct computer link to the parts supplier).

That isn’t necessarily a bad thing as, thanks to the all the electronics, feedback loops, sensors, 100,000 mile spark plugs, and so on, today’s tune-up consists of little more an oil change. But it puts general repairs out of the question for the backyard mechanic and takes away the simple joy and sense of satisfaction one gets from maintaining one’s own vehicle.

Perhaps that’s another reason (as if I needed one) I so enjoy owning motorcycles. While it’s true that getting home with some cigarette package foil wrapped around a blown fuse (which I have done in the past – smoking could truly be considered a life saver in those days) is not an option with a modern bike, any decent wrencher with a good shop manual and a few special tools can still do most of their own work.

Which may become a moot point as now we're hearing from Europe that the European Commission is considering anti-tampering laws that would prevent modifications to engines and exhaust systems (as a minimum) and in the extreme could prevent unlicensed mechanics (you and I) from working on their own motorcycles. Stupid politicians (Is that a redundancy?) aren’t restricted to Europe, so needless to say if the anti-motorcyclist faction over there is successful implementing these initiatives, US and Canadian lawmakers won’t be far behind.

As Dylan said, “The times they are a-changin’”. And not always for the better in my opinion. All I can say is that I'm thankful that I at least had the opportunity and skills to do those things because I expect I’m a member of a dying breed, possibly the last generation to be able to do so.

It’s sad really.

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-24T06:58:00.001-08:00

To all my friends in the blogosphere, I wish you all a Very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. I hope you get to enjoy the holidays with friends and family, and Santa brings you everything on your list, perhaps even a bit more. And for those of you who get to ride at this time of the year I wish you … well, in the spirit of the season I won’t go there.

Merry Christmas!

Have I got a deal for you

2011-12-09T09:21:00.001-08:00

You just bought yourself that “must have” item on your wish list – a new, top-of-the-line digital camera. Your new Nikon D7000 has rating of 16.2 million pixels and embodies more features than you’ll ever to learn to use before it’s time to upgrade to the next new thing.

But the real reason you went with a bulky SLR rather than a pocket-sized snapshot camera is because of the lenses. Everyone knows that Nikon makes some of the best lenses out there, offering the best image quality possible. And you can spend yourself into the poorhouse buying lenses for every conceivable use from photographing the space station flying overhead to capturing the antics of ladybugs in heat.

Best of all, lugging all this gear around makes you look (and feel) like you know what you’re doing.

But at heart you’re really a point-and-shoot kind of guy, so what’s the first accessory you buy? You buy a Dreamy Diana lens. That’s right, for $60 you can degrade the image quality of your photographs enough so that they will look like they were taken with a cheap plastic-lensed camera.

Does that sound like you? If so drop me a note and I’ll give you my address. You can send me all your bulky, too-good, equipment and, in return, I’ll ship you a dime-store camera that will take all the crappy photos you want. I’ll even pay the postage. Don’t think of it as giving away good stuff, think of it as freeing up your saddlebags for important stuff like beer, or cigars, or a fifth of J-D.

(On a related note, I am currently investigating ways in which snaps, pops, skips, and scratches can be inserted into the sound stream from your new MP3 player so it will seem like you’re still playing old 45’s from the bottom of your sock drawer. Stay tuned.)

On Two Wheels in Spain

2011-12-08T06:48:00.001-08:00

Just got back from a fairly long trip which included a few days in Barcelona, Spain. While 4 days isn’t enough time to get to “know” a city, my first impressions are that Barcelona could easily become one of my favourite places to visit. How can you not like a city that celebrates graffiti as being part of its art scene (and some of it is very good indeed), that brought the world Antoni Gaudi and his magical Park Guell and piece de resistance, the Sagrada Familia, started in 1882 and expected to be completed in 2026 (although some claim 2050 is more likely), a city where ancient Roman walls blend seamlessly into modern shopping districts, and a city that has so totally embraced 2-wheeled travel?

While I didn’t have the opportunity to experience two-wheeled travel first-hand on this trip, it would be impossible not to remark on how the scooter is such a integral part of the culture. Whether it’s the young lady in a skirt and high heels commuting to work or the older fellow out doing some shopping in the market, the scooter is a major method of transportation for many city residents and the full-face helmet a popular fashion accessory.

Lane splitting is common at traffic lights where car and bus drivers leave a little room up front for the scooters to move to the head of the line and be the first off the mark when the light changes. Parking appears to be wherever there is space, however riders are careful not to block the sidewalks but position their bikes in such a way that pedestrian traffic is unimpeded. Overall there appears to be a sense of accommodation that is sorely lacking here in North America. I guess it’s partly the car culture we have here and the sense of entitlement that seems to come with 4 wheels and a roof. It’s also likely related to the economics of owning and operating a car versus the cost of scootering. Or it could just be that drivers realise that it could very well be their own wife/son/daughter/neighbour on those two wheels in front of them. But whatever the reason it was very refreshing to see.

How and Why Did You Get Into Motorcycling?

2011-12-05T05:40:00.001-08:00

Gary France (Flies in your Teeth) posed this question (although he referred to it as “motorbiking”) and so I thought I’d take a shot at answering.

It would have been about 1962 when Dad came home with an old and abused pedal-start motorbike, basically a bicycle with an engine attached. He gave it to us kids, along with access to his extensive toolbox (he was a mechanic by trade), and challenged us to get it running. I was the eldest, just barely into my teens, and with no manual, no parts, and no money (but lots of enthusiasm) all we managed to do that summer was to get it stripped down so that it became a pretty decent, but heavy, balloon-tired bicycle. But that experience lit two fires for me – one was a love of mechanics and all things mechanical; and the second was a desire to eventually get a motorbike that actually ran.

A couple of years later in my last years of high school the Japanese invasion was in full swing with people meeting the nicest people on Hondas all over North America. While our small town did have a couple of rough and ready types (or at least we thought so at the time) who rode Harleys or BSAs, getting a ride on one of them was out of the question. But then a couple of my school pals somehow managed to convince their parents to buy them new Hondas. One had a Dream 305 and the other a CB450 Black Bomber, and both carried spare helmets about 6 sizes too big for all the girls they were going to get. But the reality was it was their mates that got the free rides, including yours truly, as the girls didn’t want their bouffant hairdos crushed by a heavy and smelly old helmet. Besides, as I said, it was a small town and their moms and dads would find out in a heartbeat that they’d been seen on one of those “infernal death machines” and that would be that. I was working summers but there was no way I could afford a new bike, and the used market really hadn’t developed yet, so free rides whenever I could get them had to suffice for the next few years while I went away to University.

By 1970 I had graduated and was a shiny new Lieutenant in the RCAF. And I had an income! So one of the first things I did that summer was head down to the local Yamaha dealer and buy my first bike, a Yamaha 200. I don’t recall the model designation, but I do recall that it was purple, and slow! I learned how to ride in the dealer’s parking lot, put on my $20, open face helmet (glitter blue), and weaved my way home. I was on that bike every chance I got and put about 500 miles a week on it just riding back and forth to the base and around town. But then one day, about two weeks into my ownership of the purple pride, I was nearly run off the road by a tailgater who didn’t appreciate me driving the speed limit (that’s as fast as it would go!), so it was time for a change. Honda had just released the 1971 CB350 with an advertised top speed of 102 MPH(!) and a list price of $999, so that very afternoon I was at the dealership placing my order and a couple of weeks after that I too was meeting “the nicest people”. I still consider that CB350 my first “real” bike. I kept it for about 3 years and put lots of miles on it, although it never, ever got close to doing 100 MPH, and believe me, I tried! (That milestone was finally achieved on my first Norton.)

It’s now been 41 years since I bought that first bike and, except for a brief period in the early 2000’s, my garage has been home to quite a long procession of Hondas, Yamahas, Kawasakis, Nortons (lots of Nortons) and now a Harley. There have been cafe racers, trials bikes, off-road bikes, dual purpose machines and stock highway rides. Some years I’ve been able to rack up thousands of miles, and other years have been hard pressed to justify the insurance premiums, but it’s been a great ride and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Chasing Che

2011-11-26T08:59:00.001-08:00

I am now reading Chasing Che: A Motorcycle Journey in Search of the Guevera Legend by Patrick Symmes. And while it’s still too early to tell whether this is a book I’ll ultimately like and/or recommend, I did encounter this passage that is one of the best descriptions I’ve read of what it’s like to ride and “taste moments of oneness with the road”. Thank you Patrick Symmes.

There are moments on a motorcycle when all the glory of motion is distilled into one purposeful package. Chasing curves over a swelling landscape, a motorcycle enters the pure expression of physics and is bound to the road in a way no car will ever know. The rider and machine are literally balanced on the infinitely thin line where centripetal force meets gravity. Despite this state of suspended disaster, the sensation of risk is largely a sensation; the motorcycle is in harmony with the road, and risk comes overwhelmingly from other drivers. Any moment of travel on a motorcycle is a light and essential moment, an agile rebuke to a life conducted in one place. The raw force of the engine is not hidden beneath a hood, but alternately purrs and growls a few inches from the knees, demanding the consciousness of power. Sealed behind glass, insulated by climate control systems and music, the driver of a car knows nothing about the directions of the wind, the lay of sunlight, the small changes in temperature between a peak and a valley, the textured noise of differing asphalts, or the sweet and sour aromas of manured fields or passing pine forests. Engaged in all the senses and elements, balanced in the present tense, a rider on two wheels can taste moments of oneness with the road.

Unbroken - A book review

2011-10-19T07:14:00.001-07:00

This book has absolutely nothing to do with motorcycles, but I know a number of my followers are avid readers and this is such an incredible book I just had to share it.

This is a true story.

Louis Zamperini started life as an unlikely hero. He was a wild child, constantly getting into trouble. Angry neighbours and local police were regular visitors to the Zamperini house until a particular bout of trouble resulted in him joining the high school track team. Soon he was winning every local race and eventually competed in the 1936 Berlin Olympics. His times continued to improve and some reporters were predicting he might be the first person to break the 4-minute mile at the 1940 Olympics in Helsinki, Finland.

But World War II had other plans. The German-Soviet invasion of Finland resulted in the Helsinki games being cancelled, and Louis signed up with the Army Air Corps, eventually becoming a bombardier on B-24s in the South Pacific.

After returning from one sortie with 594 holes in their aircraft, the crew was assigned a new plane and sent off on a search and rescue mission. The mission ended badly with the plane and most of its crew being lost at sea. Louis and two other crew members survived the crash and spent 47 days in a raft with no food, no fresh water, harassed by sharks and strafed by Japanese planes until they eventually reached land and were subsequently captured. Then life got considerably worse for Louis as he spent the next 27 months in Japanese prison camps, subject to daily abuse, brutality and extreme deprivation until the war ended.

Returning to the US a broken man, both physically and mentally, Louis struggled to regain some form of normalcy in his life. He eventually discovered his faith and conquered his demons, even finding it within himself to forgive his Japanese tormentors.

It took a long time but Louis got his life back and continues to live it to the fullest. Climbing mountains in his sixties and skateboarding at 82, Louis’ story is a true inspiration to all of us and a testament to the resilience of the human spirit under the most trying of circumstances.

Highly recommended.

O’ Mice An’ Men

2011-10-09T17:38:00.001-07:00

I had a plan.

Every few years nature blesses us with an incredible Indian summer - warm, dry, and spectacularly colourful. This has been such a year. So on this Thanksgiving weekend, with nothing but sunshine in the forecast and the temperature projected to hit a high of 27C (81F), possibly breaking a record set in 1949 (appropriately, my birth year), it seemed like a good idea to go for a nice, long ride.

Where to go? Well Merrickville has always been a favourite destination, and if I remembered correctly, there was an ice cream stand on the main drag. Merrickville for an ice cream. Perfect. It’s about a 2-hour ride from here so 4 hours there and back would be a great way to spend the day.

Then I looked at the map. Going through Calabogie wouldn’t be that much out of the way and I’d get to ride one of my favourite roads, Highway 511. I could cut across to Perth, then up to Smith’s Falls, and across to Merrickville. Yep, I had a plan.

First stop – a little pull off beside the Mississippi River (yes, we have one too) just outside Calabogie. A popular spot to picnic, launch a canoe or kayak, or just toss in a line to see if anything is biting. I did none of those, just a quick stop to stretch the legs and take a couple of snaps.

And then on to Perth. Lots and lots of bikes on the road today, everyone getting those last rides in before the nasty weather arrives and holds us hostage for 5 long, dreary months. This group I caught up to included a bike that sported one of those convertible trike getups. I followed them for a while hoping they’d stop so I could get a closer look and talk to the rider about what it was like but they turned off on a side road before I had the chance.

In Perth I stopped at (where else?) Timmy’s for lunch and parked among probably 20 other motorcycles in the parking lot – not a large group, just a whole bunch of 2’s and 3’s out for the day. (Sorry Bobskoot, no pictures of my BLT.)

After a slow drive in heavy traffic through downtown Perth (need to make it a destination trip one day – lots of cool little shops to check out) I swung south to loop down to Westport and over to Portland, where I managed to gas up a full 8 cents a litre cheaper than in the city – about 40 cents a gallon difference. And they say the gas companies aren’t gouging us. Right!

Then I got lost. I didn’t have a map and was working from what is becoming an increasingly unreliable memory. So I wandered the back roads for a while finding some that I didn’t even know existed, and a few I’d be happy to never see again. It wasn’t until after I’d traversed a few kilometers of gravel, a couple of dead-ends, and passed through Forfar for the second time (albeit from a different direction) that I realized I had no clue where I was exactly. I knew the general area, so I just headed roughly north until I came to something I recognized. Which turned out to be North Gower.

Now that I had my bearings once again I headed north-east and crossed the Rideau Canal (thank you, War of 1812) where I took these shots of boaters out enjoying their bonus day on the water. Normally most would have put their boats up for the winter by now, so I expect there were more than a few happy procrastinators out there today.

But by this time I had missed Merrickville and my ice cream. I debated backtracking but decided instead to press on. A quick little detour through Osgoode (No ice cream there either. Also got lost again.) and I headed into the city. I stopped at the Chapters where the spousal unit was working today and got an iced latte from the attached Starbucks. It wasn’t ice cream, but it sure hit the spot on a hot day. Checked out the books, bought a couple of videos on sale (Bonnie and Clyde and The Last Picture Show) and headed out into the setting sun on the last lap homeward.

So as Robbie Burns so poetically mused in his 1785 poem, To A Mouse:

“The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley”

I didn’t get my Merrickville ice cream, but I did have a great day in the saddle and logged another 370 kilometers (230 miles) riding some great local roads on a truly beautiful day.

Bonus days

2011-09-27T16:53:00.001-07:00

I’d been planning to pay a visit to my favourite cigar dealer for a while but circumstances, as they often do, conspired against me. But then today the stars aligned: I had a free day, the sun was shining, and temperatures were well above normal. All the excuses I needed for a ride.

And of course the only way to go was the long way.

I’m still playing with my GoPro and haven’t yet figured out how to edit and compress videos, so these are a few stills taken en route.

The fall colours are now starting and should be spectacular in the next week or so. These maples on our driveway are already turning yellow.

Riding through downtown Pakenham, bypassing Scoops Ice Cream this time.

Just a great day in the country!

And my humidor is happy again.

How to protest

2011-09-26T17:00:00.001-07:00

Here in North America motorcyclists have many reasons to take issue with the governments of the day. Whether it’s helmet laws, noise bylaws targeting motorcycles only, restricted access areas, or even limits on the ages of passengers there is no shortage of causes that are worthy of protest.

And when we do, what happens? We get a few dozen bikers out who may get the attention of the press on a slow news day, and a Gallic shrug (if that) from the people we are trying to reach. Let’s face it, the powers that be, when they think of us at all, consider us a minor nuisance to be taxed or otherwise harassed simply to go away. Or, if you’re in law enforcement looking for budget increases, then we’re a gang of murderous thugs out to rape and pillage and cast asunder civilization itself. But what we are not considered is a special interest group with immense economic and political clout due to our numbers. And that’s our own fault because we, as bikers, focus on our differences – tourers versus sports bikes, Harleys versus everything else, the hard core rider versus the weekend warrior, off-road versus street riders, the tee shirt versus the day-glo armoured outfit, the wavers versus the anti-wave crowd, etc. We seem unable to recognize that spurious, oppressive regulations that affect any of us affect all of us.

Well, in France they’ve got it together. When the French government tried to bring in legislation calling for all riders to purchase and wear high visibility fluorescent vests they protested. And how! They came out in the thousands, clogged streets and highways, and let the government know they could wield real power when riled up.

Check out the videos at: http://ukfrancebikers.com/2011/06/18/france-completely-paralysed-by-almost-100000-bikers/

Now that’s how to protest. And, as a result, it seems they may actually be being heard by the French government.

The UK is going through similar challenges with hi-viz vests, restricted access, etc. and protests are beginning there as well. I expect we’ll see large turnouts, but not like the ones in France; after all, no one protests as well as the French.

Is That Thing Diesel?

2011-09-25T16:38:00.001-07:00

by Paul Carter

About a week ago, fellow blogger Geoff James (http://geoffjames.blogspot.com/2011/09/light-hearted-book-review.html) reviewed this book by Paul Carter. Geoff did a great job, piquing my interest and sending me searching for a copy of the book to download to my e-reader. As soon as I had it loaded, I started right in.

As Geoff describes the book, “It's the story of his ride round Australia on a bike originally built by Adelaide University students for an alternative fuels challenge, consisting of a Cagiva adventure bike rolling chassis and a small single cylinder diesel pump engine running on used cooking oil to propel it along.”

If that’s not interesting enough in its own right, the personal story of Carter and his motley collection of mates from his oil rig days will have you either shaking your head or laughing out loud – and sometimes both.

Highly recommended road story. And thanks Geoff for the introduction.

Why am I so conflicted about ATGATT?

2011-08-22T17:39:00.001-07:00

ATGATT, or All The Gear All The Time, is the credo of many motorcyclists. As a bare minimum it consists of a helmet, a good riding jacket – preferably leather, eye protection, jeans, solid boots and gloves. At the extreme it also includes armoured jackets and pants, da-glo green jackets or vests, and reflective tape sewn or glued onto every available surface – everything but a cabin surrounding the rider and passenger. Riding while wearing a do-rag, shorts, t-shirt and sandals does not meet the minimum standard. Nor does this Yamaha-riding-mankini-clad guy.

There are legitimate arguments to be made for any one of a long list of safety-related gear, all based on the assumption that the rider will (not “if”, but “will”) get in an accident and therefore should be protected – for his (or her) own sake, for the sake of his/her family, for the sake of the medical/insurance companies, and even for the sake of the taxpayer who may end up having to support a vegetable for years to come.

But there are also counter arguments, mostly frivolous but some that credibly posit that all that safety gear just make us feel more invincible and therefore more likely to push the boundaries. Apparently humans are hard-wired to need a certain degree of risk in their lives. Everyone's threshold is different, but what seems to happen is that if we drop below our own risk threshold we tend to then engage in increasingly risky endeavours until our overall risk exposure levels are again in equilibrium. (See Wikipedia: Risk Homeostasis.) Hence more protection = more risky behaviour, and less protection = more cautious behaviour.

That’s certainly true in my case. I used to be an ATGATT guy, especially during the years when I was teaching motorcycle safety courses – it just wouldn’t do to be seen by a student riding in jeans and a t-shirt when mandating full protection for them. But recently I’ve found myself relaxing my previously non-negotiable standards. Now if I am just going for a short putt over to the golf course (20 miles) on a hot day I may eschew the gloves and jacket and just wear a golf shirt, jeans and sneakers, or a light windbreaker. If I’m going for a longer ride involving temperature changes, possibly some bad weather, and maybe some twisty roads or high-speed highways I’m more likely going to put on all the gear, including wearing my full face helmet. And what’s interesting is seeing how I (instinctively?) change my riding style when so attired. I know for certain that I will ride more aggressively and faster when wearing full gear. It’s not a conscious decision and the thought process is not “I will be riding hard therefore I will wear all the gear”. It’s quite the reverse, with the clothing dictating the riding style, almost like the way the speed creeps up on you when you’re listening to a good road song on the radio – it just seems natural.

Any of my former students would find it hard to believe I would ever feel comfortable riding in just jeans and a t-shirt but I have, belatedly, discovered there are times when it is right for me. Is it riskier? Certainly, when factors outside one’s own control are considered. But if I wanted to avoid all possible risk in my life I’d wear my helmet while driving the car, hang a life vest on the bathtub, sell my chain saws, and die of sheer and utter boredom years before my time.

No thanks. I’ll take my chances and wear what makes me comfortable.

(A brief word on helmets. I have had very limited experience riding on the street without a helmet and found that I simply could not relax and enjoy the ride. There are probably many reasons for that, but I just was not comfortable riding that way. Others are different. There is also no doubt that helmets do save lives, which puts them into a different category than gear intended to reduce possible road rash or increase visibility. Having said that though I still firmly believe wearing a helmet should be an issue of personal choice combined with personal responsibility for any possible negative outcomes.)

Silence

2011-08-02T05:40:00.001-07:00

I hadn’t seen Charles for a few years. We used to ride together back in the 80’s but then he got married, stopped riding and we drifted apart. Then just recently I heard through a mutual friend that Chucky was back on two wheels although his wife was not too pleased with his, as she called it, “midlife crisis”.

At any rate I gave him a call and we met for a ride for old time’s sake.

One of our favourite routes back then was highway 511 up through Calabogie (which I’ve blogged on here), so it seemed fitting we’d do that loop. After meeting up at the Timmy’s in Arnprior we headed west over to Calabogie and then across to Perth (Ontario) on the almost-world-famous highway 511. Then it was back north through Carleton Place, Almonte, and back to Arnprior where we stopped at the local pub for a bite and a pint as it was now about 2 PM. Over a late lunch we caught up on the last 20+ years, and then the conversation naturally turned to motorcycles and Charles’ new acquisition, a 2009 Fat Boy.

“So” I said, “I heard Christine wasn’t too happy about you getting another bike.”

“Aw hell, I needed to find something to get me out of the house. Alone.” he said, and then went on to explain they’d been having some marital difficulties. “I even considered divorce, but she hasn’t said a word to me in 6 months and a woman like that is hard to find. So (shrugs) I bought a motorcycle instead.”

Tires

2011-07-14T06:47:00.001-07:00

Probably no aspect of motorcycling deserves as much attention as tires. After all, it’s those two tiny (2 – 3 square inches) contact patches that separate the rider from disaster in the rain, in corners, during braking, and through thousands of miles of sometimes high speed road riding. The science of motorcycle tire design and friction theory are well-covered on the internet with countless treatises by knowledgeable (and, it must be said, not so knowledgeable) writers. And ultimately personal preference, riding style and skill level will determine the right tires for one’s own ride. But one thing that is a certainty is that they will be pneumatic tires – there are no other viable options on the market.

Which is all quite amazing since the pneumatic tire has not fundamentally changed since Robert William Thomson patented the first one in Scotland in 1846. (The first practical pneumatic tire (“tyre”) was developed by another Scot, John Boyd Dunlop, in 1887. This was the start of the Dunlop Tire Company.)

While airless tires and solid rubber tires have been developed for specific uses, the pneumatic tire remains the standard for most vehicles, including motorcycles. But that may soon change.

Michelin Tires is testing (and one would assume other manufacturers as well) a new type of airless tire. When and if they make it into production remains unknown at this point, but apparently they also have a motorcycle variant in development. This was covered by The Kneeslider (http://thekneeslider.com/archives/2005/11/17/michelin-airless-motorcycle-tires/) back in 2005, so it’s not hot-off-the-presses new technology. But perhaps the fact they’ve been working on this for at least 6 or 7 years now is indicative of the challenges faced by manufacturers to provide a safe and reliable tire for all the driving (and riding) conditions we experience.

Still, they are cool and innovative and it would be nice to see a real alternative emerge to what is, essentially, 150-year-old technology. Besides, if you’ve ever experienced a blowout at speed on a motorcycle tire you’ll REALLY appreciate not having to worry about that few seconds of shorts-soiling excitement ever again.

The loop (and the Arrow)

2011-07-10T18:42:00.001-07:00

For the first time in ages, it seems, the stars aligned and I had a whole day to myself. Sunny, temperatures in the mid-20s (70 – 80F), and a honey-do list that was more or less under control meant that I could spend the entire day riding if I wanted, so I did. Well most of it anyway.

There’s a 400-kilometre loop (~250 miles) I’d wanted to ride for some time that heads west from here through some really pretty back country to the headwaters of the Madawaska River. Dotted with small tourist towns the curvy roads are well maintained and generally not too heavily travelled, making for perfect riding conditions.

So in the vernacular of the locals I “headed up the line” to Whitney, passing through the villages of Eganville, Golden Lake and Wilno among others. It’s great cottage country so these tiny settlements were all quite busy with tourist traffic as craft shops, liquor stores, and outfitters were all doing a booming business.

In Barry’s Bay I stopped for lunch (apologies to Bobskoot, no photos of my Subway sandwich) and came across this memorial to a famous Polish-Canadian.

But first some history.

After the Korean War the Canadian government started a project with A.V. Roe Canada to build the world’s most advanced supersonic fighter aircraft.The CF-105, or Avro Arrow as it was known, flew its maiden flight in 1958 with Janusz Żurakowski in the pilot’s seat. In subsequent test flights the aircraft exceed all expectations, achieving a top speed of nearly Mach 2.0 and establishing a benchmark for other fighters in development at the time. (My wife is one of the few people who actually saw the Arrow flying as they lived near the test field.)

Then in 1959 in a surprise decision, the newly-elected Conservative government under John Diefenbaker killed the project, putting nearly 30,000 workers out of a job overnight. The rationale for the decision has been explained at various times as a reallocation of funds from fighter aircraft to Bomarc missiles, or that the US government, the Arrow’s largest potential customer, refused to buy foreign-built aircraft, no matter how good, or that the project had been infiltrated by a Soviet spy and therefore had to be cancelled and all plans, prototypes and flying aircraft destroyed. In fact it was probably more mundane than any of that and was simply politically motivated. Diefenbaker’s new government came to power with a mandate to reign in the previous Liberal government's spending, and this was clearly low-hanging fruit with approximately $500 million spent to date and many millions more to come. And the directive to destroy all assets associated with the program would ensure that even if the Liberals regained power, they would never be able to resurrect the program.

The end result was that many of Canada’s brightest aerospace engineering minds headed south to the USA, seriously damaging Canada’s aerospace industry for generations to come, but hugely benefitting America’s nascent space program.

As the Arrow’s chief test pilot Janusz Żurakowski left A.V. Roe and settled in Barry’s Bay where he died in 2004. This model of the Arrow and a series of information plaques concerning his life as a war-time pilot in Poland and later in the UK, and his subsequent years as a test pilot are on the main street of Barry’s Bay in recognition of his contributions to both the aerospace industry and in later years his adopted community. Very cool.

But I digress.

From Barry’s Bay I continued west to Whitney, at the entrance to Algonquin Park, then dropped south to Bancroft for a weird parking lot conversation and a rest break before heading back home through Denbigh, Khartum, Dacre, and Renfrew.

All told, 396.4 kilometres, and a realisation that I am seriously out of shape for any kind of distance riding. I obviously need more saddle time that isn’t just 1/2 hour spurts into town or to the golf course. Will have to work on that.

Weird conversation

2011-07-10T15:19:00.001-07:00

I took a long ride today (which I’ll post on later) and I had stopped at the Tim Horton’s in Bancroft for a break. I was sitting on the curb beside my bike with a cigar in one hand and an iced cappuccino in the other – just chillin’ - when a minivan pulls into the spot beside me. An older, white-haired gentlemen gets out, looks down at me and says, “Nice day.”

“Yes,” I said “it’s beautiful… hot, sunny.”

“Well you don’t want to overdo it. 70 years ago I was born with a mole on my back and they had to remove it last year.” he said. “Melanoma. 70 years I had that mole and it was okay until last year.”

Not being quite the topic of conversation I was expecting I was a bit taken aback and mumbled something like “70 years, eh?”.

“Yep,” he said. “My mother is still alive – she’s 92 – and she told me to watch out for that because it was going to give me trouble some day. She was right. 70 years.”

He shook his head. “Enjoy your day.”

And with that he walked into Timmy’s and I was left thinking, “Thank god he didn’t have colorectal cancer.”

An early morning ride

2011-07-04T18:52:00.001-07:00

I had a tournament start time of 7:30 so I had to be on the road shortly after 6:00 to get to the course with time to sign up and get a brief putting practice in. I was running late and was tempted to just jump in the car and go without having to pack my golf clothes, put on a jacket and helmet, and perform all the other minor but time-consuming activities involved in getting ready to ride.

I decided to hell with it – it was too nice a day not to ride and if I was a bit late, then too bad.

The sun was up and just starting to rise above the trees lining the road. The air still had that early morning fresh smell (I’d make a million if I could figure out how to package that in a spray can) that lifts the soul with the promise of a brand new day ahead. And best of all, there was no traffic.

But there were deer, lots of deer, having their breakfast alongside the road. I haven’t hit one yet, but with two motorcycle-deer collisions in the area so far this year (one of them fatal), my spidey sense was working overtime trying to judge which way they’d jump as I went past. Fortunately they all either ignored me or went the right (i.e. other) way. (As I reread this last paragraph it reminds me of those headlines, “247 passengers survive as plane lands safely at O’Hare!”.)

After 15 minutes or so I left the the winding roads and forest and entered the more-or-less deer-free zone of straightaways and farmers’ fields. So with the wind in my face, the sun on my back, and the steady throb of the engine beneath me I relaxed and let my mind wander. And I found myself slipping into that Zen state where riding becomes effortless and the man-machine interface disappears. As anyone who has experienced this will tell you, you become “one” with the machine which seems to anticipate and respond to your thoughts without physical input. Time slows to a crawl. It’s just you, your bike, and a road… to somewhere, anywhere. It really is a magical experience that, if I’m lucky, I will get to enjoy once or twice a summer.

In this state I was sorely tempted to just keep on going, and would have but for the expectations of my playing partners. So I made the turn into the club parking lot, promising myself to do more early morning rides.

P.S. I should have kept riding. I may have been up at 5:15 but my golf game managed to sleep in until about 9:30 and arrived bleary-eyed and in an ornery mood.

Slip slidin’ away.

2011-06-24T13:14:00.001-07:00

For some reason we northerners insist on being able to drive like it’s mid-summer, even in the depths of winter. And for that reason the authorities apply road salt by the tonne from December through March. (The other reason being, of course, it’s a conspiracy by the auto industry so their cars rot out after 7 or 8 years and need to be replaced more often than would otherwise be necessary.)

Fortunately there are some islands of sanity, including our township which doesn’t use salt in our area. The reason is to reduce the amount of salt that runs off into White Lake and, as a by-product, cut down on the number of deer hit while licking salt off the country roads. Instead they use sand – lots and lots of sand. Which is great on icy roads in January, but not so great on paved roads in June. And since our township is too poor to operate a sweeper, the sand can linger on the roads until well into the summer, inexplicably concentrated in corners and intersections.

Hence this, the end result of a front wheel hitting a skim of sand in the middle of a off-camber corner.

Fortunately there was nothing hurt but some pride, a bit of confidence, and a signal light lens, but it serves as a good reminder to pay very close attention to the road surface ahead as the wrong stuff in the wrong place will put you down in an instant.

Flashback

2011-06-10T16:39:00.001-07:00

Back in the days of my, some would say misspent, youth when I was riding Hondas, Yamahas and Kawasakis (never a Suzuki although I did once contemplate the acquisition of an ‘83 Katana) I was forever lusting after something more exotic than the ubiquitous Japanese iron.

For a pure head-turning, WTF factor there wasn’t much that would exceed the Munsch Mammut (Mammoth) with its transverse 4 cylinder 1200cc NSU engine. This brute, at 550 pounds, was considered massive for the day. But compared to my Dyna at 675 pounds it’s a relative lightweight by today’s standards.

If riding an engineering marvel was more your forte, the Benneli Sei would scratch your itch. The 750cc engine was basically a Honda CB500 with 2 cylinders added. With a rated top speed of 120 mph this machine was a goer, and six separate mufflers were sure to capture any passer-by's attention.

But up there among the illustrious Moto-Guzzis and German-engineered BMWs (this was before there was a BMW parked outside every Starbucks between here and Portland) one bike really stood out for me, the Laverda 750. In it’s finest orange livery it was hard to miss, but if you happened to be visually impaired, or busy staring at one of the “nicest people” you just met on a Honda, the sound was a dead giveaway. You have to hand it to the Italians, they do sound very well, and the Laverda was no exception, you could hear it coming a long way and there was no mistaking that twin-cylinder rumble when under full throttle.

And what brought on this trip down memory lane?

Well today I was in the city running some errands (on two wheels, of course) and I pulled up beside a 1975 Laverda 750 at a traffic light. It has probably been 5 years since I last saw one on the road so I engaged the rider in conversation and found out that the bike was still all original. Of course after 36 years it is showing its age, but it is still a daily rider. The paint has lost some luster and he’s thought about repainting but would like to stay with the original orange. His wife hates the orange and wants to change it, so he avoids the conflict by leaving it just as it is. And when the light changed I held back just that extra few seconds to listen to the bark as he pulled away smartly knowing, I’m sure, just why I paused. Nice.

The Long Way Home

2011-05-30T19:18:00.001-07:00

I won’t complain about the weather – that’s been done to death – but I will say that when water cooler conversations about the weather displace the Stanley Cup playoffs – Go, Canucks, Go, eh? – in Canada, it’s been pretty bad. So let’s just say I haven’t logged very many ~~miles~~ kilometres this year. In fact it’s been almost as bad as 2008. (link)

But tonight turned out to be a perfect night for a ride, with temperatures hovering around 24C (75F), a clear sky, and no wind. The missus was working, and the place where she works has a Starbuck’s, so after dinner I decided to go grab a coffee. Of course it’s about 70 kilometres from here, but who cares, I’m on two wheels! Soon enough I had my beverage of choice in hand and was perusing the Chapter’s bookshelves looking for anything interesting that wasn’t already on my own bookshelf back home. This time I came away empty-handed, but with a few more items to add to my growing list of must-reads. (I mean, how could one not want to read Here’s Looking at Euclid, or Periodic Tales: The Curious Lives of the Elements?)

Now how often does it happen, while driving your car or truck, that you decide to go the long way home for a change? Not often I’d guess. I know it’s rare for me to not take the fastest, most direct route. But when you’re on two wheels that dynamic changes and it becomes all about the trip and not the destination. So I came the long way home, logging another 100 kilometres or so looping around through Stittsville, Carleton Place, Almonte, Pakenham (with the requisite stop at Scoops for a pralines and cream cone), Waba and finally White Lake before the last few kilometres back to the garage.

By the time I got home I’d had about 3 hours of country riding, a nose full of spring smells including a dead skunk and freshly fertilised fields, an extended period of riding straight into a gorgeous sunset, and a bike, jacket, and riding glasses smeared with the corpses of thousands of mosquitoes. What a great ride!

Today I said my last goodbyes to an old friend

2011-05-16T15:34:00.001-07:00

David was the first person I met when I came to Ottawa in 1972. I was wheeling my Honda CB350 into the apartment garage on moving day only to find my new parking garage neighbour working on his Ducati 250 single. With the bikes being the catalyst we struck up a conversation that signalled the beginning of friendship that lasted nearly 40 years.

Through births, deaths, good times and bad times, we remained friends, not always seeing each other that often but never really being far apart either. And when we did drift it always seemed that common two-wheel interest would soon draw us back together whether it was participating in a local trials event, meeting up at a mutual friend’s place, or just dropping in while out for a ride.

It was David who sold me my first Norton, which began a love affair which has lasted to this day and which has involved at least 5 or 6 of the marque occupying my garage at various times. And it was through him that I learned to ride trials, taking my Honda TL125 places where no motorcycle should be able to go, and earning many, many bruises and scrapes in the process. We taught motorcycle safety courses together and logged thousands of miles on back roads, seeking out new riding loops with the requisite number of curves (i.e. lots). David and his wife Judy stood up for us when we got married, and he would later share the blame when the missus came home to find us rebuilding an engine on the kitchen table using the dishwasher to clean parts and the oven and freezer to heat and cool parts that needed to be press-fit together. He was always there to provide mechanical advice or information on the history of pretty much any vintage motorcycle in the Ottawa area as he knew most of them and/or their owners.

Then, a few years ago, David contacted the big C. The treatments were hard and the recovery slow but eventually he was back into the Ottawa motorcycling scene, riding as much and as often as he could and being actively involved with the BMW Owners Club, the Canadian Vintage Motorcycle Group, and others. But, sadly, the disease returned with a vengeance and this time he would not prevail.

So today I prayed that he is now in a place where the roads are paved, the curves are many, and his faithful BMW will never run out of gas.

Goodbye my friend.

The future just got a little closer

2011-05-05T08:04:00.001-07:00

This is the story of a boy, an idea, and a uni/motorcycle.

The following clip from the BPG website describes the genesis of this machine.

Four years ago, a then 17-year-old Benjamin Gulak traveled to China with his father on a business trip. When he saw the incredible pollution in Beijing, Shanghai and Hong Kong, much of it produced by smoky two-stroke scooters and motorcycles, he knew that electrics would make ideal substitutes—if they were cool. He set out to create a practical, non-polluting vehicle with style.

Working with an inherited set of tools from his grandfather, he built an angle-iron frame, attached wheelchair motors, batteries and gyroscopes and arrived at the moment of truth – the test ride.

Since then, the now named Uno has accelerated at an incredible rate. After winning a Grand Award at the 2007 Intel International Science and Engineering Fair, the Uno was awarded one of the Top 10 Inventions of the Year by Popular Science magazine. Gulak’s Uno started to appear in newspapers and magazines around the world – leading to the start of BPG Motors.

With investor funding raised from an appearance on Canada’s CBC’s Dragon’s Den Gulak has been able to take his idea from rough prototype to near production and pre-orders are now being accepted.

Check out the video: http://youtu.be/x2DgwY5QQBk

As my crystal ball has been malfunctioning of late I have no idea whether this is the start of something big or not. But regardless, it’s damned impressive for a high school science project, and beats the hell out of my erupting volcanoes.

ABCD – Epic fail!

2011-05-02T16:16:00.001-07:00

I was all set to go out and find a centre (properly spelled) line and take a picture. On May 1 as the rules stipulated. Except somewhere along the way I slipped a cog, thinking today was May 1 and yesterday April 31. “30 days has September, April… aw crap!”

So instead of capturing a suitable image for posterity I enjoyed a rare nice day on the golf course (and I did ride there – quite exhilarating at 35F in the early morning) followed by some very necessary yard work after all the wind damage of last week. It was only when I was reminded to go and vote today that the penny dropped and those tired old brain cells woke up to the fact that if this was May 2, then yesterday must have been… right.

To all of you who are not so Gregorianly challenged and who posted your pictures, kudos. I am slowly working my way through the posts and enjoying all the creativity, albeit with a fair degree of discomfiture. And as for posting my own (non-compliant) centre line photo, I was only able to find one with a centre line, and here it is.

Taken many years ago, it’s a photo of yours truly reattaching the exhaust system to his trusty(?) Norton Commando at the side of the road while a group of riding buddies look on in ~~admiration~~ ~~disgust~~ pity. One person working and seven looking on, offering helpful and not so helpful advice. Did I mention they were mostly government employees? Note the centre line.

Two Wheels Through Terror – book review

2011-05-02T13:02:00.001-07:00

by Glen Heggstad.

“The time I spent in the vengeful hands of a terrorist organization was like holding my finger in a light socket for five weeks. That brain-frazzling experience taught me as much about myself as well as the world around me. There is a lesson in everything – often the greater the pain, the greater the lesson.”

Three weeks after 9/11 ex-biker, martial arts expert, judo instructor and adventure tourist Glen Heggstad embarked on a planned 25,000 mile, 8-month motorcycle journey from his home in Southern California to the tip of South America.

A few weeks into the trip, having crossed Mexico and Central America without incident, Heggstad’s decision to take a run up to Medellín from Bogotá, Columbia will change his life forever. Four hours into the jungle ride his spidey sense kicks in telling him something is not right. However he keeps going, right into the hands of the ELN, one of Columbia’s most brutal terrorist groups. Five weeks of beatings, mistreatment and malnourishment follow before he is eventually released. Only to continue his trip to Tierra del Fuego and Ushuaia.

This is a story of a man who, even as he fights the demons arising from his captivity, continues to reach out to the common person, finding the best in men and women struggling to survive in extreme poverty and despair. Cities offer some security and opportunities to recharge mentally and do needed repairs to his motorcycle, but Heggstad is happiest on the road braving extreme weather conditions, questionable roads and, wherever possible, engaging with the locals.

Based on previous books I’d read I had low expectations for a motorcycling book written by an “outlaw motorcyclist” and “international martial arts champion” but fortunately that turned out to not only be unfair, but incorrect. Two Wheels Through Terror is a well written and engaging narrative. Heggstad brings the reader along on his journey, a pillion passenger feeling the same freezing rain, the pot-holed roads, the terror of the known, the fear of the unknown, and the joys of riding hard on empty highways.

A recommended read for inclusion in any motorcycle library.

Be careful what you wish for

2011-04-26T14:21:00.001-07:00

This area is generally a high user of road salt during the winter months, but around the lake the local authorities have decided to use sand only to reduce the amount of salt running into the lake every spring. The difference in winter driving conditions is negligible and it’s healthier for the environment as well, so what’s not to like?

Well, the sand.

When the last of the ice and snow finally disappears, our roadways are covered in sand. Bad enough on 4 wheels, it can be disastrous to hit loose sand mid-curve while on 2 wheels. Being a poor township there are no sweepers to clean the roads, so we have to rely on a few heavy spring rainstorms to wash the sand off and make the roads once again safe for riding.

So it was about a month ago when I foolishly commented that what we needed was some rain for that exact purpose. Now I don’t personally believe in a higher being, but someone or something “up there” decided, “You want rain? I’ll give you rain.”

And so it started raining at the end of March… and it’s still raining. By tomorrow we will have surpassed the all time record for rain in April – with more rain forecast right through to the first week of May.

Okay. I get it . You made your point. I’m waterlogged. The golf course is waterlogged. The toys want to come out and play. So stop the #*@*^# rain already!

Diversions

2011-04-26T11:44:00.001-07:00

We’re in the midst of a federal election up here where the megalomaniacal, anti-democratic leader of the Conservative Party is likely to win another mandate with about 35% of the votes. Unlike the two party system in the US we have a total of 5 parties vying for support, so the splits let one party ‘win’ even though as much as 70% of the population don’t support them. On the plus side we have no hanging chads as we still use paper ballots.

So for most of us whose interest in politics goes beyond responding to superficial prime time attack ads this is all very stressful. We know the best interests of Canada and most Canadians are not going to be met by the party on track to win, but there’s precious little we can do about it under our anachronistic first-past-the-post voting rules.

That’s why I needed a diversion.

And that’s why I hung the bicycle in the trees.

An open letter to the people of Boston

2011-04-22T18:08:00.001-07:00

We just got back from a very enjoyable visit to your fair city. From Marathon Monday through to Thursday we experienced your burg and did the marathon (spousal unit only) and tourist thing, enjoyed the sights, the history, and the pubs, all the while keeping an eye out for those missing R’s. (I knew it was time to leave when I was beginning to sound like a local: “Is theah a place heah wheah ah can pak mah cah?”)

Unfortunately, except for Marathon Monday, the weather was terrible, but you can’t be held at fault for that – even the combined intellects of the 287,361 university and college professors who live in and around Boston isn’t enough to control the weather. Nor predict it, as each day was a fresh surprise.

But I do have a couple of observations and suggestions related to your driving habits.

When you took delivery of your new Volvo, the sales rep probably pointed out that lever just to the left of the steering wheel. That is a turn signal activating lever, intended to be used to advise other drivers and pedestrians of your intent to change directions. It is NOT a handy hook for your man purse.

Second point, once accidentally activated by placing your man purse on the lever, it is customary practice to remove said purse and cancel the flashing signal light before the fourth intersection in which everyone around you expected you to turn left, only to be disappointed and surprised when you drove straight through that red light.

Red lights. In most jurisdictions with which I am familiar, the approved signal for accelerating (i.e. “flooring it”) when approaching an intersection is a yellow light, usually a stale yellow, but definitely not red. I’m sure you can appreciate that if red didn’t mean STOP then there would have to be another colour for that, and I’m also reasonably sure your signal lights didn’t offer a 4th option. So try to stop on a red light; the life you save may be mine.

And one last item. When you pull out in front of another driver in a 40-mph zone, causing that driver to smoke his tires to avoid an overly intimate encounter, it is customary to get up to speed quickly and not take 3 blocks to do so. I know you are environmentally conscious, but trying to save gas by letting your Mercedes idle up to 40 mph just doesn’t work. German engineering is not THAT good.

So in my personal (and very unofficial) ranking of North American drivers, Boston has now surpassed both Toronto and Montreal for the worst drivers honour. Whereas Toronto drivers are totally unpredictable and Montreal drivers are overly aggressive, Boston drivers combine both traits, being simultaneously aggressive and unpredictable. Obviously a source of pride to some, it’s also a dangerous combination.

ABCD – May 1st – Mark it on your calendars now

2011-04-13T14:38:00.001-07:00

A Bloggers Centerline Day, or ABCD, will take place on Sunday 1st May 2011.

The plan is to inspire as many bloggers as possible to go outside and take a photograph of themselves on this day, wherever they are in the world. The photo can be creative, arty, contain more than one person, be in any type of location and can contain anything else you like. It must however contain the centerline of a road and at least part of you, the blogger.

There are 5 rules....

Rule 1 - the picture must be taken on 1st May 2011.

Rule 2 - the picture must be of yourself, and you must be a person that publishes a blog. You can include whatever else you like in the picture, including other people if you wish.

Rule 3 - the picture must include the centerline of a road.

Rule 4 – you should publish the picture on your blog on 1st May 2011, along with a few words about the picture and why you chose that location or pose.

Rule 5 - when you have posted the picture on your own blog, put a comment on http://garysusatour.blogspot.com/2011/04/abcd-will-you-take-part.html and include in that comment the address of your own blog post containing your own picture.

Gary France will then pick his favourite photos and publish these as being the winners. There will be a prize of $100 awarded to the overall single winner, as chosen by Gary.
In order to get this event known as widely as possible, please copy and paste this posting onto your own blog, including the title. Please do that today!

As a reminder to yourself to take the photo and post it, put an entry into your diary for 1st May 2011.

Road test and first ride of the year

2011-04-13T14:24:00.001-07:00

It took a few weeks, but the weather finally cooperated (no rain and 45 degrees) so I got to road test the Ascot. And it runs like a charm after the repair, even if I do say so myself.

It’s been a late and cold spring here (even now they’re calling for the possibility of snow on the weekend), but the lake is now free of ice and the spring flowers are just starting to peek above the ground. Our private road is finally clear of snow and spring mud (most of it is in shade all day long, so it takes a while to thaw and then dry out) so that a ride, even to the mailbox, doesn’t mean a 2-hour clean-up when you get home.

So when I got a notice today from the post office that a package was waiting for me it seemed like a perfect opportunity to don the leathers and helmet and go pick it up on two wheels, which I did. And did it ever feel good. There’s still lots of winter sand in some corners, and the skills are a bit rusty, but that will change quickly. And by the time we’re back from Boston (the missus is running the marathon next week) we’ll be back into riding season with a vengeance. Woohoo!

The last bit of ice.

Crosuses the deer haven’t found yet.

Old family photos

2011-04-09T08:31:00.001-07:00

Every family has that box of old photos stashed away in some dusty corner of the attic or garage. And as succeeding generations pass on the collection grows, like mushrooms in the dark, rarely ever seeing the light of day.

Every so often you drag the box out and among all the blurry photos (Why do we insist on keeping bad pictures?) and pictures of families you don’t recognize (Could that be second cousin Billy-Bob and his 17 children and step-children?) you find those hidden gems, memories of a distant and not-so distant past.

This is one such photo.

My father joined the RCAF (Royal Canadian Air Force) in 1940 and served overseas during the war, stationed at various RAF bases in England and Scotland. While at RAF Digby one of his favourite pastimes was to take his dog Streaky for a ride around the base or into the nearest town. There was a war on so danger was a relative thing and ATGATT wasn’t a big deal for humans, but note the lack of protective gear on Streaky.

If any of my readers happens to have a familiarity with WWII vintage British motorcycles I’d sure be interested in knowing what he is riding. I would hazard a guess that it’s likely a BSA single, but that’s all it is, a guess.

Winter makeover

2011-03-22T15:49:00.001-07:00

Well the winter makeover is now done. Can you spot the differences?

Before…

After…

Now if the snow would finally go I’d be a happy man.

The best kind of project

2011-03-20T10:20:00.001-07:00

Last year I mused (here) about customising my ride and what I could do that was truly unique. In the H-D world, the derby cover is a common way for the owner to announce his/her interests or allegiances – like a mini-billboard on the side of your ride – so that seemed a reasonable customisation target.

As the objective was for something unique, that eliminated the ubiquitous “Live to Ride” messaging, the flames, the skulls, and the American flag (me being Canadian and all). But I did like the patriotic flavour associated with flying the flag so I decided to play around with that concept. Besides there were no manufacturers of derby covers (that I could find) who offered any variation of the Canadian flag, which would make my cover even more one-of-a-kind.

Not being much of an artist, it took me quite a while to come up with a layout that I liked. Dozens of different mock-ups were printed, cut out, and taped onto the cover to see how they looked. I considered coloured and monochrome, simple and complex, large and small images before finally deciding on a simple, monochromatic graphic.

I still wasn’t too sure how it would look in the end so, reluctant to invest too much in the project, I scoured eBay for a suitable used derby cover as my canvas. And I got lucky, finding a nearly new polished aluminum cover for little more than the cost of shipping – a far cry from buying new.

Now the only challenge that remained was finding a way to transfer the image to the cover. At first I considered having it cut in, but after visiting a few machine shops that option went away because of either technical or cost issues. I tried engraving shops but decided I didn’t like the effect where the image was basically cut in multiple passes resulting in a grooved pattern. Chemical etching was a possibility, but again very expensive unless you’re prepared to do it yourself, which I learned is not a simple process.

But then I found a small local shop that could do laser engraving. They couldn’t cut directly onto a curved surface either, but they were able to cut a template for me out of an adhesive-backed material that would withstand sand blasting yet still be easily removed.

One template, a bag of good quality blasting grit, and many test runs later I now have my one-of-a-kind cover. It was a fun project to do, I learned a lot about what is and isn’t possible, I met some good people, it was relatively inexpensive (in dollars if not in time), and I’m very pleased with the results. Now if only every project ended this way.

One Man Caravan

2011-03-10T07:59:00.001-08:00

by Robert Edison Fulton Jr.

““Oh no,” I replied. “I’m going around the world on a motorcycle.””

At a dinner party in London, in 1932, Robert Edison Fulton Junior had just been asked when he was planning to sail back to America.

“Who was the more startled, the seven persons around me or myself, I really can’t say. I recall only that the moment I let that statement slip, I knew I’d done something inexplicably peculiar.”

Of course it might never have happened at all but for the fact that one of the other dinner guests was none other than Kenton Redgrave who had just purchased the Douglas Motor Works and offered Fulton a free motorcycle upon which to take the trip.

And thus began an eighteen-month round the world odyssey on a modified, 6 horsepower, Douglas twin, in 1932.

Fulton travelled through 22 countries, including some of the most inhospitable (then and now). He rode through Iraq (Irak, as it was spelled), Afghanistan, Waziristan, India, China, and many others. He crossed mountains, and deserts. He dealt with idiotic border regulations (and guards) and spent some time in jails. But throughout his trip he was, for the most part, able to connect with the local populace and surprisingly survived even the most potentially dangerous situations relatively unscathed. His descriptions of local customs and his attempts to communicate, usually with no common language, are often quite funny and insightful.

I really enjoyed this book, both for the experience of being able to vicariously share Fulton’s trip, but also because many of his observations of the tribal culture of much of the Middle East is no different today – some 80 years later.

So for anyone looking to add to their motorcycle travel library, this is one I would recommend.

There’s nothing so sweet as the sound of a running engine….

2011-03-02T17:55:00.001-08:00

Especially when it was torn down to the cases just two days ago.

Some of you may recall that I purchased a 1982 Honda FT500 Ascot last January for the missus. (Link here.) Well as with any 30 year old motorcycle, it had some issues, not least of which was a minor oil leak around the rocker cover. So one of my winter projects was to fix the leak.

On this model, the rocker cover is precision machined to fit on top of the cylinder head without a gasket. The oil up there isn’t under any pressure, so a good clean fit with properly torqued bolts usually does the trick. But not when the bolt holes have been stripped.

Of 11 bolts that hold the rocker cover in place, 9 had been stripped. Of those 7 had previously been heli-coiled, of which 5 of the heli-coils had also been stripped. So basically, if I had been able to do so, I could have turned the bike upside down and given it a good shake to have the rocker cover simply fall off. Now I knew why the previous owner (the so-called motorcycle mechanic!) had been reluctant to fix the oil leak – although, to his credit, he did advise me of it during the negotiations. So I guess it’s really my fault for not digging further into it at the time. (Another lesson learned, belatedly.)

So I was faced with drilling and re-tapping all those bolt holes 2 sizes over, which is not only a pain in the ass to do, but in a couple of cases would end up making the walls really thin. But then I remembered that the bike came with most of a spare engine, which was spending the winter out behind the shed, covered in snow. I went and dug it out and dragged it into the shop to thaw. And to my great delight, when I removed the rocker cover, the head had not been similarly butchered. So a quick swap of the cam and a couple of other bits and I now had a good head to work with. From there it was easy to bolt it all back together and fire it up. Now it runs great in the garage and I’m just waiting for the roads to clear for a final road test. I’m pretty sure I didn’t see any leaking oil (although the exhaust fumes were thick as a London fog when I was running it up to temperature inside the garage) so I’m hoping it’s good. But for now it’s done, and I can get on to the next project.

Getting to know your dealer

2011-02-28T11:55:00.001-08:00

Or even more importantly, your dealer getting to know you.

It’s not uncommon in online forums to see bikers referring to their dealers in terms such as “I went to the STEALER and they tried to RIP ME OFF…” accompanied by a full demonstration of Tourette’s in written form. That’s pretty discouraging because, while there are certainly bad dealerships out there, I believe the vast majority are good folks, just trying to make a living like the rest of us.

That’s why I’ve always tried to make myself known to my dealer. I’ll drop in every so often just to look at and talk about the new models, or to buy some small item at the parts counter. If I bring my bike in for service I make a point of understanding what they are doing and talking to the tech if possible. I know most of their names, and they know mine. And it pays off in so many ways.

As a case in point, I recently made a rookie mistake and broke a brake light switch. A moment’s inattention, a little ‘snap’, and an “oh crap” moment ensued. So I dropped by the dealer to order a replacement.

(This is where it gets ugly.) The part listed for my Dyna is $34 (outrageous enough), but as soon as they tried to place the order, H-D’s ordering system said that part was superseded with this new $96 part (much more outrageous). $96 for a small momentary switch in a plastic housing with about 20” of wire attached. That’s it. For any other application it would be $4.99 at Radio Shack. (Now if you want to refer to the folks who set retail price points for H-D OEM parts as “stealers”, that’s perfectly acceptable and justified.)

The parts manager (who agreed with me on the last point) then dragged out all his suppliers’ catalogues and spent at least 1/2 hour searching until he found a suitable after-market replacement switch for $22, confirmed availability, and placed the order. The service manager then spent another 15 minutes or so explaining what to watch for during installation so I wouldn’t be back again in a few days looking for another one. That’s great service.

Some dealers would have presented me with a take it or leave it scenario, but because I have a personal relationship with my dealer they were prepared to go extra mile to keep me as a valued customer. And that’s why I keep going back.

GoPro listened

2011-02-01T10:13:00.001-08:00

The major deficiency in the GoPro camera system was, in my opinion, the lack of any sort of display on the back of the camera that would visually inform the user whether the camera was recording or not. I guess lots of people had similar complaints and so the folks at GoPro listened.

Now I was thinking of something as simple as a blinking light, but GoPro had bigger and better ideas. They have just released the LCD BacPac, which is essentially an add-on LCD screen that clips on the back of the GoPro 1080Pp HD HERO unit, providing video playback capabilities as well as camera setting info.

Mine is on order and I will provide a review as soon as I get it and can try it out.

Irony

2011-01-31T16:32:00.001-08:00

It was a glass half empty kind of day

2011-01-30T16:01:00.001-08:00

Well that was a bit of a bust. I went to the Ottawa bike show yesterday, spent a couple of hours surrounded by bikes and bikers, and came away quite disappointed.

After last year’s inaugural show I was looking forward to a bigger and better event with more dealers, more vendors, and more bikes. And there were signs of improvement in some areas. Certainly the show was better attended than last year – in fact the crowds were a bit of problem in my opinion as the venue was small for the number of booths and movement around the show floor was difficult at times. And it was nice to see a few more aftermarket and accessory vendors there than last year. But what was most disappointing to me were the motorcycles themselves.

Based on some previous blog comments (bobskoot and others) I was looking forward to seeing the Yamaha Super Tenere. Well, if Yamaha had one on display I certainly couldn’t find it. Otherwise, all the metric crotch rockets look and feel the same to me, as do all the Japanese cruisers, so nothing of interest there. But the muscular Yamaha V-Max is still a hard to ignore show stopper that, in my opinion, would have attracted more attention had it not been pushed way in the back of the Yamaha display.

Since I have a soft spot for Brit bikes, the new Triumphs were high on my list of must-sees as well – but Triumph wasn’t even present. Nor was BMW, which always has some interesting models to display. Both marques are carried by the same Ottawa dealer which appears to have made a business decision not to be involved this year at all, which was too bad, and I think it may hurt them in the long run. (After last year’s show, a sales rep there told me they very disappointed with the results of their participation, so it’s not surprising I suppose.)

The Harley booth, the largest at the show, was quite good with a couple of new models on display and a selection of clothing and other gear. But I get to see those bikes at my dealer whenever I want, kick the tires, and get a chance to actually talk to a representative without being jostled by people trying to get a better look or a picture of their friend sitting astride a Harley.

The only motorcycles that did catch my eye were the Royal Enfields. With classic lines these bikes are a throwback to the 50’s in appearance, but under the skin are thoroughly modern with disk brakes, electronic ignition, EFI, modern suspensions, and so on. A very interesting amalgam of old and new, an Enfield would satisfy the need for a nostalgic ride, but in a much more reliable fashion. And they just look great to my ‘vintage’ eyes. Seeing there’s now a local dealer carrying the brand is encouraging, and hopefully we’ll see a few more on the road.

But overall the show did not meet my expectations. I know it sounds like a lot of whingeing, but I’ve been to great motorcycle shows and this just wasn’t one. Still though, it was a day of bikes in the middle of winter, and that isn’t all bad. And next year will be better.

J&P Cycles

2011-01-29T07:03:00.001-08:00

Regular readers of this blog might notice a new name in the sidebar list of “Purveyors of Fine Motorcycle Accessories”.

I’d never heard of J&P Cycles until about ten years ago when one of the technicians at the company I was working for asked for help in solving a “relationship” issue with J&P arising from a problematic software installation we had done for them. As a Brit bike owner, my sources for after market parts and accessories typically had addresses like Burntwood, Staffs, WS7 1JP, England and not Anamosa, IA, 52205, USA. But as a motorcyclist I was intrigued by their business and put the name into the “I might be able to use this one day” file.

Then I went over to the dark side and bought my first and only (so far) H-D. Since no Harley ever remains stock for more than a few days (and some never even get out of the showroom in stock trim) one of my first actions was to get a copy of the J&P catalogue, which quickly became my bible. What could be easier than placing an order on-line and having the stuff arrive at your door a couple of weeks later?

I bought quite a few items from them and was generally pretty happy with the company. Then I had a problem. A minor problem to be sure, involving an LED tail light bulb (all of $30 worth) that didn’t work as well as I expected it should. Of course I didn’t actually try to do anything about it at the time and had effectively written off the $30 until several months later, in the context of another discussion with one of the J&P reps, the bulb came up and he said send it back. Which I did.

Unfortunately, between telephone calls, on-line chat, and e-mails the inevitable confusions arose, the details of which I won’t go into here. But suffice it to say that throughout the folks at J&P were friendly, patient, and accommodating. And at the end of the day exceeded my expectations for service. (And as someone who ran support organizations for much of his working life, my expectations are high.)

A well known study back in the ‘80s (which I have buried in one of the many boxes of professional debris we all accumulate over the years and are loath to toss in the dumpster for fear of… what?) demonstrated that customer satisfaction was usually higher after a company successfully addressed a customer concern than if the product simply operated in a no-fault manner. And so, knowing they’ll be there when a problem arises, my satisfaction level has consequently gone up from “pretty happy” to “very happy” based on the way I was treated by these good folks. I have therefore added J&P Cycles to my sidebar list of vendors I recommend doing business with.

Note: The author has received no consideration, monetary or otherwise, from J&P Cycles for this post.

It’s hard to keep a righteous crusader down

2011-01-26T13:36:00.001-08:00

Proving once again that politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it whether it exists or not, diagnosing it incorrectly, and applying the wrong remedy, Ontario MPP Dr. Helena Jaczek has once again mounted her trusty high horse in an attempt to curtail fun in the Province of Ontario.

Foiled in her harebrained attempt to legislate the age of motorcycle passengers (blogged on here, here, here, and here) Ms. Jaczek has resurfaced with a Private Member’s Motion to the Ontario Legislature as follows:

That, in the opinion of this House, a select committee be appointed to study the use of non-automobile modes of transportation on highways and private properties in Ontario and to offer recommendations for ensuring the safety of Ontarians who use such modes of transportation.

Specifically, the committee shall investigate and report on strategies for reducing injuries and fatalities related to the use of bicycles and non-automotive motorized vehicles, such as:

1.- Imposing minimum age requirements for operators and passengers of non-automobile motorized vehicles;

2.- Implementing safety training and licensing requirements for operators of non-automobile motorized vehicles;

3.- Requiring the use of protective equipment for operators and passengers of bicycles and non-automobile motorized vehicles; and

4.- Creating regulations regarding the appropriate size of certain classes of non-automobile motorized vehicles relative to operators and passengers.

The committee shall have the authority to conduct hearings, undertake research and do anything else it considers relevant to developing a strategy for reducing injuries and fatalities related to the use of non-automobile modes of transportation in Ontario.

The committee shall be composed of Members representing all geographic regions of the Province of Ontario.

The committee shall present a final report by no later than May 31, 2011.

Note item 1: Imposing minimum age requirements for operators and passengers of non-automobile motorized vehicles. This is clearly just another attempt to resurrect her ill-fated private members bill on this subject, this time hidden in a broader initiative.

In justifying this motion, Dr. Jaczek in a press release states, “In the last 10 years, statistics show us that the number of injuries occurring on all terrain vehicles, snowmobiles, motorcycles and bicycles in Ontario have increased by 66 per cent. It is time to address the safety surrounding these vehicles in a comprehensive way.” Interestingly she offers no evidence of that fact, as if her word was sufficient. Well as we found out the last time she bumbled blindly into this area, her word (and her facts) are neither sufficient nor accurate.

So it’s reality check time (or, trying to keep a politician at least somewhat honest):

According to the latest statistics from the 2007 Ontario Road Safety Annual Report (2007 is the latest year posted online. I don’t imagine the numbers for the 2000-2010 period, if even available, would be much different as the trends are clear), here is the growth in vehicle populations during the 10-year period ending in 2007.

Vehicle class	1998	2007	% increase
passenger car	5,369,972	6,339,389	+18%
motorcycle	98,156	173,314	+77%
motorised snow vehicle	363,737	310,798	-14%
off-road vehicle	125,498	299,849	+139%

So, in the same period where Dr. Jaczek claims injuries have gone up by 66%, the number of registered motorcycles have gone up by 77%, and a stunning 139% in the case of off-road vehicles.

But according to the same source, motorcycle-related injuries only went up by 17% (from 1440 in 1998 to 1685 in 2007). So, if anything, it’s a good news story. But good news does not apparently satisfy our do-gooder Dr. Jaczek. No, she wants us to focus on the bad news so she can succeed in her apparent goal of ultimately getting motorcycles, ATV’s, and other “non-automobile motorized vehicles” either off the road, or so burdened and encumbered by silly and unnecessary regulation that the average person (that’s us, folks) just throws in the towel and says the hell with it, sells all their toys, and buys a gas-guzzling SUV instead.

People like her are truly dangerous.

Nekkid

2011-01-26T07:22:00.001-08:00

Stay tuned.

These are the dark days

2011-01-25T08:45:00.001-08:00

It’s the middle of January, and here in the frozen north the temperatures struggle to get above –20C (-4F) and the unrelentingly gray skies are wearing pretty thin on the psyche. The snow continues to accumulate.

Biker mags are all well-thumbed, having been read several times while waiting for the next issue to hit the newsstands or arrive in the mail. The stack of catalogues have numerous dog-eared pages highlighting the next must-have bling or serious mod, and every on-line mail-order site is faithfully listed in “favourites” and visited on a regular basis.

While there’s absolutely nothing attractive about sweltering in a Texas or Arizona summer, it’s that time of year when I can’t help but wish, if only momentarily, that my ancestors had selected some place to live that didn’t freeze the balls off a brass monkey for 5 months of the year.

The short days are spent in the garage (heated, of course) either daydreaming or installing some essential component that was discovered in an obscure on-line catalogue or the result of a fortuitous eBay buy. Two weeks delivery might as well be a lifetime, especially at this time of year.

Even dealer visits fail to break through the doldrums. Shops are quiet – too quiet – and the staff seem lethargic and resigned to just getting through the next couple of months. ‘Sold’ signs accumulate on bikes on the showroom floor as their new owners not so patiently wait for the day they can ride the new toy home.

The lucky few who will be going to Daytona for Bike Week seem to weather it a bit better as the excitement builds for a week of sand, sun, bikes, and babes in whatever order of importance is most significant to each individual. But all look forward to escaping winter’s grasp, even if only temporary, like a day pass from the Big House. Sadly, I will not be one of them this year.

And then, just in time to prevent a total breakdown, show season arrives.

Only 4 more sleeps! I think I can make it! I think I can, I think I can.

Is yellow the new black?

2010-12-31T09:42:00.001-08:00

There’s an old adage that says you can never go wrong with a black motorcycle. I suppose it may be because it’s a “tough” colour, intended to strike fear in the hearts of “citizens” everywhere. But it’s more likely because colour is such a personal choice and black motorcycles were the two-wheeled equivalent of beige walls in new homes and apartments – in other words, easier to sell.

I expect that was once true, but is it still?

As I look back over the various rides I’ve had over the years I have to say that black was the dominant colour. I did, and do, own bikes of other colours but when the tank got damaged on my originally gold-coloured CB350, I painted the bike black. My RD350LC was black, as was every one of the several Nortons I owned. The Z-1 was due for a paint job (which would have been black) when I sold it, and my current ride, the Dyna, is also black. So you could say I’m pretty comfortable with the colour. (I know, purists will insist black isn’t really a colour, but if it’s good enough for H-D to decorate their bikes with I’m happy to call it a colour. But I digress.)

So why is it then that I’ve now become so attracted to yellow motorcycles?

The first yellow bike that really caught my eye was this one, at a dealership in Kitchener. Not pure yellow, it had a green metalflake undercoat and an amazing depth to the paint. The reflected sunlight dazzled as it literally jumped off this yellow Dyna. In fact it was this bike that first got me thinking about owning a yellow machine.

Then the 2011 H-D models came out, and right there on their web site Harley-Davidson had this gorgeous Fat Boy on display. No wallflower, the Chrome Yellow colour brings the bike to life, demanding passers-by to “look at me!”.

And then this Norton Commando shows up in my in-box, combining what is arguably my most desirable motorcycle with a colour that is quickly becoming a favourite of mine.

Is it all a sign? Is someone trying to tell me something? Could I really live with yellow?

Heart over head

2010-12-30T08:47:00.001-08:00

The folks over at Motorcycle Picture of the Day posted this photo of a stunning early-70’s vintage Norton Commando. And my heart rate jumped about 20 beats per second.

As I have posted previously, I have had a long and somewhat conflicted love affair with Nortons, having acquired my first one in the late 70’s and disposed of my last one in 2001, owning 5 or 6 of the beasts during that time.

Nortons always struck me as purpose built sculptures, designed to evoke the baser instincts, and like moth to flame I would succumb, drawn by the sheer muscularity of that power plant and the raw beauty of the machine itself.

But truth be told, they made better sculptures than daily riders. They were temperamental machines, prone to shake parts loose at the most inopportune time and the Lucas “Prince of Darkness” electrics virtually guaranteed at least one ride home in the dark every few weeks. With no electric start and a compression ration of 10:1 or so, kicking one to life often resulted in a sweat-soaked start to a ride, and possibly a bruised shin or worse (I once actually drove my knee into my chin as a result of a particularly nasty kickback). And while the isolastic suspension kept the engine vibrations from rattling your fillings loose, it did nothing to prevent the exhaust system from periodically heading south, or the kickstart lever falling off. In fact, nearly every ride ended with a must-do maintenance list of several items needing tightening, repair, or replacement. And duct tape became your best friend.

But as my German father-in-law used to say, “Too soon old, too late smart”, and still, every time I see one of these classics the urge strikes again to own one. Then the head wakes up and says, “Are you nuts?” and reality takes over.

Stretch Enfield

2010-12-23T07:17:00.001-08:00

Thanks to the folks over at Bikes in the Fast Lane, we have this image of a 3-wheeled Royal Enfield.

Why would anyone do this? Probably so they could do this:

While the location isn’t specified, the background would appear to put the bike in some third-world country where safety concerns are, at best, of little importance compared to the need for cheap transportation. And I for one would much rather be on the back end of an extended seat on the Royal Enfield than perched with my ass hanging over the back edge of a top box, hanging on to the guy 2 places in front of me, and praying the driver doesn’t crack the throttle and wheelie me and my co-riders into a serious case of road rash.

Season’s Greetings

2010-12-22T17:16:00.001-08:00

Things are about to get a little crazy here at the homestead over the next few days, so I thought I’d best take this opportunity to wish all my readers and fellow motorcycle bloggers a very Merry Christmas. May your day be blessed with friendship and good cheer. And perhaps, if conditions permit, a brief ride while the turkey is in the oven.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The old man on the moped

2010-12-14T20:39:00.001-08:00

An elderly man on a Moped, looking about 100 years old, pulled up next to a doctor at a street light. The old man looked over at the sleek shiny car and asked, 'What kind of car ya got there, sonny ?'

The doctor replied, 'A Ferrari GTO. It cost half a million dollars!'

'That's a lot of money,' said the old man. 'Why does it cost so much?'

'Because this car can do up to 320 miles an hour!' said the doctor proudly.

The Moped driver asked, 'Mind if I take a look inside?'

'No problem,' replied the doctor. So the old man leaned over, poked his head in the window and looked around. Then, sitting back on his Moped, the old man said, 'That's a pretty nice car, all right... but I'll stick with my Moped!'

Just then the light changed, so the doctor decided to show the old man just what his car could do. He floored it, and within 30 seconds the speedometer read 160 mph. Suddenly, he noticed a dot in his rear view mirror. It seemed to be getting closer!

He slowed down to see what it could be and suddenly WHOOOOSSSHHH! Something whipped by him going much faster! 'What on earth could be going faster than my Ferrari?' the doctor asked himself. He pressed harder on the accelerator and took the Ferrari up to 250 mph. Then, up ahead of him, he saw that it's the old man on the Moped!

Amazed that the Moped could pass his Ferrari, He gave it more gas and passed the Moped at 275 mph. He was feeling pretty good until he looked in his mirror and saw the old man gaining on him AGAIN !

Astounded by the speed of this old guy, he floored the gas pedal and took the Ferrari all the way up to 320 mph. Not ten seconds later, he saw the Moped bearing down on him again! The Ferrari was flat out, and there was nothing he could do!

Suddenly, the Moped plowed into the back of his Ferrari, demolishing the rear end.

The doctor stopped and jumped out and unbelievably the old man was still alive.

He ran up to the banged-up old guy and said, 'I'm a doctor.... Is there anything I can do for you?'

The old man whispered, "Unhook my suspenders from your side view mirror".

The corn field

2010-12-03T16:27:00.001-08:00

I sit there and stare out over the cornfield, reduced by the harvest to stubble, golden in the late afternoon sun. I imagine a giant hand reaching down and brushing across the earth; it would feel like a 2-day-old beard I suppose.

A large flock of geese arrives, looking for overnight shelter and rest on its way to a warmer winter home. Gliding close to the ground, one by one they flare and half land, half crash to the earth. Comical to watch but even this, it seems, is done in formation driven by instincts we can’t possibly understand.

Near the road is a single corn stalk that was somehow missed by the harvester. A survivor, but winter is on its way so the end was not avoided, only delayed. I wonder if being the last person standing after an apocalypse would be a good thing, or a bad thing. I don’t know. And I don’t particularly want to find out.

Then my thoughts are interrupted by the raising of the barrier as the end of the train finally passes. Back to the real world, I grab a handful of throttle and ride on, the corn field once again relegated to simply scenery.

Cleaning out the gar(b)age

2010-11-17T16:27:00.001-08:00

There are lots of signs of winter being on its way here. Aside from the leaves having deserted the trees, the bears going into hibernation, the golf courses all closing, and deer season having come and gone, there’s the annual clean out the garage event.

This is usually triggered by the acceptance of the fact that, given all of the above, it’s time to change the oil on the bikes and tuck them in for the winter. Which is, of course, immediately followed by the realization that the garage is so full of crap that there’s no place to work – and it’s now too damned cold to do it outside – so a clean-up is the only option.

As a firm believer that procrastination is something best left until tomorrow, I am generally quite successful at holding off doing this chore until the last possible minute. But this year I also have a honey-do project (put off from last winter) that requires the relatively unencumbered use of the garage to complete and I’m running out of time (and spousal patience).

But first things first. The order will be: a) tidy the garage; b) put the bikes to bed; and c) build the entertainment center cabinets.

Now a garage to me has always been a place where you “do stuff” and you “put stuff”, with “put stuff” generally meaning dropping it where you used it the last time you “did stuff”. So it’s no surprise that 11 months after the last major clean-up it looks like this:

You’ll note the clever use of handlebars as coat hangers and seats as excess storage space. The rest is tools on top of tools, projects un-started and half done, bits of this and scraps of that, future eBay transactions, and so on. And the chair serves as a handy vantage point from which one can swivel around and contemplate the challenge ahead whilst quaffing a pint or two in preparation. It’s no wonder my wife doesn’t like visiting the garage; I’m kind of scared to go in there myself when it gets this bad.

But today was a miserable, wet, windy day suitable only for napping while watching baseball on TV or starting the herculean task of putting some structure into the mess. I opted for the latter. And made barely a dent.

However tomorrow is another day, and since I’m then off to hot and sunny (it had better be) Florida for some golf, I’m going to have to make some serious inroads lest I be faced with the same chaotic scene when I return in a week.

Wish me Godspeed folks, for it’s once more into the breech.

On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month….

2010-11-10T16:24:00.001-08:00

Why we have an obesity problem – an apology.

2010-11-07T15:48:00.001-08:00

I recently had this image sent to me as one of those so-called motivational posters. It seemed such a perfect metaphor for a lot of what ails us today that I just had to share it.

Well I was wrong. No sooner had I posted the item than Kev made this comment on my blog:

Actually, while it is easy to make fun of her, the person in that photo is Melissa Hofstetter. The reason she is using the Segway is that in 1995 she was diagnosed with cancer and had to have her left leg amputated above the knee. While she is able to get around fairly well with her prosthetic leg, long distances, and hilly terrain are very difficult for her and often leave blisters and sores. This picture is of her while she was making a trip to Seattle to help take care of her grandniece.

In August, Gizmodo published an apology for previously publishing the image on their webpage with a snarky comment, and an explanation of who she is. It also has a much more detailed description of just who she is and just what she has gone through. Needless to say, she is not the reason we have an obesity problem.

http://gizmodo.com/5602600/i-am-very-sorry-segway-stroller-lady

Thank you Kev. I stand corrected, appropriately chastised, and apologetic. And to all others who periodically read my ramblings, if this image shows up in your inbox one day, you’ll know the background, be wise enough to not pass it on, and be able to go back to the sender with Melissa Hofstetter’s story.

Season’s last ride?

2010-11-06T12:35:00.001-07:00

As anyone who lives north of the 45th parallel (or thereabouts) knows, 12 months of riding is available only to those with either a death wish or blood of ice. Having neither, I sadly have to bed the baby for a few months every year while mother nature does her best to drive us all south, or temporarily insane until she is once again beaten into submission by the longer days of spring.

That’s why the last ride of the year is so important because the afterglow has to last for months. So when the rainy weather finally broke and the sun came out last weekend, I took full advantage for “the last ride”.

I headed off to one of my favourite routes through Calabogie and then across along Highway 511 to enjoy some of the twisties that road has to offer.

The green leaves of summer had long since fallen to the forest floor leaving the trees as naked as a bunch of freshmen at a nude beach on spring break. Although thoughts of such activity were quickly dispelled by the temperature – a not-so-beachy 5C (~40F). Even the forest looked cold.

Turning southwest at Burnstown, I followed the Madawaska River all the way into Calabogie, at one point stopping at a picnic area to watch the water flow over the rocks while I enjoyed a mid-ride cigar and warmed up in the sunshine. Clearly I was not alone in my thinking as bike after bike cruised by – some solitary, others in groups, all enjoying the day. A couple of sports bikes pulled into the parking lot while I was there, but parked at the other end, afraid of H-D contamination I expect.

At Calabogie I swung southeast onto 511, and that’s where the fun riding started. Highway 511 is one of those hidden gems of a highway that is important enough that the government keeps it well maintained and the pavement in good condition, but it isn’t important enough to spend the money on to straighten it out from it’s long ago origins as a cart path. 511 and I go way back and it’s still one of my favourite routes.

But it doesn’t go on forever, and with the sun dropping lower and lower in the sky and knowing the temperature would quickly follow suit, it was time to start the homeward loop up through Clayton and then back across to Pakenham and home.

Much to my surprise Scoop’s was still open. What would a ride be if it didn’t involve a stop for ice cream – possibly also the last of the year? A double scoop of burgundy cherry didn’t do much to raise my body temperature, but it sure was good for the soul!

As I was having my ice cream, a school bus pulled up. The female driver got out with her last 2 charges – 5 or 6-year-old girls – and bought them both, and herself, an ice cream. I never had a bus driver give me anything but a hard time, and so I told them how lucky they were. They got back on the bus, all giggles and chatter, pony tails and striped leggings, and headed to the same place I was going – home.

P.S. The weatherman is calling for double-digit temperatures for next week – very un-November-like. Another last ride perhaps? We live in hope. But I know for sure Scoop’s is now closed for the season, so it just won’t be the same, whatever happens.

My favourite road sign

2010-10-27T17:35:00.001-07:00

I’m going back.

2010-10-22T08:59:00.001-07:00

I’ve been known to be a little forgetful on occasion so it was no surprise that I had left my sunglasses at the gas station where we filled up.

I didn’t think much about it at the time because the sky had clouded over and the sun wasn’t really a problem, but several miles down the road the sun came out again and I realised what had happened. Unfortunately we were on a 4-lane highway at the time, with exits few and far between, so I pulled up ahead of Charlie who was riding his BMW K757-A with German-engineered dirt under the fenders and flagged him off into the next rest stop.

“Charlie, I forgot my sunglasses back at that gas station.”

“So what would you like me to do about it?” Charlie was always a very sympathetic sort.

“I’m going to go back for them.”

“Hey man, it’s 15 miles back and there’s nowhere to turn around. Forget ‘em.”

“Charlie, those are expensive glasses. I’m not leaving them there.” The most expensive pair of sunglasses Charlie ever owned were the plastic $3 reading glasses from the Dollar Store that he darkened using a felt-tip marker, so he was having difficulty relating.

“Well shit man, if you’d take care of your stuff this wouldn’t happen.”

“Charlie, I just forgot them on the counter, that’s all. I’m going back.”

And so it went, back and forth, with me taking the lion’s share of abuse for being “so f’ing stupid”. But finally he relented and agreed to ride back with me “just to keep you company”.

It was another 5 miles before we hit an exit where we could turn around and 20 miles back to the gas station. All the way I could see Charlie up ahead, just shaking his head, and I figured I’d never hear the end of it: a waste of time and gas for a lousy pair of sunglasses left on the counter by an idiot.

Finally we pulled into the gas station and parked out front. And as I was getting off my bike to go inside Charlie said to me, “While you’re in there could you also get my credit card?”

Bastard.

The pipeline workers – A tale from the road.

2010-10-18T18:22:00.001-07:00

We’d decided to take the weekend to go for a ride back to my home town. I hadn’t been there since leaving for school many years earlier and the missus wanted to see where I grew up, why I’m not sure because I didn’t particularly want to see it myself.

Right after work on Friday we headed out, me on a brand new RD350LC that I wanted to stretch the legs on,and her on her trusty CB400F. By about 8 PM we were in Mattawa, hungry, and looking for a place to stay. As I’ll explain later, the memories of that night are somewhat fuzzy, but I seem to recall the place we chose being called the Mattawa Motel though I’ll stand to be corrected on that. Anyway we got a room and had a good dinner in the dining room before heading to the bar for some refreshment.

That’s when the trouble began.

Except for the bartender and an older guy sitting alone at a table the place was empty. We headed for the bar and ordered up. Molson Golden was the tipple of choice in those days and so we had him pop a couple of stubbies for us. Soon enough we’re chatting to the bartender and tell him we’re going up to Temiscaming and why. He says to the guy at the table, “Andre, isn’t that where you’re from?”, and then, to us, “Andre’s the owner, he used to live in Temiscaming.”

With that Andre came over and asked our names. I told him and he said, “Your father’s name Fred?” “Yes.” “Bien maudit, I used to cut your hair. Do you remember me? I was the barber there and your dad used to bring you in when you were just little. Me and your dad, we used to go fishing.” Then he told me his last name which brought the memories into sharper focus.

Now that we were friends with the owner, or more precisely my dad had been friends with the owner, he felt obliged to buy us a round for old time’s sake, and another as we got caught up on all the news from the past 15 or so years.

About 9:30 a group of six or so very big guys came into the bar. One asked the bartender who owned the bikes parked outside. He pointed to us and I thought we were either going to get the crap kicked out of us, or be told they just ran over one of both of the motorcycles in the parking lot.

But no fear. They came and sat at the bar beside us. Being ‘friends’ of the owner, and somewhat a novelty (not too many women rode motorcycles then) we were introduced to each in turn. We found out that they were working on a nearby oil pipeline and were all staying at the motel where the bar had become a sort of home away from home. They ordered up their favourite beers, 2 and 3 at a time, paying in cash from huge wads of bills (Friday was payday) – including a couple more pints for us as well.

It soon became clear that our money was no good in that bar, but in turn we were expected to at least try to keep up. Round after round would appear as the stories of being migrant pipeline workers, hundreds of miles and months away from home, got longer and ever more ridiculous in the telling. We gave it a hell of a shot, but sometime after midnight with 10 or 12 empties in front of each of us (Canadian beer – 5%!) I lost track. It was one of the few times I can recall that I was actually happy the bar closed at 1:00 AM.

At breakfast the next morning we both commented on how we were feeling surprisingly good, all things considered. So we packed up and headed out. But I expect the reason we felt as good as we did was because we were still officially DUI. Fortunately we weren’t stopped, didn’t fall over, and riding and the sun soon burned most of the alcohol out of our systems.

We got into town and parked on the main drag to the curious looks of locals wondering who the strangers were. I recognized no one, and no one recognized me – 15 years can be a long time in the life of a small town. I pointed out some of the sights and hangouts from a misspent youth which took all of about 2 hours (small town, few sights, youth not that misspent) before we turned around and headed back home.

When we hit Mattawa I was actually feeling pretty good, so I suggested we perhaps stop at the Mattawa Motel for a quick pint on the way by. That’s when I got one of those don’t-even-think-about-it-if-you-ever-want-to-have-sex-again looks.

Apparently I had weathered the storm much better than the missus.

Fall spectacular

2010-10-15T15:58:00.001-07:00

While there is plenty to recommend living here, one of the great negatives is the short riding season. If you’re a wimp like I am (hey, I earned my stripes; I’m just older and smarter now) who doesn’t care to ride in the snow, on frost-coated roads, or in freezing rain or sleet, the riding season is about 6 months long, with rides on both ends of that spectrum being few and far between.

However that doesn’t keep us from hoping for that one last ride of the year when Indian Summer is in full swing, the sun is shining brightly on the yellow and red and orange of the forest in its full fall livery, and the temperature is somewhere above absolute zero. But this year, with near-record rain for much of August and all of September, I was almost ready to give up, thinking perhaps it was time for the fall oil change and then beddy-bye for the next 5 months.

Then came this past weekend.

The (Canadian) Thanksgiving long weekend is usually marked by extremes here. It’s either absolutely miserable with leaden skies and any combination of rain/snow/sleet, or it’s spectacular with clear deep-blue skies and mild temperatures. This year we lucked in to the latter with a fantastic 3 days of sun and mid-40’s temps. And though other commitments kept me occupied for a lot of that time I did get out for a short 2 1/2 hour ride.

Here’s some of what Mother Nature had to share.

Saw these mushrooms beside the driveway as I was heading to the garage.

Sugar maple at the end of the lane.

Snye Road.

Coming home to our lane in full colour…

complete with doe and fawn as welcoming committee.

And barring an amazing turn in the weather over the next couple of weeks, that’s going to be just about it for this year, so I might as well give her some fresh oil and cover her up with her winter blankie. Perhaps that’s a job for tomorrow as the cold and rain is expected to continue for a few more days at least.

Kill a biker? Well that warrants a slap on the wrist for sure!

2010-10-12T17:13:00.001-07:00

Eighteen months ago I posted about this accident, where an unlicensed, uninsured motorist left an injured motorcyclist dying on the pavement and drove off. The rider, Claude Dorion, was found by a passerby, bleeding on the sidewalk, and died 4 hours later in hospital.

Well today, justice (of sorts) was finally meted out in an Ottawa courthouse. The driver, William Davis, was sentenced to a year in jail and handed a 3-year driving ban. According to the reports Davis was sentenced for leaving the scene of an accident, making an unsafe turn, driving without a licence and operating a vehicle without insurance. It’s worth noting that none of the charges related directly to killing another person. No charges were laid for vehicular homicide or dangerous driving causing death, which to my way of thinking should have been the case here – along with the aforementioned charges to which Davis pleaded guilty.

Davis got off far too lightly in my opinion. His year in jail will, in all likelihood, be significantly reduced for “good behaviour” and/or early parole. And with a history of driving without a license and without insurance it’s far from certain that the driving ban will have any affect whatsoever. It’s a sad day for justice indeed.

Wishing all my Canadian friends a Happy Thanksgiving!

2010-10-11T06:06:00.001-07:00

It’s shaping up to be a beautiful day here – perfect for one of those scenic fall rides. After the turkey is in the oven, of course.

Hope you have a great day wherever you are, and however you celebrate!

Ride like a bird

2010-09-16T08:01:00.001-07:00

One of the joys of living in the country is the variety of wildlife with which we share our little piece of Eden. And while watching the birds at a feeder a while back it occurred to me that we two-wheelers have a lot in common with our feathered friends.

Being able to fly is a primal urge, seated deeply within each of us. Everyone has dreamed about being able to fly, to soar among the clouds, diving, swooping, and being carried on the wind.

As kids we’d all, at one time or another, play at flying. Whether pretending to be a fighter pilot engaged in mock battle or just a jet-plane taking us to new adventures, we’d tilt and turn, arms outstretched, as we imagined the freedom of flight and the possibilities it offered.

And who can ever forget the feeling of awe looking down at the ground the first time they flew?

So we ride.

It’s the closest we’ll ever get to 3-dimensional travel without actually leaving the earth. Like that kid playing at airplanes, we tilt and lean as we dive into a corner or swoop through a series of twisties. Even flying down a lonely stretch of highway, wind in your face, it’s easy to imagine losing that oh-so-tenuous contact with the ground and simply lifting off the pavement.

It’s a sense of freedom that you just cannot experience on 4 wheels. Which may be why so many drivers seem resentful, even angry, as they see us ride by, realising they are forever solidly attached to terra firma in their minds, and their lives.

Pre-1916 Cannonball Endurance Run

2010-09-09T20:04:00.001-07:00

Image from Cannonball Run site.

The Pre-1916 Motorcycle Cannonball Coast to Coast Endurance Run officially starts tomorrow from Kitty Hawk.

Congratulations and best wishes to all who are participating. We may not be there physically, but we will be with you in spirit every thrilling mile of the way.

Godspeed to all the riders. Ride safe and have fun.

Escaping Crab Fest

2010-08-28T17:35:00.001-07:00

There’s this annual event in the Missus’ family at which all the female members get together to bitch about their husbands, each other, and anything else that’s pissing them off at the time, hence the title “Crab Fest”. So for those gourmands out there who thought this post was about seafood, sorry. Males are not invited, except for the spouse of the host (moi) who refuses to give up his bed for any other woman.

So as an uninvited-but-you’re-stuck-with-me guest, my main function was to stay the hell out of the way and keep the wine cellar stocked, both of which I was very happy to do, the first for obvious reasons and the second because I managed to slip a couple of bottles of J-D into the order and no one was any the wiser.

But today I did manage to escape for a nice long ride – about 300 kilometres, or 200 miles worth.

Came across these fine folks out for a patriotic ride not too far from home. Clever use of old mufflers and exhaust pipes, but I’m not sure why they have tails. Monkey riders perhaps?

Crossed over to the Quebec side of the river on the Quyon ferry.

Had a nice rest stop all to myself on a high point of land rising above the valley farms below. Unfortunately the surrounding forest prevented any good scenic views.

Came upon this covered bridge. For those whose French isn’t up to par, the sign says it was built in 1898, is 497.3 feet in length, and is the longest covered bridge in the Province of Quebec. It doesn’t actually go anywhere, but I had to cross it anyway. Surprisingly, the wooden tracks were worse than any grated bridge I’ve ever been over for moving the front end around. And the trough in the middle of the two wheels tracks was about 8” deep – don’t want to go there.

I made the acquaintance of Bud and Betsy, a couple of roadside hay bale characters suitably accoutered for the upcoming local fiddle competition. According to the old fellow who put them together, he dresses them up in appropriate finery for Halloween and Christmas as well. May be worth another trip in a month or so.

Last stop: Eganville, a small community on the Bonnechere River first settled almost 200 years ago as a lumber town. Now the centre of a tourist and cottage area.

So to paraphrase the MasterCard ads:

Ferry toll: $3.75
Gas: $12:35
200 mile trip on a beautiful summer day: Priceless.

Motorcycles I understand. Women not so much.

2010-08-18T18:02:00.001-07:00

I was washing the bike the other day, giving her some of that TLC she needs every so often to keep her happy. The missus walked by and said, “You never treat me like that any more.”

So I turned and gave her a soaking with the pressure washer.

Now it seems she didn’t want to be treated “like that” after all, and I’m in trouble again.

Summer getaway

2010-08-16T17:10:00.001-07:00

Before heading down to Port Dover for the Friday the 13th celebrations, I spent a little time at a cottage on Doe Lake up the Huntsville area with my brother, fishing and doing some riding.

The fishing wasn’t so great (at least for me), but the riding was excellent.

My favourite road was Highway 518 which is 60 kilometres of twists, turns, hills, and valleys, and seemingly unknown to the rest of the motoring public. I would have thought it would be a sports bike magnet, but we didn’t see one other motorcycle the two times we rode it. All we had to watch out for was moose (didn’t see any, although there were plenty of warning signs) and various roadside attractions that would catch my eye. Here are a couple of my favourites.

Blue tricycle on 518. Just sitting on a rock in front of a home beside the road.

Some very nice rock art. Also on 518.

Tom Thomson bronze sculpture in Huntsville.

Lunch on the patio overlooking the canal in Huntsville.
(It wasn’t just beer… we did have some food as well.)

Taking a break beside one of the many lakes in the area.

It just doesn’t get any better than that!

Port Dover – Friday the 13th

2010-08-15T17:10:00.001-07:00

Located on the north shore of Lake Erie, Port Dover Ontario is a sleepy village of about 6,000 permanent residents, except for Friday the 13th. On every Friday the 13th since 1981 bikers from across Canada and the US converge on Port Dover for a 1-day rally. This past Friday was the 50th consecutive rally and one of the most successful with some estimates putting the attendance in the vicinity of 175,000 visitors and close to 100,000 bikes.

Intending to beat the crush we left Waterloo at 7 AM for the 2 hour ride there. It was a beautiful morning with temperatures in the low 20's (Celsius) and the morning fog still burning off the fields gave the ride a bit of an ethereal feel to it. After the requisite stop at Tim Horton's for a coffee, we rode into Port Dover at about 9:00, just 2 more bikes in a steady stream of motorcycles pouring into town.

Rather than spend the next hour riding around looking for a parking spot in the heart of downtown, we opted to support a local charity and pay for parking about a 15-minute walk from the centre of the action. But even at that early hour, on-street parking was filling up fast and so we had lots of bikes to look at on our walk into town.

I'll get to the pictures in a minute, but before I do I'd just like to say how refreshing it is to experience an event like this in a community that supports the rally and goes out of its way to welcome the visitors drawn to the event, either as riders, or as spectators. Sure there's a ton of money to be made so it may not be that altruistic of them, but even so it's nice to feel welcome. And in turn the vast majority of bikers return the favour, being respectful of the town, its citizens, and the authorities attempting to keep everyone safe in town and on the roads.

All in all, a great day.

A steady stream of bikes rolling into town.

Some had real women on pillion, but this guy apparently made his own.

Not sure how far he rode on the tractor saddle.

Surprisingly few of these. But lots of everything else.

One of the coolest bikes was this 1936 (I think) Nimbus. The owner would start it up periodically so you could watch the exposed valves and valve springs clattering away. Very neat.

And for the budget crowd there were even chopped electric bicycles.

Some incredible paint work on display. While not my personal style, the Spider Man crotch rocket was an amazing piece of custom work.

Every street heading into downtown looked like this – for a mile or more in some cases.

Lots of people walking, gawking, and buying stuff… lots of stuff. Apparently they ran out of souvenir t-shirts by 2:30. Fortunately I had mine by then. :)

And no Friday the 13th would be complete without “Thong Man”. No idea who he is, but he’s at every event in some sort of thong-based costume. This time it was as the Energizer Bunny, complete with pink bunny ears, a tail, and a little drum. Last November it was Santa. Simply more proof that it takes all kinds.

A perfect day

2010-08-03T17:48:00.001-07:00

Sunday was one of those perfect days that comes along every so often. It started with an early round of golf. Conditions were excellent – sunny, cool’ish temperatures, and no wind – and I scored well, dropping the handicap another few notches. By 1:00 I was home looking for something do do in the afternoon.

Now to be clear I had lots to do. The honey-do list is as long as my arm and then some, but it was too nice a day to waste doing chores. I needed something frivolous.

A road trip was the perfect answer. Monday the spousal unit and I were scheduled to play a new course and I wasn’t too sure just where it was, so it seemed a recce was in order to get the lay of the land. Besides I was still trying to get some road time to play with my GoPro camera – a handy little device that has so far managed to avoid being controlled by me in any meaningful (i.e. useful) way. (I plan to do a review as soon as I figure out how to use it. The user interface designer must have been on drugs.)

Although the village of Dwyer Hill had long been subsumed by the ever-expanding city boundaries, the Dwyer Hill Road still exists and cuts through farming country to the south-west of Ottawa. A two-lane road, it’s often the quickest way to get to where you’re going (in this case North Grenville), while avoiding the superslab and city traffic. And it’s much more scenic.

After hanging a left at Burritt’s Rapids and following the Rideau Canal for a few miles (even more scenic), I found my destination, exactly 100 kilometers (60 miles) from home. Mission accomplished.

But it was still early and the sun was still shining so I thought I’d pay the missus a visit at work in the city. She works in one of those large booksellers (like Barnes and Noble) and my stack of unread books had dropped below the 1-foot level so it needed replenishing. Besides there’s a Starbuck’s in the store and I had a craving for a iced latte.

After a quick detour into the city to satisfy mind and body it was time to head home – the long way – with a stop at Scoop’s in Pakenham for a pralines and cream ice cream, a swing through Arnprior to talk to my favourite computer store guy (who was planning to take a Bombardier Spyder down to Montreal on the weekend – must check with him to see how that went), and then a meandering swing through the village of White Lake (population: a handful).

All told it was about 250 kilometres (150 miles) of riding under perfect conditions. And except for the fact that my GoPro was still winning the battle of wits (which is why there are no accompanying pictures or videos), a great day.

Bob

2010-08-01T16:55:00.001-07:00

My friend Bob is one of those guys that we all know. He bumbles his way through life in a state of blissful ignorance. Floating along like a cork on the current, just going with the flow, he somehow always avoids being dashed up on the rocky shoreline. A good friend but infuriatingly blasé about life and stuff in general.

Well Bob saw the movie “Bucket List” a while back (a very good flick by the way) and decided that life really was too short and so he needed his own bucket list to make sure he accomplished all of his goals before it was too late. The fact that he probably has 40 good years still in front of him never seemed to enter his mind.

Along with the expected bucket list entries like skydiving, bungee jumping, visiting a nude beach, and winning the lottery (well that’s on everyone’s list) Bob’s list included buying a motorcycle and learning how to ride. Of course that precipitated a whole series of conversations about what type, and how big, and new or used, and so on – the kinds of things you’d expect from a newbie. Meantime he’s looking around on the used market -- eBay, Craig’s List, Kijiji -- for whatever he can find that’s a) running; and b) cheap because he knew there was no way he’d be able to afford everything on his list, unless the lottery win came through.

On Thursday I got the call.

“Hi, it’s Bob.”

“Hey Bob, what’s up?”

“I found the bike it’s an old Royal Enfield but it’s been completely restored and a good runner this guy’s wife is selling it her husband just died and she’s getting rid of his stuff.” Bob’s so excited this comes out like a stream of consciousness, punctuation optional.

“Is it a good price?”

“I think so it’s well within my budget and she even agreed to throw in his GPS since he won’t be needing it any more.” And he laughs. Then adds, “I’m going to look at it tomorrow and probably buy it.”

So I told him a few things to check carefully and wished him good luck before hanging up.

Today he came by with his new bike, GPS included.

Playing with windshields

2010-07-30T07:37:00.001-07:00

Until I got my Dyna I had never ridden with a windshield. Tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of miles over decades of riding and I never once felt the need or desire to have a windshield in front of my face.

Then I got the Dyna, and it came with the H-D quick-detach windshield. It didn’t take too long for me to become a convert – especially if the weather was wet or cold. I decided I liked riding behind a windshield, but I sure didn’t like riding behind that one - the helmet buffeting was exhausting. After an hour or so I felt like my eyeballs had finally rattled loose and Excedrine Headache No. 236 was on its way. It didn’t seem to matter how I adjusted it – up, down, tilted in, tilted out – I felt like one of those bobble-head dolls bouncing around at warp speed.

So off it came and the research began. Turns out there’s a whole lot more to this windshield thing than meets the eye. The first thing that surprised me was that most of the buffeting is caused by air coming up from below the windshield and in around the headlight. I found that out when I had the forward controls on. The buffeting was actually worse with them because the position of my legs would direct even more air up in front of my body. Further proof was when, by holding my left arm horizontally across in front of my chest, the buffeting almost entirely disappeared.

The second thing is helmets. I have 2 virtually identical 3/4 helmets. One of them bounces around much more than the other, although neither is particularly good. My full-face has the least buffeting of all, but I don’t like wearing it in the heat of summer, especially behind a windshield. And with its extra weight being shaken around neck pain is inevitable.

With windshield prices in the stratosphere, buying different models to try is not in the cards. And few if any dealers carry stock that they will let you mount on your bike and take for a quick ride. So that’s where asking people for their opinions and experiences comes in. Which, of course, gives you as many opinions as the number of people you ask. --- Yeah it’s bad, but I just ignore it. No, I don’t get any buffeting at all. Only a wuss rides with a windshield. --- Very helpful.

So once again it’s eBay to the rescue. Since it’s such a personal thing, there’s always someone getting rid of a windshield they hate. And that’s how I came to own a Memphis Shades unit for cheap-cheap. What a difference! If the original wind buffeting was 11 on a 10-point scale, this windscreen dropped it to about a 4 or 5. It’s narrower so I lose a bit of weather protection but it’s a price I’m willing to pay. And while the head shake is still there, but certainly much more bearable.

Now I’m keeping an eye out for a set of used lowers. Since so much of the problem is with wind coming up under the windshield, lowers should go a bit further to reduce that air flow. But I’m not prepared to spend $100s to find out so here’s hoping eBay comes through again.

How to pick up a motorcycle

2010-07-24T09:25:00.001-07:00

Iowa Harley Girl just posted an excellent video on how to pick up a motorcycle when it’s down on it’s side, which it will inevitably be at some point. It’s worth a look, so hop over there and check it out. Later.

That video reminded me of the time my wife took her license test here in Ontario. It was quite a few years ago now, so the testing regime may have changed, but at the time the test specifications stipulated that the prospective rider had to be able to safely put his/her motorcycle up on the centre stand in order to pass. Since some bikes didn’t have a centre stand (particularly Harley-Davidson’s, which were the only really big motorcycles around at the time), the law also allowed for the testee to demonstrate an ability to lift the motorcycle off its side on the ground as an alternative. But in truth they wouldn’t dare ask a Harley owner to lay his bike down to prove a point, and so most license testers weren’t even aware of the option.

The bike she used for the test was mine, a Honda 550F, which weighed a ton and was nearly impossible to get on the centre stand for anyone slightly less well constructed than Hulk Hogan. So there was no way Miz Liz, at all of 100 pounds, was going to be able to do it. But knowing the regulations I made sure she could lift it using the same technique detailed in the video, and in fact she made it look just about as easy.

Come test day she goes through the written part and all the riding skills components with flying colours, and then the female tester (all the women we licensed hated the female testers; they were really tough on the ladies) told her to put it on the centre stand. Of course she said she couldn’t, at which point she was told by the tester that she was going on break for 10 minutes and to use that time to “figure it out” . So the missus says to her, “Well while you’re on break, check and you’ll see that all I have to do is show I can lift it. I don’t have to put it on the centre stand.”

When the tester returned 10 minutes later it was to my motorcycle lying on its side in the testing area and my wife sitting on the side of the seat. She then lifted the bike as if it weighed nothing and left it on the side stand to the obvious enjoyment of all the male license candidates who had been watching the interchange with some amusement.

The tester didn’t say a single word, just signed the form with a pass mark and handed it over. I guess she must have checked.

Where does the time go?

2010-07-19T08:06:00.001-07:00

What with one thing and another it seems like I’ve been running like mad just to stay in place. The summer is flying by and the list of must-do items is growing faster than I can knock them off. Of course the spousal unit would probably tell me to golf less and ride less but those things are what summer is for; it’s not like you can defer them to the winter. (Curiously she never suggests I work less, or help in the garden less, or do less house work to free up time.)

Anyway we’re in for a couple of rainy days so I’m finally getting around to an item that had been top of mind since last winter. The Honda XL500 tends to smoke a bit when starting up. Well that’s a bit understated; it actually looks more like this military-grade mosquito fogger until the engine warms up.

I suspect worn valve guides.

So the next couple of days will be spent removing the engine, tearing it down to replace the guides, and then putting it all back together again, ideally with no parts left over. I’ll also take the opportunity to remove the compression release mechanism. It’s not really necessary for starting, and just adds complexity.

Hopefully that will solve the smoking problem – the last issue I want to fix before I take it in for a pre-licensing safety check.

Happy Canada Day

2010-06-30T17:20:00.001-07:00

To all my Canadian friends, I hope you are able to enjoy Canada Day tomorrow with family and friends and perhaps get some two-wheel time in.

Personally I’m thinking a nice ride with a stop at my favourite ice cream stand followed by a BBQ steak dinner and a bottle or two of good wine will fill the bill just nicely.

However you plan to celebrate, have a great day and ride safe.

“I was born too soon”

2010-06-22T18:24:00.001-07:00

I rode to my dentist’s office today and when I came out into the parking lot there was an elderly lady (late-70s I’d guess) standing looking at my motorcycle.

My first thought was, uncharitably, that she had bumped into me while parking, or something similar. I really didn’t think it would be good.

In the 15 seconds or so it took me to walk to my bike she never moved, just staring at the bike. Then just as I approached and she realised I was the rider she patted the tank and said, “I always wanted one of these, but I was born too soon I guess.” She then gave me a big smile, wished me a great day, and went in for her appointment.

And it was a great day.

Cannonball Run

2010-06-22T17:22:00.001-07:00

I don’t know why but I particularly like old engines. There’s something honest about machinery built in the days when brute force ruled. Need more power? Put a bigger cast iron piston in a bigger cast iron cylinder in a bigger cast iron block. Voila – more power! Frame flex? Weld on another crossbar.

They were manly (sorry ladies) machines compared to the high-revving, thimble-size pistoned, advanced metals, plastic reinforced, carbon-fibered engines of today. I can see the crusty old mechanic now looking at examples of each, pointing to the ancient behemoth and proclaiming loudly, “Now that there’s a motor!”

Probably also has a lot to do with why I have a passion for Harleys – they still design their motorcycles around the engine as opposed to vice versa which appears to be the norm for most modern Japanese and European bikes. (The mid-70’s Norton Commando was an exception to this rule.)

Anyway whether it’s an old steamer or a hit and miss gas engine I enjoy looking at them, listening to them run, admiring the craftsmanship that put them together in those pre-robotic assembly days, and trying to absorb some of the passion of the collector who keeps them maintained and running all these decades later. (This is, of course, much to the missus’ chagrin as she looks at an old engine and sees a boat anchor. Or would if she fished, but she doesn’t appreciate that either. So old engine and machine viewing, in its many guises, is a solo activity I’m afraid.)

So the summer fairs, tractor pulls and various other country summer events are a major draw because you can be sure that somewhere “Clem-from-down-the-road-a-ways” will be showing off his grandfather’s 1932 International Harvester along with whatever else he rescued from the back of the barn.

And then every so often a really unique event comes along for those of us who enjoy old machinery. This year it’s the Cannonball Run.

On September 10, up to 70 motorcyclists will depart Kitty Hawk North Carolina on a 16-day ride to the west coast, arriving September 26 at Santa Monica California. At least they hope to arrive since the bikes they will be riding are all pre-1916 vintage. That’s right, 100-year-old motorcycles on a 3300 mile cross country trip. Registered machines include Harley-Davidson, Excelsior, Flying Merkel, Sears, Thor, Indian, Triumph, and others never heard of outside the arcane world of the pre-historic motorcycling fraternity. And I expect there may be an ancient “character” or two among the riders as well.

That’s why I’m currently contemplating my own 2000 mile trip to see these amazing machines and their brave (foolhardy?) riders as they leave Kitty Hawk for what will certainly be the adventure of a lifetime. And if you can meet them at one of the staging points during the trip I’m sure they’d appreciate the support. In turn you will have a brush with living history and a great time surrounded by the sights and sounds of a distant motoring past.

Buying from rally gypsies – a cautionary tale

2010-06-16T13:12:00.001-07:00

I wanted a purpose-made pair of riding sunglasses, the wrap-around kind with the foam liner to block the wind on those cool, early morning rides. But since I wear prescription lenses, the off the shelf stuff at the local dealer just wouldn’t do the job. And no opticians in town carried what I was looking for.

So when I was in Daytona in February I was glad to see Biker’s RX there, offering just what I was looking for, and at what seemed to be a reasonable price. I found a brand-name frame I liked, selected a lens type, and had a pair made based on the prescription they read from my eyeglasses. A couple of hours later my new sunglasses were ready. Unfortunately we were running late, and I didn’t really have much of an opportunity to test them out beyond a quick, “Yup, they seem okay.”

But they weren’t. After wearing them for an hour or so it became clear that there was a problem with the power of one lens. And after I got home my actual optometrist’s prescription confirmed that the one lens was not to spec. A quick email to to Dr. Dan at Biker’s RX and he readily agreed to replace that one lens to match my prescription.

Great, I thought.

Then the real problems began.

The optician they use refused to ship just a replacement lens, and instead insisted I send the sunglasses back to him so he could do the work: “im the optician that made your glasses unfortunately i can not just send you lense Du to my safty conserns i must install all lenses in our frames we would be liable if you injured a eye if the lense wasent installed properly” (Exactly as written – honest. The attention to detail in written communications should have been my first clue.)

Even promises to have the replacement installed by my own optician wouldn’t fly with this guy, so I sent them off, but not without some trepidation. Four weeks, numerous e-mails, and $20 in shipping and handling later I finally got the sunglasses back.

Great, I thought.

Except they were worse. Back to my optician who measured both lenses and found them both to be off my prescription (which Biker’s RX had on file by that time and which was supposed to be the basis for this pair). More emails, more assurances they would be repaired to my satisfaction, and more insistence on shipping the whole lot back across the border.

As the saying goes, in for a penny… So hoping for third time lucky they were mailed back again – another $20 shipping. That was 6 weeks ago. The penultimate email was dated May 17 from “Mertyl Beach” where they were set up for the rally, assuring me my sunglasses would be processed right away. And then later (May 29, from Rolling Thunder) confirmation that my glasses were shipped back to me May 21.

They arrived last week and are now finally correct – although I did have to pay another $60 in duties and taxes to spring them from the grip of the postal service, which I should be able to get back but at the cost of more letters and aggravation.

Now had the glasses been made correctly the first time, I’m sure I would have been very happy with them, and possibly even written a “great product” posting. However I have long believed that the value in any company is best measured by the quality of their after-sales service, and in this case Biker’s RX failed badly. While I never actually got any pushback about fixing the problem, the execution was totally unacceptable. Throwing a new lens in the mail to be installed by my own optician (to address “safty conserns”) would have solved this issue in a week. Instead I didn’t have the use of my sunglasses for 3 1/2 months, have had to chase the vendor from rally to rally across the US to get updates on progress, and am out of pocket more than $100 in extra shipping and customs costs – which means the glasses were not such a deal after all.

So would I recommend Biker’s RX? Based on their after-sales service, not a chance.

Smitty’s – A tale from the road

2010-06-06T06:58:00.001-07:00

It’s cold and raining here today, perfect conditions for sitting inside where it’s warm and dry and blogging (or wasting time as the spousal unit would say). Certainly not conditions that make me want to suit up and go for a ride.

But today I have a choice, which isn’t always the case, especially when one is on the road.

We were on our way back from the West Coast and had just dropped down into the US at International Falls. (See Welcome to the USA for a description of our worst border crossing ever.) The weather conditions were much like today (low 40’s and raining) but we had to get home as our holidays were ending and our bosses wanted us back. Which was actually a good thing – them wanting us back, that is.

The bike I was riding at the time, a CB550F, had no weather protection at all. I’d worn my rainsuit so much on the trip that it was literally worn out and offered marginal waterproofing at best by this time, and my hands were seemingly permanently stained black from the dye coming out of my gloves. The missus was in slightly better shape, but only because she had me breaking the wind and rain for her.

By the time we reached Duluth, it was getting dark. We were both soaked and chilled to the bone, so instead of camping the plan was to book into a hotel/motel, dry out our gear (and ourselves) and eat a proper restaurant meal – a rare treat as the vacation budget was nearly exhausted. It wasn’t until the 3rd or 4th hotel that we discovered there was a big conference in town and nary a room to be had. So we were forced to press on as one “No Vacancy” sign followed another… and another all along Highway 53 through Duluth, Superior, and into Wisconsin.

Then civilization ended, and for mile after mile there was nothing but the dark forest on either side of the highway and an infrequent oncoming vehicle to blind me with the headlight glare off the rain-slicked roads. By 9 PM we were getting desperate for a place to stay – any place. I was exhausted and, literally, an accident waiting to happen, but we had seen nothing for a couple of hours. Until around a bend in the road, a neon sign – Smitty’s.

Smitty’s had a restaurant, a bar, and best of all, the “No” in No Vacancy was unlit. I thought I was hallucinating.

It wasn’t until we pulled into the gravel parking lot and I did my best ever Arte Johnson imitation and toppled over, ever so slowly, because I couldn’t get my foot off the peg fast enough that I realised how cold I was. While not exactly frozen in place, we weren’t far off.

Anyway we got ourselves moving, the bike back upright, and staggered stiffly into the bar. The owner took one look at us and immediately took charge.

“You look like you could use a hot shower and a meal.”

Nods.

“Here’s the key for cabin 3. The restaurant is closed but I’m open here until 11 and I’ll rustle up some food for you after you get warmed up. We’ll sort out the registration when you come back.”

After a LONG hot shower, and some relatively dry clothes (putting on dry clothes after riding wet for 12 hours is a luxury no one who hasn’t done it would truly appreciate) we were back in the bar with hot roast beef sandwiches and a couple of cold ones in front of us. Bliss.

I never did get her name, but to say she might have saved our lives that night is not too much of a stretch. I had long since passed the point of being able to ride safely, and as the next day showed, it would have been many more hours in the saddle before we reached the next place of accommodation.

So to Smitty’s, a very belated thank you for being there when we needed you.

Do I look like I’d be worried about airbags?

2010-06-04T17:22:00.001-07:00

A couple of weeks ago the missus advised that the airbag warning light was on in the car, and I should probably get it checked out.

So I dutifully booked an appointment at the dealer and blocked off an entire day to get it there, wait for it to be repaired, and get back home. Of course with German engineering “ve can do nussing until ve checks zee compooter, yah?” Yeah, check the computer, and ring up another $109 for plugging it in and getting a readout. Whatever.

Two hours later I get the dreaded phone call. The problem has been narrowed down to somewhere behind the drivers console. It could be anything from a $2 wire to a $2500 air bag assembly, but to find out would take 2 hours labour to take the front dash apart. And of course another 2 hours labour to put it all back together. At this point the ca-ching of the cash register is ringing in my ears and I’m trying to recalculate the monthly budget using all my fingers, balanced against the fact the car is 10 years old and worth about as much as I had in my wallet at the time.

So, figuring that we all got along just fine before airbags were invented (primarily in response to North Americans’ refusal to wear seatbelts) I declined. The service rep took exception to that, going on and on about safety, and crash protection. Just before she got to the “you vill be zorry”, I shut her up by saying, “I ride a motorcycle. Do I look like I’d be worried about airbags?”

Then I fixed the warning light by putting a small piece of black electrician’s tape over it.

Update on “Two wheels is still two wheels”

2010-06-01T15:27:00.001-07:00

On May 17 I posted about this terrible motorcycle-bicycle accident that took the life of the bicyclist and put the motorcyclist in the hospital with serious injuries. Sadly, the motorcyclist has now died as well, bringing the death toll from this senseless accident to two. Two young men dead. Two families grieving. Two groups of friends looking for answers.

Tragic.

Listen to that voice in your ear, even if you can’t hear it.

2010-05-18T16:58:00.001-07:00

As experienced bikers we often talk about our sixth sense, that unknown something that somehow alerts us to imminent danger. I have often attributed my own many drama-free (relatively drama-free, that is) years of riding to that spidey sense, and even though it has sometimes let me down, on more than one occasion it has also saved my skin. There have been days when it has been tingling to such an extent that I just leave the bike parked and take 4 wheels. Fortunately those days are infrequent, and there’s really no way to know whether my concerns were well-founded or not, but I always felt better listening to that voice whispering in my ear.

But it’s not all about paranormal messages. Sometimes it’s just good, defensive driving practices, practices that have become so deep-seated that we don’t consciously think of them at all, and so when something does happen and we avoid becoming someone’s hood ornament, the immediate response is to credit that sixth sense for our preparedness and situation avoidance.

I thought of this today when I rode into the city to run a few errands. I was travelling a two-lane country road at about 60 mph, coming up to a crossroads. There were cars waiting at the stop signs on both sides of the road, ready to cross as soon as there was a break in traffic. I saw them in plenty of time and was obviously watching them as I approached the intersection, but it wasn’t until I had passed them that I realised that I had, unconsciously, covered both the front and rear brakes and the clutch lever. A habit so ingrained that it actually caught me a bit by surprise to realize what I had done. It may not have helped much if one of them did pull out, but that split second extra response time could make the difference. In fact, as I look back upon that incident referred to earlier (Two-legged, four-wheeled buffalo) I’m now thinking that my little voice probably didn’t desert me at all, but was fully functional, buying me those few milliseconds between a near miss and disaster by making sure that I was ready for the worst – whether I knew it or not.

What I also know for sure is that voice is fragile. The slightest impairment, whether caused by exhaustion, stress, alcohol, drugs, or even an overabundance of testosterone, will see it shut down and go into hibernation, leaving the rider without that most important yet usually over-looked defence. Totally exposed. Like a knight going into battle without his chain-maille.

So when I see novice riders out there (of any age) I wonder how long it will take them to develop those skills and learn to listen, subconsciously, to what years of experience will teach them. Taking an accredited rider training program will give them a good head start, but time in the saddle is the true teacher. I only hope they make it that far.

Two wheels is still two wheels. Or us versus us.

2010-05-17T17:32:00.001-07:00

While motorcyclists and bicyclists usually don’t have a lot in common, we do share one important attribute, and that is our vulnerability on the road. Both groups rail loud and long over the ignorance and poor driving skills of the majority of cagers with whom we must share the roadways. And we both are guaranteed to come out second best in any altercation with a larger mass of steel and chrome. In that sense we are brothers.

Well that brotherhood was tested late Sunday night in Ottawa when a motorcyclist collided with a bicyclist, killing the 16-year-old bicycle rider and sending the biker and his female passenger to hospital with critical injuries. The police report is not yet out, and charges may yet be laid, but at this point it looks like inattention and poor driving skills were the cause, with both riders sharing some responsibility. If I were to prejudge I would bet that the police report will find that the bicyclist was doing tricks on the road to impress his girlfriend, and the motorcyclist was speeding, driving way too fast for the conditions, also to impress his girlfriend/passenger.

Like most accidents, this one was totally predictable and avoidable had both parties been paying the least amount of attention to their environment and the traffic around them. Also, like most fatal accidents, this one will probably result in political calls for more restrictions and regulations concerning our respective pastimes/sports.

So while I offer my condolences to the family of the young man who died, I also grieve for our sport. Every time there is a motorcycle involved in an accident it provides more ammunition to those who would prefer to see motorcycles and motorcyclists even further restricted if not banned completely. And it sure doesn’t help our cause when one of our own is involved this way.

More on the story here: http://www.ottawacitizen.com/news/Update+Speed+factor+fatal+bicycle+motorbike+crash+police/3036045/story.html

Monocycles revisited

2010-05-07T18:30:00.001-07:00

Last fall I blogged about a monocycle, the MV Agusta 60cc Monomoto Superleggera, that was supposedly raced in the 1960’s in Italy. Well that was the story, but the reality was somewhat different. One needed only to look at the picture to see that not only wasn’t it a functioning single-wheeled racer, but in the 1960’s technology hadn’t yet been invented to keep the rider from doing a face plant every time he tried to slow down. So while the bike in question was an interesting art piece, that’s all it was.

Fast forward 40 years to 2001. Engineers had mastered the use of electronics to keep people upright while moving forwards or backwards on two parallel wheels, and the Segway personal transporter is unveiled. While undoubtedly cool, the resulting vehicles never really took off like the developers planned. The biggest challenges to its widespread adoption were cost and the fact that no jurisdiction seemed to know how to classify it. Was it a motor vehicle? A weird bicycle? Did you need a license to operate it and a permit to put it on the road? Should riders wear helmets? And the list goes on. So like most bureaucrats faced with tough decisions, they just made it illegal on public roadways and so the Segway was instead relegated to filling small niche markets like mall security, crowd control, and golf courses.

Now 10 years later, Honda has significantly raised the bar on the personal transporter concept. Still in prototype, the U3-X is the first mono-wheeled vehicle that I’m aware of that can not only go forwards and backwards, but also sideways and diagonally. And the technology used to do that is decidedly cool. Wheels within wheels. Which, I guess strictly speaking would no longer classify it as a mono-wheel. Doesn’t matter. Don’t care. This little gizmo is truly amazing.

I don’t expect to see these available at the local Honda dealer any time soon for all the same reasons there isn’t a Segway dealer in every town. But as a prototype, the U3-X proves a technical concept which could see use in many future products, including those that help people with mobility issues.

You’ve got a parcel!

2010-05-06T19:03:00.001-07:00

It’s been like a continuous birthday here the last couple of days. Several eBay purchases I had been waiting for for weeks finally arrived (As an aside, why is it that General Motors can build an engine in Virginia and have it at a plant in Ontario in 12 hours, but it takes Canada Customs 3 weeks to process a t-shirt?) including the biggie – a GoPro HD camera.

I’ve had my eye on one of these little gems since I first saw them at a show in January, so as soon as I had a bit of what is euphemistically referred to as “disposable income” from the sale of some no-longer-required parts on eBay, the order was placed. Also on eBay, of course.

Today it arrived, along with the mounting gear I had ordered that would allow me to use my RAM mount. (The GoPro has it’s own rather unique mounting system.)

But as is often the case, the thrill of playing with the new toy will have to wait as I am out of town (no riding involved, but golf and casinos will play a significant role) for the next week or so. I haven’t even left yet and already I can’t wait to get back home to strap it on the bike and go play. It even comes with a helmet mount, so perhaps I’ll grab an old helmet and drive a few back roads and trails for something different, never-before-seen video footage of the back roads of Lanark Highlands.

A boy and his toys…..

Personalizing my ride

2010-05-05T17:50:00.001-07:00

Like most riders, Harley riders in particular, I spend more time and more money than I should customising my motorcycle. In fact I’m not so sure I don’t get as much satisfaction out of wrenching and adding the bling as I do out of riding sometimes.

I don’t really understand the motivation. If I really wanted a stand-out machine that would turn eyes I would go full custom, or at the very least a super trick paint job with high-end wheels, exhaust system, the works. But that’s pretty expensive, and besides, I think I’m more into making it mine than necessarily making it a one-of-a-kind unit. So while I know that anyone with a few extra $$$ in their jeans and a couple of accessory catalogues beside their La-Z-Boy recliner could come up with an identical looking machine, I don’t really care. Let’s face it, with the number of accessory parts out there the permutations and combinations are such that the chance of running into a mirror image machine are virtually nil, unless it remains stock, which NEVER happens.

But having said that, I have thought it would be nice to have something on the bike that was truly unique, that really makes it mine and no one else’s.

So I thought of derby covers.

There are lots of after-market derby covers that are emblazoned with “Live to Ride”, or advertise Jack Daniels No. 7, or your military affiliation, or … the sky seems to be the limit. But there are also companies that will custom fabricate a derby cover to your own design. So rather than simply fly the flag, as many riders do, I’m thinking of having it engraved on my derby cover.

I think it could look kind of cool. And it would be unique.

eBay addiction

2010-04-25T09:37:00.001-07:00

Over the winter as the cold and snow conspired to keep me indoors, or at least off 2 wheels, I had plenty of time to contemplate this new eBay world we live in. Pretty much the only place to find parts for 30-year-old motorcycles is on eBay – and I needed quite a few of those this year - so I found myself there a lot, watching for postings for those hard-to-find bits and pieces. Like now for instance.

Hey, look at that, a Harley-Davidson t-shirt with a Looney Tunes motif. 2 minutes left and the current price is $3.99. That’s a pretty cool shirt in a cartoonish kind of way. Will have to throw a bid down on that.

Where was I? Oh yeah, there was also the matter of curiosity to see just what people were selling and more interestingly, what they were buying. It’s pretty hard to imagine anything anyone would want that wasn’t…

Wow, a Heine Gerick leather jacket. Size 42 tall - perfect. $40 with 5 minutes left. Will have to toss in a last-minute bid in on that.

As I was saying, it’s hard to imagine there’s anything you would want that you can’t find on eBay if you look hard enough and have some patience. So soon enough I found myself wandering around looking for other curiosities, checking out camera equipment…

There’s a Go Pro 1080 HD camera. $240. Damn, they won’t sell outside the US. And that was a helluva deal too.

… and H-D parts and assorted bling. Why not? If I buy new, it’ll be “used” as soon as I install it, so I’ll let someone else take the initial value hit and I’ll be able to get even more stuff.

That’s a pretty nice looking solo seat. H-D original too. Parts book lists it at $299, so $50 is a great price. Bid.

Of course the real challenge is to separate out the good stuff from all the rubbish, and plan a bidding strategy that will get you the best deal.

Now who on earth would want a left side only, hard saddlebag off a Road King with no lid and severe road rash? Starting bid $100. I don’t think so.

And in the Harley world that’s tough. A simple eBay search on the word “Harley” typically brings up about 300,000 items listed. But by refining the search and focussing only on those items for which the auction is about to end, you can get some good deals, even if it is on things you don’t really need.

Hey, I just won the t-shirt for $4. Awesome!

Sometimes you just want to give ‘em a slap upside the head.

2010-04-15T17:32:00.001-07:00

I was in the city today (on 4 wheels as I had some errands to run and appointments), and on the way home came upon this situation.

It was mid afternoon. Traffic was pretty heavy across all 4 lanes, driving at or slightly above the limit. I was in the fast lane doing about 120kph (a bit over 70mph) when I quickly came up behind a guy on a motorcycle ahead of me. It wasn’t a surprise because I could see his day-glo reflective orange vest from about a mile back. And when I got closer the reflective strips on his fender and helmet also became visible, as did his running lights. Clearly he wanted to be noticed, and he was.

But here’s the thing. He was doing about 90kph (55’ish) – 10kph under the speed limit. In the fast lane. He was the slowest guy on the road. Not only that, he was in the worst possible lane position, hugging the left side of the fast lane, just begging someone with less patience than I have (yes, there are some out there) to pass him on the right in his own lane.

I sat behind him for a bit, flashing my lights in the hope he might get the message, but that was of no use. So after a while I moved over and passed him on the right, just like every other car on the highway was doing. The last I saw of him in my rear view mirror he was still stubbornly maintaining that ridiculously unsafe lane position.

I’ll read about it in the paper tomorrow if he didn’t make it home, but I was half hoping he would exit the highway while still in my sight so I could follow him and read him the riot act when he pulled into his driveway. Not only is he putting himself in a lot of danger, but his road behaviour reflects poorly on all of us. And if he were to get hurt or worse? We’d all pay the price in some way.

Yup. A slap upside the head was definitely called for.

Family portrait

2010-04-02T19:57:00.001-07:00

A few random Daytona thoughts

2010-04-01T18:50:00.001-07:00

It’s been almost a month now since I was at Bike Week in Daytona – plenty of time to let my observations ferment a bit so that I can make a few well-considered comments on the experience. Aw hell, who am I kidding? I could have written this the day I got back but I’ve been procrastinating.

I’m not an experienced rally goer, and I’m not interested in the party-party-party culture (too old, too smart), so what I take away from a rally may be quite different than what others would look for. Regardless, here are some of my thoughts.

Driving into the city the first thing I noticed were the signs - “We’re glad you’re back” and “Please ride quietly”. Kind of like saying “Welcome to my home. Please don’t piss on the carpet.” Certainly not unreasonable IMO. Of course the signs meant nothing to those yahoos who made up for their anatomical shortcomings by rattling windows with their straight pipes and throttle blipping at every intersection. Absolutely unnecessary and the surest way to get those “We’re glad you’re back” signs changed to “Go away” as has happened in Myrtle Beach and elsewhere.

While Sturgis is predominantly a Harley/tourer scene, Daytona was much more varied in terms of bikes. Walking down Main Street you would see everything from full dressers to sports bikes with that weird extended back end that seems all the rage with poseurs and drag-racer wannabe’s. So there was a pretty good mix and something to look at for just about every interest.

Of course Main Street is also bar central, so in the evening it was packed with riders, watchers, drinkers, and the usual “characters” these events tend to attract. Even though it was quite a cold night when we were there (upper 50’s) that didn’t keep the bars from having the requisite underwear-clad hostesses out on the sidewalk trying to entice more customers into their already overcrowded premises. (Please forgive a chauvinist aside here, but exactly when did pot-bellies on otherwise slim and attractive 20-somethings become sexy?) And it was loud!

One of the major venues was at the Daytona International Speedway where most of the vendors were set up, along with demo rides by the manufacturers. I don’t know how many vendors were there, but we spent the better part of a day at the Speedway and never did get to the metric side of the exhibit area. Bottom line: if it wasn’t there, you didn’t need it. But most impressive for me was to go into the infield of the Speedway itself. Having only ever seen it on television I had no idea it was so huge. Being in the middle of a 2 1/2 mile oval, looking up (and I mean UP) the 31 degree banked track and across at the grandstands (which hold 170,000 but seem a fraction of that size in the overall scale of the place) make one feel quite insignificant.

And then, of course, no visit to Daytona would be complete without a stop at Bruce Rossmeyer’s Harley-Davidson. Billed as the world’s largest H-D dealership, Rossmeyer’s is overload central when it comes to all things Harley. And if you can’t find it at Rossmeyer’s, J&P Cycle is just next door. Getting out of that complex with credit card intact (i.e. not worn out) required a superhuman strength of will. I’ll be posting a few pics from both places in another entry in a few days.

So it was a whirl-wind day and a half we spent there, and I expect we experienced but a small portion of what was going on. But it was enough to convince me that I’d like to go again and spend a little more time on the ground. And hopefully, when I do, the weather will be more typical of a March in Daytona than this year’s freezing conditions.

Life is good

2010-04-01T18:13:00.001-07:00

A warm, sunny day, my favourite ice cream stand is open for the season, and they just brought out a fresh batch of Pralines ‘N Cream ice cream. What could be better?

Are we ready for this?

2010-03-26T13:39:00.001-07:00

No, this rider does not have a weird medical condition, nor is he being felt up by a hitch-hiking space alien. And no, this is not the image for a caption contest (although that’s not a bad idea…).

This is the latest in personal environment control from the folks over at EntroSys – the motorcycle air conditioner. Delivering conditioned air (heated or cooled as required) through a special vest, the EntroSys Motorcycle Air Conditioning System promises to make those long rides in extreme conditions that much more comfortable. And a more comfortable rider is a safer rider, so what’s not to like?

Who would like to start?

A rookie mistake

2010-03-25T06:42:00.001-07:00

There’s a point at which you become so overconfident in your own abilities that you stop thinking about what you’re doing. And that’s when the trouble begins.

Getting the Honda Ascot ready for the riding season involves a trip to a dealer to have it safety inspected so it can be plated. But first it needed new rubber. The mag wheels are intended to be tubeless, but with a 29-year-old bike that will be mostly ridden by the missus I’d rather be safe and put a tube in. So that’s what I did. New tubes. New tires.

After a major battle to get the old rubber off the wheels I was worried about what it would take to get the new tires mounted. But they went back together easily and so I thought I was home free. And I was, until I filled the rear tire only to hear that dreaded hsssssssssssssss. Crap.

Pull it all apart again and sure enough, I’d pinched the tube with the irons when reinstalling the tire. I haven’t done that in years and years, but because I’d done so many before and everything was going so well with the other wheel, I stopped paying attention and pfft – another trip to the dealer. A rookie mistake to be sure, but fortunately the only cost was time, a few bucks, and the embarrassment of explaining to the parts guy why I needed another tube.

But there was value there too (this is the silver lining bit). This experience served as a timely reminder at the start of another riding season that while I may have lots of miles under my belt I mustn’t allow myself to be too confident for the first few rides lest I make another, much more costly, rookie mistake out there.

Norgo or Yamaton?

2010-03-24T17:40:00.001-07:00

I’ve always admired the Norton brand – even owned a few in my time – and have long lusted after a 60’s vintage BSA Lightning or Triumph Bonneville. There’s just something about those Brit bikes of that era that appeals to me. Certainly they don’t hold a candle to even the poorest handling and most maintenance intensive bikes of today, but they have a character that is hard to describe. It’s as if the expression, “if I have to explain it you wouldn’t understand”, was coined specifically in response to the love of Brit bikes of the 50’s and 60’s.

Anyone who followed the British bike scene back then is aware that a popular past time was to marry Triumph engines and Norton frames (Tritons), or Triumph engines with BSA frames (Tribsas), or BSA engines with Norton frames (Norbsa), and so on. These hybrids were so common that after-market engine mounts and other bits were available for the DIY guy to make the job pretty much a weekend’s undertaking. And then of course the tuning would begin so you’d have the baddest Triton parked in front of the Ace Cafe.

But until now I’d not seen a Brit/Metric hybrid.

This amazing example of the hybriders (new word) art currently resides in Florida and is listed for sale on ebay. According to the write-up, “The Banquer 920 is a Norton featherbed frame, Norton front end and Norton cosmetics with a Yamaha Virago engine and drive shaft. This combination gives you the best of both worlds because you get the great looks of a classic 50 year old Norton with the reliability, performance, and ease-of-maintenance of the Yamaha engine/drive shaft.” I just think it looks awesome, and I expect, sounds that way too with the 2-into-1 and the upswept reverse megaphone exhaust (very Norton’ish).

All of which is to say I was checking the bank balance when the missus, as perceptive as ever, walked into the office, peered over my shoulder, and said that one magic word that sends all of us back to dreaming.

Maybe I’ll just print an 8 by 10 colour glossy and hang it on the wall instead.

RIP Bill 117

2010-03-23T10:35:00.001-07:00

Some time ago a Member of the Legislative Assembly of Ontario, Helena Jaczek, tabled a private member’s bill, Bill 117, that would have removed a motorcyclist’s right to carry a passenger under the age of 14. To say that the bill was based on dubious statistics would be overly generous. In fact it was based on misleading statistics and factual inaccuracies – of which the bill’s sponsor was fully aware. And both she and the government itself heard about it loud and clear.

(For those unfamiliar with provincial governance, a private member’s bill is a bill tabled in the Legislature by a member of the Legislature, but is not necessarily endorsed by the government of the day. As such, and without the full support of the government, they are rarely enacted into law. However in this case, Bill 117 seemed to have a lot of support across both parties, and actually got to committee, where it was on the agenda for consideration.)

Now here’s the good news. I just had it confirmed today that with the prorogation of the Legislature to start a new session in March, Bill 117 died on the order paper. It’s now history. If Jaczek or anyone else wants to re-introduce the bill or a variant of it, they need to start from scratch – unlikely given the heat members from both parties received over this one.

So kudos to one and all who took the time to make their views heard on this nanny-state initiative. You all helped to ensure that biking families are still welcome in Ontario.

If you’re interested in the background, there’s more here, including links to other sites for discussion on this issue:

John Deere taking a run at Harley-Davidson?

2010-03-22T12:04:00.001-07:00

Recently there have been rumours that John Deere was planning to branch out of farm and home implements and get into the motorcycle business. The latest news is that they have a new trike under development that is expected to hit the market some time in 2010. Company officials refused to comment, but at least one photo has been smuggled out of their test facility.

The picture shows an innovative looking trike, painted in John Deere’s trademark green and yellow, of course. It’s powered by what appears to be an in-line 4 cylinder powerplant driving a pretty beefy rear end. In keeping with J-D’s rural roots, the springer front end has been treated to a custom headlight unit designed to look like a steer’s skull. And the horn is … well, horns. Our inside contact indicates the cow’s bell will only be available as an option.

Rider comforts have not been ignored either, from the footboards to the 16” apes to the fully padded head rest.

Our source tells us the initial release of this new trike will be limited to Saskatchewan and Oklahoma, where it is expected to be very successful.

Have Harley, will golf

2010-03-21T20:27:00.001-07:00

As I’m sure most of my readers are aware by now, my two favourite summer pastimes are riding and golf.

Unfortunately I’ve never been able to combine the two for the simple reason that carrying a set of clubs on your bike is not an easy proposition. Until now that is.

Go-Go Caddy have entered the market with a golf club carrier designed for Harley-Davidson motorcycles. According to their web site, “Go-Go Caddy, the easy-on, attractive and rugged golf club carrier, makes use of the same mounts used for a detachable backrest which already exist on the bike.”

Priced at $499, the Go-Go Caddy is available in any colour you want, as long as it’s black.

While it’s an interesting concept I’m still having some difficulty reconciling the image of a tattooed guy in plus-fours tooling down the highway on his loud-pipes-save-lives Fatboy emblazoned with flames and airbrushed skulls while leaving a trail of errant golf balls and tees behind him because he forgot to zip up a pocket or two. Besides it just looks wrong.

Back to stock

2010-03-21T19:14:00.001-07:00

Last July I switched my Dyna to forward controls. I really liked the look of them and the highway riding position was very relaxed. But I never really felt comfortable with that configuration, always feeling like I had given up a lot of control. I even re-installed my original pegs to have an alternate place to put my feet, but with the controls up front that just confused me (and my feet) even more.

Feedback to my earlier posts had been pretty much universal, that I should give them time and I’d end up loving them. So I persevered to the end of the riding season but by then had still not fully adapted to forwards. For me this had become a classic case of form over function – they looked good, but felt wrong - so I decided to take them off over the winter.

Of course by the time I got around to it there were several feet of snow on the ground and I hadn’t ridden in months. And so the memories of how they felt faded quickly into the background as the ever-present image of how good they look took over. I changed my mind, deciding to give them another go.

Then I went for my first ride of the season on pot- holed roads with loose gravel in the corners and other roadway challenges and I remembered why I didn’t like them. So form be damned, function wins and they’re now off.

2010’s first ride

2010-03-19T14:25:00.001-07:00

The last of the snow and ice on our road finally succumbed to the week of sunshine and record-breaking temperatures yesterday. So that meant today was… Ride Day!

The weather held at about 45 degrees and partly sunny so there was no question 2010’s inaugural ride was going to take place as long as I could get away from the desk for a couple of hours. Fortunately it was a quiet afternoon so I hung up the “Gone Riding” shingle and off I went.

With lots of snow in the ditches and the fields and trees bare of any hint of green, the landscape was still quite desolate. But the critters were up and about with skunks making their presence felt (smelt?) along with deer, raccoons, and the ubiquitous groundhog. Traffic was light as I explored the countryside, just randomly taking turns down side roads, some of which I’d never been on before. And except for some drama with winter sand that was still spread across the roadway in places (usually in a corner or at an intersection) it was a great ride.

Soon enough two hours and the better part of a tank of gas had gone, so it was time to figure out where I was and head home. A couple more turns and I was back on familiar ground with just a few miles back to the barn.

Now, like the first ride every year, muscles unused for the past 5 months are rebelling, letting me know that having a heavy full-face helmet atop my neck is not normal and that sitting with arms and legs outstretched is really an unusual position to hold for 2 hours. But that all goes away after the first couple of rides as muscle memory returns and riding skills and confidence improve, allowing for a more relaxed and enjoyable ride next time. Which may not be for a week or so as they are forecasting rain and snow for the next few days.

But that’s okay. I’ve now had my first ride (8 days earlier than last year!) and I can use the time to try and get the other two bikes roadworthy before the riding season begins in earnest.

Life is good.

Now that’s a bar stool!

2010-03-15T17:47:00.001-07:00

Some months ago I blogged about this guy who was charged with DUI while riding his motorized bar stool home and I made some comments about looking for an old lawnmower base and a well-used stool to make my own just like it.

Well that just won’t do any more as I have now seen (and sat on) the holy grail of powered bar stools.

One of the places I always head to at any rally is the Boss Hoss compound to check out their latest models. I have no intention of ever purchasing one of these pumped-up motorcycles but I am always interested in things mechanical and I remain intrigued, both by the bikes themselves and the people who ride them. (Last year I met a couple on matching Boss Hoss bikes – his was a two-wheeler and hers was a trike – with identical custom paint jobs. Other than riding $120,000 worth of hardware, they actually seemed quite normal.)

So one of the requisite stops at Daytona was the Boss Hoss trailer. I wish I’d brought my riding gear because they were offering demo rides and I’d like to see how (if) one of these things actually handles. I can’t imagine that 1700 pounds of motorcycle wrapped around a 450-horsepower V8 would be all that nimble and easy to ride, but here was a chance to find out and I wasn’t equipped. (Note to self: Don’t let that happen again.)

But I digress. The point is that at the Boss Hoss compound they also had a Hoss Fly. Smaller than your average go-kart, and V8-powered, the Hoss Fly is another of those curiosities that people build (and buy) for strange reasons, but having one in the garage that could be used to get to the local watering hole would be very cool. (Imagine explaining that purchase to the missus!) Sadly I didn’t get to take it for a test spin, but I did get to sit on it for a photo (with permission). I had to hold onto my cigar as there was no ashtray, and that immediately soured the deal. Besides it really wasn’t that comfortable so a seating upgrade would be in order.

Thinking that the Hoss Fly would be the ultimate bar stool racer, I checked out their website only to find the Hoss Fly has a maximum speed of 25 mph. That wouldn’t even get it close to the current 53.557 mph record for bar stool racers posted at Bonneville Salt Flats – and that was a battery-powered machine. Perhaps that’s why internal combustion powered bar stools can’t compete in the barstool class at Bonneville – embarrassment that a 12-volt battery provides more forward momentum than a small-block Chevy.

It really is a vehicle that is totally impractical and that no one needs, but the WTF? factor is unmistakeable, as is the testosterone surge that accompanies the thought of riding one of these things with the speed limiter turned off!

Is 4 wheels really better than 2?

2010-03-14T20:10:00.001-07:00

One of the best things about rallies is the variety of customizations on display, combined with the opportunity to talk to the folks who actually produce some of the weird and wonderful examples of motorcycle creativity.

Daytona was no exception with a wide range of stunning customs along with a few that would lead you to question: Why?

This is one such example.

Hannigan Motorsports have been around for a while and are known to make great products, especially in the area of trike conversions. But now they’ve taken it a step further and created a front-end kit which, when combined with their trike conversion turns your Honda GL1800 into a … car.

The fit, finish, and workmanship were all fantastic, but I was left with the sense that this was a solution looking for a problem. Why would someone take a $20,000 motorcycle, add a $10,000 rear trike kit, a $6,000 front trike kit, and paint it all to match when they could just as easily buy a nice little Miata convertible for a fraction of the cost?

The car advantages are obvious – no helmets required, a trunk to carry your stuff in, a roof to put up when it rains, cheaper insurance, and usable year-round. The Goldwing Quadracycle advantages? Honestly, none that I can think of other than novelty. Perhaps for some that’s enough, but for me it’s clearly not a motorcycle any more and if I wanted to enjoy the wind in my hair (what’s left of it) on 4 wheels, I’d be looking at something with a steering wheel and trunk.

To each his own, I guess.