Musings of an Intrepid Commuter

2012-01-23T16:39:00.000-08:00

Lessons and Tests II

Having completed some business in downtown Portland I pointed Elvira east. The place Robert had specified for our first meeting over coffee was 50 blocks away on Hawthorne Blvd. Downtown Portland is cut off from all parts east by the Willamette River. Portland could be called the City of Bridges. I chose, appropriately enough, the Hawthorne Bridge. This is a particularly interesting bridge because the decking is metal grating. The outbound side is a single lane and very narrow. The left side is bordered by a concrete and steel bridge support and the right by the bridge railing next to the river.

I guess if a rider were to go down, they would just pinball between the barriers and not plunge into the river so far below. Probably......

Seriously, it's simply a matter of eyes up to maintain big picture stability and don't fight the wiggle! Firm, but relaxed. Steady, sure, and smooth.

Robert had asked me if I was going to be a Starbucks coffee snob or was willing to try a local place. Thus challenged, I told him to pick a spot. It turned out to be a place called The Albina Press. This location was one of several in the big city. As a side note, I even tried a cappuccino which had a design just like the one in the photo. To my surprise, it turned out to be the perfect coffee drink as a background to conversation. A great coffee taste without the volume of liquid that makes you regret drinking it fifty very cold miles later.

My arrival was a little ahead of Robert's. As I parked Elvira I observed a Suzuki DR650 dual sport back in next to the bicycle rack. I'd never seen Robert but he'd described his bike. Congruity was the first word that sprang to mind. Robert had told me in an e-mail that he rode the bike year round for transportation. His bike and his gear matched that statement exactly. I saw before me someone who obviously rode for himself rather than simply to impress others or to "belong" to a certain group. Practicality took center stage. I was suitably impressed.

By the way, I know it looks like I'm writing about Robert behind his back. Actually, I'm writing about Robert behind his back in front of his face. I have graciously been given permission to report on our meeting.

During our conversation I gathered that Robert is relatively new to riding. Not brand new, but new in the comparative sense. Compared to the grizzled veteran he was facing across the table, for example. As of today I have been on two wheels for 45 years, 4 months, and 2 weeks. What Robert brought to the table, literally and figuratively, is that he is a thinking man. Several times during the conversation I'd notice him sending a look of concentration into the distance. I would simply shut up so as not to block the tracks as his train of thought left the station. The wait was well worth it.

There were two things Robert said to me that I found truly profound.

One was that it took some fearlessness to be a rider.

I totally agree. Not foolhardy, reckless, or even a superhero, but there is a certain mindset required. One can't dwell on all the bad things that could happen. A rider has to have faith in the bike and in oneself. Negative thoughts can bring negative results. The good news is that positive thoughts bring positive results. Of course, a well developed sense of adventure never hurt, either!

In years past I've written about this kind of thing. Here are a couple of notable posts. If you're interested you can click here and here.

If you want to delve further here is the link to Steve Williams' post that sparked mine.

The other profound thing that came out of Robert's Depot of Deep Thoughts was about how we are often surprised on a bike. We suddenly find ourselves having to deal with something we haven't practiced for, yet. Even worse, our natural reactions may be exactly the wrong thing to do.

This is one of the strongest arguments I can make for taking rider training on an ongoing basis. Robert is exactly right in his statements. It's like being required to take a test before we've studied the lesson.

I took this photo at a dog agility show. As you can see, the little dog is standing just inside the tunnel entrance. He knew to go into the tunnel but had no idea what to do next. In this case it ended with an embarrassed laugh by the woman who owned the dog. I'm not sure if the dog laughed or not. Sort of a "No harm, No foul, try it again later" thing.

In our world there may not be an opportunity to take the test again. Pass or fail becomes minor injuries versus crippled or maimed. Sometimes literally life or death. How much better to take advantage of the chance to study the lessons first. Those who provide professional training know what the tests will be even if the students haven't imagined them, yet. The proper lesson plans have been carefully laid out. Why not consider spending some time in Study Hall?

All too soon it was time for both of us to get back to work. Isn't it astonishing how things can work out? Two strangers meeting in person for the first time. At first there's the little bit of nervous discomfort. Then, as in our meeting, it is quickly gone. Now you can't believe so much time has passed already. I left very impressed by my new acquaintance and plan to keep in touch. Another gem has been added to my Treasure Chest of Life.

Thank you for the company and your words of wisdom, Robert.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2012-01-20T14:49:00.000-08:00

The Water's HOW Deep?

I'm inserting this post in here out of sequence. The second half of the last post will have to wait. Weather conditions have changed and I've got to get this one in while it's still hot. Or, should I say, wet?

The last two days have brought record rainfall. Our area received a little over six inches of rain in 48 hours. The weather guy said the storm was stuck over us and dumping like crazy. He likened it to being at the end of fire hose. I agree. It totally looked and felt like it. Of course, who do you think was out in it on two wheels?

Yesterday morning I had coffee with Dean. I'd been staring at the laptop for two days and was going crazy. I had to get out and Dean was glad to oblige. We arranged to meet at a place called the Governor's Cup Roasters in Salem. I'm actually not a coffee snob. I start with Starbucks in a town because it's a place I know I will find a consistent product. Then I branch out from there as opportunity allows.

On the other hand, it does seem like a lot of my life takes place either over a cup of coffee or going to or from coffee shops.

Anyway, the destination is about a thirty five minute ride for me. I was running a bit early so decided to head up the South end of Salem, getting off the freeway early. The freeway itself had a lot of standing water but I simply slotted in behind a big truck and rode its tire tracks at a safe distance.

As I rolled into Salem I should have recognized the evil omen. There's a housing project built around a golf course. The golf course is called Battle Creek. Key word Creek. I saw a school bus that had gone through some high water and ended up in a ditch and slanted at a 45 degree angle. The road I was riding was ok so I didn't think anything of it. My plan was to angle off at 12th street and go up over the hill. My oldest son lives close to this street. From the road I can see the back of the apartment complex where he lives. I knew he would be at work but there's still that connection. You know what I mean? Farther along is the BMW / Honda shop where I bought Sophie at the turn of the century. The shop is nothing as good these days as it was then, but it's still a motorcycle establishment.

Thus committed, I rolled up 12th towards Madrona at the top of the hill. I was somewhat surprised to see traffic backed up this far. It was about 8:15 AM and I thought rush hour would be done. Maybe it's the state workers who start at nine, I mused. As I crested the top of the hill and looked down the other side I was taken aback by the sight.

It looked like some evil cloning machine had been working overtime spitting out Rudolph the Red Nosed reindeer copies. There was nothing but a line of red lights ahead of me as far as I could see. I patiently worked the clutch and crept along, figuring that it would clear up as the single lane split into two later on. No such luck. Now there was the added complication of deep water on both sides of the street. I noticed that several side streets were mostly flooded. Which meant I sort of got funneled ( pun intended ) along with the flow of traffic.

The water covered more and more of the street. Traffic started to fan out into two lanes running pretty close together. Up ahead, for the next eight blocks or so, the water covered the entire street and traffic went single file down the middle. There was no graceful way out for me as the side streets were flooded, too. So I did what any insane Road Warrior would do. I rode through the deep water following the cars and hoping for the best.

It's time for the "Don't try this at home!" warning. If you asked me I would tell you this was not a good idea. Fast moving water moves big stuff, etc., etc.. Yet, here I was. Not on a dual sport but Elvira was willing to play the part. There's another problem that you probably haven't thought of, yet. Or maybe you have and thus have beaten me to the punch.

Riding through deep water is one thing. Doing it in stop and go traffic is another. Think about it. When you have to put your foot down, where are you going to do it? That's right. In a foot of water. I am proud to say that I did not have to take my foot off the peg. Between a pretty decent balancing act with my eyes up and clutch slipping, and ticking off a couple of drivers who didn't understand why I was waiting for more space to open up ahead of me, things worked out. On the other hand, the rain falling from the sky soaked me anyway so I really wondered why I bothered with the effort.

So here are some photos. I've included the obligatory establishing shots. As in: See, I was really there!

Please note the photo of the back of the young man. He was moving bags of sand from a pickup to the front door of his place of employment, The water was that high!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2012-01-16T11:53:00.000-08:00

Testing before the lesson.

On a cold winter morning recently I set out for Portland to have coffee with Robert. He has been kind enough to read and comment on this blog. In one of his comments Robert expressed that he would like to meet me in person. Silly him. However, meet we did. We talked about how one has to be sort of fearless to ride a bike. The subject of sometimes being tested on something we haven't studied for, yet, also came up. I came away from the meeting impressed by having been in the presence of a thinking man.

The hour and fifteen minute ride up was cold. According to Elvira's ambient temperature gauge it was a couple of degrees above freezing. That was before wind chill, of course. Call it an ego thing, but I'm really trying to refrain from using the electrics. No pun intended, but I tend to ride briskly in the cold. At freeway speeds wind chill drops the temperature down about twenty degrees. So the temperature I felt went from the low thirties to the low teen's. On the other hand, you don't pay much of a penalty for riding faster. Check out this chart over at Rick's place, "Keep the Rubber Side Down".

You only pay a one degree penalty for riding at 70 instead of 60 ( mph ). Click it up to 80 and there's only one more degree to be paid. Not that I would ever break the law as an instructor, mind you. I'm only offering this should somebody else decide to spend less time freezing.

Anyway, my thoughts were filled with the upcoming meeting. This meeting in person thing is kind of like internet dating. We all tend to paint ourselves in a good light. Not that I ever claimed to be a six feet two inch tall handsome athlete named Dirk with six pack abs. Still, I have been called a legend by several folks including some of our blogging brethren who have actually met me in person. Realize, though, that the meetings were very short ones.

What would Robert think? Would he be awed by the legend or let down by seeing a middle aged pleasingly plump rider slipping slowly past his prime? I decided to let things sort out how they may and not worry about it. Which is pretty much my standard operating procedure these days. Like me or leave me. Love me or hate me. As long as people have a strong opinion I'm happy. The worst insult one could give me is to call me "boring" or "vanilla".

( Now I'm waiting for some obnoxious soul to put that in a comment: Jack, are you reading this? )

Having sorted out all that needed sorted I was cruising happily. Feeling kinda cocky at being the only bike I'd seen on the roads. Basking in feeling like the tough warrior and thinking about how any other rider out here would be wired to the gills. Yes, Sir, the grizzled veteran was king of the roost, cock of the walk this morning. Then I got passed by a young man on a Honda CBR.

I caught up to him at the rest area. Actually, he was just leaving as I was getting off the bike. There was barely enough time to snatch this panning shot. The rider had no wires that I could see and even less wind protection that I had on Elvira.

Dang! Don't you hate feeling cocky then being one-upped? I briefly considered riding the rest of the way without a jacket but quickly rejected that crazy idea. My ego would heal as soon as the rider was out of sight. It's still pretty healthy these days as it gets exercised regularly.

( to be continued )

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2012-01-09T11:23:00.000-08:00

Something Different

Ok. Time to shake off the lethargy and get to work. It's not a stupor in the usual sense. It's more like a boat circling in the water until the Captain gets the compass calibrated. Once the proper coordinates are determined it will be full steam ahead. Or balls to the wall, if you will.

By the way, I'm not inserting that saying just for shock value. The expression actually came from aviation, and by extension, boating. The throttle levers have rounded balls on top. Unlike a motorcycle throttle, to go faster in a boat or airplane the throttle levers are moved forward. Pushing the levers all the way forward puts the little balls up against the instrument panel or dash of the vehicle. Thus, "balls to the wall" means full throttle. Not a painful physical accident. Like my first time playing raquetball.

For the first time in as long as I can remember I am entering a new year without a fixed target. It will be another month before I have all the information required to chart my course. Either way, the course will be different than now. Maybe more on that later. Through it all I remain humbly appreciative to have choices realizing that others don't.

In the meantime, I've decided to quit riding in circles and go back to doing something constructive. That includes re-energizing this blog. I find I can't let it go. There have been too many great connections formed through this medium. I'd hate to miss out on continuing these and forming new ones.

I did, however, park the bike this last weekend. On Saturday Katie and I joined our darling daughter, our great son-in-law, and our cherubic grandson in going to a street rod show. There was a lot of money sitting in that building, let me tell you.

Cars are interesting and fascinating but you know where I ended up. Found something with two wheels and learned something new about Vespa scooters.

I don't know what year this scooter is. I forgot to ask. According to this website it is a 1959 model. The guy at the exhibit claims this was the original scooter used in the movie "American Graffiti". The scooter has been restored and travels with an American Graffiti tribute team.

Inside the wheel skirt are autographs from Bo Hopkins, Candy Clark, and a couple others from the movie.

In the movie this scooter was owned by a guy named Terry "Toad" Fields. This was his only transportation. Unfortunately for the Vespa reputation, Toad was portrayed as a sort of nerd and the scooter was the best he could do. The movie itself is about coming of age. One of the "cool" guys gives Toad his car to take care of while he is in college. A step up, you see, according to the movie.

Anyway, there is a funny bit to this in the movie. The actor who played Toad is named Charles Martin Smith. Charles thought the scooter was the standard CV transmission. What he didn't know was that the Vespa had a four speed manual transmission. So the left handlebar lever was actually the clutch.

In the movie Toad comes screeching up on the scooter. As he goes to dismount, he just lets go of the clutch lever. Which, of course, launches the scooter in a not so graceful move. George Lucas decides to leave it in the movie.

You can see the scene here.

Something new to me, too. Guess it goes to show we should all be sure to check out the controls when we get on a bike we haven't ridden before!

Hope you enjoyed this bit of trivia. It seemed a fun way to break the ice for 2012. Here's to a happy and productive upcoming year for all of us!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

How to Lift a Bike

2011-12-06T13:24:00.001-08:00

I'm posting this here with the blessing of Pat Hahn, who is the Communications Manager for our training program.That's Pat in the video, by the way. One of the things I've learned in my pursuit of photography is that there is a definite advantage to being the one behind the camera. Especially if there is a big heavy sport touring motorcycle to be lifted.

Pat and I lifted ( well, he lifted and I grunted ) this bike several times looking for the perfect take. We may not have arrived there but we got close. I do get some credit for making the narration happen in time with the action!

This blog post also marks a sort of milestone for me. I have now officially lost my YouTube virginity. It's also the first video here. Don't expect to see very many more.

This is a sneak preview. The video will be posted on the new TEAM OREGON website when it debuts in January. In the meantime, I hereby present "How to Lift a Bike".

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-12-05T11:58:00.000-08:00

Don't be "derailed!"

A while back I shared the three guiding principles I ride by. One of those is "Riding with Purpose".

There's a lot to it but it basically means keeping your head in the ride. One aspect is realizing we are on a motorcycle and then adjusting our thinking according. Something that gets a lot of riders into trouble is thinking like a car driver while riding a motorcycle.

Car drivers may not even think twice about a certain roadway condition, for example. For a motorcyclist, though, this same thing could be a real hazard. It's critical for us to get our thinking on the right track lest we become derailed. In the situation I recently discovered it could happen quite literally.

Over the past few months that have seemed like years, several major arterials in Portland have been clogged by crews ripping up the streets. I've avoided these as much as possible because I've grown tired of doing snail impressions. The other day my dictated destination didn't leave me much choice. To my relief the construction is done. To my chagrin, I know now why.

In a huge city I guess light rail for mass transit is important. To be effective said light trail needs to go where people need to be. Well, it now goes a long ways North and South!

As it turns out, the light rail is pretty much the right lane on two major North-South routes. There are three lanes of travel so we could simply ride in one of the other two, right? The fly in the ointment is that a lot of the major destinations require a right turn. Makes the intersection a bit tricky.

Car drivers don't have any problem with gliding over and making the right turn. As riders, however, we know we really shouldn't be doing that. Our angle should be at least 45 degrees. Not sure how we're supposed to do that when we have traffic REALLY close on our left that impedes moving over to get that angle.

Truth be told, with the condition of the street and tracks right now a front wheel isn't likely to get grabbed. Eventually the pavement / blacktop will start getting big gaps. For now, though, I see the issue as being a combination of wet steel tracks and the required braking and lean angles for turning. I've done it successfully several times with no unsuccessful attempts. I'm aware of the hazard and change my approach accordingly. Hope the other riders do the same.

Ride with purpose and think like a motorcyclist. Sometimes it means we need to slow down and be cautious as much as we hate that!

Miles and smiles,

Dan
P.S. I'm trying Blogger's new layout. There's a few things like paragraph spacing and stuff that I'm still working on. The html codes seem different. If anyone else is doing the same and cares to share wisdom I'm all ears, so to speak.

2011-11-21T13:11:00.000-08:00

Cocky with a camera.

The day dawned with the reluctance of a hung-over person getting ready for work. No sick days left. The Boss won't buy calling in dead. So it's going to happen. It has to happen. The process will be long and drawn out. Without grace or warmth but with an inevitability that comes from years of routine. Rise and shine? Rising, certainly, but shining? Not so you'd notice.

Cold and gray pretty much sums up the journey Elvira and I experienced together. Cold and gray. The early morning. The pavement. The expression on the faces of the commuters. Circumstances even seemed to conspire to fill the roads with gray vehicles.

Our destination was the NW district of Portland. It's a place with its own character. Or a lack thereof, depending on how you measure character.

This is the kind of place where light meets darkness. You might even say this is where heaven meets hell.

Someone more poetic than me might call this a "forgotten place". A place where residents of little means are dumped and forgotten. Where those with few resources are left to fend for themselves without outside help.

At first glance it appears to be true. Everything within these few square blocks is in a state of seedy decay. People in shabby clothing with dejected faces pointed toward the sidewalk wander aimlessly among the buildings. Progress is marked by unassuming signs above doorways. The signs don't need to be flamboyant. These are not tourist routes. Drawing attention from the passing hordes is not the goal here. There are no passing hordes in the first place. In the second place, those who come here do so for a specific reason. They know where places are.

The building signs give you a clue as to why someone would come here. Inside these doors is a "gentlemen's club". Down the way is a bar that advertises female impersonators. On the next block is an adult shop. The sign glows softly purple as it proclaims the presence of an arcade inside.

Burnside Street forms the southern boundary. A few blocks south there is opulent luxury. The fancy hotels where political bigwigs and business leaders stay. On Burnside and Broadway is a building that once housed a Burger King fast food restaurant. Years ago I used to watch officers of the Portland Police Mounted Patrol take their horses through the drive through. Today the building is becoming a pile of crumbling bricks. Once the bricks were red but now they're the color of age. Darker, mottled, and much less vibrant. The windows have been boarded up for so long that the wood seems to be sprouting twigs.

Interestingly, in stark contrast to the distressed patina of the building, the parking lot gleams with fancy cars. From about lunchtime on people start filtering into the neighborhood. This is a place where the heights of human morality come into contact with the depths of primal desires. So called "pillars of the community" move furtively about while fervently hoping none of their neighbors or associates see them. Even if that someone else is there for the same reason there's a deep seated shame at being caught out.

I am comfortable here. I have business here. I do not care who sees me. Other people's perceptions are their problem. I also do not worry about the residents of this area. Law enforcement and life have taught me that there are good and evil people in all economic levels. I take people at face value until they reveal themselves by their actions. I have wandered these kinds of places, neither friendly or fearful. I will admit to perhaps being a bit cocky, though.

Many years ago a close friend at the sheriff's office gave me a belt buckle. You see, I had a bit of a reputation. My friend and partner's name was Clyde. He and I worked some pretty tough areas. We were very self assured. Some of the other cops called it cocky. I don't think it was that bad, but whatever. Clyde was killed in the line of duty after I left the area. Sometimes I wonder how it would have went had I still been there for him. I keep the belt buckle as a momento of our partnership. Those kind of treasured relationships very rarely come along. Here's what the belt buckle says:

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, cause I'm the meanest son-of-a-bitch in the valley."

My apologies to the women and children as well as to those who may take this as sacrilege. Some people live more sheltered lives than others. Some of us have lived hard and seen a lot of stuff we shouldn't have. We tend to be more irreverent.

I am pulling myself reluctantly back from memories of old days to come back to the story.

This day I was not only cocky, but cocky with a camera.

There is a hotel / halfway house in the slow process of being renovated. I've been offering my services as a consultant to some of the hardware and code issues. This has required a trip about twice a month to look at the job. Normally I park right in front as in the photo below.

These two guys were eating donuts and comparing notes on how their respective group therapy sessions had gone. There's a lot of healing going on in this world. It's sad that it looks like there will be a need for a lot more before this carnival ride is over. The room with the donuts is hidden away. Things have progressed to the point where I am now privy to this information so I can snag a couple of donuts for myself. I'm not bashful about eating donuts. Just ask Troubadour after this past weekend.

The photo above is from a previous visit. This time I couldn't park anywhere near the building. The parking spots were barricaded or had stuff in the way like this big truck.

Judging by the truck and other stuff there was something out of the ordinary going on. My guess was that some sort of TV or movie filming was happening. Portland has worked to attract this kind of thing.

By now the sun was starting to slightly penetrate the gray layer. The warmth was a nice dessert on top of the donuts and bad coffee I had consumed in the hotel. I had a bit of time on my hands. I had a camera with plenty of interesting things to take photos of. I was a bad-ass dude in a bad place. If I hadn't already been me I'd of been wishing I were me.

Time to go see what I could see in these few blocks.

"Does anybody remember the color code to these wires?!"

These kind of brought me up short. Four of the cleanest and most gleaming outhouses I've ever seen.

Alas, I guess I wasn't Hollywood enough to use them. I can't tell you how much that pleases me, by the way. I've never been a pretentious pisser. The blue tape strips clearly indicated these were for the film crew only. Did they have drink holders inside? Perhaps heated toilet seats? Maybe even a valet that waits outside the door with a warm washcloth and towel.

I've used a lot of outhouses in my time. I still find the situation extremely funny to think about. It's amazing the difference that very thin piece of opaque plastic makes. Recently I saw an outhouse on a trailer in the freeway median. It was for a road crew. I had this mental picture of some guy using the outhouse, reading a newspaper and his hairy rear end hanging out. Right in the middle of four lanes of busy freeway traffic.

I laughed so hard I almost fell off the bike. Thank goodness for the privacy of plastic, eh?

Check out these boom mounted lights. Can you imagine having these hooked to your DLSR? "Smile and say cheese while I light you up with these babies!" I think the only thing in the photo would be the person's scattered atoms!

I think the funniest part of the little photo expedition was this security guard. On another street was another truck. There were about ten security guards placed around. Each had a block long stretch of street to watch over. For whatever reason I decided to blow a few megapixels worth of battery power on a shot down the street. The photo wasn't too good but I didn't delete it on the spot. Then I wandered down to the other end of the block to take a photo of the lights.

Take a look at the first photo and you'll see the security guard on the right.

Check out who followed me and is giving me "the stare".

This guy looked to be fresh out his Mama's basement where he has a little apartment. I can picture his Mama making his breakfast. Three eggs over easy with the toast extra crispy, "Just the way my darling boy likes it."

She probably asked him if he remembered to brush his teeth before work while slicking down his cowlick and brushing a bit of lint off his jacket collar. Beaming proudly because her boy finally got a job, she waves goodbye while wishing him a good day at work.

As I moved across the street to take the close-up photo of the lights, Junior met me halfway across the street.

Weirdly enough, the first thing he asked me was if I was some sort of P.I. I presumed he meant private investigator. I looked quickly from side to side as if afraid somebody might overhear us.

"Shush," I said. "All I can tell you is that I'm not official, okay?"

"You guys and your secrecy", he replied. I kid you not, This is exactly how it went.

Then I moved closer to the lights and raised my camera.

"Hey! We've been told to tell people not to take pictures", Junior informed me.

"Ok", I replied. "You asked". All the while setting up my shot.

"What does that mean?" he snapped back.

"Just that. You asked. I say 'First amendment and public streets'. Now do you want to let me get about my business or do you still want to do the monkey dance?" My answer and demeanor threw him off. I don't think this was the way he imagined somebody would react to his "authority". The guy had no idea he would meet somebody like me. Cocky with a camera.

I thrust in for another parry while he was still staggered.

"How about those women over there with their cell phone cameras? Are you going to go confiscate their phones? What about that couple with the little kid? Gonna go grab the point and shoot? Actually, you see the kid looking at us? I'll bet he's asking his mother why that man with the camera is making the security guy all red in the face."

I have got to really hand it to Junior. Somehow, somewhere, he found a small scrap of dignity that he pulled up and waved like a battle flag.

"Ok, take your pictures. But don't touch anything or I can arrest you on the spot!"

I waved as I walked off. "You got it, Sir!" I resisted the childish impulse to touch one of the lights as I left. Bravely guarding a very short stretch of city street is hard enough without some cocky bastard totally crushing your cajones.

The exchange I just wrote about was very real. What wasn't real was this cafe on the corner. It was real enough to begin with. Once upon a time it had been an actual corner diner. However, it's been vacant for a long time. Filming was scheduled to start after dark so the day was filled with preparations. This place was being transformed into the Mountainview Cafe.

I was able to gather from this crew that the reason for all the activity was an episode of "Grimm". The hope was to have it all done in two days but it was turning into three.

I've seen the trailers for the TV series. Not my cup of tea, I'm afraid. I've seen enough evil in the world without having to watch demonic manifestations presented in the name of entertainment. It was fun exploring the set, though, I'll have to admit. I saddled up Elvira and took off for my next destination. In the process I found that the City of Portland has been busy creating a great hazard for motorcyclists in the name of mass transit. Stay tuned.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-11-03T07:20:00.000-07:00

Oops! Now what?

Ok, here's the rest of the story. I can't believe that my so-called friends were so cynical about this.

"Looks like a set-up." "Somebody is leading us down the garden path." "Look's like you're getting ready to teach us how to pick up a bike."

Sheeesh.

I somewhat sheepishly have to admit that the cynicism was justified. Technically this isn't a post about how to pick up a bike. It's a behind the scenes look at making the video. Sort of like the extra features section on the DVD's you rent.

Meet Pat Hahn. He's the guy in the red 'Stich in the photos below. Pat is the Communications Manager for the TEAM OREGON motorcycle safety program. His duties include our website content.

Pat, knowing that I have an interest in photography and own a camcorder, called and asked if I would like to help him make a short video on how to pick up a bike. Always up for a bit of fun, I immediately agreed. Besides, I like Pat a lot. Thus we found ourselves in a parking lot with a hapless, but perhaps not totally defenseless, ST1100. This also happens to be our Eye Tracker project bike. That explains the paint scheme. More on that in a later post.

It seems like in every class past the basic training somebody asks about the proper way to pick up a tipped over bike. Pat's idea was to post a short video on our website which is in the process of being updated.

Pat came to us from Minnesota. He did a similar video back there and claims the page was the most frequently visited one on the website. It will be interesting to see what happens here. The best bet is to not drop the bike in the first place but it happens. Been there, done that myself.

Before you can pick a bike up you need to get it onto its side. One way, of course, is to simply tilt the bike up, kick the sidestand out from underneath it, then let go. Since we're true bike guys neither of us had the heart to do that. Here's a photo sequence of Pat lowering the bike so it could be picked up again.

Pat looks good, doesn't he? His glasses aren't steamed up and it hardly looks like he's exherting himself. Actually, done properly, it's much easier than it looks.

Pat did the lifting while I played the part of the off-camera narrator. Kind of like the old Wonderful World of Disney shows like "Charlie the Lonesome Cougar" narrated by Tex Ritter. Come on, I know some of you are old enough to remember that.

If there's enough interest I'll ask Pat's permission to post the finished video here. The video is on my SD card and also loaded into my computer's Adobe Premier Elements video production program. One of the takes was video only with no sound. Maybe I'll be playing Bobskoot and doing some sound dubbing.

The video is more or less the intellectual domain propery of the program even though I have physical possession of it. I'm sure permission won't be a problem, though.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-10-31T12:56:00.000-07:00

Which Way Does the Shiny Side Go, Again?

Um, I'm not exactly sure how this happened.

I AM pretty sure, however, the bike isn't supposed to look quite like this.

There's also a better than average chance I'm in trouble. This isn't my bike. It belongs to the training program. I was the last to touch the STeed. Now it's on its side. While you're at it enlarge the above photo. See the big scratch on the underside of the right muffler? I put that there during a police class on a track. This is also the bike I did the 100 mph front wheel skid on. Which we recovered from nicely, thank you.

In contrast, this isn't such a glorious moment. Hero to zero?

Stay tuned.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-10-27T09:58:00.000-07:00

Slaying Dragons and Saving Lives

Whup, whup, whup, whup.

The sound came crashing onto our senses. We're out in the middle of nowhere. You don't expect sounds like this out here. The noise was as out of place as a tee-totaller at a college kegger. Yet, there it was. Wave after wave of thumping sound like somebody beating a gigantic rug with an oversized baseball bat.

A dozen possibilities as to its source raced through my brain. The last time I'd heard a similar sound was the super-sized hail beating the mobile unit in the Blue Mountains. I quickly looked at the trailer. The scars were there but no white rocks were falling from the sky.

Was it some kind of egg beater on steroids? I was pretty sure we were teaching a motorcycle class, not wrapped up in some kind of Kitchen Stadium Iron Chef nightmare. All the different thoughts crashing into each other in my brain were giving me a headache. So I kicked them all out and just stood there looking at the sky. That, after all, seemed to be where the sound was coming from.

Trying hard to resist becoming hypnotized by the rythmic pattern of sounds, I stood silently waiting for whatever IT was to reveal itself to us.

Soon enough, there it was. A gasp escaped from the students. They were locals, you see, and they had some previous experience with this thing. Nobody knew what it was really called. All they knew is that this thing swooped down from the sky with its fearsome chopping mechanisms whirling wildly. As the blades cut viciously at the air, literally chopping it apart, that horrendous noise was produced. Several legs jutted from underneath the creature. The beast seemed to be attracted to fire and heat. Perhaps the heat from the dozen motorcycles was what had attracted it.

Most menacing of all was that dangling hose. The locals claimed that the beast ate fire then sucked up great quantities of water to quench the heat. Anything or anybody unlucky enough to be nearby got caught in the suck zone. Worse, they said, a riding student on a badly smoking bike had recently been sucked up. Gone without a trace.

We all waited to see what this flying menace would do.

Bit by bit the creature revealed itself to us as it descended. I could begin to see the features that the students had described. We were all hoping that it would lose interest in us and fly away to some other place. Alas, it was not to be. The whirling dervish sank lower. And closer. And closer.

By now I could see the thing in all its menace and ugliness.

Most of the students had gathered together in a group. Why is it that humans revert to herd animal instincts in time of danger? Is there really safety in numbers? To my way of thinking the group creates a bigger target. I thought how it might even appear as a sort of smorgasbord type of buffet. All the goodies in one spot. Just pick which you desire.

I, on the other hand, took a sentinel's post. Free to see and observe. Able to act without being encumbered by the herd. Ok, so maybe I was hoping that the flying creature would be attracted to the group and not notice me. Whatever.

Suddenly, from my sentinel's post, I observed a lone student heading away from us all. Was it possible that he was oblivious to the danger? Was he going to sacrifice himself to save the rest of us? Unfortunately, I didn't have two way radio communication with him so I could ask. Are you doing this willingly to save the group? If so, thanks. Oh, and by the way, can I have your truck?

Whichever scenario it was, the student was in danger. As the senior instructor present I supposed it fell upon me to do something to help.

Wait a minute, isn't this the student that's been so mouthy? On the one hand, no big loss. On the other, the paperwork for this kind of thing was sure to be a major pain. Dang, I hate these ethical decisions.

Then there was the story of the previous student. I wasn't sure if it was actually true or not. According to the story the guy was out practicing on his motorcycle. His girlfriend had come along, driving the guy's sports car. This creature had supposedly come along and next thing you know the guy and his bike had disappeared up that big red hose. The only thing left was the guy's wallet which had somehow fallen out of a pocket on the way up. The wallet was full and the sports car was fast so the girlfriend was able to console herself well enough.

As a small tribute she is said to have spray painted the guy's date of demise and his initials on the edge of the runway. Seems the guy was a graffiti artist on the side so the paint was handy. Like I say, I don't know if the story was true. However, somebody had painted something on the blacktop and I could still clearly see it.

I quickly considered defense options. If this whirling menace did, indeed, regularly eat fire then it had to be suffering some major heartburn. Which would also explain the great thirst I'd been told about. I could understand this kind of thing. I have friends who eat molten lava at Mexican restaurants in the name of whatever, then gulp antacids. It doesn't make sense to me but, since I've seen it with my own eyes, I know it happens.

Glancing around, I see no big water puddles, Tums, Prilosec, Mylanta, or anything even resembling them. As my eyes sweep the scene I do spot something that might work. A fire extinguisher! If I could get close enough to the creature, maybe we could work something out.

Imagine my disappointment when I see the extinguisher's needle buried deeply in the red zone.

Come on, there's got to be something. Then it hits me. Mushrooms.

I had taken a hike up in the hills before class. The hike had revealed a treasure trove of magic mushrooms. The "take a trip without leaving the farm" kind. Oh, I would never use such a thing myself. No, riding Elvira wickedly is plenty of thrill for me and I don't have to wake up trying to remember everything that happened the night before.

That's not to say I don't suffer from addictions. Say what you will, but some of you are right there with me even if you won't admit it. We crave riding. We crave newer and better riding gear. Gleaming rubber tires, shining accessories, farkles, and baubles. Like any addiction it takes money to satisfy the tremendous appetite.

So I'd picked quite a few to take back with me. It was a better than average chance that I'd find a ready market for them in the Occupy Portland camps. Now it looked like I'd have to put the fungi to a different use. Sorry, Elvira, but you'll have to wait a bit longer to get your diamond studded wheels.

Pulling the other instructor off to the side I filled him in on the plan. I told him my intentions of acting as a decoy then stuffing the hose full of mushrooms when the creature came for me. To my intense surprise my partner insisted on being the decoy. I complimented him on his bravery. Bravery my ass, he said. I hurt my back and I'm in such pain that being eaten by this creature would be a huge relief!

Whatever his motive, my partner proceeded to attract the creature's attention. We all sort of held our collective breath as my partner waved his hand about.

It all turned out to be easier than we thought. My partner, battling to stay upright in the turbulence created by the heat seeking monster, threw the first mushroom into the air. His aim was good and the mushroom hit right on the end of the hose. With a whoosh the toadstool disappeared. Suddenly the hose started waving wildly about, like a hound locating a scent. Then, like a pointer's tail when it finds a bird, the hose located the pile of mushrooms. It almost looked like the creature was being dragged by invisible hands towards psychedelic nirvana. We all just stepped back and watched. I think my partner looked a little disappointed.

In no time the flying menace had consumed our offering. Soon it began to whirl unsteadily around. Where once only the blades had spun, now the entire body was slightly rotating. I pulled everybody into the trailer for cover. It was all we had since we couldn't all fit into the outhouse.

Making giddy but steady progress, the once fear inspiring flying menace settled onto the ground near a wind sock and passed out. Crisis adverted. We could get back to business.

I am so glad to report that the rest of the class was pretty much uneventful. The photo below depicts what I will say if I ever get pulled over by a law enforcement officer for speeding on a motorcycle.

"I'm not speeding, officer, I am merely flying too close to the ground."

The photo serves a twofold purpose. The second was practice on creating depth in my pictures. To take what is essentially a two dimensional representation of what we see and add the third dimension back in somewhat. I took this at f/22 in manual mode. I focused at five feet using the lense's distance scale. The cone in the forefront, the student on the bike and the plane midway, and the mountains in the distance create the illusion of depth. I was pleased to see that I find my eyes drawn down the runway and into the photo.

Having slain yet another dragon and delivering another outstanding class I made use of the facilities before leaving. Hey, even motorcycling gods have to pee, you know.

It was time to head home in the accomodations to which I would like to become accustomed.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking:

I hope you've enjoyed your flight of fancy. Any turbulence you may have experienced is the result of pockets of hot air and bovine excrement colliding.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-10-03T18:40:00.000-07:00

Breaking the chains!

Too much time chained to the laptop lately. End of month reports seem to take all month these days. Looking stuff up and putting it on spreadsheets. All at the expense of riding. Time to break the chains!

Enough computer stuff. A good bike is a Search Engine for the Real World!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-09-26T12:05:00.000-07:00

Bikes, Boots, and Convertibles.

Just a few photos and comments.

Saw these in Bend Friday night. Not a pair you would normally see together. I think the common denominator was the downtown festival and beer garden around the corner. One of the bikes may be counting on the other to protect it. The question is which one?

In the top right corner of the photo below you can see my patient bride waiting for me to get my photographic jollies. Thanks for all your support, my lovely princess!

This bike was at an ART class I was teaching a while back. Made me think of you know who. Care for a little more bonding with Max?

Here are some photos to titillate the guy with a foot fetish. A guy we dearly love, of course! The first photo is one of the class instructors.

Some assorted footwear among the students. We require the ankle bone to be covered. Boots not necessarily required.

Here's what happens when a student doesn't have over the ankle footwear. They get a dose of stylish duct tape.

Reminds me of a quick story. Notice how the duct tape goes up the side of the leg like stirrups. Then the pant leg is secured to the stirrups. This keeps the pants protecting the ankles, light as the protection may be. More importantly, note how the duct tape is OUTSIDE the pants!

I once worked with a new instructor. A student needed taped. The new instructor assured me he knew about the stirrup and wrap technique. So I turned him loose. There was one small piece missing in the technique. The taping happened under the jeans. The young man who was getting taped was wearing no socks. It was a powerful reminder to me that one should trust, but verify!

Needless to say, the student had the proper footwear the next day. Go figure.

Ever have the urge to buy a convertible?

This one is for sale. Windshield wipers included at no extra charge.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-09-23T10:35:00.000-07:00

Foot down? Precisely!

I would like to introduce you to Precision. She is the sister to Prudence and Purpose. Precision is the studious one of the three. She gets straight A's in school and is good at math and science.

Her social life isn't what you might expect. You see, she's not impressed by flash. One or two grand gestures just won't cut it. No, what Precision loves is somebody who makes little efforts to court her favor each day. Some say she's playing hard to get. Others say she's stand-offish and aloof. They misjudge her, I'm afraid. Once a person makes the effort to really get to know Precision they are always so glad they did. It will be a rewarding relationship that will be forever cherished.

When someone writes about riding with precision the first thing that often comes to mind is endless hours of practicing grueling drills. This tends to be a bit overwhelming mentally. As a result, not many start on the journey towards a relationship with Precision. I think more riders would take that trip if they only realized that, like any other journey, it all boils down to a series of small steps.

That's my intent over the next few months. I want to break down the road to excellence into its simple steps. There are small things we can do today. There are small things we can do tomorrow. It doesn't seem like much from day to day. Get a ways into the trip, though, and look back. It's always amazing and rewarding to see how far we've really come.

I saw a poster years ago. It said:

"Success is the sum of small efforts made every day."

It really is that simple. We just want to make it harder than it is. I know I'm taking a risk here. Making it seem simple will probably shatter the illusion people have of my standing as a professional motorcyclist. The mystique will evaporate faster than dew in the desert. That's ok. I've never claimed to be some mysterious motorcycle god. I've simply been around some great people and have worked hard to get where I'm at. It would really please me to have the company of anyone else who wants to tag along.

Speaking of steps, let's start with something literally having to do with our feet. That's the matter of putting our feet down at stops. Or not.

I don't know what it is, but it seems like riders have this sick aversion to putting their feet down. You've seen it. They'll twist the handlebars back and forth, put their tongue between their teeth, blink fifty times quickly, and anything else they can think of in an effort to avoid putting their foot down at a stop.

Sometimes this is ok. Other times it's not.

There are times when being able to balance the bike at very low speeds is a sign of great skills and control. There are also times when it's appropriate to adjust our speed so that we don't have to stop and put our foot down. Coming up to a signal light is an example. We can adjust our speed in order to get the timing down. Hopefully, we'll keep a bit of momentum and be able to flow smoothly through the intersection when the light turns. That's control applied to achieve a smooth flow through traffic.

Even then, we need to be careful. For example, when other drivers are behind us they expect a certain thing. Years of driving with other traffic has taught us that there is an expected point where the vehicle ahead of us will begin slowing for a traffic light or stop sign. It we start slowing significantly earlier than that, we are guilty of causing a ripple in the current, is it were. If a driver behind us were to have a close call, or even hit us, it would technically be their fault. On the other hand, as we point a finger at them there are four pointing back at us. We actually caused the situation by changing the flow.

When we make bad decisions in order to avoid putting our foot down, then it becomes a real problem.

I will be the first to admit that I was guilty of this. A lot of getting to where I am has happened by looking at what I do. I either put it in the "that works" stack or in the "that needs some adjustment" stack. Having been there, I'll write this in the first person. I do not operate the same way now but it will help you understand why I saw the need to become more precise in this matter.

So here I am. Riding a big street bike. Sometimes with a passenger who is usally the person nearest and dearest to me. We are exiting a parking lot. The downward slope of the driveway towards the street is a bit disconcerting. I want to make a right turn and blend into traffic. I can't simply proceed as I need to find a gap. Traffic isn't really heavy but it's enough to make me pause.

Because of the mental thing about putting my foot down and a bit of worry about the slope I'm going to create two problems for myself. Remember, too, that I'm using a parking lot as an illustration but I could be anywhere. A four way stop. Pulling out of an alleyway. The possibilities are numerous. Back to my potential problems.

Firstly, I'm going to spend a lot of time in a really ugly, unbalanced situation. I am barely in control of the bike because we are at like, 1 mph. God only knows what will happen if a pedestrian suddenly darts in front of me. Or what if a car turns in beside me and goes a bit wide? I'm really vulnerable because I'm not in a stable position from which to respond. What if I need to move right but my handlebars are doing a side to side dance in an effort to keep balance? If I quickly pull a bit of throttle I'm as likely to go down as I am to successfully move the bike. I don't even want to talk about what will happen if, in a shocked response to almost being hit, I get a big grip on the front brake while the bars are turned so far to one side. By doing all this shucking and jiving to avoid putting my foot down I'm actually stacking the odds against me.

One reason to come to a stop and create a firm and balanced platform from which to work. If I'm stopped and stable I can also more freely move my head back to forth scan for bogies.

Granted, the odds of having an issue at this point may seem small. I can see arguments both ways. What is not up for discussion is that being in this situation is the opposite of riding with precision.

Now we come to the second, and far more sinister, complication.

Remember the need to pick a gap in traffic so we can pull out? We really shouldn't be seeing how close we can cut it. If we were sitting stable, with a foot down, we would take our time and pick a suitable gap. Instead, here I am, about to crash any minute because I'm so unstable. Again, for whatever reason, I feel my foot will fall off if I put it down and actually stop. This becomes the primary factor in my next decision. I decide to take a chance because I don't want to put my foot down.

Now I pick a questionable gap, pull out, and do some heavy throttle rolling. I'm lucky in that there was room in front of me to get a bit ahead of the car I pulled out in front of. I was also lucky because there was nothing slippery in the road that could compromise traction on my rear tire when I gassed it. I'm also feeling a bit guilty that I put my sweetie in a dangerous spot. Guess what will happen the next time?

Yep. Same-o, same-o.

Like I say, I was often there myself. I see it over and over. That's what I do. I watch riders when I see them. I'm a professional trainer and evaluator. It's in my blood and I can't "not" do it. I know you've seen it, too.

So much better to be precise. Solid stop. Foot down. Ready to respond accurately and intelligently.

Small thing? Exactly. The journey towards riding with precision literally begins a foot a time.

Next time we'll talk about changing lanes and passing.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-09-22T06:44:00.000-07:00

Really need your help!!!

I really need some help out there tracking somebody down and checking on their well being. It may be a long shot but there are folks reading here from all over the world. Somebody often knows somebody who knows someone else, and so on. I'm hoping this is the case.

I don't want to reveal his personal details but here's the very short story.

The guy I'm looking for is named Mohan. I don't have a last name. Nor do I have a phone number. I simply have an e-mail address. He is probably in the Malaysia area. Some of you know him as The Snark. He kept a blog for a long time called Hunting the Snark.

He's had some heavy difficulties over the past year. He's also trying to take care of his two young sons. We have corresponded via e-mail. In my own small way I've tried to be there for him during tough times. I recently got an e-mail message that worries me. Since then there have been no replies to my return e-mails. It may be melodramatic. I certainly hope it is a false alarm. However, I have reason to believe it's legit and that he may have harmed himself, so to speak.

Somehow I hope this post spreads around the network of folks and I can get some feedback on what's going on. Please give me whatever you might have offline at

intrepidcommuter@comcast.net

Mohan, if you're still reading here but for some other reason haven't replied to my messages I'd appreciate a note letting me know you're still hanging in. As you can see, your well being matters to me.

Thanks for the help.

Dan

2011-09-20T10:26:00.000-07:00

What I did this weekend.

The weekend before last I spent my birthday weekend teaching new instructors how to present the classroom portion of our program. This last weekend brought a bit of variety. One of the other things I do is conduct what we call Site Compliance Audits. Pretty much what it sounds like. A few of us do these. We have to assure the Oregon State Department of Transportation that we're teaching the same program throughout the state. Each site needs to be visited once each season.

We do a check of the sites and the supporting equipment which includes bikes, fire extinguishers, and so on. We also offer encouragement and guidance to the instructors as they continue their journey towards excellence.

So I found myself headed North. It was dry when I left but the farther North I went the wetter it got. Eighty miles from home and soaking wet. Great start!

Lunch is a simple affair. In a Bobskoot style portrait, minus the bare feet, you can see me enjoying a prepackaged chicken salad in the luxurious Che' Shipping Container.

A man had brought his own scooter for the class. Pretty snazzy looking!

This creature was a one - squirrel cheering squad for the students.

A couple of interesting window reflections of the students in the parking lot. I seem to be open to seeing these kind of things much more often these days.

This sort of scares me. A brand new BMW S1000RR. Ridden to class by a student in our Basic Training. Which means he wasn't endorsed. The worse part is that I saw him ride one of our training bikes. Even at the end of the course this rider was struggling. I'd watch him ride the perimeter and inexplicably downshift to first without the clutch. The bike would understandably lurch and cause him control issues.

The BMW has ABS and traction control. I sincerely hope they do their job for the guy. In fact, I pray he doesn't ride faster than his Guardian Angel can fly until he gets his skills together.

Here's a photo I made in an effort to copy the style of Steve Williams.

A good looking scooter purposely framed by the tree leaves. Maybe not a great imitation but at least I created a photo by design instead of happenchance!

The trip home was interesting. I'd decided to take pity on a Firstgear jacket that had been hanging neglected in the closet. The fact that it had a thick liner also helped in the choice. I took the long way home. No surprise there, I suppose.

When I left it was still raining and Elvira's temperature display indicated 63 degrees ( F ). Apparently it hadn't rained at all farther south. By the time I got south of Salem the sun was bright and the display showed 84 degrees!

Only on a bike do we get to experience the full variety of our surroundings. Cool, eh?

Next weekend I'm off to Central Oregon to do another audit. Katie's coming along. Can't wait to see what adventures we'll have.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-09-16T09:14:00.000-07:00

Thanks, but I'll pass.

Stopped in downtown Salem to get a bite of lunch. I appreciate the fact that some city official somewhere has deeded there will be motorcycle only parking. I fail to get warm fuzzies when it looks like the only reason it's put aside for us is that it's not useable for a car. Hard to get into, hard to get out of, but no step for a real rider.

This was the daily special at a downtown "Pizza by the slice" establishment. No, thanks, I think I'll pass this one by. Although I sure wish I knew if the rear end in the corner of the photo was a customer or the supplier!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-09-14T18:35:00.000-07:00

The Simple Recipe

I'm going to try to help simplify the process of getting good at riding. I know I've written a lot of specific and technical stuff here. It's all stuff we need to know. On the other hand, it's a bit overwhelming at times, isn't it? Judging by some of the comments you all have left there's a certain amount of confusion on where to start, how to go about practicing, and so on. I feel your pain. Like I wrote in the last post, it's time to go back and provide some navigational beacons. It's kind of like traveling. First, let's just decide which city we're headed for and plan a general route. Later on we'll go back and fill in some details like specific roads.

Just to keep it fun, at least for me, I'm going to go into cooking mode. I find I've got a sort of skill in the kitchen. I'm even better at eating. Katie and I never thought we would turn into Foodies. In the non-snobbish way, of course. We're trying a bunch of new recipes and I'm getting fatter by the minute. Life is good in that regard. What I've discovered is that a recipe with more than a few ingredients immediately hits the "reject" pile. I like simple recipes.

Keeping things a bit more simple, at least less complicated, is becoming more and more attractive to me. I just hung another year on the wall and I'm feeling really tired these days. Even though you might not admit it, I'd bet money a lot of the readers here totally identify.

These days I'm pretty sure I'm looking back on more of my life than what I have to look forward to.

There's only so much concentration available in my brain cells these days. Concentration is a resource that needs to be used wisely and efficiently as there's little to waste and it takes so much effort to summon it forth in the first place.

Sometimes there are days when tuning out the world and taking a mid-afternoon snooze is as enticing as cold iced tea on a scorching hot day.

There are other times when I seem to have missed something. I'm left wondering what the heck just happened here?

Other days it seems too much effort to even get up and get dressed. Let alone try to color coordinate my shirt, slacks, and sometimes a tie. I guess that's a reason I like the Hi-Viz Aerostich jacket. It goes with about any color.

More and more I find I'd like to just find a spot in the sun and be left alone to watch the world go by.

I got close to a simple recipe when I found the principle of the 7 "P's". It goes like this.

Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss-Poor Performance.

That's a simple statement but it still has too many ingredients. Reference the above if you've somehow forgotten why I want to keep things simple. My brain is full, folks. Scientists who cut open dead people's skulls say that things we learn are turned into wrinkles on the brain. My brain must look like a dried prune by now. If I add any more wrinkles they will spill over onto my face. Did you ever wonder if an older person's wrinkles were just their brain's knowledge and wisdom overflowing out their ears and onto their cheeks?

I'm also getting old enough to totally resent being told what to do by somebody else. Not to mention arrogant enough to think I often know better. Feedback used to mean something to me. It's like when I used to look in the mirror and find I didn't like what I saw. I'd do something about it. Hit the gym, skip some desserts, get a haircut, shave, shower, that kind of stuff. These days I still do something about it. Just different stuff.

Now if I look in the mirror and don't like what I see I simply toss the mirror in the garbage can.

So here's my recipe for successful riding reduced to a few simple ingredients.

1. Ride with Prudence

2. Ride with Purpose

3. Ride with Precision

To go all Food Network on you, I add a liberal amount of Controlled Agression as a binder to hold it all together.

There you have it. Irondad's Three P's. Simple, but very effective. These are the navigational beacons that keep us headed in the right direction. Firstly we need to know where we are going and why. Details are then added as needed for the journey.

I'll share how to blend these ingredients into our riding as we go.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-09-07T07:54:00.000-07:00

Navigational Beacons

I can't believe that it's nearing fall here already. Summer flew by in a blur. The passage of two more sleeps, as Bobskoot likes to say, will bring another birthday for me. These days I'm feeling every one of them. This caught my eye at a recent classic car show. Not only did it catch my eye, but I can feel myself starting to relate. Maybe not chronologically, quite yet, but certainly mentally. I'm old enough that the AARP is very interested in me but I'm not yet planning where to live in retirement.

Have you ever been at a point in your life where things that were so intensely near and dear to you no longer hold the same meaning? This isn't about people, mind you. Those folks near and dear to me will always be cherished. As will friends. Those I have now as well as those I hope to meet down the road. I'm talking about activities. A person can start off having a passion for something to the point they willingly let it take up a huge amount of their time. Then one day this tiny bit of resentment starts to creep in.

You still enjoy the activity but other pursuits and interests have started to intrigue you. The time demanded by the current activity eats up that which could be spent exploring these new paths. The logical question would inquire as to why a person doesn't just simply quit spending time in the old activity and start spending more time with the new interests. That would certainly be a valid question. There is no simple answer, I'm afraid. See, there's this complication.

Passion, aptitude, and a drive to succeed can lead to being pretty good at something. Sometimes that gets noticed and a person is offered a chance to do something new. I'm a sucker for chasing a carrot on a stick held out in front of me. After a number of carrots are chased and caught a person can find themselves someplace they had never imagined they would be. On the one hand that's a pretty awesome thing. On the other, it also means a lot more work and responsibility. The more you advance the farther removed you can find yourself from what you originally loved in the first place.

By the way, this is the first time I've ever tried panning an airplane while it was landing.

Stepping back really isn't an option. I'm not the kind of person who is content to be there halfway. It would be too awkward hanging around the edges and not being involved like I was before. Walking away isn't to be taken lightly, either. A lot of time and effort have been invested in getting me to where I am. In some cases there are only a couple of people who do what I do. Doesn't seem fair, somehow, to leave now. I know the old illustration of putting your hand in a glass of water. Pull it out and see how big a hole you leave. In this case, conceited as it may seem, I think my leaving really would leave a big hole. Not something I want to do to them all at once. Gracious timing feels important to me.

Still, I have to take care of me and mine in the long run. Motorcycle training has been a long, fun, and rewarding ride. As great as it's been there's a real chance this may be my last season. I want weekends free to spend bumming around with Katie. My interest in photography is growing by leaps and bounds. Free time to spend making and processing photos would be nice. I'm enrolled in an online and correspondence photography course. It has economic possibilities. Eventually I could see making a living from writing and pictures. Of course, we'd have to live simply! At least until I can figure out how to write like Jack and make photos like Steve.

Having a built in model to practice on is surely handy, I'll have to say!

It's just hard to know which direction to move in, sometimes. It's even harder to figure out when you live life at a fast pace. There's no time for deep thought when you're trying to keep a dozen candles lit. I know it's not in the same league as things some people are going through. Not at all like the end of life thoughts my grandmother is having with advancing cancer in her 90's, for instance. Not like the constant ravages of a chronic disease. Nor like worrying every day about having enough to eat or a roof over one's head. Nonetheless, trying to figure out where to go from here often keeps me awake at night.

There is that classic struggle between doing what's right for me versus what's right for others.

There are times when we need to take the higher view of things. We need a bigger picture. Rather than details of how to do something we can gain more valuable insight from having navigational beacons. That's what I'm looking for right now. The first thing is to figure out what the eventual destination is. The rest of the journey can be mapped along the way.

In the meantime I've decided to take the blog in a slightly different direction for a while. There will still be motorcycle training content. That's what this blog was born for, after all. While thinking about my personal situation it crossed my mind that a lot of riders are overwhelmed by all the detail. Detail is great but not without a reference framework in place. I have been guilty of sharing a lot of detail. Perhaps it's time to go back and put some of that structure in place. Things make a whole lot more sense if we know how they contribute to the whole.To that end, rather than continue to delve deeply into the "how to" part of riding, I want to spend some time looking at it from a higher view.

Besides, things have been way too serious, here. It's time to have a little fun along the way, don't you think?

I'll share and explore the navigational beacons I've followed as a professional rider. It should be fun and informative. I hope you'll all tag along with me.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-08-25T15:51:00.000-07:00

Farmer's Market

I'm supposed to be on vacation this week. I sort of managed to turn working for the motorcycle program last weekend into something of a vacation. Katie came along and we stayed an extra night in Portland. Hey, she got to stay in a nice hotel and I took her out for a fancy supper. That has to count, doesn't it?

Then there was that one little thing I needed to do so a contractor could finish up a project. It's only a half day, after all. Katie left me on my own and spent the day with her sister. Guess I'll have to shut things down for a few days and try to actually act like it's vacation time. In the meantime, here's a few photos from the Farmer's Market in Salem.

You may go looking for vegetables but find something else. Like my training Sergeant told me years ago: "Welcome to Yakima, the land of fruits and nuts!"

So here's the early morning stop at the project that started it all. I love early mornings in summer. Cool and fresh. Perfect for riding.

As I was parking Elvira in Salem I saw this scooter pull up. No backing in, I see. The woman riding the scooter had a light weight jacket the same color as her bike. Which was also the same color as her helmet. Looks like the perfect accessory for some similar crocs, don't you think?

This shot below struck me because it shows mass transit, the scooter, and an SUV. Differing ways to roll, as they say.

This is the rider of the yellow scooter. Her and I had a nice chat. As charming as I am, she decided after a bit that getting food was much more interesting. I am so deflated!

This was the day for pastel colored Vespa LX150's. Another good accessory for those who wear crocs. Especially for Canadians!

A little dog.

You know what they say. It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog. In this case I think the big dog was already full and decided not to snack.

There were many displays of vegetables. Way too healthy for the likes of me.

However, even junk food eaters like me are not averse to learning more about Russian culture!

Here's the obligatory cute sunflower shot. Oh golly gee, have a nice day!

Why not make a little music and collect a little dough? I tried standing on a corner and singing, once. You'd be amazed how many people paid me to shut up!

The solar panel caught my eye. The guy uses it to charge the battery on his chair. We had a brief conversation. The woman behind him is his mother. Aw, what togetherness. I asked why she didn't have a solar panel. I guess he likes ditching her for a while when her battery dies. What a way to repay the woman whose Social Security check supports you!

These twins looked pretty bored. Until......

Wow! Did somebody mention motorcycles?

I was really tempted to get a hair cut on the way home. There's a beauty college in downtown Salem. One can often get a good haircut for a cheap price. Especially when you just want a regulation cut that only involves running an electric clipper over your head. This sight caused me to have second thoughts.

Haircuts while you wait. If you're in a real hurry leave your head with us while you go to Starbucks. I have to say I wasn't too excited about the new "lop off" service!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-08-17T12:41:00.000-07:00

Anticipation.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-08-11T14:28:00.000-07:00

Thirteen Photos and a Thousand Words ( give or take )

Once upon a time I started a separate photo blog. Then came the brutal realization that keeping one blog going was tough enough so adding another one might not have been a great idea. I may streamline the plan for a while by simply posting photos there. With everything I have my fingers in right now I feel like one of those old Vaudeville acts. You know the one I'm talking about. Some guy has a bunch of plates spinning on a row of sticks. The act gets really interesting when the performer is running up and down the row trying to keep all the plates spinning. My fervent hope is that the plates don't all come crashing down on me before I take the time to prioritize better!

My pursuit of photography is getting much more serious. Not that the outcome is anything to write home about. However, I'm beginning to really understand how to work the exposure triangle to my advantage. Composition is something I know about on the surface but it hasn't become ingrained by any means, yet. There's still a long ways to go. Stuff like when to use spot metering versus center weighted, etc. The really good news is that I'm learning a lot. They say you learn from your mistakes, you know!

A trip over the mountain into Central Oregon was on the books a bit ago. For this post I just felt like sharing some photos and some comments.

One of the burdens I have to deal with is staying in fairly nice hotels. The favored place these days is the Riverhouse when staying in Bend. It's across the highway from the Hampton where Bobskoot and some of the gang stayed last year for our bloggers gathering.

This photo of the pool was taken with the G11. I also had the D7000 along. It's bad when when you take less clothing in order to carry two cameras. I finally figured out how to use the built-in ND filter. That, and a smaller aperature helped conquer the glare of the really bright sunshine.

The folks are kind enough to put me in a building in the back. It's very quiet and nice back there. Across the parking lot is a conference center.

The place looks ok during the day but looks a lot better at night, doesn't it? Who knew you could get cobalt blue skies with a camera after our eyes think it's all the way dark? A nice added touch is the light trails from passing vehicles.

After I played with a bunch of different shutter speeds and got a couple of shots I liked I moved the tripod off to the side but left the camera set up and on. It was nice to simply stand and enjoy the evening air. A very large Ford pickup drove into the parking lot towards me. Since the camera was already on and the remote shutter release cable was still in my hand, I quickly zoomed the lense to wide angle and pressed the button. Here's what the headlights of the truck looked like with a 30 second exposure. The photo itself isn't so great but it was fun to make.

Just on the edge of town is Pilot Butte. It's really just a big hill. The road winds around and around in ever decreasing circles towards the top. One evening I decided to ride up and try my hand at sunset photos. I find I'm not really drawn towards landscape photography although I do appreciate the wonders around us.

The small flat area at the top of the butte was surprisingly busy. There were the usual tourists, a group of guys making some kind of band / music video recording, and a wedding, of all things.

Here are the bride and groom. He seems more interested in his mobile communication device than he is in her.

The late evening light gave everything a kind of golden glow. It was pretty awesome, actually.

Somewhere around a dozen people attended the wedding. There was a woman in a black robe whom I presume was a Justice of the Peace or something. She performed the ceremony.

This couple were a part of the wedding party. The guy had a bottle of iced tea in his hand and was saluting everybody with it. I think it was ice tea, but who knows?

My tripod mounted camera was pointed to the West. The wedding was in the center of the flat spot, to my back. I quietly turned the camera around and took a few discrete shots. The girl noticed my camera and said something to the guy. He saluted me with the bottle. She looked a bit self conscious so I was considerate and turned the camera back around. It wasn't my intent to intrude uninvited on the wedding, after all. It was just a target of opportunity.

The photo is a bit washed out. Her face was in shadow since the camera was set on matrix metering. I had to put a lot of fill light on her face in Photoshop to bring it out. On the other hand, you have to see her face looking my direction to get the idea so it was necessary.

Here's the drummer checking everything out from his vantage point. The music wasn't connected to the wedding. The video crew was very considerate and stopped everything for the short wedding ceremony.

There were enough clouds hanging onto the mountains to mess with the sunset photography. I hope this guy had better luck than I did. None of mine turned out to be worth keeping.

One side effect of pursuing photography is that I've become really into light. Sometimes I feel like some hippy dude eating pine cones or something while expressing rapture at some new discovery.

"Man, have you ever, like, REALLY looked at the light?"

All jokes aside, it's amazing how much difference there is in light from season to season. For that matter, from hour to hour and even minute to minute. What looks like a fantastic picture can go away in a space as short as a couple of minutes.

Check out this photo taken of the river behind the hotel. It was taken very early in the morning as the sun just started to light the river. It's an okay photo but really lacks punch.

Compare it to a photo I took in late March from just a few feet to the right from where I was standing. The lighting comes from late afternoon sunshine with the sun lower towards the horizon. There's a huge difference in the "wow" factor, isn't there? I never appreciated the differences until I got serious about this picture making stuff.

I realized I had really tipped over the edge on the way home. This is back on the West side of the pass but we're still heading downhill. I passed this view and a convenient wide gravel spot on the side of the road without stopping. For the next six miles I wrestled with going back because the view kept getting more and more limited as I descended. Finally, knowing I would regret it if I didn't take the opportunity for a photo, I doubled back and pressed the shutter.

A polarizing filter added a bit more blue to the sky and brought out the dazzling white of the snow. The remarkable thing is that I actually did it on purpose. Maybe not really well, but kind of like an ape using a stick to pry ants out of a log, there was a purposeful act involved.

Of course, being parked beside the road, as well as actually standing in the road, one has to be on the lookout for traffic. Like this loaded log truck headed up hill.

Having finally figured out that a narrow aperature is another way to slow down the shutter speed, I left the aperature at f/16 which gave me a 1/10 second exposure. I thought it was a pretty cool effect.

It's becoming easier all the time to see the appeal that Steve Williams finds in riding a scooter. Making photos can easily become more addicting than riding. A thing I never thought I would ever find myself saying. Time to wrap this thing up. I have to shake it off and go for a fast ride!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-08-03T15:28:00.000-07:00

Motorcycle Training, Practice, and Muscle Memory.

So here's the question from Jay in the last post.

I will practice. I will take classes. But I don't think I will "train" like a police motor officer or MSF Rider coach. I would like to hear more about "training" as opposed to "practice". How much "training" does it take to develop muscle memory and is that much "training" realistic among recreational riders and commuters?

To me training and practice are two different animals. While practice does happen during training, not all practice has to be done in the context of formal training. Nor should practice be limited to those times. Muscle memory is based on repetition but the successful application of it, I think, depends less on deep seated actions and more on how long it's been since we last used the skill we're asking our body and mind to perform.

I want to at least try to keep this post fairly succinct. To that end I'm going to provide the skeleton with only a little bit of muscle filled in. When you're reading this and come to something you want more information on ask in a comment. I'll use another post to fill in more of the body, as it were.

Let's start with muscle memory.

When most people think of muscle memory they think of actions that have been repeated so many times that they become a permanent part of our subconscious. I guess the idea is that when a person finds themselves in an emergency situation the correct response will happen automatically without a lot of thought required. There's a lot of truth to this, for sure. While I'm certainly not an expert on the mind / body connection I have studied enough to know that there's more components to the formula than this. Besides, I stayed at a Holiday Inn last night! ( that's a humorous reference to an American television commercial for those of you in other parts of the world )

More on muscle memory in a bit. Here's a good way to think of the different settings for training versus practice.

Training teaches us what we need to practice.

Whether it's motor cops or civilians as shown in the two photos below, there's a specific reason for coming to formal training sessions. This brings us back to how muscle memory is formed.

Repetition is the process by which muscle memory is formed. The content, however, is a series of snapshots. Think of the flip books that used to be popular with kids. Each page would have a picture on it. By itself each page was static. Rapidly flip the pages, however, and the individual pictures start to look like a movie.

That's another aspect to forming muscle memory. What happens is that our brain connects a series of individual actions into a smoothly flowing whole. The process is similar to the flip book thing but a lot more sophisticated. What's equally true for both the flip book and muscle memory is that each individual picture has to be the right one to contribute to that smooth flow.

Can you imagine a flip book that has all these drawings of a black and white panda walking along the ground, for instance? We flip the pages and things are flowing smoothly. It really looks like a movie of the panda walking. Suddenly, right in the middle of the sequence, are two color photos of pink crocs. While pink crocs are certainly the rage in certain situations, they have no place in this sequence. Our movie is ruined because it's not what we want or need right now.

Training helps us make sure each picture in the sequence is correct for the plot of the movie. In my mind training is any situation where a person who understands what needs to happen can observe us and offer the appropriate feedback. So not all training has to be "formal", per se. It could consist of two riding friends meeting in a parking lot for a morning session, for instance.

Of course, the caveat is that both friends should actually know what each step in the sequence should look like and how to offer that feedback. Telling somebody that their last stop sucked, for example, isn't really helpful. They should be able to hone in on the specific spot in the sequence and offer tips on how to improve. This kind of training can be of benefit. Sometimes riders do know what SHOULD happen but might simply have become sloppy. It could be that a rider has also picked up a bad habit. Having a riding buddy watch us for a bit can make us aware where we've slipped to, as it were.

Still and all, there's no substitute for professional instruction. There's also the fact that advice we pay for can have more value to us than "free" advice offered by a friend! Under the watchful eyes of a pro we get feedback on every still photo and useful coaching on how to improve. We also know what's going right so we can concentrate more on the things that need work. Going back to the statement that training teaches us what to practice, one professional training session can fuel our personal practice for months to come.

Do you like the reference to "watchful eyes" and then the photo of the osprey? This is a bird nesting at the track where we hold our ART classes. She watches everybody pretty closely. It's hard to get a photo against bleary white clouds but I think the point comes across.

As a quick example let's look at maximum braking. I've posted this photo before. It shows a fellow instructor demonstrating maximum braking at 70 mph during one of our police training sessions. Note the head and eyes up, the fully compressed front fork, the slightly squashed front tire, and the lack of a skid mark! There is no ABS on the Ducati. This is perfect form for maximum braking but it didn't get that way by itself. This nearly perfect "movie" is made up of quite a few individual still photos.

Just to break the photos down consider these. Keeping the head and eyes up and looking well ahead during the entire stop. Smoothly rolling off the throttle while reaching for the front brake. Squeezing the knees against the tank to hold us in the seat and allow us to use the fine control of the smaller muscles of our lower legs on the rear brake pedal as opposed to the force of our thigh muscles. Ensuring that our initial application of the front brake is very firm, but equally as smooth. Modulating the feedback from our fingers and the feel of the bike to achieve a progressive squeeze throughout the application of the front brake. One squeeze until we're stopped. Not two or three squeezes like we often see. Making sure we nail the actual stop. Easing off the pressure on the front brake lever right at the end of the stop because we have a second opportunity to skid the front wheel when we're nearly stopped and the bike's weight starts to rebound off the front wheel which lessens our traction. Letting off pressure while making sure we don't let the bike actually lunge forward.

All the while modulating the rear brake pedal because, as the bike's weight moves forward, less traction is available for braking at the rear. Remembering to lift our foot as we squeeze more on the front. Light to lighter on the rear. Progressively more on the front. Move our toes up to meet our fingers.

This is if everything goes as we planned. We haven't started on the list of things that can go wrong and what to do about them.

During formal training ( and I'm talking about sessions for experienced riders here ) a professional instructor will actually be able to look at and analyze each and every individual still photo. The rider will be then be told which photos are properly placed and which need work. Along with coaching on how to fix those photos that need fixing. Armed with that knowledge we go back into our personal worlds and comment to practice.

Practice doesn't have to consist of doing the whole "drill" over and over. Yes, we do need to do the whole drill often enough to let the brain form the whole movie. It's equally critical to make sure each photo is right. Let's say the instructor told us we need to smooth out our initial brake application. Take a ride and dedicate it to practice being as smooth as possible whenever we apply the front brake. Maybe we were told we need to work on keeping our eyes up because we tend to look down right in front of the bike when we stop. So dedicate a ride to practice keeping our eyes up. Maybe take a ride and practice putting our knees against the tank when we apply the rear brake. You get the idea.

Once we're confident we have all the properly exposed photos in place then take a ride and practice putting it all together. Find a few opportunities to practice a quick stop in a safe place. You'll be amazed how it comes together.

People say that practice makes perfect. Take that a bit further and think "Perfect practice makes perfect".

I may be treading on questionable ground here, but I'm going to step forth anyway. Compare two riders. The first rider will practice a quick stop a hundred times in a session. The last few stops are picture perfect. Then, thinking they have it down, they never come back and practice it again. Another rider could practice five quick stops in one ride, five more on another ride next month, and so on for twenty months. They have both done one hundred repetitions. Who would be better off if an emergency stop were called for at the end of twenty months? The rider who did it a hundred times and then took twenty months off from practice, or the rider who practiced five times a month each and every month for those twenty months? ( we also assume they've both been very lucky during this time! )

I'd put my money on the second rider. That's the other factor in muscle memory. Our brains have long term and short term memory. As we know, there is only so much room in the short term file box. If we don't use something for a while our brain puts it into the long term box. Which is usually buried under something else. It's still there but it can take a bit longer to find than something in the much more readily accessible short term file box.

I'm not saying practicing a quick stop five times a month is enough. It may or may not be. What I am saying, though, is that the freshest correct memory wins every time.

The same applies to cornering sequence, head turns, being smooth overall, or whatever.

Most casual or recreational riders won't train or practice to the level of an instructor or a motor cop. It would be great if every rider did. Especially if we think of what's at stake if we get something wrong. However, every rider can, and should, make sure each and every still photo is correct for the sequence and that the movie is on fresh film!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-07-28T07:05:00.000-07:00

If you're going to shoot, shoot........

Talking about things can serve a certain purpose. Eventually, though, the real answer is to just go out and do something. One of our mantras in motorcycle training is that students learn by doing. They will learn more from the wind passing by their ears than from the wind passing by our lips. I might also add that they'll learn more from actually doing something than by talking about it amongst themselves.

One of my all time favorite movie lines comes from the Clint Eastwood film "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly".

Very briefly, the setting is around the time of America's civil war but in the West. One of the characters is the one called The Ugly. Played by Eli Wallach. He's a bandit named Tuco Benedicto Pacifico Juan Maria Ramirez. Call him Tuco for short. Tuco is trapped by three bounty hunters. He escapes by shooting all three. Two are killed and one survives.

In a town that is being rapidly evacuated due to heavy artillery fire, Tuco finds a bombed out hotel and takes a bath in a claw footed tub. Sitting in the sudsy water Tuco is surprised by this third bounty hunter. The bounty hunter pauses in the doorway and tells Tuco how much he's been looking forward to catching him and turning him in. Dead or alive. While the bounty hunter pontificates Tuco pulls a gun up from the side of the bathtub and shoots him. With a shrug Tuco utters this line:

"If you're going to shoot, shoot. Don't stand around and talk about it!"

Wise words, actually. If you're going to do something you've eventually got to quit talking about it and go do it. It applies to a lot of areas of life. The two I care about here are photography and motorcycling.

As to photography I've been reading about how to successfully take photos of moving subjects while panning. I've heard people talk about panning technique, shutter speeds, aperature settings, where to focus, and so on. Good panning photos are much harder than they seem to get right. I'm not saying mine are anywhere near perfect but they are getting better. The real secret isn't that secret. You want to know what it is?

Repetitions. Do it. Do it again. Do it again. Here's a couple of photos from a class I was watching. Probably need a few more repetitions but progress is definitely being made.

Motorcycling is no different. Except for the fact that a bad photo can be deleted. Get it wrong on a bike and, well.....Let me share an example with you. This stresses the importance of actual physical practice when it comes to acquiring good accident avoidance skills.

The example is from Jay Green's blog Road Captain USA. There was a post wherein the discussion was held on the two finger braking versus four finger braking thing. Jay didn't really start it but the commenters sort of took off with it. I'll share the link to the post in a bit so hang with me.

Since the initial thrust was a sort of rebellion against convential motorcycle training that advocates four finger braking I put in a comment. You'll see it but the gist of it was that a rider was free to do what they wanted. The main concern, however, is what the rider would do in a high adrenaline situation. If a rider preferred to use two fingers in everyday riding, fine. Just guarantee me that in an emergency the rider would also use two fingers. My experience has been that a rider will often give in to our natural human reflexes in an emergency and grasp the brake lever with all four fingers. That's a variable the rider just doesn't need right then. Always using four fingers eliminates that variable.

Coincidentally, Jay had an experience with emergency braking during this time that he shared in a comment. Jay and his wife Diana were riding together. Jay in front with Diana following on her own bike. A very large dog ran out in front of them and Jay made the decision to brake rather than swerve. He was concerned that, while he might escape the dog, Diana might get bitten.

I asked Jay in a comment how many fingers he used on the front brake. His reply is the gist of this post. Jay had a moment of self discovery that is of benefit to all of us.

Before I share the link I want to set a tone. You see, I asked Jay if I could use his experience in a blog post. Jay graciously granted me permission. A person could look at the situation one of two ways. Here's the one I want everyone to use.

Jay is worthy of much respect. I've known him through blogging since he started his own blog. Jay and Diana are members of a local HOG chapter. Not only that, but Jay worked hard to become a Road Captain. I believe he also served as Chapter Director. Diana has worked to become a Road Captain in her own right. Both of these people have made a huge investment in helping other riders enjoy motorcycling and in promoting safe riding.

It's hard enough to face our own shortcomings when somebody else points them out. It's another matter entirely to be the one pointing a finger at ourselves. The very fact that Jay shared his experience on his blog speaks volumes about his character and integrity. Add to that Jay's allowing me to share his experience here and you get an idea of how much regard I hold Jay in.

I really want everyone reading this to come at it from that same level of respect.

So, here's the short story. Jay found that he didn't reach for the front brake at all during his experience. He's not alone by any means. Think about the reasons manufacturers came up with linked braking. The reason we teach braking in our training classes is that a huge number of riders were using too much rear brake and not enough front brake. Or any.

We can discuss proper technique ad nauseam. Seems like every rider has their own strong views on several subjects. I guess that's one of the things that make us so interesting, eh? However, when the fecal matter hits the fan and we don't use the front brake, or stare at the side of the road when we are a little hotter than we intended to be in a corner, or any number of things, the discussion is pretty much moot, isn't it?

I've written about the value of constant practice and developing muscle memories before so I won't go into it again here. Just take away the idea that the only way we can be sure we'll do the right thing is to do it. Over and over again. Embed it deeply into our responses. Remember that amateurs practice until they get it right. Professionals practice until they can't get it wrong. You don't have to be a professional rider to train like a professional.

Now, in the words of one of my favorite newscasters, the late Paul Harvey, if you click here you can read the "rest of the news".

Remember, if you're going to shoot, shoot!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-07-18T13:31:00.000-07:00

Yamaha FJR recall notice.

I just received another recall notice for Elvira. The earlier one was for the actual ignition switch. This one is for the ground joint connector on the wire harness.

Affected years and models are 2006-2009 FJR1300A/AC/AE/AEC model motorcycles. According to Yamaha not every bike is affected. I am one of the lucky owners.

Here's the statement from Yamaha:

The reason for this recall: On affected motorcycles, the ground joint connector of the wire harness could overheat and become deformed, possibly causing an intermittent ground wire connection. If the electrical system is not properly grounded, the ignition system and / or other electrical components could malfunction, which could cause the engine to stall. If this happens while the motorcycle is being ridden, there could be a crash resulting in injury or death.

What Yamaha and your dealer will do: To correct this defect, your authorized Yamaha dealer will install an additional wire sub-lead, or, if the ground joint connector has already been damaged from overheating, will install a new main wire harness. There will be no charge to you for this procedure. Installing the addtional wire sub-lead takes about 1 hour and the wire harness, should it be necessary instead, takes about 3 hours to install. Your dealer may need to keep your motorcycle longer depending on their schedule.

If you own an FJR of the listed years and models and are not the original owner you can call Yamaha customer service at 1-800-962-7926 with your bike's serial number so they can see if your bike is affected.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-07-15T08:29:00.000-07:00

Appreciate "Now".

This is how my life looks lately.

Between work, looking after two widows, photography schooling, and teaching motorcycle classes my life is a blur. There are more candles burning that I have fuel to feed. At the end of the day I'm pretty much like this.

It's easy to become unbalanced. One of the things that helps us justify it is a familiar thing we tell ourselves. "I'll do this other thing 'later'". I had an experience the other day that brought me up short. It can be short-sighted to live for today. On the other hand, it's very important to realize that we have "now" while we're breathing, but there's no certainty about "later". I'm making some changes and adjusting my priorities. It's time to regain the balance.

I took most of a day recently and spent it with Grandma. We did errands and I introduced her to the joys of Starbucks. At 91 years old she's a bit set in her ways. However, in honor of the the special day she ordered something "fancy". Which turned out to be hot chocolate, but what the heck?

This isn't about what we did that day per se. It's about the end of the day. We'd been to the cemetery and put some new flowers on Gramp's headstone. Which is also meant to be hers. More on that in a bit. It was during this time that I took a photo that was really poignant for me. Afterwards Grandma wanted a bite to eat. Happened to be at a tiny little place that we'd been by a hundred times but never stopped at.

Prices are very reasonable. Quite so, in fact, considering the large portions. The woman who owns the place takes orders and serves. There is a cook and a dishwasher. Cash only, no credit or debit cards. Everything is done to keep overhead down. Including skipping upgrades to make the place fancier. Most of the customers seemed to know each other. Some helped themselves to the coffee pot. There is a counter and seven tables. I had some photos but, of all days, I had forgotten the G11. My old Razor phone has about a 2 megapixel camera with no adjustments. The photos are horrible and it's not about the place anyway. I did come back to take these photos to illustrate a point.

You can see the ramp and steps. There is a tight turn at the top. Grandma has only one leg and is in a wheelchair. Her remaining leg and arms aren't strong enough to hold her up with a walker. I got her up there and we found a place to park the wheelchair next to a table. Least I could do, especially after my experience at the cemetery. Here's the photo I took that had such an impact on me. Again, it was bright sunshine and my ancient cell phone camera. Despite the lower quality of the picture the message and impact is loud and clear.

Under the headstone is her husband of forever who passed away seven years ago. On the left, as you can also see below, is the inscription awaiting her date of passing. She'll be joining him under there in what is probably a relatively short time.

This is a photo of a woman facing her own mortality. She very quietly sat there for a long, long, time. I waited and gave her as much time as she wanted. Grandma is 91, like I mentioned. Cancer has cost her many surgeries and ultimately a leg. It's back in her lymph nodes which are rapidly growing in size. There's not much left to be done for her. This is a photo of an old woman who knows every day could be her last. She talks to me about that fairly often. She's well aware of how each additional day is a gift. Seeing her like this was pretty powerful for me.

Yes, she's lived a long life. Not all of us will. Witnessing these moments of a woman to whom I'm very connected put me in a spot where I was nearly the one in her place. Her mortality and mine are one and the same. Neither of us knows for sure when, only the "for sure" part. There was a combination of sadness and refreshment. The moment with her seemed much brighter, like a shiny treasure. It's a gift we can have and hold onto, if only for now.

So you see the point about the restaurant. Yes, it was hard to get her in there now. But that's what we had now. "Later", when they might get around to building a ramp may never come. It was worth the trouble after seeing her enjoy herself.

I spent the next few days making opportunity to tell some people I cared about how much they have meant to me. Some are family and some have become like family. I know it sounds corny in a way. On the other hand, I'd regret dying without having told them. When Grandma takes her final rest I'll not have regrets to add to the sorrow. Once again, whether she meant it or not, she has passed along the wisdom of her years to me in another lesson. I'm just glad this one wasn't accompanied by the thump alongside the head that I experienced so much as a child!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-07-08T10:49:00.001-07:00

Food Porn and Other Stuff.

There seems to be a thing with food porn, lately. Bobskoot appears to have been one of the original instigators. At first glance he seems to be merely a mild mannered scooter rider. It would appear there's a dark side hidden under that inscrutable grin. If we're honest, though, we can't say much. We've all been willing disciples. Some of us have even begged him for more.

One of the things I've noticed about a lot of the photos out there is a certain lack of creativity. I mean, there's a lot of variety in content but not much in approach. Real masters of the craft know that one of the keys to good boudoir food photography is seductive lighting. Show off your subject, certainly, but leave a little to the imagination, as well. In that spirit I've decided to share some of my own work. A person can't be on a motorcyle all the time, after all. Being balanced requires sometimes parking the bike and enjoying some of life's other pleasures. The setting for this post is a recent trip over the mountain range to Bend.

We begin with the light sources. You want seductive photos? Start with seductive lighting. This was located right over my head. Understated and pleasing to look at by itself.

The soft lighting is such a welcome contrast to the bright and garish world of the small bar. You can almost see the blur as sensory input comes rushing towards us. Shapes, colors, reflections, and glare threaten to overwhelm us. There's nothing sensuous about this setting. It's a very in-your-face experience best left to others.

Rest your soul by immersing yourself in the restful lighting and setting of our temporary studio. No need for defenses that shield us from the massive waves of sight and sound of the bar. Shields down, Scotty. Open yourself to the hint of delights to follow.

Notice the hint of reading glasses and a book in the lower left corner of the photo above. That sets the tone. Not everything is glaringly laid out for us in total blatant detail. No, one must open the book, to explore a bit at a time. See the glass of cold beer that is revealed to us under the soft lighting. This is obviously the reason the bike is parked safely at the hotel across the way.

There is enough information shown to clearly establish the enticing aspect of this lovely cold beverage. You see a hint of the richness of the brew as alluded to by the deep, dark, color. Yet, much is left to the imagination. How cold will it really be? What will it taste like? You see how properly done food porn entices you to want and to wonder?

Let your eyes move to the photo below. There is a hint of naughtiness without explicit detail.

Surely the presence of this exotic dish and two friends suggests a culinary threesome. Yet, there is no explicit detail. Will they, or won't they? Looking past the star will reveal the back of a blonde head. How does she fit in? Does she sense the tension building behind her? Will she politely ignore the goings on or become an observer? Will she even perhaps feel a longing to participate? Again, we are left to wonder and imagine the possibilities on our own. Rather than have the outcome dictated to us we are left to weave our own story as it suits us.

In the photo above we find the perspective has changed. Two of the players have closed the gap between them. They are so close but we don't know if they're actually touching or if the contact is simply implied. Now we're more up close and personal to the star. More is revealed to our eyes. Still, though, this view is far from showing us everything. We are now even more enticed and tempted. Our eyes tell us we yearn to experience the delight of consumption. Yet, we are still denied total knowledge. Perhaps we will even experience the frustration of unfulfilled desire.

If we are honest, though, we will agree that this is best. Always the image of "what might have been" will ultimately be more satisfying. Far better to ponder, imagine, and dream. How often has it been said that the wanting is often far better than the having? A true artist helps us to experience that.

Enough of that. Let us change subjects to a menu posted in the window of a steak house. Even observed through the glare of glass pounded by the late sunshine the prices of the steaks effectively deliver their shock. Perhaps the omission of the dollar signs before the prices was somehow meant to disguise the high price. I know little except that I won't be taking food porn pictures anytime soon.

As a parting note I wanted to share another window display.

There are many places to ride dirt bikes in Central Oregon. Apparently this is the latest offering from the Madonna line of chest protectors. I almost feel like I'm putting actual porn on the site but I somehow couldn't restrain myself. Worn on the street it would almost qualify as Hi-Viz!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-07-06T05:45:00.000-07:00

Ride to Work: A Deeper Look.

I start off by asking Andy Goldfine to forgive me for using his trademarked phrase in the title of this post. It's for a good cause and I did provide attribution. This isn't a polished post and the photos aren't anything to brag to Art Wolfe about. I'm just letting this one rip and writing what's on my mind.

To all who rode a motorcycle on Ride to Work Day this year I offer sincere thanks. Rather, maybe I should say that Andy thanks you. Actually, we should all thank each other because we're comrades working for a common cause. I, along with a lot of you, have been observing this day for years. That is a totally awesome thing. As Paul Harvey, a radio broadcaster of much note in the USA ( and God rest his soul; he passed away a couple of years ago ) used to say,

"And now you're going to hear the rest of the story!"

Riding a motorcycle to work on Ride to Work Day is a great thing. After all, it's the riding to work that makes the day possible, right? I mean, if we all walked to work, for example, then it would be called "Hoof it to Work Day". Which could be confusing because we'd not know if the day were about, cows, sheep, pigs, or whatever. Can't you just see a Ride Your Hog to Work Day? Would that be HOG, Hog, or Hawg? Even though you could conceivably ride a real pig to work, there could be complications. Like getting home after lunch time, if you get my drift. I'm not sure how we got here, exactly. I think my visor is sealed too well and I'm suffering from lack of oxygen or something.

So what was the point? Oh yeah, riding a motorcycle to work. I'm crossing into that dicey no man's land of speaking for Andy ( who started this whole thing in the first place ) so let me offer this disclaimer that I'm giving you my intrepretation of what I think Mr. Aerostich is shooting for. By the way, you might be interested to note that it started as a cheeky variant of the Ride to Live, Live to Ride slogan. Andy's slogan was "Work to Ride, Ride to Work." Geez, take some guy with a weird sense of humor, put a twisted slogan on a t-shirt, and see what happens. You end up with guys like me spending, who knows how much time, supporting your cause. As if I didn't have other things to do. Like go research the cost of buying my own t-shirt silk screening machine. Now if I could just come up with some great sayings.

Like I said, riding to work on the designated day ( and hopefully more often than that ) is awesome but there is more we should be trying to do. We need to change people's perceptions of motorcyclists. More specifically, we need to help non-riders ( and maybe some riders themselves ) see the value of using a motorcycle for practical things like everyday transportation.

Here's a couple of examples of what I find out there. They are also examples of why we need Ride to Work Day in its full expression.

I encountered this woman, her kids, and her mother in a rest stop. She asked me where I was headed. The gal seemed disappointed when I told her I was on my way to a business meeting. I'm sure she had visions of two-wheeled adventure. It could be the fact that she was hungry for adventure herself being the mother of some very active kids. I grabbed one of her little tykes who was running to the restroom by himself while Mom was distracted. The trouble was that he was dashing in front of a car in the process.

It could also be that there's this stereotype associated with how I looked. A sleek sport touring bike with luggage. My Aerostich riding suit added to the look. People don't see "commuter", they see "traveler". Or, in my case, "Dashing Adventurer!"

I get this reaction a lot. Rest stops like this one in Wilsonville are a regular part of my routine. This stop is particularly valuable because a few minutes down the road lies the southern part of Portland. Some mornings will see us sitting in a traffic jam for a long, long, time. It's very prudent to drain a cup of coffee or two before such an encounter.

If Elvira were a mid-sized UJM with a milk crate strapped to the back seat folks might think "commuter". That's certainly not what comes to most people's minds when they see my sleek and beautiful Elvira, though.

These kind of impressions and stereotypes lead to bigger things. Like this example I encountered recently.

This is a photo I took early in 2010. I may have published it on the blog. Who knows? I'm over 50 and have too much on my mind to try to remember such things. The point is that this is a city street next to a state government building. There are many such buildings in this area. Being in the state capitol there are hundreds and hundreds of people employed in these buildings. A whole section was reserved for motorcycle parking. In a city where it costs to park, this area is free to motorcycles. Notice the nicely indented area, too. The bikes are well out of traffic with some safe room to maneuver. Elvira is by herself. On the other hand, it's a rainy winter day. You probably wouldn't expect many bikes that time of year.

However, when you would expect bikes there really weren't many. So much so that the parking area was changed recently. Now it looks like this.

There is still motorcycle parking here. In fact, there are nine spots. Notice how they're now all crammed into one end, however. The slots are much narrower than they were. Not nearly so friendly a place as it was. On the other end are now four parking spots where four wheelers can park. State government wants to be "Green". It's sad that the perception is what it is. How four cars or SUV's with car-pool permits can be considered more friendly to the environment than many motorcycles is a mystery to me. You know that most car pool arrangements are usually made of two people and seldom more. On the other hand, the four vehicle spots will probably see more regular use than the motorcycle parking area.

In fact, there doesn't actually have to be two or more people in the car for the vehicle to legally park here. I took these photos on a Friday morning when folks were just starting to arrive for work. A guy in a big Toyota SUV parked at the end away from the bikes. There was a sticker on the back bumper that qualified him for the spot. Except he was alone. I couldn't help but ask. You know me. One of these days I'll learn not to be so shy. I challenged him on the matter. The man told me that all you had to do was fill out an application and state that you sometimes had somebody else with you in the car.

I can't blame the guy for using the system that was in place. My concern is with the system itself. People in "official" positions do not see motorcycles as a valuable means of transportation when it comes to being environmentally friendly. They don't often see the benefits to the overall traffic system, either. We're still mostly seen as recreational riders and get treated as such.

So what can we do about it? We have to be hens and not sturgeons.

Ok, now I'm sure you think I've lost it. Let me explain.

I was riding for work and stopped to pay respects to my Grandfather. Like most parents he gave me a lot of advice. Some of it was shouted at me during heated moments. Other times it was disguised as sage expressions of wisdom. There's a mix of helpful advice and pure bulls**t so parents can get their own way. Control issues, you know. Scattered in the mix are things that you're just not sure what to make of. Like a little story Gramp told me once. It was started because of a noisy hen we had.

This creature would lay an egg and then squawk like crazy. Just like she wanted to make sure everyone and everything around was aware of the wonderful thing she'd done. One day I was told to pay attention.

"You see, she lays one egg and makes a bunch of noise. Makes sure everybody notices. Take a sturgeon, now. She lays thousands of eggs under the cold, deep, water. Who the heck ever knows about that? "

We were cowboys. We liked chicken eggs for breakfast. The rest of the day we were disciples of things that started with the letter B. Burgers and Beer. When it came to fishing we went to warm shallow ponds and stalked Bass. Neither of us had ever fished for sturgeon in our lives. Granted, mine had been much shorter than his. Caviar wasn't a word we knew although we used to go up to the hatchery and see Moe, the giant sturgeon once in a while. We knew fish eggs made good bait but our experience was limited to trout and salmon eggs. So I'm pretty sure Gramps was repeating something he'd heard elsewhere. There was still a nugget to be mined in there somewhere, either way.

I guess what Gramps was trying to tell me was that sometimes it paid to advertise.

That's the rest of the story behind Ride to Work Day, I think.

Not everybody can ride to work every day. Although more folks could do so if they put a bit more thought into it. Those of us who are hardcore committed motorcycle commuters have learned about the right gear and riding skills that enable us to do so. Share these with other riders so they can commute more, as well. Sometimes that's the only thing holding some back. Help them get over the hump, as it were. Others may decide to remain as recreational riders. That's totally acceptable. It's a personal choice, after all. There has to be some passion for riding that leads to our dedication to do something different than the majority of folks. My thought is to show everyone the possibilities and provide help to take advantage of them as needed. Then their decision will be based on facts and not stereotypes and such.

In the July issue of American Motorcyclist Magazine an article featured three riders who have made the decision to use a bike as much as possible. Andy Goldfine was one of those featured. In the article Andy is quoted as saying,

"By definition, motorcyclists aren't normal. The clinical term is 'non-normative', which means that riding a motorcycle is not the normal choice, because the default in our culture is cars."

This means that most folks aren't going to see the world as we do. They won't see the great benefit to riding. We all know about the mental benefits and the stress reduction that comes with riding. We know how riding a motorcycle asks so much less of the earth's resources. We know how many motorcycles can park in a space designed for just one car. We know how much better traffic would flow if there were a lot more motorcycles and a lot less cars. We know how riding makes us so much more self reliant and able to handle things that go wonky. The list goes on.

We know, but the general public doesn't. Sometimes as riders we can act like sturgeons in the deep, dark, waters. In other words, we quietly ride to work, park the bike, and attend to business. Then we ride home. Despite the great satisfaction we personally feel, it's not often seen by non-riders. One of the goals of Ride to Work Day is to get noticed. Hopefully we'll get noticed on a smaller scale all along. Make sure we spread the love, so to speak. One of the reasons for a formal Ride to Work Day is to call attention to the matter on a larger and very public scale.

Look at the Ride to Work website. On it you will find a lot of promotional material. These are designed to publicize the event beforehand. I think that's where we might be missing part of the point.

This is a gentle urging to take some time to look the website over. Think of ways to make our riding to work more prominent on Ride to Work Day next year. Could we get the local newspaper to run an article announcing the day? Do we have connections at local radio stations to get a public service announcement broadcast? There are promotional materials on the website designed to be given to city officials. Some riders get their employers to allow an extra long lunch break. At Hewlett Packard for a couple of years there was a part of the parking lot set aside for an informal bike show and bar-b-q. See the potential issue with Hoof it to Work Day or Ride Your Hog to Work?

Bottom line is that we need to provide education and awareness among both our fellow riders and non riders alike. People who vote. Officials who make laws. Employers who set company policy. At the very least we want to be taken seriously as people contributing to the well being of the planet and infrastructure. Having our employer recognize the smaller space motorcycles take up in the parking lot and giving us parking right next to the building wouldn't be bad, either. After all, not all of us are as fortunate right now as Troubadour, who parks right outside his office window.

This year I commuted over five hundred miles to a company meeting. I certainly got the attention of a couple dozen co-workers. That was cool but I need to do more to promote the event locally. So I'm making bigger plans to get the word out next year. You are all cordially invited to join me. Let me know if I can help.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-06-23T06:09:00.000-07:00

A Longer than Average Commute.

First it was optional. Then it became mandatory. Okay by me. I was looking for a place to go for Ride to Work Day. The Seattle area was as good a place as any. My commute to work would end up being a bit longer than average, though.

The optional part was a sort of going away gathering for Erick. He had been a Regional Director forever before moving up the ladder a bit. Corporate rewarded him for his years of hard work by giving him a cushy position from which to wait until retirement. That time had come. Also had come the time to say farewell. Since most of us were planning on attending the social event the Boss decided it would be a good time to get everybody together for a company meeting. Thus entered the mandatory part.

With the meeting scheduled to start around 1:30 PM Elivra and I rolled out about 8. I know, nothing like getting started promptly at the crack of noon. Who says adventures need to start before dawn? Most of mine do, but that's beside the point. There is nothing in the official Guide to Having a Motorcycle Adventure that specifies a start time. On the other hand, the official Guide to Being a Grandpa specfically states that you spend time with the little one(s) while you can.

I tend to ride in 150 mile or so stretches. Somewhere around 175 miles Elvira's looking for fuel, anyway. The plan is tempered by the ease and convenience of certain stops. Like fuel, Starbucks, and a Subway sandwich shop in the same place. Woodland, Washington is only about 110 miles for me but qualifies as a good place to stop on several counts. Including the Starbucks and Subway thing. The bonus is the Safeway fuel station with 24 hour availability as long as you have a credit card.

Since I only needed fuel and a pit stop we moved next door to the McDonald's. I can't understand why this chain is spending so much on rennovations. Seems like their name would draw people no matter what. My only goal here today was to go in the side door and relieve some pressure without having to take my helmet off. A bit easier here than walking all the way to the back of Safeway drawing attention.

North of Centralia is the Scatter Creek rest area. It's not all that much farther North from Woodland. It is, however, the last "easy" stop until I get to the office.

Since I'd be pressing through for the rest of the journey I decided to grab a table and enjoy my lunch feast.

A peanut butter and jelly sandwich takes center stage. I made the sandwich and wrapped it myself. Can't you tell by the way the plastic wrap is so tidy? Fig Newtons, pretzels, and ice water round out the offerings. The sumptious meal is set off by table decorations specially picked for a motorcyclist on the road. As you can see, there is even a table cloth color matched to the helmet. No need for a napkin. If your hands get messy merely insert them into the gloves and nobody will see the food stuck to your fingers.

Unfortunately, due to extensive road construction projects and heavy traffic I was running a bit short on time. I snarfed the sandwich, took a swig of water, threw everything else back on the bike and rolled.

I really love the 70 mph speed limit in Washington. Elvira's speedo is a bit optimistic. Her needle is buried at 80, the GPS indicates 75, and the speed limit is 70. I get to feel like I'm running at a brisk pace while still being mostly legal. Good stuff.

We arrived at the Mothership with 10 minutes to spare.

I do want to share a visual snapshot from the trip up before we go on. It's about a guy on a small scooter.

Here's the setting. North end of the Olympia / Lacy area. Interstate 5 around exit 109 where the big Cabela's store is located. I'm rolling along in the hammer lane but there's a bit of traffic keeping us somewhat slowed. Up ahead in the middle lane I spot a small blue scooter. Little by little Elvira and I gain on the rider. As luck would have it, we end up side by side for a while. Vagaries of traffic and all. The situation allows me plenty of time to look the scooter and rider over.

I'm no scooter expert but I can see it's an Aprilia Scarabeo. Mostly because "Scarabeo" is written in large silver letters across the side panel just under the seat. Plus I know that Aprilia makes the Scarabeo so it's pretty easy to deduce it's an Aprilia Scarabeo. Other than that, I'm guessing. I figure it's about 200cc or so. Maybe 250. I know there's a 500 but it looks big and plush. This thing was small.

Riding the scooter is a thin guy about my height. Short, in other words. The scooter has a temporary permit taped where the license plate would go. The rider has a shiny new full face helmet, a black Joe Rocket jacket with matching pants, and office type shoes below light brown socks. I guess after paying for the rest the boots will have to wait.

Anyway, there we are riding side by side for a while. I look over at him trying to make eye contact. I wave. I wait. He gives me a quick sideways glance but immediately turns his head forward again. Both hands stay on the grips. Unlike me with my cool black Rayban sunglasses, this guy is seeing the world through just a clear visor. Which means I can see enough of his face to figure out what's going on.

He's hanging on for dear life. Freeway speeds. Heavy traffic. 15 or 16 inch wheels on a small scooter with sensitive handling. I wonder if he's a non-rider who's decided to try scootering as a fuel saving measure. I hope it all goes well for this guy. Above all I hope he gets to the point where he starts to have fun.

The vehicle on the left in the photo above is the Boss' fancy SUV. Here he is checking out Elvira and the famous Aerostich Roadcrafter.

I always enjoy celebrity status when I ride up. I'm the "bike" guy. Although the images tend to get a bit mixed up. The Boss calls me Easy Rider which I'm sure he means as a compliment. Although I'm not sure about the birthday card he gave me. A few old geezers on choppers inviting me to join the Older than Hell Angels. Oh, well. Small price to pay for being able to ride for work as much as I'm able.

By 3:30 our meeting was over and we headed to the Lucky 7 Sports Bar for libations and farewells.

You thought there'd be a picture of Elvira in front of the place, didn't you? It would be the one and only, I'll tell you that. Truth be told, I seriously thought about posting one. On the other hand, my last name isn't Weiner or Favre. Nor is my first name Arnold. That's a photo that I just wouldn't want out there no matter the explanation. My bike is kind of unique with the personalized plate and TEAM OREGON Motorcycle Safety program stickers on the back. With my standing in the motorcycle training community I know better than to post a photo that could damage my reputation. Unlike the first two guys I mentioned. Unlike the third guy, I know when to keep things in my pocket, so to speak.

Fortunately the Lucky 7 is in a strip mall so I parked far away. This is all you'll get to see.

I've seen bikes in front of bars and made a snide comment on what they're drinking.

"Sure, they're in there drinking iced tea, right?" Snide wink to follow.

In this case I really was drinking iced tea.

Here's the guest of honor.

The G11 does pretty good inside with a high ISO and slow shutter speed. As you know, the interior of these kinds of places are not brightly lit. The only things "lit" are usually the patrons and the restrooms. Restrooms, of course, need brighter lighting so the lit patrons don't miss.

Seven o'clock had come and gone by the time things broke up. I was amped from drinking iced tea on an empty stomach. Time to head home. For the record, I did have a Plan B which consisted of an overnight kit and a credit card. Just in case.

I have to say I was really disappointed with the HOV lanes this time. On the trip up you know which lane I chose. Unfortunately, it wasn't a rush hour. Still, though, I somehow had the idea that HOV is some sort of secret acronym for a mysterious term that loosely translates to "go fast". Not the case this time. People get into the commuter lane and drive at exactly the speed limt. Don't you hate being passed by someone in the regular freeway lane when you're in the go fast lane? What is it with these people? Self-righteousness? Entitlement?

HOV hours are something like three in the morning until seven at night. Since it was after 7 and the rush hour had pretty much subsided, this lane didn't do me much good. However, I used the lane anyway. After all, riding a motorcycle entitles me, right? I was cruising along enjoying the elbow room. Until I nearly got my ass run over by a guy in a tiny white Honda car. Holy crap! It was surely a go fast lane now but I just didn't have the guts to run 90 in a 60 zone.

What I did have a stomach for was food. It had been over nine hours since I'd shoved any groceries down my throat. By 9 PM it was time. The sun was going down and gave things a golden glow. This is South of Chahalis at exit 72. Just so you know, Mike, there's a Subway at this exit.

It was dark for the rest of the ride. Which adds its own interesting element to the ride. For instance, there's this stretch of freeway below the Kelso / Longview area where a train track runs between the two sides of the freeway. It was really weird to look ahead of me and see locomotive lights headed right at me!

Elvira and I rolled into Portland around 10:30. On the South side of the city we promptly encountered more road construction. Crews are repaving the southbound lanes through the Terwilliger Curves. Three lanes narrowed to two which, in turn, narrowed to one. Who would have thought so much traffic would be out at this time of night?

Stop and go traffic would have been a blessing. Instead, we were treated to crawling along at about three miles per hour. In preparation for paving the existing roadway had been heavily ground and grooved. After working out the throttle hand all day the clutch hand would get a chance to catch up. Tired muscles wanted to tense up. Eyes up. Relax. Let the bike move around on the rough pavement. Just what I needed at the end of a long day. The clutch was never at rest during my constant balancing act. A couple of times I actually stopped and kept the clutch in for a very brief time. Sorry to the person in back who had to wait a few seconds. This is a lot of work. This is where I expect to hear from the scooter riders about not having a clutch lever!

I found myself thinking that a rider without a lot of experience would have dropped the bike by now. Think about it. Riding at a pace that's too slow for the bike to balance itself while being fast enough you can't really stop and get stable. Add in being tired at the end of a long riding day. Fortunately, after a couple of miles, we started heading uphill. I was finally able to let the clutch out all the way and modulate the throttle for speed control. Easier said than done with fuel injection.

After a total of six and a half miles we cleared the construction. This weird thought crossed my mind. Who the heck has to set out all those cones? I will never complain about the cones we set out during a motorcycle class again!

We rolled home at a quarter to midnight after a round trip commute of a bit over 500 miles. The temperature was actually about ten degrees lower. By the time I got the G11 out of my jacket pocket engine heat had begun to seep upwards.

Katie was already in bed when I crawled in an hour later. She immediately rolled over and embraced me. I could feel her relax with relief knowing that I'm home safely. She worries about me but accepts my need to ride. God has indeed blessed me with her.

Thus ended Ride to Work Day. Coming up I'll share something I saw in Salem last night. It caused me some dismay and really shows why we need Andy's Ride to Work Day and other attention to motorcycle commuters. We also need more folks to use their bikes more and be visible. There's a lot of perceptions to correct out there.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-06-09T07:49:00.000-07:00

ART and Art ( sort of )

I taught an ART ( Advanced Rider Training ) course this week. This class was organized for a HOG chapter. Their Safety Officer also happens to be one of our instructors. She put the whole thing together and recruited students. A tip of the helmet to her. A double tip to the members who signed up. One or two had been through ART previously. Some had taken basic training when they got their endorsements. Riding time varied between a couple of years and three decades. What was really interesting is that, for some of the long time riders, this was their first formal training session.

Classroom was fun. What a great group of folks! They were obviously there to learn. Egos got put aside in the interest of skill development. As you can imagine all the bikes but one were Harleys. We had 17 Harleys and 1 Goldwing.

I had stashed a camera on the bike as I always do. For some reason I think I'm going to have time to make all these cool photos. What happens in reality is that we're so darn busy there's barely time for a snapshot. Like this one. Oh, well.

Dean W was also teaching. There were four of us on duty. While I taught classroom the other three were busy playing outside with a group of instructors participating in a cornering clinic. Since we have the track for the day we offer our instructors a chance to come brush up on skills.

Please don't tell Dean this, but I really value working with him. ( Don't want to make him have to buy a bigger helmet ) Many of us make it our goal to strive for excellence. I like to think I'm pretty sharp but Dean can sometimes out think me. I tend to make intuitive leaps while it seems to me that Dean is more methodical in his approach. It's a blessing to work with someone who can help me grow and also hold me accountable. Ok, you can tell Dean. If you value someone you should really let them know while you can.

Dean shared with me something one of our students had written about an ART class he attended. I thought it was worth sharing. Especially since some of you will know exactly what he's writing about, having been there yourself. Dean and I were both teaching this one.

Before I do, though, I wanted to make a quick mention of the other "Art" in the post title. Or temporary lack thereof. I'm playing with the backgrounds color and stuff. The goal is to find a combination that will help showcase the photos better. Since I don't seem to have time all at once to see it through, it has to be a work in progress. Bear with me. Suggestions are even welcomed.

Anyway, here is what the student wrote.

Team Oregon's Advanced Rider Training

Team Oregon's Advanced Rider Training (ART) is held on a go-kart track, with dedicated classroom sessions in the morning and riding drills in the afternoon. The ART is held at Pat’s Acres in Canby, Oregon (and a location in Medford, Southern Oregon) and is a 2nd to 3rd (touched 4th once, but only with a clear straight in front of me) gear challenging and technical little circuit. The ART’s syllabus is designed after mishap studies of Oregon motorcyclists; they found that crashes were not on the first, but the second or third corner. A training plan was formulated to link corners while giving a little bit of risk in the form of if you get the corner wrong, you get to play in the grass! With no speed limits, no left-turning cars, and a lot of really great technically challenging corners and professional instructors, this was the perfect place to learn how to link corners, and then polish those new found skills. The bike is not required to be track-prepped (tape off lights, pull fuses, remove mirrors, etc.), and the rider is required to wear armored jacket and boots.

The classroom sessions in the morning covered the basics of what motorcycle mishaps have in common: lack of cornering effectiveness. The instructors are straightforward, and relate how the material in the classroom can combat those trends. Delivery method is very professional and straightforward, with each subject clearly defined and how it impacted those in attendance. The material covered was applicable to on-street riding awareness, and the classic quote before breaking for lunch set the tone for the remainder of the day, “We want to drive the road; not the let the road, drive us.”

The track allowed different circuits for each drill, this way one could not get too comfortable with a layout, and have to really work the skills being taught to stay off the grass! The drills allowed for emergency skill polishing in a real environment, with real grass and trees, and the resulting risks associated with a real environment. Ever try maximum braking on a cambered curve staring at a three-foot diameter Douglas Fir tree? Hopefully you never will, but doing it during the ART sure makes the skill set that much more important. Throughout the day, the instructors offered ride-along’s where they’d point out when and where to look, when and where to be on and off the brakes, all while you’re sitting on the pillion!

The culminating exercise was an instructor follow-behind. An instructor would ride behind and critique you for two laps. This gives me the ultimate respect for the instructors, I’ve done this before and it is harder then you’d think, but the TO instructors handled this extreme multi-tasking job with professionalism and knowledge.

I found the ART to be everything it advertised itself to be, and more, the more being the environment of a closed-course, street-based curriculum.

You can find the website this came from here.

It's pretty cool to be involved in this kind of training. Right now, though, the sun is out and I have work to do. Get ready, Elvira, 'cause we're headed out!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-06-05T20:39:00.000-07:00

Ready for Duty

I was wandering about in downtown Portland on a grey and hazy morning recently. It was early even for the Big City. My immediate goal was warm coffee after a chilly ride up. Tucking the G11 into the big pocket on the front of the 'Stich has become a habit. I saw these bikes lined up down the street and was compelled to make a detour. A large number of motor officers from this department regularly attend our training sessions. I've probably chased one of these very bikes on a track.

One of the things I've finally learned to do with photography is to find different angles. In this case I tried several of them. This building is also the Multnomah County Courthouse. A couple of times I was under the watchful eyes of a deputy. Offering a wave and holding the camera up seemed to put them at ease. Although one looked a bit unsure when I wandered into the traffic lane to get this shot.

If you look closely or blow the picture up you'll see another bike at the end of the row of cars. Sort of a punction mark at the end of the sentence.

I struggled with the shot as a color photo. Suddenly it hit me that this would be a great black and white picture. Rather than just desaturate it I spent some time playing with levels and curves. I wanted to bring out the high contrast look fitting for urban photography. I think the angle of the bikes along with the various triangles really draws the eyes down the line.

It seems fitting this way, too. The bikes are beautiful, graceful machines. That facet seems to be symbolized by the light colors. These same bikes are called upon to do duty in not so beautiful tasks. The darker colors point to this side of things.

This is what I was trying to call attention to in the photo. Isn't it interesting how something we just happen upon can turn into something deeper?

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-06-02T18:54:00.000-07:00

A Street Food and Photo Adventure.

By the mostly thundering silence from the last post it seems we're all a bit worn out with reading about the technical side of riding. I concede that reading about building skills can seem like work. Guess it's time to take a break and think about stuff that's more fun. Things like street life, food, and photography. Sometimes you just need to park the bike and wander around. I'm finding that candid people shots and street photography are the real draws for me. I just need to get faster with recognizing good composition and dialing in the camera.

In pursuit of those goals I've been taking some online photography classes. Somewhere in the process I became a member of the International Travel Writers and Photographer's Alliance. Those good folks sent me an official ID badge to wear proudly around my neck. It's even more impressive with half of it written in a foreign language. French, I presume. Of course, not speaking French, I don't know what it says. For all I know it's telling everyone that the wearer of the badge is a dufous. I'm not really sure what all this membership means or how I should take it. To quote Groucho Marx, "I wouldn't belong to a club that would have me as a member!"

A couple of things happened in near coincidence to each other that inspired this post. Firstly, being a person who really likes to eat these days, I was watching the Cooking Channel. There's a program called "Eat Street" ( or something like that, I think ) that spotlights food carts all over the country. This particular show featured a food cart from Portland. Which just happens to be about an hour and half north of me. Secondly, I just happened to have a service call scheduled the next morning at the U.S. Bank Tower, a 39 story building three blocks from this food cart.

The beginning of a rather obvious plan took shape.

Wearing my ID badge over my pride swelled chest ( ok, not really, but it makes good story fodder, doesn't it?) I set out on my mission. I'd check this place out, eat one of their outrageous burgers, take some photos, and write about it. That's what travel writers do, isn't it?

The name of this place is the Brunch Box. It's one of several food carts living in this particular block. A young couple living slightly outside the mainstream of life run the place. The big draw is their imaginative burgers. I imagine the health insurance industry hates them. The Final Resting Place people probably love them. Oh, the food won't kill you on the spot. It's actually quite good. At least the beastly burger I ate was. If a person is a regular customer, though, better eat fast. One could drop dead at any time from clogged arteries.

Interestingly enough, the place has its own website. You can see it and the menu here.

The menu includes such monstrosities as the Youcanhascheeseburger. Or the Redonkadonk burger. The two have slightly different ingredients. For example, the Redonkadonk is an Oh My God Burger with a twist while the Youcanhascheeseburger is more like a traditional cheeseburger with a twist. What they both have in common, though, is the "twist:. The "buns" are actually made of two Texas grilled cheese sandwiches. That's right. Picture two grilled cheese sandwiches acting as bookends to other cholesterol laden ingredients. I'll tell you more about the Oh My God burger in a bit.

According to the owners the reason they picked the name "Redonkadonk" for the one burger is that it eating very many will give a person a big bedonkadonk. This term came from a song on the country charts. I believe it refers to the back side of a person. Particularly that section between the top of the thighs and the back of the belly button. In plain english, eating very many of these burgers will cause a person to grow a Giant Ass.

I bravely took my place in line and ordered an OMG burger from this guy. He's not the owner, just his loyal minion. This guy was pretty good natured for somebody serving death disguised as greasy delights. I explained why I was there and asked if I could take some photos of him. That's the second part of being a travel writer, isn't it? First you travel. Then you have to do something to write about and then take pictures to prove you did it.

I was prepared to wait for a while but the sandwich was served up quite quickly. Perhaps the burger was left by a previous customer who chickened out at the last minute. The burger felt hot in my hand which was good enough for me. I clutched my prize and went to find a place to eat it.

There's this ornamental fountain a couple of blocks away from the food carts. I had previously cased out the place and had a reasonable assurance that the fountain didn't actually spout water. Had that happened I can assure you that it would really have brought the enthusiasm level down.

Secure on a dry concrete step I savored my impending feast. The burger looks pretty innocent just sitting there in its yellow wrapper. With saliva flowing in culinary anticipation I began to unwrap my treat.

There are two regular hamburger buns marking the boundaries for the greasy goodness. The layers of flavor reveal themselves as I run my eyes over this creation. A gentle start is made with lettuce topped by a fresh slice of tomato. A hamburger patty acts as a stage for the other players to cavort upon. A layer of melted American cheese serves as a secure resting place for two pieces of crispy bacon. To bring a layer of softness as a perfect counterpoint to the boldness of the bacon some ham is added. Just to make sure the two differing porcine personalities get along some pieces of fried spam cover the bacon and ham. The spam brings its own character to the mix along as working as a catalyst. As a final touch in rounding out all the flavors a fried egg sits on top like a crispy crown. It actually makes sense. When I think of ham and bacon there is always a fried egg hovering around the edges.

I took a bite and pronounced it good. With a sense of quiet rapture I did utter the phrase "Oh my God" to myself. A bite and a photo wasn't enough. I felt this overwhelming urge to go to the next level. A simple photo was not enough. This creation called for some up-close and revealing food porn. Which proved to be easier said than done.

Grease is slippery as you may have noticed in your travels. The lense on my camera was a 70-200mm. Not an easy situation to work with. First I had to put the burger down. Then I cleaned the grease off my right hand with a napkin and some water from my bottle. Picking up a huge burger like this with one hand and holding it at arm's length without having the burger fall apart is a struggle, to put it mildly. While that is going on the right hand needs to hold the camera close to my chest after approximating a field of view. The final result is neither a technical or artistic masterpiece. I assure you, dear reader, that I did put my very best heartfelt effort into the venture.

The burger went down very well. I did, however, found myself with the urge to promise not to eat for the next two days. I sat in stuporous contentment for a solid twenty minutes afterwards. Culinary afterglow minus the cigarette.

Finally bestirring myself, I headed back towards the bike. Along the way I made some photos of the side dishes to street food.

One thing I have always enjoyed about Portland is the diversity among people. Like this couple.

This young woman had such colorful pink hair. I waited until she walked into a patch of sunshine then snapped the photo. I wanted to do justice to the brilliance of her hair coloring efforts.

There are times when a woman just can't decide which color she prefers. Pick some favorites and enjoy them all.

I met this young woman as she came out of a building. The contrast between the sexy way she was dressed and the utility of pulling this awkward hand truck intrigued me. I watched as the load tipped over on its side twice. By the second time I had caught up with her. Being every bit the gentleman I righted the load. Then I showed her how making sure the cargo was more balanced would really help her cause. They are hard to see in the photos but there are a couple of small elastic bands holding the load onto the cart. The young lady was impressed by my intelligence and manliness. At least I think so judging by the way she kept staring at my extended zoom lense. Being thus impressed she allowed me to adjust her bungies.

You can see that she still doesn't quite trust it all to work as she steps off the curb.

Reassured that my fix can be trusted she confidently heads across the street. I swear I only took this photo as a way to test my mastery of shutter speeds.

It's amazing to see how many people come out to obtain lunch from the food carts. There's a whole block of carts, each with their own cuisine. There's an equal abundance of willing customers.

There's more than one way to make an income from a row of food carts. This enterprising guy was offering music to eat by. A generous tip would not be discouraged, mind you. The woman looked like she was either going to make a personal request or show him how to finger a certain chord.

Something I find really interesting is that people always seem to notice the camera. The D7000 with the larger lense looks like a professional camera. I tried to keep some distance while using the zoom lense for my shots. For more personal photos I like to get close. For street scenes the zoom works well. Somebody's always staring at me, though. Like this guy.

Check out the guy with glasses to the left of the flag.

Also, this guy in the blue shirt. I don't know if it's simple curiosity, mistrust, or the hope of getting "discovered".

Not to be forgotten are two places around the corner. Got a hankering for Creole or Cajun? Check out the Swamp Shack. That's my idea of a food cart. Honest, I'm not lazy. The lack of exterior upkeep is simply a purposeful part of my decor! I didn't have the polarizer filter with me so I apologize for the glaring spot of sunshine. I'm actually just dang thankful there was some sun in the first place so I didn't want to do anything to insult it and make it go away.

Next to the Swamp Shack is a pizza place. Must be a hard choice. Hmmm, do I eat pizza or get some boiled crawdads? Chew through cheezy crust or pinch the tail and suck the head?

This is a Czech place, I think. Either way, I'm a firm believer in the "If you can't pronounce it you shouldn't be eating it" theory.

By the way, I'm now a professional photographer. I made a bit over thirty dollars for some downloads of photos I had uploaded to a stock agency. I expect the respect level from you all to go up accordingly. Notice how I used the word "up".

Hope you enjoyed my first travelogue and food review as an official member of the International Travel Writers and Photographer's Alliance!

Time to go ride some more. Maybe I should push the bike to burn off all these calories.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-05-26T07:26:00.000-07:00

Step 4 Muscle Memory

This is the step we're aiming for when learning something involving physical movements. Which, coincidentally, we're required to do a lot of when riding a motorcycle. We want these physical actions to take a background role as far as the amount of concentration required to perform them. This is true of any of the physical skills involved. What we're really concentrating on, though, are the skills specific to accident avoidance. These include, but are not limited to, braking and swerving. If we want to be a bit more technical about the matter, we could include proper cornering technique and head turns.

In an interesting contradiction you could call this level of performance unconscious competence. We do the right thing without having to think about it on a conscious level. The movements required become automatic reflexes. Another way to look at it is to say they happen on autopilot. We should just automatically do the right thing. I'm sure you get the gist of what I'm trying to put across by now.

I remember Gramps teasing me at the supper table. He'd watch me eat for a while and then give me a big grin. Gramp would remark on one of my autopilot reflexes.

"You know, it's so interesting watching you. Whenever your elbow bends your mouth flies open!"

What he didn't specifically say was that the reason this happened was because I was getting ready to shove another forkful of food that I'd just liberated from my plate into my mouth.

An example from the world of motorcycling is in properly using head turns. Whenever we're preparing to change the direction of our motorcycle our unconscious reaction should be to automatically point our nose at the new target. Whenever we're faced with the need to apply maximum braking our autopilot response should be to apply both brakes smoothly with the proper modulation of front and rear brake. Believe me, this isn't the normal reaction. We have to work to get there.

So how does this happen? We talk about building the mind-muscle connection. We give it the fancy name of Muscle Memory. How many times have we heard that term? What does it really mean to develop muscle memory? How does it happen? What does it do for us?

Muscles themselves have no actual memory. The concepts of "brain" and "brawn" are always used to convey separate images. We talk about people blessed with one or the other. If we're really lucky we're blessed with both. Once upon a time I was one of those lucky ones. These days I look like a blocky desktop computer. Not much to look at but the processor and memory still work. Either way, you never hear somebody being referred to as having "brainy brawn". Which is a long ways to come back to saying that our muscles themselves have no actual memory.

So what's involved in this muscle memory thing? Think of it as taking a series of still life photographs and turning them into a movie. Individual actions are blended into one smooth movement. The actions are actually stored in our brains. Specifically in the cerebellum. I never even knew I had one of those things in my head before! I may have to explore getting a bigger helmet.

Here's an example from our basic classes. It's the process for upshifting. First we have the students sit on a non-running motorcycle. We break the process down into individual steps. We first practice each step by itself. As we move through the practice we have the students start blending the steps into one smooth series of motions called "upshift".

Here's how it goes. Roll off the throttle. Squeeze the clutch lever. Lift up on the shift lever. Ease out the clutch lever. Roll on the throttle.

Of course, that takes forever. We need to speed it up a little. So now we condense the process into buzz words. Roll. Squeeze. Lift. Ease. Roll. A bit faster but still not the automatic smooth response we're after.

Thus the time spent on the exercise where students actually practice upshifting while riding. For a while it can take nearly the whole length of the range to get into second gear. Pretty soon we start to see the individual steps merge into one smooth and fluid process. That's muscle memory being formed in the cerebellum. It's forming the individual memory of each step into a movie. Each memory is still stored as its own photo but the cerebellum creates the pathways that link the steps into one process.

Thus we get a couple of valuable clues on how to properly form these movies. Firstly, each individual step needs to be firmly and correctly imprinted into its storage space. Secondly, the making of the movie requires a lot of repetitions. The more we correctly repeat the drill the stronger the pathways linking the individual steps become. The goal is to create a near automatic playback of the stored memory of the required movements.

I've written this before but it's really appropriate for this discussion.

Amateurs practice until they get it right. Professionals practice until they can't get it wrong.

Did you get the idea that a LOT of practice is required? There's another saying that practice makes perfect. What should really be expressed is that PERFECT practice makes perfect. This is another value of professional training. Most training sessions don't allow enough time to perfect each skill. What the sessions do accomplish, however, is to show the student what each skill SHOULD look like. This provides the mental picture of the finished product. It's our target, if you will.

I think one of the reasons riders hold back from more intense skill practice is that it can be slightly intimidating. Thinking of the whole process involved in maximum braking, for example, can be overwhelming. When there's a number of different movements involved it can also be hard to self evaluate where the process is good and where it can use some help.

Knowing that the longest journey begins with the first step ( don't know why I'm spouting sayings today but there it is ) why not just take a step? We also now know that our brains still store the individual steps and links these together. Our brain doesn't store "upshift". It stores ROLL-SQUEEZE-LIFT-EASE-ROLL. Why not take advantage of that process and separate our practice into individual steps?

Here's how it can work. Pick a day that we're riding. To work, for work, for recreation, whatever. For that day focus on smooth braking. Just that step. It's simple and effective. It's easy to get feedback on how our brake application is because that's all we're working on. Smooth or not? Simple. Work on cementing the single photo of smooth braking. One correct memory stored.

Pick another ride and concentrate on putting your knees against the gas tank ( or fake plastic thingy up there ). Take the next ride and concentrate on the fine feel possible on the rear brake lever by using the smaller muscles of the lower leg and foot. The next ride can be dedicated to keeping our eyes up and looking well ahead while braking. After that concentrate on a progressive squeeze of the front brake lever.

This may all sound over simplified but it's exactly what our brains need. Remember that the overall movement is a movie made up of individual photos. The key is to make sure that each photo is correct for the movie theme. Once that's accomplished we then work on the whole. Ultimately it's going to require practicing the whole sequence together many times to establish the pathways. You'll find it much more effective and less intimidating having practiced each step individually.

Our goal is actually two-fold. Yes, we want the right movements to automatically be there, as it were, when needed. That's a very valuable component, to be sure. There's an even more compelling reason to get to this point. It's something we've probably thought about but never really delved into. That's the subject for an upcoming post.

Here's a hint: Action is always better than reaction.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-05-13T16:12:00.000-07:00

Friday the 13th Special

I'm working to finish the last post in the series of gaining new skills. This will be the very important Step 4. In the meantime I came across this. I had posted it with permission in 2006. Some of you have seen this before but I'm sure you'll laugh again. If you haven't seen it, prepare to enjoy. For some reason it just seems fitting for Friday the 13th! This, by the way, is not of my originality.

Written by Daniel Meyer, author of a book called "Life is a Road, the Soul is a Motorcycle".

DISCLAIMER: If you're drinking something, put it down for the duration.

You've been warned. All punctuation errors, format, etc. are as I found 'em.

-------------------------------------------------

I never dreamed slowly cruising through a residential neighbourhood could be so incredibly dangerous!

Studies have shown that motorcycling requires more

decisions per second, and more sheer data processing

than nearly any other common activity or sport. The

reactions and accurate decision making abilities

needed have been likened to the reactions of fighter

pilots! The consequences of bad decisions or poor

situational awareness are pretty much the same for

both groups too.

Occasionally, as a rider I have caught myself starting

to make bad or late decisions while riding. In flight

training, my instructors called this being "behind the

power curve". It is a mark of experience that when

this begins to happen, the rider recognizes the

situation, and more importantly, does something about

it. A short break, a meal, or even a gas stop can set

things right again as it gives the brain a chance to

catch up.

Good, accurate, and timely decisions are essential

when riding a motorcycle, at least if you want to

remain among the living. In short, the brain needs to

keep up with the machine.

I had been banging around the roads of east Texas and

as I headed back into Dallas, found myself in very

heavy, high-speed traffic on the freeways. Normally,

this is not a problem, I commute in these conditions

daily, but suddenly I was nearly run down by a cage

that decided it needed my lane more than I did. This

is not normally a big deal either, as it happens

around here often, but usually I can accurately

predict which drivers are not paying attention and

avoid them before we are even close. This one I missed

seeing until it was nearly too late, and as I took

evasive action I nearly broadsided another car that I

was not even aware was there!

Two bad decisions and insufficient situational

awareness, all within seconds. I was behind the power

curve. Time to get off the freeway.

I hit the next exit, and as I was in an area I knew

pretty well, headed through a few big residential neighbourhoods as a new route

home. As I turned onto the nearly empty streets I opened the visor on my full-face

helmet to help get some air. I figured some slow riding through the quiet surface

streets would give me time to relax, think, and regain that "edge" so frequently

required when riding.

Little did I suspect.

As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile

shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop

immediately in front of me. It was a squirrel, and

must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really

was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it-it was that

close.

I hate to run over animals.and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel

should pose no danger to me. I barely had time to brace for the impact.

Animal lovers, never fear. Squirrels can take care of themselves!

Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his

feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing the

oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his little

beady eyes. His mouth opened, and at the last possible

second, he screamed and leapt! I am pretty sure the

scream was squirrel for, "Banzai!" or maybe, "Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!"

as the leap was spectacular and he flew over the windshield and impacted me squarely

in the chest.

Instantly he set upon me. If I did not know better I

would have sworn he brought twenty of his little

buddies along for the attack. Snarling, hissing, and

tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As

I was dressed only in a light t-shirt, summer riding

gloves, and jeans this was a bit of a cause for

concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!

Picture a large man on a huge black and chrome

cruiser, dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and leather

gloves puttering maybe 25mph down a quiet residential street.and in the fight of his

life with a squirrel. And losing.

I grabbed for him with my left hand and managed to

snag his tail. With all my strength I flung the evil

rodent off the left of the bike, almost running into

the right curb as I recoiled from the throw.

That should have done it. The matter should have ended

right there. It really should have. The squirrel could

have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and

gone on about his business, and I could have headed

home. No one would have been the wiser.

But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even

an ordinary pissed-off squirrel.

This was an evil attack squirrel of death!

Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his

little hands, and with the force of the throw swung

around and with a resounding thump and an amazing

impact he landed square on my back and resumed his

rather anti-social and extremely distracting

activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him!

The situation was not improved. Not improved at all.

His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him.

I was startled to say the least. The combination of

the force of the throw, only having one hand (the

throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy

twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle

of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque. This is what the Valkyrie is made

for, and she is very, very good at it.

The engine roared as the front wheel left the

pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie

screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in, well, I just plain screamed.

Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome

cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel torn

t-shirt, and only one leather glove roaring at maybe

70mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet

residential street.on one wheel and with a demonic

squirrel on his back. The man and the squirrel are

both screaming bloody murder.

With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my

other hand back on the handlebars and try to get

control of the bike. This was leaving the mutant

squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want

to crash into somebody's tree, house, or parked car.

Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the

throttle, my brain was just simply overloaded. I did

manage to mash the back brake, but it had little

affect against the massive power of the big cruiser.

About this time the squirrel decided that I was not

paying sufficient attention to this very serious

battle (maybe he is a Scottish attack squirrel of

death), and he came around my neck and got IN my

full-face helmet with me. As the faceplate closed

partway and he began hissing in my face I am quite

sure my screaming changed tone and intensity. It

seemed to have little affect on the squirrel however.

The rpm's on The Dragon maxed out (I was not concerned

about shifting at the moment) and her front end

started to drop.

Now picture the large man on the huge black and chrome

cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very ragged torn t-shirt,

and wearing one leather glove, roaring at probably

80mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy

squirrel's tail sticking out his mostly closed

full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably

getting a little hoarse.

Finally I got the upper hand. I managed to grab his

tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him

to the left as hard as I could. This time it

worked, sort-of. Spectacularly sort-of, so to speak.

Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome

cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn t-shirt flapping in

the breeze, and wearing one leather glove, moving at

probably 80mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody

murder roars by and with all his strength throws a

live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.

I heard screams. They weren't mine...

I managed to get the big motorcycle under directional

control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I

then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a

cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign at a busy cross street.

I would have returned to fess up (and to get my glove

back). I really would have. Really. But for two

things. First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about

me at the moment. One of them was on his back in the front yard of the house they

had been parked in front of and was rapidly crabbing backwards away from the patrol

car. The other was standing in the street and was training a riot shotgun on the

police cruiser.

So the cops were not interested in me. They often

insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway.

That was one thing. The other? Well, I swear I could

see the squirrel, standing in the back window of the

patrol car among shredded and flying pieces of foam

and upholstery, and shaking his little fist at me. I

think he was shooting me the finger.

That is one dangerous squirrel. And now he has a

patrol car.

I took a deep breath, turned on my turn-signal, made

an easy right turn, and sedately left the neighborhood.

As for my easy and slow drive home? Screw it. Faced

with a choice of 80mph cars and inattentive drivers,

or the evil, demonic, attack squirrel of death...I'll

take my chances with the freeway. Every time.

And I'll buy myself a new pair of gloves. ___________________________

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-05-09T15:31:00.000-07:00

It's Great to Know for Sure!

I want to make one more comment on Step 3 of gaining new skills before I finish off with the oh-so critical importance of Step 4.

Since it's been so long between posts let's take just a moment to re-establish continuity.

I've been posting about the four steps I've discovered happen when a person is learning a new skill. In this series these are skills related to riding a motorcycle successfully. I believe the same steps happen in other contexts but this is a blog about motorcycle riding. So we go with our strengths and interests.

Briefly, the first step is what I call finding out what we didn't know. Something new catches our eye and we want to try it. At this point we don't know what we don't know. Training and self discovery tell us what's lacking.

Step 2 is when we discover where we are in gaining these new skills. Mostly it consists of realizing that we really need some more work and practice!

Step 3 ( which is where we've gotten to in this blog ) is when we realize that we're actually starting to see improvement in our application of these new skills. It's perfectly natural and wonderul to do a little celebrating over our newfound competence. Which is what the last post was about.

Besides the joy of accomplishment there's another aspect to reaching Step 3 that I feel we should think about for a bit. It's a precursor to what happens in Step 4.

Ok. Enough Step 2, Step 3, Step 4, and big words. Here's the deal, plain and simple.

Wouldn't you like to know for sure that you can do something rather than just thinking you can?

Let me bring it home and lay it on the doorstep, so to speak. I'll use Katie and I as an example.

Katie is often on the back of my bike. She loves to ride. Sometimes I'll be sitting around the house on a Saturday. On those rare weekends when I'm not teaching, that is. I may have ridden a thousand miles during the week. I wouldn't feel deprived by not riding on a Saturday. Katie will suggest a ride. She's more tied down during the week and so weekends are her free time. Katie's a great passenger and I love having her with me and experiencing riding adventures together.

My lovely bride has an endorsement of her own. She took a class, passed the skills test, and got endorsed. We bought a bike for her. The vast majority of the time, though, Katie wants to be my passenger. Like I say, she's a great passenger and I love having her close. Katie, being an endorsed rider, is well aware of the risks. As am I. She's a great passenger because she understands what's happening as we ride. One time we were out on some country roads and riding Sophie. On a particular corner one day I gently, and on purpose, touched my right foot peg onto the pavement and held it there during the entire time the bike was leaned. Instead of feeling somebody frantically beating on my back, I heard:

"Man, that was soooo smooth!"

It's time to bring this thing home. Katie is excited about riding with me. Despite having a rider's awareness of the risk. Why? One, because it's extremely enjoyable. Secondly, she can relax and enjoy because she trusts my judgement and riding skills.

Here's my big question to myself: Am I worthy of that trust? Not just because I think I might be if the time came. That's conjecture. Conjecture may or may not save our bacon.

At the risk of sounding overly romantic, this woman is my best buddy. She's given me the precious gift of her love, friendship, and loyalty. Her being in my life has made it so much more awesome than it would have been otherwise. This is a woman whom I fiercely love and really love spending time with. Do you start to see the importance this girl has in my life?

I don't take this at all lightly. I don't want to just think I could do the right thing competently if I had to while we were riding. Conjecture isn't nearly good enough compared to the precious passenger blessing my bike seat. I want to know for sure. I know that time and unseen occurrence befall all of us. There are no magic bullets or protective force fields. On the other hand, I want to know that I have whatever skills may be required to stack the odds in our favor as much as humanly possible. If there is a failure somewhere I don't want it to be mine.

And I do know. I have actually done these maneuvers under real world conditions. I don't have to wonder if I can successfully swerve at highway speeds. Been there, done that. It takes a very firm press on the handgrip to make a bike move off line at speed. I know how much because I've done it at over 70 miles per hour. Two up, by the way. I don't have to wonder if doing a maximum braking stop at 35 miles per hour will mean I can still do it successfully at 65 or 70 mph. Hey, things happen at this speed. I've done it repeatedly at those speeds and higher. ( more on that part in just a bit )

Having ACTUALLY DONE IT, repeatedly and successfully, is a source of great comfort and satisfaction. Sure, I scared myself in the process. Yes, it was hard. But this is Katie I'm talking about. You get the picture.

How about you? Would you rather wonder or really know? I don't really mean it to sound like a challenge but then again I do. Sometimes it takes a challenge to get us out of our comfort zones. That's a nice place to be but it stifles growth.

I've been blessed with readers who have been regular here for years. Thank you so much for your support. Those who've been around awhile may recognize the photo above. It's a very long skid mark laid down by a front tire during a maximum braking stop at 100 miles per hour. Yes, this was me. Some of you may find this a little over the top. I wouldn't blame you. I don't have much to offer as an excuse save for the power of the moment.

The only thing I can say is that I now know I can do it. I will also add that I now know I really don't ever want to have to do it again. If you care to read about this adventure you can find the post here.

Stay tuned for Step 4. It's way more critical than we might realize.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-04-27T06:09:00.000-07:00

Impossible? Check this out!

"It's impossible to do that on our kind of bikes!" he proclaimed from on high to his wife. His arms were folded across his chest. He'd drawn up to his full height. Taller than me. Of course, almost everybody is. There was no hint of a question in his words. The delivery was that of a pronouncement from Zeus thundered down from Mt. Olympus. I could almost smell the sizzle of hot electricity from the lightning bolts.

"That" was the infamous offset cone weave dreaded by most motorcyclists hoping to pass a skills test. "Our kind of bikes" was a pair of Yamaha YZF R1 sport bikes. Not only did his wife hear his proclamation, but it was made in front of Katie, Clinton, and I. And I was about to do a little miracle working to make the impossible possible. Right in front of his very eyes. Before the session was done not only me, but his wife would be doing the impossible. Actually, I never thought it was impossible. The wife, however, wasn't sure. By the time the next couple of hours passed she was going to seriously rock Mt. Olympus.

In the last post I wrote about reaching the third step in gaining proficiency. That wonderful moment when we realize that we have conquered. You know the feeling. Working on our cornering skills. One day we carve a corner with a perfect "Whoosh!" No more slice and dice. Now we're carving. A smooth and efficient quick stop. Discovering that the bike really does go where we look. Not only that, but we're using the head turns deliberately, amazed by the amount of directional control we now have.

In one way I'm sorry because the last post got more technical than I meant it to. In another, it was interesting that the part about squeezing our knees against the tank while braking got so much attention. So I'm glad that part was there. The thing that got overlooked in the post was just how stinkin' much fun it is to gain new skills. Then there's the incredibly good feeling and amazement that comes from being able to say,

"Did you see that? That was me. Yep, I OWN that now!!"

To me this story perfectly illustrates the fun and satisfaction of conquering. First, just a tiny bit of setting the stage.

I'll call the wife Jen for this story. Our paths have since diverged as often happens in life. At the time, though, I counted Jen as a friend and fellow instructor. I still count her as a friend. Jen's no longer teaching and I don't see her much these days. A career move and a development with her husband took away most of her time. Jen was fairly new to riding and an even newer instructor. A number of folks learn to ride a motorcycle in a class. They're then so enthused about the whole thing that they want to become instructors themselves so they can pass it along. Jen was such a one.

I'd had a hand in mentoring Jen both as a riding student and as a new instructor. I have such a soft spot for people who have the desire and the potential but simply lack confidence. I knew Jen could do this but she didn't. As a result, she was ready to quit after trying her hand at a few classes. Long story short, I invited her to come shadow me in a class. She'd stand beside me for a while then step in and coach. The beauty was that it wasn't "her" class so there was less pressure. She was simply working with me. After doing this for a couple of classes Jen realized that she really could do this. It was so cool to see her flame grow stronger and her smile wider. From there it was history, as they say.

Jen acted like I was some sort of miracle worker. I assured her that it wasn't me. She had the fire all on her own. I simply sheltered the flame a bit until it got stronger and burned brighter. In the process Jen's trust in me was further reinforced. Which is what makes the rest of the story so cool. She'd be doing some miracle working of her own with a little help from a friend.

One Saturday evening I was relaxing at home when the phone rang.

"Hi, it's Jen. I taught my first IRT today!"

"Good for you!", I replied.

For the record, the IRT ( Intermediate Rider Training ) is the second half of the Basic Course. It's a one day class designed for those who know the mechanics of riding but are unendorsed. The students get some valuable training and, if they pass our skills test, get the waiver from taking the riding test when they apply for their endorsement.

I was glad that Jen had reached out to teach at a slightly more advanced level. Not all went smoothly, however. Instructors are highly encouraged to ride their own bikes for the riding demonstrations. Credibility, and all. One of those demonstrations was the offset cone weave.

(They look so harmless and innocent in that little pile, don't they?)

"I blew the cone weave big time", Jen said. " I didn't drop the bike but it was REALLY ugly. Can you help me?"

Always willing to help a damsel in distress ( thank you Gramps for teaching me the chivalry displayed by knights and cowboys ) I immediately accepted. We made arrangements to meet the following weekend at the local college where our range is located. We'd practice while the range was coned off from that week's class but after the students and other instructors had all gone home.

Jen's husband also showed up. Mostly to tell us how it couldn't be done. Katie and Clinton were out and about and decided to stop by, as well.

A quick word about Jen's husband. He's the typical Ricky Racer. Not a lot of skill. His need to show off and be admired by equally unskilled peers outweighs all else. Thus the liter sized full-on sport bikes. Jen had followed her husband's lead in bike choice. I guess if someone were to offer to buy me an R1 I wouldn't turn it down. In the years since a degenerative muscle disease has kept the guy from killing himself on the road. Sort of the blessing in the curse, if you will. That would be in the future. For this session he'd be in full voice that a rider couldn't possibly do the cone weave on the R1.

At that time we were using cone weaves of two different sizes. On one side of the range was the standard weave we're all familiar with. Cones set fifteen feet apart with each side being set a foot and a half off from center line. A rider moves fifteen feet ahead while moving three or so feet side to side. On the other side of the range was a larger offset weave. Cones were twenty feet apart and three feet off center. Which meant moving side to side six feet instead of three. Confused? Doesn't matter. There's no written test at the end. Or riding test, for that matter.

I'd ridden a Honda VFR to the range. It was the closest to a sport bike I had at the time, being in between CBR's. Seems there's always been a VFR hanging around our family somewhere. As I write this there's one parked in Clinton's garage. I rode a couple of laps, talking it through to Jen as I did so. For the record, Ricky Racer never volunteered to even try the weave.

Since this was about helping Jen succeed and students learn by doing, I parked the bike and concentrated on coaching her. Ricky said the bikes had too little handlebar movement and too much power for this kind of thing. He thought he was vindicated when Jen struggled for lap after lap. She was fighting the bike. As well as being a little scared. Nothing like thinking the front wheel is going to tuck under any time to raise the stress level. When she got stressed she'd look down at the cones and the front of the bike. Yes, the bike goes where you look.

( Put them out in that dreaded pattern and they turn in molten cones of terror and stress! )

It was time for a break to let the frustration and a bit of fear dissipate. I asked Jen to trust me when I told her that if she used the clutch correctly she could control the lean of the bike. Keep it in the friction zone. Hold the throttle steady. It's too abrupt for good control Squeeze the clutch just a little to start the bike leaning, then ease it out just a little to pick the bike back up. No matter how worried you are about what's happening at the front of the bike keep your eyes up and looking well ahead. If you look up the bike will follow. Trust me, follow my coaching, and the bike won't fall down. Start your inputs a bit sooner. As soon as you begin to round a cone on the small weave set up for the next one. On the large weave think two cones ahead. It will seem strange but will work.

"Trust me" I repeated. I tried to be as calm and soothing as possible with my voice.

Jen looked me in the eyes for a long time. I could see her mulling my words over in her mind. I tried to beam some of my confidence and strength across the gap between us. I could see Jen shudder slightly as if shrugging off a weighted cloak.

"All right", she sighed. " I'll trust you."

For several laps I jogged alongside the R1, coaching her with a running commentary. Did you get the pun? Coaching while literally running. Oh, never mind. Think about it for a while and come back later.

Within three or four laps Jen got it. She rode several more consecutive successful laps. However, she was still having trouble being totally smooth. There's a lot of torque in first gear. Especially with a thousand cc's and over a hundred ponies waiting to get loose.

I now told Jen to try the cone weave in second gear. Ricky had been pretty quiet up until now. I guess I would have, too. Seeing my wife, a new rider, doing what I had just declared impossible would have a tendency to deflate my balloons a little. Now, however, he thought he had me for sure.

"There's no way it will work in second gear! You can't even shift on the roads until you hit 60. How can you do it in a parking lot? The motor is going to lug like crazy."

I know it's evil but I was really looking forward to this next part.

By now Jen had tuned him out. Her trust in me had been hugely rewarded. Jen was actually doing the impossible. At least according to Ricky.

Jen popped the tranny up into second. After a few minutes I could see the amazement on her face. Not amazement that I was right. The source of wonder was how her inputs on the bike immediately smoothed out. No lugging, either. I'd coached Jen to hold just a little more throttle. She wanted a few more revs. Not a lot, just enough to make sure the bike had power when she let the clutch out. Using the friction zone correctly was a bit more critical but that she still had plenty of control over the bike's speed.

Not only was Jen totally amazed, but now she felt the need to share that amazement with somebody. Making a pass on the short side of the range near her husband Jen blurted out to him,

"It works even better in second, Rick!"

I'm sure I heard a bit of gloating in her voice by this time. Naughty girl!

Ego would bite Rick one more time. This time it would come from me. I'm sorry, but there are some things people just beg for and I'm all about customer service.

It was a warm summer afternoon. My riding jacket was my trusty old 'Stich. Which was admittedly warm at slow speeds, even with the large side vents open. Rick had purchased a new mesh riding jacket. He urged me to take his bike and try his jacket. It was almost like he was trying to show me pity with the grandiose act of lending me his jacket and bike. Hey, as Bolty says the proper answer when someone offers to let you ride their bike is to just say yes.

Rick's bike and I went out to Hwy 34 and back. Probably six miles or so. I'd never ridden his bike before. Evil lurks deep in my brain. When I got back to the range I veered off and rode the R1 through the cone weave twice. Even though the key had been in the bike when I started, I parked in front of Rick, handed back the key in a symbolic gesture, and said,

"Wow! Thanks for letting me ride such a great bike. It's balanced so well that it was effortless to lean it side to side in the cone weave."

My happy smile was met with a glare. What could he say? In front of his very eyes several buckets of cold water had been poured on the fire of his lightning bolt declarations.

Jen and Rick mounted up and fired off their matching bikes. Jen gave me a happy wave. Nothing from Rick except for a few harsh throttle blips. Just to show us he was still a stud despite it all, I guess. Pretty much a useless gesture by now, though.

One can only imagine their conversation at home. Jen was pretty darn proud of herself. As well she should be. You might even say she was a miracle worker. After all, she'd just pulled off what her much more "experienced" husband had declared was impossible!!

Gaining a new skill doesn't get much better than that, does it?

MIles and smiles,

Dan

2011-04-22T11:58:00.000-07:00

I got it!!!

This is the exclamation that often accompanies reaching Step 3 of gaining competence.

Step 3 is when a person realizes that they're making progress on mastering a new skill. Being stuck squarely in Step 2 a rider may be thinking that they'll never get it right. Attempt after attempt is made. During one try a certain element works but another doesn't. Next time the second element works but the first doesn't. Dang it, dang it, dang it!

Then comes the attempt when it all comes together at the same time. Good job. Do it again. And again. I love these moments with a class, be they beginners or more experienced. I never lose the joy of seeing the light come on. Nor in exulting with a rider over their conquest. Step 2 is so satisfying on two counts. Firstly, there's the initial thrill of victory at the conquest. Secondly, the peace of mind in simply knowing we can do something is priceless. We know because we've done it. More than once.

A rider can certainly learn and conquer on their own. As I've written before, however, in my opinion there's a big advantage in learning under the watchful eyes of professional trainers.

This is true for whatever level of experience we have. Here's a group at the end of a Basic class. They're feeling pretty pleased with themselves.

As well they should. These folks have worked hard to master the building blocks. On those blocks they've built some skills that will serve them well on the streets. On top of it all, they conquered a bitterly cold weekend. There's always more to learn, though, isn't there?

This is a group of more experienced riders. They're spending a warm afternoon brushing up on rusty skills plus learning some new ones. The skills being worked on are more advanced but that same joy of conquest and satisfaction is just as strong as the beginners. The satisfaction scale is actually probably a lot higher at this stage. Nothing like having a full tool box and knowing how to use them, is there?

Even professional riders seek out training from qualified instructors. Their investment of time proves that these riders find value in formal training and feedback.

An instructor can share with a rider some valuable feedback. One really valuable thing we might not think of is just plain positive comments. Knowing what we're doing right frees us to concentrate on other things. It's the typical, "I got that down, now I can work on this other thing".

Instructors can see things that the rider often isn't aware of. A great example is during maximum braking. There's more to the process than just a short stop without falling down. We practice under controlled conditions. The braking chutes are clean, if not always dry! There is no conflicting traffic. Students do feel a certain amount of stress and tension. It's nothing compared to what they'll feel on the streets when their maximum braking is done in response to a critical incident. In those kind of situations their technique absolutely must be right. During practice, however, the students can sometimes get away with less than perfect technique. Which is where the instructors come in. We help to make the technique perfect.

For basic riders we're looking for certain things like one smooth and progressive squeeze of the brake lever. That's pretty much what the beginner riders are capable of absorbing. As the experience level of the class goes up, we're looking at things more closely.

We watch how the front cowling progresses downwards toward the front fender, for example. Granted, some bikes don't have a cowling. Like certain Bonnevilles without tachometers in Key West, for example. Nonetheless, we know what to look for, even then. We can then offer very precise feedback for improvement.

While a rider may only be aware of how firmly or smoothly they're squeezing, instructors can break it down further. We see the initial squeeze. We see variations in the whole progression of the lever application. We see the end of the squeeze. Did you know that a rider can skid the front tire at the end of the stop as well as at the beginning? We can see exactly where in the process mistakes are made and help with some very fine tuning.

Same goes with the rear brake application. I've had riders ask me why they keep sliding the rear tire with too much pressure? On the surface the answer may seem obvious. One would be tempted to simply tell the rider not to press too much with their foot. There's more to it than that, though. There are dynamics involved that most people aren't really aware of.

Things like the human response to brace themselves for an impending impact. Isn't that really the thing that's on our mind during maximum braking? Sure, we're hoping to avoid the impact by stopping short of the hazard, but what if we fail? See, that's the thing our mind is thinking about deep down. We hope we stop but our deep primal urge is to brace for the possible crash.

In a car we brace with all four limbs. Or all we have, anyway. Two on the steering wheel and two on the floor. Both feet press hard. The left foot on the floorboard or clutch and the right foot on the brake pedal. In a car we want hard pressure on the brake pedal. Not so much on a bike. Okay, not much at all, really. Yet our brains tell us from deep down to press hard. Both from the motor skills we've picked up from driving and from the instinct to brace for a worst case outcome.

In answer to the rider's question, then, my answer would be to tell the rider to brace their knees up tight against the tank of the bike. With knees out, the large muscles of the upper leg are pressing down on the brake pedal. By pressing the knees hard against the tank, it both helps keep the rider down in the seat of the bike and forces the smaller muscles of the lower leg and foot into service. Since these muscles are less powerful but capable of receiving greater feedback from what they feel, much more control of the rear brake application is possible.

Again, I'm not saying that a rider shouldn't practice on their own. Just the opposite, in fact. Perfect practice is what makes perfect. There isn't enough time in a class to get to that point. On the other hand, there is a big difference between training and practice. I'll go into that in some other post.

Having trained under a professional, our practice is more productive because we're practicing the correct things. We move from "I THINK I got it" to "I KNOW I got it!"

That's where the real fun and satisfaction of Step 3 comes from.

I was going to tell you a story or two about a couple of individuals who are great examples of what this post is about. Going to have to save them for the next post, though. You'll really enjoy them, so please come back!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-04-13T19:17:00.000-07:00

Ultimate honor!

Wow, I feel like I've finally arrived. One of my photos is on the front cover of Andy Goldfine's 2011Aerostich Rider Wearhouse catalog. The photo is but one of many, but it's still the ultimate honor for a rider like me. The Aerostich riding gear is the rider's equivalent of Snapple. You've heard the slogan: The Best Stuff on Earth. As least in my opinion. The riding gear, that is. I withhold comment on Snapple.

I've long sworn by my Roadcrafter. It's perfect for motorcycle riding. I also discovered another use for the Roadcrafter along with a full face helmet and gloves. When a baby's diaper badly needs changing you will appreciate the extra protection.

So, if you have any interest I have included the link to view the front cover online.

This photo was one I staged and then sent in to Andy. Look about halfway down the page and to the left third. When you roll the cursor over the photo it references a diaper change.

My buddy Patrick is also on the front cover. He's on the right side and lower down. Look for a Hi-Viz suit, an orange helmet, and the red BMW. Two TEAM OREGON instructors on the front cover is pretty cool.

If you have nothing else of importance to do, like rearrange your sock drawer, you can see my photo here.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-04-11T13:41:00.000-07:00

"That skill could use some work!" aka That Sucked!

So it is when we are at Level 2 on the gaining competency ladder. It's that moment when we discover we're not all that good at a particular skill or skills. My desire would be that this discovery is made either during formal training or when practicing on our own. I sincerely hope that it's not after having done the wrong thing during a critical incident on the street. Sadly, though, this is how way too many riders discover that they're a few vital tools short of a well stocked toolbox.

After having missed my corner, washed the bike ( and a personal garment ), and ridden a little more, the urgency of getting some formal training subsided. It's so easy for us to justify things to ourselves, isn't it? I reasoned that it wasn't a fundamental lack of cornering and braking skills that had led to my mishap. Rather, I had simply made a single mistake and I'd be sure not to repeat that same mistake. What is it about guys and ego? Especially when it comes to something like riding a motorcycle. There's this pervasive thinking that guys are just naturally born with the inherent skill to do certain things. When this proves to be more wishful thinking than reality, ego prevents the admission of said truth. I'm sure that this keeps a lot of guys from taking advanced formal training. Ego and the fear of looking foolish in front of equally inept guys.

So a lot of chest pounding takes place accompanied by a figurative waving of clubs. There's a lot of noise but no improvement in riding happens. I reluctantly admit that I was a member of that clan for many years. Two more bikes came and went. I was three bikes removed from my previous unintentional off road excursion. I tip-toed through the streets and bragged by the campfire. Life would have gone on like that except for a visit from a particular man.

I was the Road Captain for a motorcycle club. The core of the group was comprised of L.E.O.'s. There was Larry, a lieutenant in the sheriff's office ( my supervisor, in fact ), Bob V. and Clyde who were also patrol guys, Bob W. who was a state patrol guy, and Jeff from a local city PD.

One morning a guy from a motorcycle training organization came to our breakfast meeting. He stated that there was this new program being offered to experienced riders. ( the newly launched MSF Experienced Rider Course ) This guy also stated that he thought we would all greatly benefit from taking the course. Yes, the guy made it out alive. On the way out, however, he had to run the gauntlet of several pairs of firmly crossed arms in front of chests below very stern and intimidating looks. The last words he heard from us on the way out were:

"We're macho cops. We don't need no stinkin' training!"

That's where it would have remained if not for Larry. A friend of his had taken the course earlier. Little by little the friend was getting to Larry with things he'd learned. Larry probably needed training more than any of us. Seriously. One example was a recent ride we'd taken. We'd stopped at a little store out in the middle of nowhere. The parking lot was gravel. The drop-off from the paved road to the parking lot was about 5 inches. Larry dropped his bike ( a standard bike with a Windjammer type add-on full fairing ) making the transition from road to gravel. In the process he shorted out his battery.

To show you all some mercy I'll make the long story short. Ultimately Larry and I decided to take the class. Although I do have to share another story ( but very short ) about our arrival at the training site.

The parking lot was cordoned off by means of flags strung between various poles and trees. Very similar to what you can see in the background of the photo below.

Larry picked a stretch of flags strung between two poles about 10 feet apart. Since the poles were close together the flags were fairly taut with no sag. Larry starts under the flags. He ducks his head. His short windshield cleared the flags. So did his helmeted head. Not so fortunate was the sissy bar sticking up on the back of Larry's bike. The flags were surprisingly strong. So much so that the flags against the sissy bar arrested the bike's forward motion. Larry fell over in the process of arriving at a course for experienced riders. Hmmm, maybe it was a good thing we were here!

I learned a lot about head turns and how the bike goes where you look. Look where you want the bike to go. Don't look where you don't want the bike to go. I was grooving on my newly developed low speed control skills. My face was wearing a big grin. This was fun. Until the instructor announced it was time to work on maximum braking. My south end puckered so much it pulled the corners of my mouth into a deep frown.

OMG!!! You want me to do what? The instructor repeated what had been said in the classroom earlier in the day. We were expected to use a LOT of front brake.

I was really getting pissed for a while. The instructor kept urging me to use more front brake on my stops. I kept thinking that this fool was getting his jollies by getting me to do something that everyone KNEW was dangerous. Hadn't they heard of how touchy and unpredictable the front brake was?

As I was waiting in line I was watching other students making much shorter stops than mine. Ego reared its head, but in a good way this time. I was determined that these guys weren't going to show me up. Larry and I had made no secret of who we were. The instructor had used that to describe how to apply the front brake. He'd said to squeeze just like we would a trigger if we were shooting for accuracy.

Guess what? I opened my mind and gave it a shot. Pun intended, by the way. I talked to myself all the way up to the braking chute. Eyes up. Wait for the cone. Squeeeeze and downshift. I made a fantastic stop. I couldn't believe I was still rubber side down but there we were. I had conquered my own worst enemy, which was me.

That day of training has probably saved my riding bacon several times over. Not only from the actual training day, but from the hunger for more. It was also this day that first put the notion into my head to become an instructor though years would pass before that came to fruition.

When we talk about motorcycle training we often think of beginners.

I want to offer something else to think about. It's often the riders who have two or three years of riding under their helmets that are in the most danger. This is just enough time for them to have been exposed to a fair number of real world conditions. We think we've seen it all; that we have it all dialed in, as somebody put it in a comment on a previous post. Complacency can keep us from digging any deeper into training. We may sincerely think we have enough skills to get by so we don't need more. After all, we've done all right so far, haven't we? In some cases we don't know what else is possible. In other words, we don't know what the next level might be. There's another reason we might not train like we should. I'll come back to this one in a bit.

There is always a next level. We never get to a point where we've seen everything. There's always something else out there. A rider should never cease to become a student. I've recycled some photos from an advanced class I really enjoyed teaching last year. These are great examples of seeking a higher level.

These photos are of fellow riding instructors seeking to improve their craft. In the first photo they are in search of the perfect demo ride techniques to better serve our students / customers. In the second is an example of an instructor seeking to master skills on his own bike.

These next photos lead us up to my parting thoughts for this post.

This is a parking lot exit at the south end of a community college in Eugene. As you can see, the slope is quite steep. I watched a guy on a motorcycle trying to deal with stopping on the hill, coping with other traffic, and getting underway. As he was getting underway he dropped his bike. I was watching him as I was approaching the same place myself. This was a very familiar place to me. Pretty much my whole first year of teaching motorcycle classes was spent at this location. I'd mastered stopping on this this hill long ago.

Finding a quick place to park Elvira, ( which is easy on a bike ) I went to help him pick up his bike. He decided to go around the long way rather than tackle this slope again. That was his usual practice. Rather than conquer the situation, he avoided it. This day he had been pressed for time and had taken this route with the hope that he wouldn't actually have to stop.

So here's the moral of the story, as it were.

In my version of gaining skills, Level 2 is a place of discovery. The goal is to discover what we're not particularly good at. Once we find that out we know what we need to conquer to have a complete skill set. We can find this out through our own efforts to practice riding skills. We can also do it through formalized training. I would much prefer that riders make these discoveries by participating in training classes conducted by professionals. Here's why.

Firstly, professionals have the big picture. Training classes are usually designed to cover all aspects of riding. A person on their own may not be aware of what they really need. Professional training provides the 30 thousand foot view. A rider may be at 8 thousand feet and climbing. That's absolutely commendable but the view isn't quite as comprehensive as the higher one will be.

Secondly, there's another factor. We don't always push ourselves in the areas that we should. I've never hit a ball on a golf course ( except mini-golf ) in my life and don't intend to. I do watch people, however. There are a couple of golf courses I ride by regularly. You know what I see the most?

Golfers on driving ranges. Trying to hit the ball as hard and far as possible. I'd venture to say that the majority of golfers concentrate on their long game to the exclusion of their short game. It seems to me that it's in the short game where matches are won or lost, not so much in the long game. Yet people continue to practice what's easy and "showy" rather than the things that come harder.

The same applies to riding a motorcycle in my admittedly not so humble opinion. If something is really hard for a rider or scares them, for that matter, conquering that skill always takes a back burner. I owe that original instructor a lot for goading me into effectively using my front brake. I wouldn't have gone out and conquered that on my own. Possibly to my eternal detriment.

Training teaches us what we need to practice. The question is this:

What will we do once we discover it?

Stay tuned for Level 3.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-04-08T11:47:00.000-07:00

High Desert Hijinks

This is one of those posts where you'll get a break. There are a lot of photos and less words.

I'm working on the Step 2 competency post. In the meantime, I wanted to share some snapshots from a recent trip to Bend. There are motorcycles, sunshine, and snow.

The reason for the trip was to do some "train the trainer" work. Call it a workshop, if you will. During the course of teaching a class several instructors take turns stepping in. The idea is to have discussions among ourselves with the aim of lifting their teaching skills to the next level. There is one instructor who remains with the students for the entire class. This gives them some continuity.

Friday afternoon saw Katie and I headed over the Cascade mountain range. I briefly considered riding but the Oregon State Police said chains were required to get over the pass. This late in the year. So we drove. I know, what an excuse, but there you have it. Sure enough, there were a couple of patrol guys ensuring compliance. I hate chaining up but the packed snow and ice, along with a trooper's gaze forced me into it. Chaining up is a lot like throwing up when we're sick. We fight it and fight it. When we finally do give in, though, it feels so much better.

Our hotel was along the Deschutes River. Across the highway from where Bobskoot, Sonja, and Mr. and Mrs. Troubadour stayed during our first annual motobloggers convention. The temperatures during our event last summer were near a hundred degrees ( f ). This time it was barely above freezing. However, the sun was out and I spent some time playing with the camera.

Saturday morning found us in a parking lot. It's amazing, as an instructor, how a parking lot can so easily become your world for the weekend. I suppose the students feel the same way, too. A bare piece of pavement becomes a two-wheeled kingdom of sorts by adding some banners and bikes. Below are some of our crew. Actually, the man on the right was observing as part of his process of becoming an instructor himself. The poor guy probably got more information than he ever wanted to know!

The photo below is of Bill. He was the instructor that started with the students and was involved with every exercise.

Students practice their smooth stopping techniques under the watchful and encouraging eyes of Sean.

Getting directions for the next exercise. This is called "staging". It's really just a fancy word for two lines off the side of the range and out of the way.

Practicing the motor skills and actions involved in upshifting. Hey, life's no fun in first gear!

Waiting in line to practice the upshift, then downshift while stopping at the other end of the range.

Working on an introduction to cornering skills. You can see the air is slightly gray. What looks like fog is actually a fine sleet. At one point it blew in pretty heavily. The wind blew the sleet in from the west. Fortunately, we were looking east at the range so our backs were to it. I wish I had gotten the camera out to take a picture of us then. We all looked like snow monsters from the back. Totally covered in ice.

At the end of a cold day it was great to sit by the gas fireplace in the hotel lobby. A warm fire went well with some whiskey from the lounge!

This was the sight out of our patio door early Sunday morning. The hope was that the sun would melt the snow quickly. There were two problems with that. Firstly, the temperature stubbornly stayed below freezing. Secondly, clouds crashed the party. They arrived bearing the gift of more snow.

Weirdly enough, not all of the parking lot was the same temperature. Snow stuck to some spots and not others. Of course, we needed the whole lot to be free of snow. So we decided to delay a half hour and see what would happen.

After around 45 minutes the temperature came up a few degrees. Just enough to tip the scales in our favor. With the help of a couple of push brooms ( to create enough friction to melt the snow ) we got the lot cleared and the bikes underway.

I guess it IS possible to look intimidating on a GZ250!

We call the last exercise "Traffic interaction". Here the students deal with two way traffic, intersections, turning from a stop, and other situations they will encounter in the real world. For most of them, that can be as soon as the next day. It can look like chaos but the two instructors keep calm and watchful eyes on the scene. Accidents are extremely rare.

In the photo below you can see Sean calmly walking back towards staging at the end of the exercise. See, he's not shaking or quivering in the least!

It was finally time to wrap up the riding portion of the class. With the help of a nearby Subway sandwich shop we got to the classroom building and wrapped things up there. Blessed warmth!

Despite the cold and another snowy trip over the pass I thoroughly enjoyed the weekend. Another group of riders was started on their two wheeled journey of discovery. I got to see both the joy that the students had as well as the dedication on the part of the instructors I worked with. I still feel lucky to be a part of it all.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

2011-04-03T12:38:00.000-07:00

Levels of Competence: A Closer Look.

A couple of posts ago I shared what I feel are the four levels of gaining competence. I used the backdrop of a basic riding class. I did this because it's often easier to more clearly see the steps with rank beginners.

The thing is, it's easy to miss the deeper implications because we say "Those are beginners but I've been riding for a long time. I've already reached a high competence level."

That statement would be totally true. For some skills. For others, maybe not so much. Experience levels vary. One of the great things about this motorcycle related blogosphere is that so many of us from different walks of life ( and differing experience levels ) can find a common ground here. That's led to some great friendships. Last summer in Bend, when our first official blogger meeting was held, is a great memory. Sprawled all over the hotel room were nine riders. Some were relatively new to riding while others had been riding for longer than they care to admit. They were proud of their years spent riding but didn't want to give away their age! No matter the experience level, though, there is always room for improvement.

There is always room for improvement. Did I say that, already? Must be important. I'm a better rider than I was five years ago and I thought I was a pretty good rider then. Friday I sent an e-mail to an old mentor. For whatever reason he saw potential in me even as a new instructor. This mentor offered me a chance to take a leadership role in our motorcycle training organization. I was thinking about him and sent an e-mail of appreciation. Notice his response:

"That is just awesome to read - thanks for taking the time to send it. Your growth in the organization has been a joy to watch and to be a part of, and yes - you have lived up to faith and potential I saw in you (and then some). Here's my coaching for you now:

* Keep finding ways to take your game to the next level ('cuz there is ALWAYS a next level...)

* Look for Instructors who are ready to grow towards a leadership position and mentor them (in other words - pay it forward)"

In light of the above sentiments I feel it's worthwhile to go back and look deeper into the four levels of competence. Both for ourselves and for being able to pay it forward. Accurately. This time let's look specifically at how those of us who are past the beginner stage can benefit. For the sake of space, I'll split the four steps into separate posts.

Starting with number one ( a nice place to start, don't you think? ) here's the step:

I don't know what I don't know.

I could also add that some of what I think I "KNOW" is actually wrong!

Using myself as an example, let me tell you a story. I think it clearly illustrates my point. Even at the risk of looking a bit foolish. Hard as it is to believe, I haven't always been a highly skilled and technical rider. If I'm even there now. Like I say, I'm much more skilled than I was but there is always a next level.

In the story are something I didn't know I didn't know and something I thought I knew but was wrong.

More than three decades ago. A corner in the countryside a lot like this one. Posted at 20 mph. No mailbox or posts. Just a muddy field with which I would soon become more closely acquainted. "I didn't know what I didn't know" point #1. Proper cornering technique. Getting all the transitions done before the corner.

I'd done ok for a long while because I'd never really gotten in over my head. I had just graduated from my beloved Suzuki 185cc dual sport that I'd had since I was 14. The bike was a pretty blue and white and had a seat large enough for a passenger. The dual sport and I spent a lot of time off road until I got my driver's license. After that we spent a lot more time trying to impress the girls in high school and making the other guys jealous. Life was good but eventually I outgrew the Suzuki.

Now I was on a Honda CB750. You may laugh now, but back then this was a bike powerful enough to get you into trouble in a hurry. Moving to it from the Suzuki was like moving from a Shetland Pony to the Appaloosa stallion named Terry that Gramp used to ride when we did rodeo events.

Instead of a leisurely trot we were now at a full gallop towards this corner. I'd let the reins lie a bit too loosely and we were covering ground at a scary pace. Rolling on a throttle connected to an engine four times bigger than I was used to was pretty heady. Until I got a bit carried away. The corner kept looming larger and larger in my vision.

It was time to pull back on the reins, yell Whoa!! really loudly, and scrub off some speed. Seriously quickly, too, I might add. Enter villian number 2. What I thought I knew was actually wrong. I found that out later but at this moment I had full faith in the truth of it. After all, it had been drummed into my head by many riders more experienced than me. I'm sure you've heard this solemnly pronounced yourself:

"Stay away from the front brake because it will throw you over the handlebars."

I had actually experienced this on a bicycle. You think a macho young man raised by a cop/cowboy wasn't going to be doing deeds of daring and bravado on anything he could make move quickly? First a bicycle and then a dirt bike?

Weirdly enough, my having grown up on dirt bikes reinforced this so called wisdom but in an opposite manner. I'd lost count of the number of times I'd washed the front wheel out from applying too much front brake in the dirt. Another technique for steering a dirt bike was a lot of rear brake. You'd slide the rear wheel from side to side like a rudder. When you were pointing in the right direction you'd let off the pedal. Great in the dirt. No so much on the street.

Something had to be done for this corner. Time to pull the trigger. I fired the ammunition I had available. A brass shell made of ignorance with a bullet cast from falsehood. How did it turn out?

A little front brake along with a lot of rear brake. The rear drum shoes clenched as did my entire digestive tract. I remember some noise. Funny how a sliding rear tire never makes much noise in the dirt but seems to be quite loud on the street. There was this huge jarring sensation then silence as the motor died. We were still upright. We were also definitely not moving. Ironically, I'd almost gone over the handlebars. Not for having applied the front brake. No, we had simply stopped quite suddenly. Bike and rider nearly parted company. The Honda forgot to tell me it was going to stop so abruptly. Perhaps, in all fairness, it really didn't know that itself.

As you may have guessed by now, my braking technique was not overly successful in scrubbing off enough speed to make the corner. Ok, it wasn't at all successful. Heavy rear braking caused the bike to fishtail. In an interesting contrast, my dirt bike experience that caused me to screw up the braking helped me keep the bike upright. I instinctively looked up and kept the bike headed straight. Straight off the road and into the field. Actually, with the rear tire sliding, I didn't have much choice as the bike will continue to travel in whichever direction the front wheel was pointing. It would be more accurate to say that I kept the bike from falling over as we launched over the ditch and into the muddy field.

By the way, did I mention that the bike was now buried up to its axles in the mud? That would probably explain the sudden stop and the fact that we were still upright. Oh yeah, the force of hitting the ditch made my hand let go of the clutch which was probably a good thing. Although the rooster tail of slinging mud could have been quite spectacular. I'm also pretty sure that the other reason we didn't fall over was the fact that the low slung muffler system was acting as outriggers on each side.

Did you ever try to pull a 500 pound motorcycle out of mud to its axles? I tried for a while. There didn't seem to be any real damage to the bike. The spoked front wheel was tougher than it looked. My hope was to pull the bike out of the mud then go wash it off before I got home. The second part of the plan was dependent on the first part. Which wasn't happening.

A Good Samaritan in a small gray sedan stopped to help. Between the two of us we got the bike back onto the roadway. I'm still deeply ashamed of what I said. I've always been raised to own up to my mistakes and have practiced this religiously in my life. Except for this one time. I somehow couldn't seem to tell this stranger that I, a macho rider, had simply screwed up. I blamed it on a farm dog that ran out into the road and had then proceeded to disappear. It must have been a sheep dog because I sure felt sheepish telling the story. Based on the fact that I wasn't able to look him in the eye, I'm not sure the kind stranger believed me. However, he was polite enough not to challenge me. Perhaps he didn't know anything about motorcycles himself except for how to pull them out of the mud.

The good news was that there was no permanent damage to either the bike or me. Except to my ego. However, it could just have easily been just the opposite and I wouldn't be here writing this story. Which you may have preferred.

It was time to get some actual professional help. I'm talking about motorcycle training. What kind of professional help were you thinking of? Shame on you.

Which will lead us to Step 2.

Miles and smiles,

Dan