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

Navigational prudence.

This post has to do with something that some folks have thought about and some probably haven't. It's about where we set the "home" location on our GPS units.

One of the things I like about the GPS is that I can wander all I want to without any worry about getting home. Not that I would actually get lost, mind you. My internal navigational system is quite functional. The GPS, however, will direct me via the most direct route. By the time I've wandered to my heart's content I'm usually running late and need that advantage!

This past week I've been navigating all over the area south of Seattle following the big truck around. I wrote a while back about the smaller RV that was touring our area. This week the 53 foot custom trailer was available to us. We worked with some distributors to set up product show and training days. Thus I found myself relying on the GPS to get Elvira and I where we needed to go.

This trailer has a huge slide-out on one side which nearly doubles its width.

I'll get back to the GPS thing in a minute but I wanted to share a couple of photos from the week. It was "all hands on board" for our team. Brian and I, being blessed ( or cursed! ) with the gift of dazzling verbal skills led tours through the mobile showroom again this year. Inside the building were a product fair and various educational classes. Anyone from maintenance folks to architects could come away with something of value.

This is an amazing trailer. The viewpoint above is looking to the rear from the front. As you can see, it's dark outside. Our days started before sunup on site. This was after anywhere from a 30 to 60 minute run from my hotel in Kent. It was too dark to read directions stashed in the window of the tank bag. Voice commands coming through the earpiece of my Scala Rider com system worked well.

The previous snapshot shows the side with all our electronic wizardry. This side is the architectural portion. On the right are the displays of designer levers and such. On the left are 8 full sized and operational doors of various configurations. There's another area in front right behind the tractor that has another 4 full size doors.

Taking people through the mobile showroom sounds like easy duty. It's a lot of work, however. Brian would take the group down one side and I would take over at the nose of the trailer, bringing the group down the side with the doors. As soon as I took over another group started at the back. We averaged 11 tours a day, pretty much non-stop except for a break at lunchtime. A full tour took 40 minutes from entry to exit. We did this for four days plus set up and tear down.

It was also great fun, though. By the end of the stretch my voice sounded deep and raspy. Kind of like James Earl Jones as the voice of Darth Vader. "Luke, I am your father!"

Back to the GPS. As you see, I had plenty of reason for having the GPS on Elvira.

One morning I allowed way too much time for travel. My internal alarm goes off at 4 AM and this particular morning I was restless to get going. So I saddled up Elvira. Tacoma traffic can be good or bad, even in the wee hours of the morning. Traffic is surprisingly heavy early in the morning but we sailed on down Valley Freeway 167, merged onto WA18, and hit Interstate 5 southbound.

I've named my Garmin Zumo 550 Emily. I know I frustrated her a little bit. She told me to take a particular freeway exit. I, however, knew there was a coffee shop two exits down. My plan was to pass time there since I was so early. It would be Emily's job to re-direct me from there. I know she's just a machine that runs circuits but I'm positive I heard of bit of exasperation and annoyance as she said, "recalculating!". I'm even pretty sure she said "idiot" under her breath. As punishment for her snippy attitude I left her out in the rain.

Anyway, I usually sit where I can see the bike. In this case the layout precluded that. It wasn't in my plan to stand in the parking lot so I put my helmet on a table and my jacket over the back of a chair. I then sat and pondered the world while enjoying my coffee.

Emerging from the coffee shop into the still dark parking lot I observed ( most regular people would say they "saw" something, but us cop types have to say "observe" ) a fellow messing with the GPS unit on the bike.

You can see the temptation as the unit just sits out there on the handlebar. The mount has this retention lever that slips down and is secured with a set screw that has a sort of security head. So the guy couldn't just do a grab and run thing. Which is why he was still standing there when I emerged from the coffee shop.

I quickly caused the fellow to have a change of plans. The plan changed to rabbiting down the street as fast as he could go. In this case it was no harm, no foul. I don't leave the GPS on the bike if I'm going to be inside somewhere for a long time. This was one of those instances where I figured it would be okay as the coffee stop would only be about twenty minutes or so. I don't know if this guy prowled the local lots or was simply taking advantage of what he saw as opportunity.

This brings up the point of the post. Since most of you insist on there being a point rather than just reading as I ramble, I've put one in here.

GPS units have the ability to mark waypoints for regular reference. One such point is where the "home" location is. Most people sit in their driveway and push the button. The good news is that the GPS will then lead us right to our driveways. However, if someone were to steal the GPS unit, it would also tell them where it was and how to get there.

Considering that the thief knows we weren't at home when they stole the unit, that could be a bad thing.

My own GPS has been led to believe that my home is a chain coffee shop about four miles from where I actually live. See, I'm pretty sure I'm smart enough to figure out how to get home from there. It's kind of like Mapquest. Why don't they start at about step 5 as I know how to get out of my own neighborhood?



The thief will surely be disappointed but at least they can console themselves with a double mocha latte or something!

Just something to think about, for what it's worth.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Swimming in a crowded aquarium.

It's almost old history by now but I have to finish the story.

Swirling traffic finally spit me out into a parking lot. Drifting towards the edge of the current I found a relatively quiet place to park Elvira. Both of us crave elbow room and we find a tiny bit of blessed breathing room.

The telephoto lense compressed the distance. It was actually a nice little walk to get to Sears. Just after dismounting and pulling my helmet off a guy walked by. He'd parked close by, probably figuring it was easier to follow somebody than to blaze his own trail. As the guy passed, he said,

"Nice bike!"

I couldn't hear him clearly at first, not having gotten to pulling my ear plugs out, yet. So I asked him to repeat what he had said.

"Nice bike! Nice BMW."

I looked closely at the man's face but saw he was serious. I guess some of the things we take for granted aren't as obvious to others without the same interests. The man's statement was meant as a compliment so I let it rest and took it that way. Elvira doesn't care, either. Call her a wife or a mistress, as long as you tell her she's pretty!

Having my priorities dictated to me I headed directly upstairs in Sears. The restrooms are at the rear after you get off the escalator. On the way I passed a female clerk. She didn't see me until I got close to her. She thought she was alone while putting some stuff back on a rack. Her face was etched with battle weariness. Seeing me, though, she somehow pulled a genuine smile out of the depths of her soul and gave it to me as a gift. Gotta love people like her.

Feeling so much better than I can describe, I exited the restroom and went looking for a bite to eat. I know it's kind of like having one foot in quicksand and then firmly inserting the other. What can I say? I was already there and riding in the cold burns a lot of calories.

Negotiating heavy human traffic in the mall felt like swimming in a crowded aquarium. Outside the stores the corridors are big and well lit from above. Combined with the big glass storefronts it does feel a lot like an aquarium. Full of other fish. I'll share a little secret with you that makes navigating around people coming at you just a little easier. In case you hadn't discovered this for yourself.

Oftentimes a person coming towards you will glance ever so slightly in the direction they intend to pass you on. You have to watch closely as it sometimes is just a flicker of their eyes. Knowing this makes things smoother. Although this secret is proving less useful as more and more people seem to be freaking oblivious. That's all I'm going to say about that as I can feel my blood pressure rising.

Upstairs in the food court I followed my usual method of picking out what I wanted to eat. Which place has the shortest line? Subway was packed, as was Panda Express. Sbarro's is way over-priced. Taco Time had a two day waiting list. So the little stand offering Greek fast food was the choice. There was only one guy in line. I really didn't want to spend time pondering why the place wasn't busy. I chalked it up to people not being able to think for themselves and bravely ordered a steak Gyro.

This was only the third one I'd ever eaten. I'm pretty sure none of them have actually been authentic. Seems like for a true Gyro there is only one way to prepare the meat even if the sauce might differ. Maybe Nikos could help us out there. Gyro in hand I went in search of, believe it or not, more coffee. I know, fools rush in.....

I almost abandoned the quest when I saw the line at Starbucks. There are two of them in this mall. Pretty posh, eh? I tend to prefer the newer store because someone I know works there. This day she happened to be working which proved a real blessing!

Quick background. When I'm in the Portland area I often use one of the nearby malls as an office. They have coffee, food, restrooms, and a place to sit. Makes a great office away from the office. At Washington Square I tend to favor some chairs right next to the North entrance of Nordstroms. This is also close to a Shutterbug camera shop ( cool, huh? ) and some sort of spa.

One day last year there was this ebony skinned young girl sitting in the chairs across from me. I knew she worked at the spa. I finished a call to my mother and looked over at the girl. I told her she was a perfect advertisement for the salon. She just has these natural Ivory Girl good looks. She thought it was sweet that I regularly called my mother. Mind you, I never flirt with other women. I'm still totally taken with Katie. Women seem to relax and feel safe around me. I hope to God it's because of my attitude and not because they don't find me potent in a masculine sort of way!

Long story short this girl and I got to where we would chat when I was in my "office". She'd come out and sit for a few minutes when she could. She'd tell me about her young son and I'd tell her about Ryan. Then I didn't see her for a while. One day she showed up working at the Starbucks. She told me she was tired of pampered rich bitches and the new job worked out better for her situation as a single mother.

Seeing me walking away due to the long line she called out to me. I always order a 12 oz. plain coffee. My friend brought it out to me and I gave her the money. They say it's great to have friends. One of these days I hope to find out for myself!

Wanting a view while I ate ( such as it was ) I went back upstairs and found a table in the food court. It overlooked a main corridor of the mall. While I was sitting there a group of folks brought a tray of sandwiches and sat down. Actually, one person carried the tray but they all sat. These were folks from a group home, out for lunch. Near to me was a strapping young man that looked like a corn fed farmboy. He looked like perhaps he was challenged with something like Downs Syndrome. Perched on top of his head was this big black ten gallon hat. Anybody looking at the young man could tell this big hat was really special to him.

You know, I could totally relate. After all, I'd been walking around the mall carrying my Arai helmet in my hand. My helmet is pretty special to me, too. I admired his hat. He admired my helmet. It was a short exchange as he got distracted by one of the caretakers, but I considered it a pleasant addition to my day. Years and years ago I filled in for a month on a morning bus route. The bus was for people going to work at a rehabilitation center. It was a valuable education in getting to know people before we make a judgement. On my last day of driving every single passenger handed me a hand-made card of thanks and saying goodbye. I wish my heart were always as pure as theirs.

Arriving back at Elvira, who'd been patiently waiting for me, I was greeted by this sight.

Calling Elvira a BMW was one thing. Parking this truck next to her is another. Since the trailer stated it was a veteran owned business I decided to shrug it off and quietly head out. We were both glad to leave the crowded mall and head for freedom.

We didn't see any other bikes all day. We did, however, get to enjoy a stretch of highway with the late afternoon winter sunshine gently washing over us. Nothing warms a cold day like a bit of sunshine brightening your visor. Life isn't too bad, is it?

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Small blessings.

One of the great things about riding is how it helps me appreciate small things. Ok, not always. There's days when I hit the road, put my head down, and twist the throttle. Then there's days like this week. The agenda calls for a couple of hundred easy miles a day. I'm playing Motorcycle Santa again. Stops are loosely scheduled which leaves a lot of room for discovery. Here's some small thoughts from today's run.

First stop is in the Northwest Portland industrial area. For those local, it's way out west on Columbia Blvd. Mapquest says it's 73.86 miles from home. Nice distance for an early morning jaunt in the cold. On the way up I pass by Mike's tram and have a great view of Mt. Hood. The day is cold and cloudy, but one side of the mountain is lit by some distant sunshine. It's photo worthy but I'll be danged if I'm going to stop in the curves and get my ass run over for a picture. You'll just have to look at Mike's post to see the mountain.

Each year we hand out cards and a box of smoked salmon to our distributors. Four boxes will fit in the Givi. There's enough distributors for four day's worth of riding. Sweet!

It's more than a small blessing, but picture going to bed at night and thinking about work the next day. Sleep can sometimes be fleeting from stress. Not so this week. Sleep is still fleeting but it's due to enthusiasm about the coming work day. I've been greatly blessed to be able to ride for work a lot. This week has been especially great.

What's really interesting is the reactions from the people that work at the distributors' offices. Guys want to talk bikes. Some of the women look at me with extra interest. The same women, who if they saw me on the street sans riding gear, wouldn't look twice. Worse yet, they'd look away!

We have this one distributor where the owner has pictures of himself all over his office walls. Most are of him on bikes at different track corners. This guy is my age but much crazier. Hard to imagine, I know. He crashes more than he finishes a race. Each visit is filled with stories of his daring exploits, track and street. Last time he told me how he ran his KTM off the road into a muddy ditch and had to be towed out. He knows I ride and am an instructor. Not sure how he feels he's going to impress me with his crash stories.

Today I showed up on Elvira.

This is in their parking lot with Columbia Blvd behind the bike. You can see the pavement's still wet. It was 33 degrees (f) when I left home. By this time it was all of 37 degrees. By the way, if you look closely you'll see I've done something that I tell new riders to never do. There might be a prize for the first correct answer.

Anyway, this guy comes out to look at Elvira. He's still telling stories. I see him look at the tires, both of which are scuffed all the way out on both sides. He looks at the ground off peg feelers. Then the sidestand all scraped up. He bends down and looks at the scraped center stand. He gets quieter and quieter. Kind of like somebody bragging about doing something finding themselves next to somebody who's actually done it. I don't say much. Elvira's doing the talking for us. I know it shows my big ego, but it was pretty cool!

My next stop is on the road out of Portland towards St. Helens. It's still darn cold and my route has taken me along the river. Which is a cold and foggy trip through the shipping ports of Portland. I have to wait a bit to see the owner.

There's a shop dog that hangs out here. He's a huge Newfoundland with a friendly personality. Like a St. Bernard, but black. I'm standing in the lobby in my 'Stich. My hands are freezing, despite my heavy gloves. The dog wants me to pet him. There is no way to describe how wonderful it is to run cold hands through that long black fur! The dog loves the attention and I luxuriate in his warmth! When else would you discover such a blessing except during a cold motorcycle ride?

Back at the bike, I grab my cell phone from the tank bag. There's a missed call from the boss. I return the call. At the end of the conversation I tell him that I'm on the bike today. Telling your boss that you will be unavailable for a while because you're riding? Priceless!

This post is getting long so I'll split it up. Stay tuned for Part 2 and how Irondad gets trapped in a whirlpool while looking for a restroom.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Images from a weekend.

This has been my life the past week or so. Just a running blur. Mixed in between were a couple of training classes. I thought it might be fun to share a few images from the classes with you. The photos are actually from two classes despite the post title. "Images from two weekends" just didn't flow right!

I'm sure it's no surprise that I have an ego. A pretty big one, actually. It's something I try to leave at home when I'm teaching students or training instructors. Yes, I'm darn good at a number of things. Riding a motorcycle being one of them. However, training is about "them", not "me". An ego can get in the way. So I suppress mine. Interestingly, sometimes it's somebody else doing it for me. Take the first night of class, for example.

In this case it was Thursday night. Sometime right after lunch on Thursday the skies started dumping rain. Having been out in the rain all afternoon, I rode to class. So, if you're a new motorcycle student, wouldn't it be important for your instructor to have credibility as a rider? At least, that's my story.....

Truth be told, most of the students don't even notice or care. They are so inwardly involved with their own processes there's not much attention left for anything else. Obviously, it's important for an instructor to have their students trust them, but that happens during the class. It doesn't really matter if the instructor rides or not. To the students, anyway.

I just like having the reputation of a rough, tough, hardcore rider. I suffer a lot in nasty weather to keep and enhance that reputation. Maybe I rode in the nasty rain and wind just to show off. Did I mention I have an ego? Well, my ego was just about to be shattered.

Pulling into the lot near the classroom I spot a familiar bike. Perhaps you will recognize it, as well.

There was the 250 Rebel belonging to Balisada. She has a picture of our two bikes on her April 1 blog post. Balisada says she was riding because her truck had a flat tire. Let me tell you, I see her out on a bike in all kinds of weather. Pretty darn often, too. I even have photos of her riding the Rebel on a track during our Advanced Rider Training class.

I was instantly humbled. My Grandfather used to quell my youthful boasting with a couple of things. As if he should counsel me about boasting! Anyway, one of his stories was about a sturgeon and a hen.

He would tell me how a sturgeon would lay thousands of eggs but nobody knew it. The work happened deep under the water in the dark. A hen would lay one egg then run around the farm flapping her beak about it. The hen got the most attention, but which one really accomplished the most?

Weird story, isn't it? Guess you had to be raised a cowboy to understand. Right afterwards, Gramp would remind me of how it was the empty barrel that made the most noise.

One of us boasts a bit on our blog and the other one just quietly goes about her business. Who's really hardcore, after all? I hereby bestow upon Balisada the new title of Iron Tigress. To totally understand this, click on this post. Check out her helmet. Seeing as to how Balisada has a playful side, perhaps she would prefer Iron Tigger. Take whichever one you want, girl!

By Saturday afternoon we had a temporary reprieve from the rain. Construction leftovers have left a bit of mud and debris hanging about. Yes, that's Balisada's bike again. She works for the college's Security Department.

This is 6 AM Saturday morning. So far only Elvira and I are on duty. Getting ready for the day.

Training bikes getting warmed up in the fog.

By Sunday we had rain, again. Same training bikes, different weather.

One of these things is not like the others! To the students it doesn't matter if we ride or not. To other instructors? Let me say that the driver of the Ford got a load of grief! Imagine, having the audacity to park by our bikes on top of it all.

There are always new groups of students eager and ready to go. Here's the group from one weekend.

Here's the group from the next. So many different personalities. I always think of myself as the catalyst that brings them all together into a harmonious whole.

These pictures are from our last exercise of the course. We set up a miniature city with plenty of opportunities for traffic interaction. The perimeter is one way to the left. Inside lanes are two way traffic. The center is a four way stop. Students have to stop before entering the perimeter. All twelve ride at the same time. We even expect them to use turn signals and cancel them. Imagine!

Static practice on the bikes on how to manage a turn from a stop and stay in your own lane.

The following photos are students riding the exercise.

By the way, a close-up of the TW's front wheel is the blog header photo at the moment.

Some instructors call this exercise controlled chaos. Sometimes the students get uncomfortably close to each other like below.

Instructors cast a watchful eye on the group to keep them safe. ( I'm playing with shutter speeds to create a sense of action and movement. )

Douglas is a long time fireman. Not much fazes him. He's a steely eyed missle man taking care of business.

Let's see. Controlled chaos. Close calls. Interacting with inexperienced vehicle operators while being inexperienced themselves. Sounds a lot like riding in the real world, doesn't it? That's the idea. This is the last stop before the students become endorsed riders the next day. We like them to have a taste of reality along with the chance to apply all the skills they've learned over the weekend.

When all is said and done, time for a nice cup of coffee to end the day. I'm at Allann Brothers Beanery. And you thought I only went to Starbucks, didn't you? Actually, I had a date with Katie and we like to sit outside on the patio when we can. Oh, yeah, I'm drinking the Storm Trooper Blend. ( actually, they do have a blend called Oregon State Trooper: State Police headquarters are just down the street )

Miles and smiles,

Dan

What is it about riding?

Great! It's raining so hard that there's standing water on the freeway. I've already taken a shower today, so why are those southbound vehicles throwing water over the barrier onto me? I've got to get out of the left lane. If only I could see. Black clouds are so dark that the freeway street lights have come back on. Not to mention the water curtain over my faceshield and Elvira's windshield. If you've ever wondered what it would be like to ride under a waterfall, I could give you a pretty good idea.

Thus began my trip to Kirkland this past Monday morning. Elvira and I are in the Terwilliger Curves during morning rush hour. Nobody's going anywhere fast. As a matter of fact, we're crawling along. I hope the crotch of the Roadcrafter pants keep shedding water. The 'Stich is getting another adverse weather test. It's eleven years old and has seen countless miles. How many more storms can it weather? ( get the pun? )

Strangely enough, I'm happy about being on the bike, even in the storm. How weird is that?

When we were at the coast I had Katie bait these gulls with a mini bagel. This kind of represents what's happening in my world these days. Everyone's fighting for a piece of an ever smaller pie. Or, in this case, a bagel. I've been summoned to the Mother Ship for an all day meeting with the whole crew on Tuesday. I need to make a stop at the University of Portland to troubleshoot an electromagnetic lock installation. I don't know how long it will take. When I'm done I'll finish the trip to Kirkland and spend the night. The ride home Tuesday night will be a late one.

Speaking of the ride home, I stopped at the same Starbucks in Woodland where I had dropped Elvira earlier this year. I'm glad to say I really can exit the parking lot while staying upright! Of course, we'd only been on the road for about three hours this time.

Having the choice to drive or ride, I chose the bike. It will prove to be an overall cold and wet trip, although nothing will equal the Monday morning storm. If you don't count Tuesday morning's hail, that is.

With the amount of stuff I had to carry, there was absolutely no room for the Nikon. Since some of you complain that there aren't any bike pictures in some of the recent posts, I'm recycling some pics of Elvira from trips earlier this year. Before I became the dazzling photographer I am now! :)

I could have been warm and comfortable in a car. Food and hot coffee would be a casual reach away. My little XM radio receiver would sound a whole lot better on my car's Infinity sound system than through the tinny ear buds I have under the helmet. Yet, I look at the traffic surrounding me and feel glad to be riding. What's up with that?

I originally started this blog to encourage using a motorcycle as much as possible for everyday transportation. That's why I'm listed on the Ride to Work site. Andy's philosophy and mine align in that regard. He was gracious enough to include me when the RTW blog roll was in its fledging stages. Riding for utility is a worthy and noble pursuit. One I want to encourage as many as possible to share in with me. You know, you can even haul the family Christmas tree on a bike. Check it out here. There's more to it, though.

I never sit in my S-10 pickup and think how cool it feels. Nor do I get that free and agile feeling in either the truck or the car. No, there's something more to riding than just utility.

It's not about riding twisties as I'm doing the super slab thing both ways. It's hard to explain, but the world just feels right on a bike. Being in a car seems so cumbersome. Maybe it's just the decades of riding. You're comfortable with what you're used to. Maybe there's some magical aura that surrounds a motorcycle engine. Or, perhaps, it's just plain ego when I see all those folks in their cars while the swashbuckler is out on two wheels.

I'm also pretty sure I'm not the only one who feels this way. Even if we might actually be safer or more comfortable with four wheels, we choose two. Here's a recent example. Dom couldn't wait to ride the bike and sidecar in the snow, for heaven's sake. Maybe what it all boils down to is that we're just plain crazy. There may be more truth to that than we're actually willing to admit.

What about you all? How do you justify your insanity?

Miles and smiles,

Dan