Durango Day!

Not again! This is the fourth time I've passed this Durango. Am I riding in circles? Is this some plot to rob me of my sanity? I've got news for whoever it is. Sanity fled long ago. Is that a camera truck? Am I on some "Candid Camera" type of show? That probably dated me, didn't it? Or is this like one of those continuously running film loops? Sort of like the movie Groundhog Day?

I don't need my attitude adjusted. I've got plenty of my own and I like it just fine, thank you. If someone else doesn't like it they can just learn to adjust. This has got to be a different Durango. Sure, it's red. There's a blond woman behind the wheel. She has a cell phone glued to her head. The tires are drifting over the line into my lane just like the other three. Wait! This one's got a different colored blouse on. How did she change in the rig? I'd be scratching my head but the helmet's in the way. Oh bother. How did I get here?

This started out like any other commute to the office. There were three wrecks, traffic was backed up in four spots, everybody seemed particularly angry, and what should have taken an hour and twenty minutes took almost two hours. In other words, pretty normal for my commute. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention the drizzle. Here we are in August and there was rain within a few miles either side of the Columbia River. After a long dry spell, that was kind of fun. Riiiiight!

My journeys took me through several large cities. First was downtown Portland. A bike's the only way to make time and find parking in this city of six hundred thousand. I saw a small statured female motor cop I know. She has to slip off to one side to get a foot down on the BMW R1200RT. She rides the bike's rear tire over a 2 X 2 so she can get the bike onto the centerstand. Connie also happens to be one of the best riders I've ever seen. They say it's not the size of the dog in the fight. Rather, it's the size of the fight in the dog. This gal's not going to come out behind very often. That was my first encounter with a cop. The next one wasn't quite so pleasant.

Next stop was in Beaverton. It's a suburb of Portland. The population estimate is around 60,000 but it feels much bigger. Urban sprawl at it's finest! I was heading back to North Portland after a stop at Trader Joe's. A Beaverton cop in a cruiser slid in behind me. Looking in the mirror I could see that he was a mountain of a man. He stayed behind me as I waited to turn left onto the ramp that leads to Hwy. 217. I noticed he didn't bother to use his turn signal. At the metered ramp lights he came up beside me. I ended up in the middle lane and he was in the right. Suddenly, he moved over into my lane. He was on the freakin' cell phone!! I can't comment on why. Maybe it was emergency business. It could have been his wife giving him stuff to pick up on the way home. It was 12:15. I think he was calling ahead for his lunch. Either way, I was lucky I was watching. I felt perfectly justified giving him a satisfying, if not slightly puny, horn honking.

I thought my encounter with the cop was an isolated incident. It would turn out to be AN OMEN!

The Weather Gods have given up on me. For a while things were relatively peaceful. I believe I have been facing some new foes. They are the Pagans of Perversity.

Today they gathered up 7 blond women. All were issued cell phones and told they had unlimited minutes. If the minutes weren't used up in the next two hours and one hundred miles, bad things would happen to their loved ones. These women were inserted into Dodge Durango's. Five were red and two were grey. The Durangos, not the women. The Pagans spaced the women out in timed intervals so I'd have to interact with each and every one of them. Last minute instructions must have included:

"Painted lines on the road? Forgedda about 'em! We got ya covered. Following distances? See the first statement."

I kid you not. This is too bizarre to be fiction. The first one was probably a decoy. She was driving at a reasonable pace while just staring at the phone. I found her just South of the newly renamed Rosa Parks Avenue overpass. My GPS still calls it Portland Blvd. I had to tuck in behind her to get out of the way of Rose Quarter traffic merging onto the freeway. I saw from the back of her rig when she put the phone up to her head. At the same moment her speed dropped twenty miles an hour. I passed her and she was out of mind until the Terwilliger Curves. This stretch is uphill, fairly curvy for the freeway, and has a 50 mph speed limit. Which nobody obeys. My Durango mounted nemesis was working traffic aggressively. She must of hung up the phone. Too bad she got trapped behind those slow moving trucks. Normally I hate it when one truck is in the faster lane passing a slower truck. Fast truck is exactly two miles per hour faster than slow truck. I know, they have to do what they have to do. Today I was happy to see Durango Doll get stuck.

It didn't last long. I met her twin. Durango Doll the Sequel. By now we're back to the flats. Durango Doll II had lane placement issues. Durango Doll III had both speed and lane placement issues. At least this Durango was bright red. Durango Doll IV had trouble looking up and realizing when she needed to press the brake pedal. Have you seen those dunking bird novelties where the nose dives? She could have pounded spikes with the front bumper of her SUV. Didn't bother me after the first time. When I managed to get out from in front of her, that is. I put a Suburu Outback wagon between us. Poor beggar. Durango Doll V came into my sights around Woodburn. Her left rear tire was looking seriously flat. I tried to point it out to her. She must have told whoever was on the phone to hold on a minute. She looked over in response to my honking and pointing. I might just as well have been signing algebra equations for all the recognition in her face. I finally shrugged, she waved, and went back to her phone call. I mean I care what happened to her but what more was I going to do?

Durango Doll VI was waiting about six miles North of Salem. This was another blond. All the other Durangos had been smoother styled. Probably early 2000 models. This Durango was one of the newer ones with sharper angles. The sharper angles must have created a more cranky feel to the drive. This woman was on her phone, ( seeing a pattern, here? ) and tailgating me something fierce. She'd literally dove into the lane behind me with a only a couple of inches to spare at each end. I'm looking for a spot to pull right. All the while laughing hysterically to myself. What are the odds? Who's going to believe it? I pull into an open spot and let her go. As she passes I raise my left hand, give her a hard look through my black Ray-Bans, and .....give her a cheerful wave!

Durango Doll VII was waiting for me in Albany. This one put me totally over the top. I almost bought this particular rig. It's sitting in a car lot in front of a Chinese restaurant Katie likes. Grandma's having trouble getting into ( actually, out of ) the small cars we have. There's little room in the S-10 pickup. We test drove this Dodge. I loved it but I suffered from anal glaucoma. I just couldn't see my ass in an SUV!

Here it is, ready to pull into traffic. I know you're going to think I'm lying, here. It's too unbelievable, even for me. I'm going to have to try to get a copy of the accident report. Yes, I said accident report. Not me, of course. I'd taken a little detour East to Coastal Farm Supply and was heading back towards home. As soon as I spotted this blond driver ( with a man in the front seat ) on the cell phone, and looking to get into traffic, I moved waaaaay over to the left. I'm not normally what you'd call a "jolly" person, but I'm practically having convulsions from laughter. The dealer stickers are still in the passenger side rear window. I'm a block past her, waiting for the light by Airport Road, when I hear squalling tires followed by a loud crashing sound.

She has pulled out in front of a Honda Odyssey van! She's almost across from the State Police office and the fire station is around the corner on Spicer Road. Just keep riding, Dan, and don't look back. Go home and see if you return to reality when you dismount the bike.

Durango Day's proven to be fairly harmless to me. It's also turned out to be entertaining in one of those " I just can't believe this is happening to me" kind of ways. Or, "they'll never believe this at home"! Were they sent to get me? Was this some kind of plot by the Pagans of Perversity that failed? Were they just toying with me? Was it a plot at all? Maybe these vehicles have been here all along. Did a couple of close calls "sensitize" me to look for the others? I don't know.

What I do know is that I'm heading South tomorrow. I can't wait to see what's in store!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Something to think about

This was a recent training class my pal Dusti and I taught. We call it an IRT ( Intermediate Rider Training ). It was designed for people who know the basics of riding but want to get an endorsement. We figured we'd offer a class that lasted a day, offered some classroom training in mental strategies, and taught some vital street survival skills. Up until the beginning of last year we required students to bring their own bikes. You notice in the picture that there's a really sharp looking 'Busa and a Harley. The rest of the bikes are our training bikes. Some day I should share the story of the man riding the "Busa. Talk about having your eyes opened and being pleased with the results!

The student count never got up to the level we thought it should. We're not hurting for paying students. Classes are so full as it is that we're struggling to keep up. No, the worrisome thing is that we know how many unendorsed riders are out there. Not very many were showing up on our class rosters. Unendorsed riders are over-represented in accidents. I won't go any further with that subject. It could be a long post all by itself! Our goal is altruistic. Getting more of these riders in to see us will increase their chances of survival on the streets. How could we accomplish that objective?

Making the class easier was never an option. We pride ourselves on actually requiring students to exhibit skills in order to pass. Long story short, we found that one big obstacle was the fact that students had to use their own bikes. One reason was that they felt they'd be embarrassed by trying to manuever their own bikes around the parking lot. The other reason was fear of dropping their bikes during the class. We changed things so students could use our training bikes. The numbers of students in this particular class has more than tripled. That's good news in one way. It means that more riders are getting valuable training where they wouldn't before. The bad news is that these aren't brand new riders. They've been on the streets on larger bikes. I feel like they should be training on what they're actually riding.

Back in Spring of 2006 I wrote a post about riding one bike and learning to ride it well. In the jungle we call "commuting" we need to have our bike's reactions mesh to ours. Things should be second nature. We can't always take time to think which bike we're on and then ponder which reactions are appropriate to that particular bike. You can read the post if you click here. Scroll down a little when you get there.

It's an interesting situation. Most of us have more than one bike. That's part of the fun, isn't it? I'm not saying that we should get rid of all but one. What I am suggesting is that we pick one to commute on regularly. Then get proficient with that bike. Train until the bike and rider act with one accord. Commuting on a bike has so many rewards but it's also arguably the most dangerous riding activity we engage in. Except for the CB900 my bikes are all of a sporting bent. On the other hand, I know a lot of folks with quite different steeds. Sometimes that big difference bites us.

I just visited a friend in the hospital. This guy is a regular rider. He's a firefighter / paramedic. A responsible guy who knows the value of training. His only bike for a long time was a big Harley with floorboards. Then he adopted a Kawasaki Concours. It wasn't long before the Connie became the commuter of choice. On this particular day he'd decided to clean the spiders out of the Harley's pipes. On the way home, as many of us do, he had work related things on his mind. There's some nice corners on his chosen route home. As most of us try to find. Coming up to the first corner, he set his entry speed based on reactions honed by riding the Connie. His mind was sort of distracted so his body took over. It would have been a great entry speed for the Connie. Unfortunately, he was on the Harley.

Ground clearance is a lot less when you're on a cruiser with floorboards. Something hard on the bike smacked the blacktop, lifted the rear tire off the road, and shot rider and bike off into the landscape. The bike was totalled. My friend has a nearly torn off knee cap among other injuries. Yes, he was wearing really good gear. Abrasions were minor but the twisting and tumbling got to him.

This is an extreme example, granted. What about all the little things, though? How a bike reacts to brake pressure, how much force does it take to swerve this bike, how does the throttle respond? The difference between a bike like the BMW R1150 RT twin and a Honda ST1300 four are dramatic to throttle response. Just the kind of "goose" you'd give it to quickly move out of someone's errant path.

I don't mean to sound like I'm getting conservative. I'm still an avid student of the "go for the gusto!" school. Two hundred miles a day on the freeway is really lowering my opinion of the average car driver, though. It's getting worse all the time. My commute also gives me a lot of time to think about things. Maybe too much! Until we get more people converted to two wheels we're going to have to keep riding upstream, so to speak. I'm just passing along something that I think worth's thinking about in helping to take care of ourselves out there. Oh yeah, don't forget to have fun!!!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

That really "bugs" me!

I took a ride last night. During the ride there was an "interesting" experience with a lad in a VW Bug. It insired me to pass along a couple of reminders on how to take care of ourselves out there.

First, though, I want to send some positive waves beaming toward those around Minneapolis. Our local news station ( among many others, I'm sure ) showed the film of the bridge collapse. The blog drums say that those in our blogging neighborhood are safe and sound. That part's awesome. Losing a major bridge like that has got to put a crimp in the work commute. Stay strong.

Last night Katie took off for class shortly after 6 PM. You know what I did. Despite the fact our thermometer still indicated 93 degrees ( f ) I pulled the gear back on. The hour and a half since I'd arrived home had allowed the 'Stich and helmet to more or less dry out. No matter how good the venting, a hundred mile ride in hot weather tends to make one "glisten"! No matter. You're either hardcore or you're not, right?

The ride itself was dedicated to meandering. One of those "Where does that road go? Let's go find out." kind of things. You know the old saying:

"You're not lost if you don't care where the road goes!"

It was when I got back into town that I encountered the lad in the Bug.

I like sunshine but that late evening sun can be rather obnoxious. There's that time as the sun's setting that it projects an "In your face!" attitude. I'm riding through a residential neighborhood and slowing down in preparation for making a left turn. There's this green Bug behind me. I know it's there and I'm watching it. The driver's slowing down so one would assume he knows I'm turning.

Rule number one: Never, never, assume anything about other drivers.

I start my turn but keep an eye on the Bug. My front wheel's over the centerline when, suddenly, I hear the Bug motor surge. These things have a unique sound, don't they? I quickly straighten and abort my turn as the Bug passes me on the left!

Since I'm pointing straight anyway, I follow. This time I'm engaging. In another neighborhood the kid pulls over. I see no reaction as I park the bike a little farther up the curb. I don't want it near the Bug, just in case. I quickly pull off my helmet and accost the lad as I walk toward him. Seeing some fear in his eyes, I tell him I'm not going to hurt him. I only want to chat about what happened.

He claimed not to have seen my turn signals, the sun was in his eyes, etc. That still didn't explain why he was driving like that in a residential area. We'll leave the rest of the converation out of this post. I promise I was professional if not always totally friendly. The point is that I was taking extra steps to communicate with traffic due to the circumstances. I want to pass along a couple of things to think about.

Here's a picture of the Bug. The kid had gone into a house. I say "Kid" even though he was probably 30 or so. It's all relative when you reach my age, you know. He probably wondered why I was taking a picture of his car!

I'm not looking to have you admire the car. Take a look at the back of the car. See the long shadow? Right after I snapped this photo I turned around and took a picture facing the other way.

This is what drivers are seeing. Or not seeing. We were both facing into this evening sunshine. I'm not excusing the kid, of course. This illustrates a situation we commonly face as riders. No matter what other drivers do or don't do, it's our responsibility to be aware of hazards and develop skills and strategies to deal with them. This is definitely in the hazard column! What do we do about it?

Be aware that it becomes extra critical to talk to other traffic. We might be using the turn signals on the bike and think it's obvious to drivers. Bear in mind that bike turn signals are usually smaller than car signals and closer together. There's a real good chance they won't be visible to a driver with the sun in their face. As much as we like to bash cagers, they're not all incompetent or evil. Most want to watch out for us. Help them out.

As I was approaching my turn I had used the signals on the bike as well as putting my left arm out. My 'Stich is Hi-Viz. Between the bright color and the extended arm clothed in yellow, there was a greater chance of the driver behind me getting a clue. Obviously not in this case, but I'd done all I could do, including flashing the brake light as I was slowing down. Extreme vigilance is always the safety net.

Flashing the brake lights is an often overlooked tool. Lately there seems to be a rash of motorcycles getting rear-ended as they slow down. I'll tell you why.

If a rider's not in a hurry, how do they usually slow down? Engine braking through downshifting. Bikes have three brakes. We use the third one. Brake lights never illuminate. You know how drivers are these days with their following distances. As in, slim to none, also called tailgating. So Bob in the Buick is following a bike a little more closely than he should. When he looks up from his cell phone key pad he suddenly sees that the bike's right in front of his hood. Not much time to react.

A flashing brake light has a lot better chance of getting a driver's attention. Even if you don't need the brakes, use the light to your advantage. The same principle holds true when you're sitting at a red light or stop sign. Flash the brake light to wake up drivers coming up behind. It's a way to say "Hey, I'm stopped and not moving, here!"

By the way, I'd really suggest using the rear brake pedal to activate the light. It will affect the bike's stability a lot less than the front brake. Especially at lower speeds.

When Katie got home she saw the gear out and suggested another ride. We went to a 7-11 and got Slurpees. Which are a trick to transport by bike, I'll tell you. We rode to a park and sat on the riverbank until well after dark. But that's another story.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

A little ride to work, a little ride to discover.

Let's see. I took a couple of days off work to do what? Oh yeah! To work. Makes a lot of sense, doesn't it? The reason I'm appearing on the early morning scene and playing "Shadow Man" in the picture of Sophie was because of a phone call.

The person on the other end of the phone had a sort of desperate sound in her voice. In order to meet the ever increasing demand for our Basic Rider Training courses, we've had to add some mid-week classes. Easy to add to the schedule and even easier to fill with students. Not so easy to find instructors. Most of us work during the week and teach on weekends. Now there's a class during the week at least twice a month here. I've always had a soft spot for a damsel in distress. It looked like this one was going to do me in, as well.

I swear that my final demise will come at the hands of some gal with a "Oh, you big handsome motorcycle rider, won't you please rescue me?" sad story. I can see myself stepping in front of a bullet thinking I'm protecting her. It will probably turn out that she damn well deserved it all along. That darn chilvary thing Grandpa instilled in me. Go check with Webster. You know, the dictionary guy?

"chivalry: the system or practices of knighthood, the spirit or character of the ideal knight."

"chivalrous: 3. marked by especial courtesy to women."

It's in my Warrior blood. I can't help it. So here I am at 6:20 am. Taking off of work to work.

Thus I found myself wrapping up an advanced class on Sunday afternoon and standing in front of another class on Tuesday night. The joke's on our program, though. It's not really work to me. The only reason I know it's a job is that I get a check for my services at the end of the month. Being a trainer of riders is too fascinating and fulfilling to be considered just a "job". Don't get me wrong, it's a lot of work. My joints sometimes protest from having to pound the pavement on a scorching hot parking lot. That's what vitamin supplements are for, aren't they? I consider it to literally be a life saving effort. I'm also privileged to be able to share some of my sheer joy of riding with others.

Even if we struggle particularly hard with a student it's still rewarding. This is all about the discovery. People come to us and discover they shouldn't be on a bike, after all. That's a huge win compared to what often happens. Instead of buying a bike and going out to crash in an intersection, the wise ( or lucky ) ones discover it in a safe environment. Isn't going to work out? No harm, no foul. Go your way in peace. I know I helped save them from becoming just another statistic.

As rewarding as it is, I was glad to have the noon hour come around. My friend and fellow instructor Jacho was going to be doing the classroom session. We put the bikes away and I danced around the parking lot shouting "I'm free! I'm free!"

This was the day before I injured my ankle so I was quite enthused about riding just for the sheer enjoyment of being on the bike. It was one of those days when everything just comes together. Sunshine without excessive heat, a destination but no particular route designated, and hours to do it in. I grabbed my rear with both hands and got out of there before the dust settled.

My ride to work takes me North on Interstate 5. I'd been watching this strange apparition rising little by little out of the ground just North of Salem. Now that it was nearing completion I was no closer to really knowing what it was. I had my guesses but now I set out to find the truth. I'll say here that the riding was great. My batteries were recharged quite nicely, thank you. There's too much fun detail to share here. The post would take weeks to read. I'll keep it focused on my quest for discovery.

Here's the monstrosity I was chasing. Some of you may recognize it right away. Suffice it so say, we don't see this kind of thing here very often. It turns out to be a water tower for the City of Keizer. The inflow and outflow pipes thread up through the narrow neck of the structure. There happened to be a building official from the City of Keizer there. He explained to me that this design was more commonly found in the Midwest. That's why they chose to build it like this. The municipality wanted something different. Out here we see water tanks that sit high above the ground supported by four spindly legs that seem to have no chance against the weight. This design really doesn't look any sturdier to me. It reminds me of someone with their belt cinched way too tightly. At any moment they're in danger of the top and bottom halves of their body separating!

There's actually a man standing on top of the tower. Two guys from the painter's crew were working inside, sandblasting the surface to get it ready to be finished. You can see the air vent hose on the right side of the tower. Eventually the outside of the tower is to be painted a sort of sky blue color. All I could think of was how lucky I am not to be having to work inside of a big, dark, steel ball high above the ground.

Having completed my mission of discovery, I moved to my next mission. Go find the twisties. Great fun and refreshment. Although, I'm still blown away that no matter where I ride there's so many drivers distracted by cell phones. Some say it's an epidemic. I say it's becoming a pandemic. Look it up. I passed a gal in a black Accura. She was driving 30 mph in a 50 mph zone. All the while furiously moving her fingers over the phone's keyboard. Technically, she wasn't talking on the thing. Texting is even worse, I think. Oh well, people are going to do what they're going to do. My job is to develop and use skills to take care of myself. Look at it as a challenge!

The end of the day saw a ride to work and a ride to play. The best of both worlds. How lucky we are to have discovered the wonder of two wheels!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Vectrix electric scooter

I came across this on Northwest Cable News this morning. These scooters are just becoming available in the Seattle area.

This rig is billed as an electric maxi-scooter. Here's some quick statistics.

The battery pack is NiMH and is expected to last approximately 10 years figured at an average mileage of 5000 miles per year. Charging is accomplished by plugging the thing into a standard 110/120 volt receptacle. Two hours will put the battery pack into about an 80% charged state.

Top speed is claimed to be 62 mph ( 100 km/hr ). It is suppposed to do 0-50 mph in 6.8 seconds. DC motors usually have a lot of torque anyway. What's the range, you might ask?

Range is listed as about 68 miles. The kicker is that this is figured at an average speed of 25 mph. What is that, about 40 km / hr? Interestingly, the range can be extended by up to 12% depending upon how much stopping a rider does. There's a regenerative braking system that adds a little charge to the battery. Storage is comparable to other big scooters.

List price is $11,000 ( U.S. dollars ).

This would be a perfect commuter vehicle. Forward movement would be twist and go. Emissions would be zero. There would be no noise ( not that most scooters are noisy in the first place ). Just the gleeful giggling of the rider. Although, there's this kid in our neighborhood with a Spree that screams like a chainsaw. I'm torn between not wanting to hurt a two wheeled creature and my desire for peace and quiet!

I'm not sure I would buy one of these. I keep thinking of how much more performance I could get for that kind of money. Motorcycles are already a lower emission vehicle. There's those who might argue differently. It depends on how you look at it, I guess. That discussion isn't the purpose of this post. I can see an advantage to the Vectrix in that there is no oil changing, no valve adjustments, no tune-ups, etc. Keep it clean and on good tires and enjoy. The cleaning part is even optional. Probably ought to keep good tires, though! Come to think of it, there's still a drive belt and transmission to maintain.

Want to take a look for yourself?

http://www.vectrix.com/Portal/1/Language/47/Page/1/Home_(US).aspx

Miles and smiles,

Dan

A chance to help out

I am a long time AMA member. Just to make sure we're on the same page, that's the American Motorcyclist Association. This organization is providing an opportunity for riders to further the cause of motorcycle safety training. Each individual contribution is relatively small. Collectively, though, we can make a huge difference in keeping riders alive and well on the streets.

The last major study of motorcycle crashes was released in 1981. It was called the "Motorcycle Accidents: Cause Factors and Identification of Countermeasures" study. Otherwise known as the Hurt Report. Not because people got hurt, ( although they did ) but after the lead researcher, Dr. Harry Hurt.

From this study we learned that motorcyclists are more vulnerable, less visible, and that making good decisions is critical for a rider. We saw how vital it was to be able to provide rider education. Most of what is being taught even today is based upon the results of that study. Mental strategies to deal with "blind" motorists and other hazards were developed and taught. The study exposed what physical skills were lacking in accident involved riders. These skills are now being taught as "accident avoidance skills". Most riders take up learning these when they're avoiding an accident. That's a bummer of a time to start. Rider education gives us a chance to be prepared ahead of time.

It's all good but we live in a world that's vastly different today. Things exist now that didn't back then. Some examples are the myriad of drivers distracted by cell phones, SUV's, anti-lock and linked brakes, sport bikes that are ungodly fast, the proliferation of scooters, and the sheer volume of traffic, to name but a few. It's time for a new study.

The good news is that the federal government has funded just such a project. The AMA was heavily involved in this effort. A transportation bill was passed in 2005 that allocated almost $3 million dollars to a new study. Sounds great, right? Ah, but there's a condition attached to the money. Motorcyclists are required to match the funds before the government releases theirs.

The motorcycle industry is putting up a significant chunk of it. The AMA is also committed to funding a large share. Even with that, there's a need for additional funds. That's where the individual riders come in. This study will benefit us as well as future riders. If the collective motorcycle world doesn't come up with the funds to match, who knows how long it will be before the government decides to offer it again. As you can imagine, as a motorcycle training professional, this kind of study is dear to my heart. It's something that we sorely need.

The AMA is asking individual motorcyclists ( that would be us ) to get involved. It's an effort called "Fueling the Fund. They are asking that riders contribute what they can. A suggested amount is the price of a single fillup ( hence the "fueling" part of the name ). The AMA has made it easy to participate. Clicking on this link will take you to a secure website where riders can donate online.

http://www.amadirectlink.com/study/

Those who prefer the postal system can send a donation to:

Fueling the Fund

c/o AMA

13515 Yarmouth Drive

Pickerington, OH 43147

If you feel so moved, your help will keep us moving in the right direction. Please mention it to those you know that ride. This is an excellent cause.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Humor and perspective to start the week

Here's a couple of humorous posters plus one to put the work week into perspective. I have no idea where they originated. A fellow instructor forwarded them to me. I apologize if I am committing a copyright infringement. I'm only passing them on, not claiming any sort of authorship.

In light of all the police training I've been involved in recently, this poster seemed to fit. Especially after being chased by motor officers on the race track. This looks to be a similar type of training in "violator pursuit", just with cruisers instead of bikes. I hold most law enforcement in high regard. This is just some humor afforded by the classic stereotype. The fact that it has a bike in it makes it even funnier to those of us who ride.

Some people really like bikes with "character". Me, I don't much favor having a bike with flaws disguised by calling them "character". I appreciate finely honed tools that do their jobs with just normal maintenance. Those maintenance intervals should be widely spaced. I have a few fellow riding enthusiasts who seem to be happy when their bikes break down. It gives them an excuse to pull the wrenches out and go for it. That's not how I "get down" or whatever the expression is. I don't insult these fellows but they seem to want to do it to me. I'm constantly getting crap about my "rice burners" in comparison to their fine Italian or English machinery. Well, guys, this one's for you!

Finally, for those who might be reading this blog and not quite having made the decision to ride to work regularly, here's another reason. Life's about attitude. It's not about what "happens" to us. It's about how we interpret events. Helpless victim or firmly in charge of our journey? Riding empowers us.

I hope your Monday is great! I've got some posts planned that I'm sure you'll find helpful and enjoyable. Life's been so busy that I've sort of been slacking off here. You will soon find my sense of fun and adventure, my somewhat sarcastic wit, and my stubborn attitude spilling out on these pages once again!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Fork in the Road revisited

This picture is a re-run from January of this year. It was bitter cold but sunny back then. When I published the picture in the post someone asked for the GPS coordinates. Having recently acquired a Garmin Zumo I now have the coordinates. If anyone still has an interest here they are:

N 44 degrees 33.654'

W 122 degrees 58.723'

The demand for riding classes is increasing all the time. Headquarters has been scheduling more classes. During the summer the added classes happen in the middle of the week. After receiving a desperate plea from HQ, I arranged some flex time from my job to teach. The first half of yesterday and today were spent with another eager group of riders in a beginner class. I had just taught an intermediate class on Saturday and an advanced class on Sunday. I never really know what day it is anymore. When you work 30 or 40 days in a row they all blend together. I do know when Sunday rolls around because the newspaper's much bigger!

After class yesterday I managed an awesome ride. In the next few days I'll write up the great ride to work and the long way home. I found a really unusual water tower and took a picture of it. My riding's going to be curtailed for a few days, unfortunately. I really tweaked my left ankle today doing a demo ride. Yes, the great Master has injured himself on a little training bike!

It was a demo for a cornering exercise. I was riding a Suzuki GZ250 which is a cruiser style bike. During the demo we ride close to a a pivot cone which sets up the path of travel for the next corner. I admit that I like to lean a bike. Cruisers don't have as much ground clearance as the bikes I usually ride. Especially little ones.

I usually just kiss the peg feeler to the pavement going around the cone. Not enough for anyone to hear it, just enough to know I did it. A small touch of finesse. There was just one slight variable today that did me in. A new pair of Red Wing boots. They're great range boots. When you pound the pavement so much these hiking type work boots are excellent. Only thing is, the new boots aren't beveled on the edges yet.

Simple formula. New boot sole meets blacktop. Boot sole does not slide. It grabs traction on the pavement. Boot twists backwards off foot peg. Contents of boot also follow on this unwanted journey. I got my foot lifted but only after a painful twist of the ankle happened. Ankles will rotate but I'm pretty sure 70 to 80 degrees is more than they were designed for. The good news is that the students were on the right side of the bike and a little farther away so their view of it was blocked.

This happened early in the range session today. There was a short time when I tried not to let anyone see me hobble. After a while I hardly noticed it. When I got on my own bike to come home, the real pain started. My left ankle hurt so badly that I was really tempted to ride home in first gear. I guess the action of trying to put my toe under the shifter wasn't good for the ankle. Neither was holding up me and bike with it a fun thing.

Once home I took off my boot. The pain was so rough that I experienced the flushed, sweaty face, and nausea typical of a broken bone. No, I haven't been to a doctor. There's only a little swelling and a tiny bit of bruising. I have a high pain threshold and I'll deal with it. Probably just a strain. Right now I'm limping around because Katie's gone for a couple of hours. I'll crawl back on the couch before she gets home. Before she left she made me promise to stay put. The dear angel brought me everything she thought I might want. I'm not comfortable asking her to wait on me but she wants to baby me. I'm not sure how I got so lucky.

We were planning to take a ride to Kirkland tomorrow. A small dinner party is being held in honor of the company I work for being in business 20 years. The plan was to take the bike and stay overnight. On Saturday I'm planning to take Katie to the Italian restaurant with the vintage Italian bikes on display. It would qualify as a very long ride to work as it's to the corporate offices.

This trip is going to happen by car. I'm not wild about it but there's no way I'm going to put Katie in danger as a passenger. By myself I'd grit it out. Our riding students get an ongoing lesson in knowing one's limits and riding within them. This is a time for the Master to heed his own wisdom.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Tipped over the edge?

Katie says I suffer from insanity. I vehemently protest that she's dead wrong. I'm not suffering. Actually, I enjoy every precious second of it! What's crazy is that it was her idea in the first place. I carry it out and now she calls me nuts! Sheeesh!

What I'm going to relate is totally true. There have been statements made that truth is stranger than fiction. Other people talk of how life imitates art. Perhaps all they say is true. Read on and you can be the judge. Tell me what you think. Have I finally tipped over the edge? I'm almost afraid you'll say I have. What worries me even more is that you won't find me crazy. You may nod your head pityingly. You might think it would be crazy for anyone else; but knowing me, you can totally understand. All I can do is relate the sad state I've found myself in. There is another possible outcome, you know. You may not want to admit it but there may be a little envy. That's right, you might be envious that you didn't think of it first.

As you know, this blog and several others in our blogosphere are mainly about riding to work. Lately, though, the need to actually go to the office is diminishing. I still make customer calls but the paperwork and reporting takes a lot of time. With a laptop computer, an internet connection, and a phone, I can do all I need to do from home. Why fight freeway traffic for three hours just to work in an office a hundred miles North? I grab coffee from the kitchen and head for the room I use as an office. Sounds like a great thing, right?

There's a down side to this, though. I'm sure you can see it coming. Riding to work implies that there is actually someplace to go. Not going to a work place equals no riding. It was okay for a few times. Call me sick but I have to ride fairly frequently. If I don't I get out of sorts and slightly cranky. Katie may not use the word "slightly" but, hey, it's my blog, not hers! Riding is literally my way to relax. Katie says that for me riding is a misdemeanor. As in, "the more I miss, da' meaner I get!"

You can see the problem. Working at home more means riding less. I wasn't sure what to do about it. I thought of taking a ride in the afternoons but there wasn't always time due to a hectic schedule. It was turning into an ugly situation.

Then one evening the answer presented itself.

We were watching the Food Network. There's a car commerical playing. It's for a Lincoln MKZ. This guy kisses the wife goodbye and pats the young son on the head as he leaves. During the ride the man calls for messages. Soon he arrives at his destination. Which happens to be back at his house. The wife looks more businesslike now. The man says "Good morning, Grace!" The son says "Hi, Boss!" He's acknowledged by the father saying "Johnson". Later on the son asks the boss if he has time to play catch. The father says he can take an early lunch. It's actually a very cute commercial.

Katie says, "You could do that!"

Ever notice how doing the same thing in two different contexts can make the difference between normal and crazy? You know how a woman you deeply love can be. She has this way of getting me to do these kind of crazy things. There's both mischief and a promise in the way she looks at me. All the while drawing me deeper and deeper into her schemes. It seemed weird to think of but I let her start me down the path.

I planned a route that included some fun roads. It would take anywhere between thirty five minutes and an hour. I could ride more or stop for coffee. I have to say it's really working out well.

The other bikes in the picture above belong to a couple of gents I met while having coffee. They were sort of camera shy so I had to settle for a picture of just the bikes. We're at our range in Salem. The man who rides the BMW was having some low speed control issues with the big bike. We arranged to meet for some personal coaching.

You can call me nuts but this is a really great thing on several levels. For one, there's absolutely no time pressure. Secondly, in order to be successful in working at home a person needs to set up a situation to be productive. There has to be a mental transition from "being at home" to "being at work". Taking an early morning ride puts me in the business mind frame. The extra productivity helps me get more done early in the day. Which means I can also take a ride more frequently in the later part of the day just to clear my head. Most of all, during those weeks when I have to spend several days working at home, I still get my fix!! Not to mention that it's fun.

With a little creativity ( and possible insanity ) I've discovered there's more than one way to ride a bike to work.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Baby arrives then has to go back!

Here's the boy with his new ride yesterday. This morning the bike took a ride in the back of the pickup you see behind it.

Things are getting off to a rocky start. You may have noticed that there's no front fender. It suffered some sort of shipping damage and is being repaired or replaced.

Clinton took the bike out for its maiden voyage. He decided to come by to show off the bike. The last couple of blocks were accomplished by foot power instead of horse power. Clinton said the bike back-fired and quit running. I gave it a quick going over but couldn't really do a proper diagnosis. The battery was stone dead. It looked new but one cell had very little electrolyte in it. A trickle charger applied its electrical massage over night. This morning the battery was re-installed. We crossed our fingers and hoped for the best.

Nothing doing. It sounds either like the starter teeth aren't quite engaged correctly or the thing's jumped timing. Whatever it is, the sound it makes is a pretty sick one. I thumbed the starter very briefly twice and stepped away. Time for the bike to become cargo once more.

We were assured by the shop that it would be fixed up under warranty. They're plenty willing but I'm slightly worried about their abilities. I guess time will tell.

The kid's still smiling, at least. With any luck this is just a bump in the road. I'll keep you posted. I'm curious to see what's going to happen myself!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Climbing the walls.

I can't believe it's come to this. I find myself climbing the cement walls during a break in my class. More accurately, I'm doing the balance thing as I walk on top of them.

How did I get here? Why am I doing this? Maybe the answers are so deeply rooted in my twisted psyche that I don't really want to know. Does it have to do with the fact that I'm staring down the barrel of the years when I'm considered past my prime? Am I doomed to looking for situations where I can prove I'm still agile and coordinated? Some guys my age look for fast cars and even faster young women. Me? I'm an insane Road Warrior who rides a motorcycle and climbs walls.

As I make my way around the curved part I'm thinking of riding a bike. Why must everything always come down to riding? I could swear I actually have a life but it seems that everything in that "life" revolves around riding. Motorcycling is literally the core of my being. There's high viscosity synthetic oil pumping through my veins and chain lube filling my joints. See? Even in describing myself I come back to mechanical terms. My friends call me a gear head. All three of them. Am I really that obsessed? Yeah, pretty much.

I'm okay with that. Riding really can be a Zen-like experience. Spiritual growth towards personal enlightenment can easily be had by those willing to open themselves to the journey. Seriously. A lot of things make more sense to me if I relate them to riding. An equal number of experiences in riding have an application in my life. Like walking on top of concrete walls.

Do you remember a couple of my earlier posts where I extolled the benefits of keeping our eyes up while riding? Success in riding hinges upon the information our eyes bring us. Corner entry speeds, lines, hazard avoidance, and directional control are all helped or hindered by our visual habits. As I walk the walls, though, an added dimension is making its way to the forefront of my brain. It's something that's been lurking in the back of my mind for a long time. As a serious rider I look at every aspect of riding. A pathway of exploration will open up. I am an eager traveller. Every twist, turn, and nuance of the path is examined to its ultimate conclusion. Some of the journey turns out to be merely sightseeing. Along the way, though, gold, diamonds, and other treasures are unearthed.

One such thing of value is this thought that is beginning to intrude upon my consciousness. It is found further along the pathway of keeping one's eyes up while riding. Join me on the wall.

The top of the wall is about eight inches wide. To one side the drop isn't very far. On the other side, though, the drop is more substantial. Not that its' tremendously high. Just enough of a drop to provide incentive for not falling off.

My natural reaction is to look down at my feet. This isn't about directional control or avoiding traffic hazards. It's about not falling off the wall. Weirdly enough, though, the more I stare at my boots, the less balanced and in control I feel. Looking down makes my steps more awkward. I think my feet feel like my neice is going to feel tomorrow. She's taking her driver's test. She knows how to drive. The pressure of the examiner sitting next to her, though, is going to make her forget what she knows how to do. Staring at my feet is making them nervous. A wall top eight inches thick isn't really that hard to walk on. Unless there's added pressure from staring at your feet. From deep within my boots comes the cry to leave my feet alone and let them do what they know how to do.

So I pull my eyes up and quit worrying about my feet. Sure enough, the pressure's off and I do an admirable job of walking smoothly along the wall's top. Even the curve's no problem. My body knows exactly what to do. I just need to keep looking at the bigger picture and let things happen as they should. How does this relate to riding?

I've seen a similar thing happen to my riding students. It's especially evident during an exercise where they practice maximum braking without skidding either tire. Just this last weekend I had a student who would repeatly let his head and eyes drop towards the gas tank as the front of the bike dove under braking. Fascinatingly, ( at least to me, if not him ) as his eyes dropped his braking got more abrupt. It's like his lowered gaze prompted the rest of his body to curl in upon itself. His feet pressed harder and his hands squeezed more forcibly. Skids happened often. Once I finally got him to keep his gaze up everything smoothed out. It was like looking at a different rider. His stops became very competent. He's not the first I've seen have the same experience.

This isn't so much about stability. It's not about finding hazards. Neither is directional control involved. The item on the top of the list is that thing called being smooth. In this case, being smooth isn't just something nice to experience. It can literally be the difference between stopping without incident or crashing. Not everything we do on a bike is a critical matter, I admit. Critical or not, being smooth is much preferable. Keeping our eyes up and letting our body do what it knows how to do will go a long ways toward being smoother. We'll have more fun because we'll feel more in control. Not to mention looking much "Cooler" too!

Walking on top of the walls really wasn't a huge thing. Hundreds of people have done it at this college, I'm sure. No circus is going to try to recruit me for the high wire act. Call it an obsession, but I'm always looking to improve my own skills or find a better way to help others do the same. It's become a part of my nature over the decades to hold my experiences up to the light that is motorcycling. Is there some small gem that will be applicable? One little diamond got polished up some on the top of a concrete wall.

I told you I actually have a life. Just to prove it, I'm going to try to make an application to real life without mentioning riding or motorcycles.

Keeping our eyes up during whatever journey we find ourselves undertaking will help keep things in perspective. Remain focused on a destination down the road. In other words, maintain visual contact with the larger picture. Let whatever we use for balance and motivation take care of the small things. Eyes up will make for a smoother journey.

Wow! That was hard. A whole paragraph. Can we go back to talking about riding, now?

Miles and smiles,

Dan

P.S. The Kid's plane is landing in a couple of hours. He's picking up his new bike tomorrow and bringing it over to my place. I'm hoping to get a couple of photos with his mile-wide cheesy grin!

New commuter!

My youngest son is joining the ranks of motorcycle commuters. Unfortunately, the first day he'll be able to ride is Thursday. Figures. One day after Ride to Work Day!

I just got back from headquarters in Kirkland. Late Sunday afternoon and evening was spent riding up there. Traffic was still indescribably insane. There were more vehicles than what the roads can handle, I think. According to my GPS, I spent five and a half hours on the road with a little over 45 minutes of it sitting in traffic. Wow!

Sophie now has a new farkle, as you may have guessed. It's a Garmin Zumo 550. Had it about a week and I'm really liking it so far. That's a tremendous leap for a guy like me. Don't get me wrong, I love technology. I just don't like it to replace human skills. Navigating is a time-honored skill. Most of my navigating has been by my nose or with Manual Analog Positioning Systems, otherwise known as maps. My goal is to use the advantages of the GPS without becoming reliant on it. I'll keep you posted.

My new commuter in the family's 19, now. Three of my four kids ride. For some reason, the middle son likes things like surfing and other sports but not riding. Our daughter's the oldest of the bunch. Since she got married about a year ago the street riding's been more or less replaced with ATV's. Her husband leans that way. Maybe he'll get the street itch one of these days. No pressure from me. Oldest boy's been riding a long time and uses a Suzuki GS500 for commuter duty. His trip is 12 miles one way. River Road in Salem is a perfect road for motorcycle commuting and happens to be the most direct route. Fun and efficiency both!

Youngest son, Clinton, sent me some pictures from the company's web site. His bike is on order and should be here tomorrow. Clint's in Texas until Wednesday. Should be a nice reunion.

It's called an NST. I know very little about this brand. It's Chinese, I think. The bike has a 200 cc air-cooled motor. Power goes out through a six speed transmission and chain drive. Probably to make it easier to keep it in the power band! Dual front discs and a rear drum do stopping duty. It weighs about 300 pounds. A four gallon tank and what the manufacturer is claiming at almost 85 miles per gallon should make fill-ups easy.

Pricing is somewhere around 1500 bucks. It seems to be more of a case of a young man with limited funds becoming enticed by being able to purchase something new for the money. We've had a lot of older bikes around the house over the years. Maybe he's not in the mood to do that much maintenance! As a side note, though, working on old bikes is a great way for fathers and sons ( or daughters ) to talk about sensitive issues.

Where it might be impossible to have serious conversations while looking into each other's eyes, putting a bike between us made it work. The physical barrier of the bike seemed to take down the mental barriers. We worked through a lot of teenage life accompanied by the sound of clanging wrenches.

Clinton bought his bike from a small, new, shop. This gal used to work in security at Linn Benton Community College where we hold classes here in town. She was always so supportive of us. Now she has a shop where they sell pocket bikes, small scooters, etc. They're still learning the ropes but are good people.

When the boy gets back and meets his bike I'll post a photo of the proud owner. As many of you already know, two-wheeled commuting and riding can easily be a family adventure!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Hummer dilemma

It was 104 degrees (f) when I left the office on Tuesday. The fact that it broke a long standing record for that date didn't overly impress me. Nasty hot is nasty hot, record or not. We're in the middle of a short ( hopefully ) heat wave. Every possible vent on the 'stich and helmet was WFO. Wide, flapping, open. Let me get moving and get some air flow going. I was pretty much done for the day so the evidence of my suffering wouldn't really matter. You know what I mean. Big wet spots on the shirt, plastered down hair, reddened cheeks and nose, and sometimes that odor....well, never mind.

The last work related task was to drop off a small box in Salem. It's about an hour South of the office. From there I'd have another thirty minutes home. With this heat, taking the long way sort of loses its appeal. I made my delivery and donned the helmet once more. The inside of the helmet was still wet from the ride down. Gross! At least it felt cool for a minute or two. Now the task at hand was to get back into traffic. I was on Mission Street.

Nearly one hundred and fifty thousand people live in Salem. On any given day, all but a couple drive down Mission Street. It's a major East-West corridor with everything from a hospital to Wal-Mart to be found there. Unless you're at a stop light, getting into traffic during late afternoons becomes Mission Impossible. At least, Mission Quite Difficult. Even turning right into traffic can be a matter of a long wait.

That's the situation I found myself in. I'd approached so that I could make a right turn into the parking lot. Now I had to get out. Traffic is moving slowly enough through this stretch that it's bumper to bumper. Using the superior acceleration of the bike won't help. I'm in need of a Good Samaritan to let me in. These kind of people are getting more scarce but there's still a few. I'm suddenly in luck. A woman cheerfully waves through her windshield. She's smiling and leaving me space to enter the flow of vehicles. The rig's almost the same color as Sophie and has about every chrome farkle imaginable, creating a dazzling brilliance in the hot sunshine.

Too bad it's a Hummer.

I am morally and philosophically opposed to Hummers. They represent the most "in your face" statement to the environment possible. Oh sure, there's other vehicles with worse fuel economy and more pollution. At least these serve a purpose. Hummers don't do anything but massage fragile egos. A driver just doesn't need one for any other purpose. Now this woman is waving me on to cut in front of her.

I'm slow roasting in the burning sun. Basting in my own sweat. It will likely be a lot longer before I get the chance to go again. We're just down the road from a major intersection. Five lanes of traffic are plugged to the max. It's tempting to let my principles evaporate into the sunshine like so much mist. I'm going to have to make a decision soon as the light is about to turn and everyone will surge ahead.

For now, though, I have a few seconds. Part of the problem is that I'm sort of in shock. A Hummer driver is one of the last people I'd expect to show that kind of courtesy. I know it's stereotyping. It's my stereotyping so leave me to it, good or bad. Part of the temptation is the extreme heat. I'm feeling like I'm literally melting. The air right in front of my face is so hot I could easily suffocate. Who would know? I could just go. What does it matter? It's a little thing, really. Won't make any difference in the scheme of things; won't cause anyone to quit driving Hummers.

Laugh at me if you will, but I have this impression that I would somehow be cheapened by accepting an act of largesse from a Hummer driver. We are diametrically opposed in our philosophies. That's a lot of big words, isn't it? Let me say it in my native Redneck.

I'll be damned if I'm going to accept a gift from someone I'm feuding with. On top of that, I sure hope my refusin' is going to insult you!

With a slight head shake I wave her on, refusing her offer. She gave a shrug as if to say "It's no skin off my nose if you're stupid enough to sit there and bake" and proceeded on. I lost sight of her in the tinted side windows as she drove by.

I glanced at Sophie's clock to note the time. I had to put a numerical value to my suffering in the name of Intregity. Eight minutes later I got another chance from an older woman in a PT Cruiser. Have you ever noticed how many of these cars are driven by older women? I love old ladies and don't have too many issues with the car so I waved cheerfully in thanks as I accepted her gracious offer.

Like I say, it's a little thing. Just another small moment with larger implications in the life of a motorcycle commuter. I figure a person either has principles or doesn't. Like my little buddy Yoda says "There is no try, only do, or do not!" ( are you reading this, G.C. Yoda?) I'm not going to hold Hummer drivers as foes and then accept gifts when it suits me. It's a Cowboy Thing my Grandfather ( rest his soul ) instilled into me. Gramp, if you're looking down, I'm sorry I was even tempted!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

P.S. There's no picture because I don't want an image of one of THOSE here!

Fast track at work

The needle on Sophie's speedometer is buried solidly at 115. That's miles per hour, not kilometers. Sometimes she forgets she's a sport-tourer. This spirited mare has the heart of a sport bike. Still, though, I know I shouldn't be riding Sophie this fast.

Behind me are a couple of other guys who agree with me on that point. Two motor cops are in hot pursuit. I can hear the blare of the sirens. In the mirrors I see headlights with little blue and red lights dancing on either side. They're about three seconds behind me but gaining little by little. It's time to contemplate my next move.

Pull over? I don't know. We're already at triple digits and these boys are excited. Try to out run them? I could probably do it. There's some curvy sections of road ahead and we're coming upon them real fast. This could get ugly. For the cops, that is.

Meekly pulling over isn't an option. I decide to turn this into a learning experience for the cops. These guys are aware of the turns ahead. In anticipation one has dropped back slightly. They're no longer side by side. Maybe I can use this to my advantage. I slow down just a little, hoping to suck the first guy into riding right on my tail. I know this blacktop like the back of my hand. The lead rider's going to get a surprise real soon if my plan works.

For the next few corners I ride proper lines. I know what's going through my pursuer's minds. High adrenaline situations create tunnel vision. They're excited about catching me. Their focus is totally on me. Will they forget that they're riding at high speeds in twisties and sacrifice their own lines? Time to find out.

The two cops are following my lines. So far I'm riding good ones so the cops are getting more comfortable. Time to shake them up. A right hander is coming up. I should late apex this one and hold my press. That will put me to the right which will set me up perfectly to late apex the next turn, which goes left. Messing up the line will throw a rider really wide. It's a tight turn with no camber. The good news is that if a rider goes wide there's a big grassy area for run-off. I'm hoping to make at least one of the cops run off the road here.

I late apex the right hander but don't hold the press. That puts me in the middle of the roadway instead of to the right. I've slowed down enough so that the lead cop thinks he's gaining on me. Sure enough, he's following my line like I knew he would. The guy can almost taste the capture. I early apex the left turn. It puts me in a dangerous situation. The early apex throws me wide but I'm doing this on purpose. At the last minute I throw Sophie into the left hander. I hate doing this and only hope my skills are as good as I think they are. With a sickening grind of a footpeg we make the turn, coming within an inch of going off the road.

Looking over my shoulder, I'm rewarded with a giant dust cloud. The cop's run the big BMW R1200 off the road. Fortunately, the guy's remembered his training and keeps the bike upright, using the ABS to stop in the grass. Now it's just his partner and I.

A quick flick right and left puts me onto a straight stretch. I keep Sophie in a lower gear and come close to her redline. There's a reason for this. I know that there's a big left hander coming up which is going to require scrubbing some speed. I don't want to use the brakes, figuring that the officer will get a clue from my brake lights. I want this to be a surprise. My plan sort of works but literally backfires. I wanted to use engine compression to scrub off speed so that I didn't have to show my hand by using the brakes. Sophie's in third gear at about 7500 rpm. As I roll off and get ready to downshift, she gives out several very loud backfires. They sound like gun shots. It was enough to warn the officer. He scrubs speed but it's almost not enough.

He stays on the road but it really screws up his lines through the next two corners. I put the right foot peg on the pavement and power through the right hander, putting more distance on my pursuer. Catch me if you can!

Soon, we all pull into the paddock and shake hands. It's been a fun exercise.

That's right. This hasn't been fodder for a "Cop's" episode or "World's Craziest Police Chases". We're on a race track. And I'm getting paid for it! Talk about the ultimate work day.

Commuting eighty miles, putting on about 180 more on a race track, and another eighty miles home. We should all have it so hard.

As much fun as it is, this is serious business. It also has real world implications. Not just for motor cops, but for anyone riding with others. We ran two four hour sessions. One in the morning and one in the afternoon. Between the two somewhere near 50 officers participated. There were some corner braking drills and a lot of work on riding the track properly. The venue was Portland International Raceway, a circuit just shy of two miles long. In June the Champ cars ran there. On this day the track belonged to us.

For the final evaluation, one of us would act as a "rabbit". I prefer to think of myself as more of a fox toying with the hounds. Two officers would be held for a count of three and sent in pursuit. The pair, in turn, would be followed by another instructor who would evaluate the pair of cops. It's called a "Violator Contact" drill. Our objective was to teach them the importance of not sacrificing their own lines during the chase. The rabbit's job was to ride bad lines fast in an effort to make the cops do just that. A lot of the riders got sucked in. The one outstanding exception was the officer in the picture just above. Nobody could shake this guy! You can see Sophie on the other side of the paddock wall in the background. The cop's waiting to see if anyone else wants to play.

Here's an example of how riders can get into trouble. The rabbit's just cut the end of the chicane off instead of going around. Notice the hard right turn? Now check out which way the officer's looking. He's watching the rabbit to the left while making a tight, fast, turn to the right. It gets ugly soon but he avoids going off the track.

As much fun as it was, we were exhausted at the end of the day. Riding fast like that all day takes a tremendous amount of mental energy. Remember the elephant picture above from an earlier post? Now look at my front tire!

Sometimes it takes its own toll on instructors. One of the guys crashed his ST. His bike is a year newer than Sophie. He missed his line on the chicane and early apexed. It threw him wide and into the grass. In an effort to save it, the bike fell over, dumped him off, and went spinning back onto the track on its left side. I'll spare you the gory details of the trackside treatment by the paramedics. The instructor suffered a compound and open fracture of his left leg just above the ankle. Both bones with one sticking out of the skin. I saw the X-ray later that night when some of us went to the hospital. With all the plates and screws, his left leg is about three pounds heavier than the right. No riding for three or four months. That's a part of the risk we accept.

We're training at a very high level. Sometimes bad things happen despite our best efforts. Without the risk there's no accomplishment. In the process we increase our knowledge base and experience. The result of that is being better able to equip riders of every experience level to take care of themselves. Only a few of us can or will step up to this level, as you can imagine. We're fiercely proud of what we do. Our own riding is also better for it, too.

What's the takeaway for the average rider?

You've heard the admonition to ride your own ride. How do we do that?

If you're in a group, don't focus on the rider ahead. There's a lot of good riders but there's even more that are less than competent. Point your nose towards the target you know you should be aiming for. The target you choose, not the target dictated to you by the rider ahead. In other words, look past the next rider. Use your peripheral vision to watch other riders. Your line may be different than theirs but that doesn't mean it's not a good one. It sounds so simple but continually catches riders out when they fail to apply it.

The faster the pace the harder it becomes to avoid getting sucked in. At the same time it's even more critical to set your own target. I assure you, though, it will be well worth the effort. You may even be able to add some value to your riding buddies!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

I'm back!!

I took a few days and disappeared with Katie. We needed to decompress after all that's happened recently. Rented a hotel room on the beach with a Jacuzzi type hot tub in it. Top floor with a wonderful view. Walking along the beach at night holding her hand. Nothing to worry about but enjoying each other. Life's in order again!

Look for the posts to start up again Monday. Thanks for hanging with me. Have a great weekend!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Ouch! Isn't there a better way?

Every once in a while I win an argument but in such a way I wish I hadn't. A while back I put up a couple of posts about gear. How do I convince riders of the value in setting egos and peer pressure aside? How do I get through to them the need to wear good gear? How do I make them see the consequences that could easily become their reality? It's like beating my head against a wall, sometimes. I've saved an old full face helmet for just such fruitless endeavours.

There's this woman who came through a class of mine last year. It's not her real name but I'm going to call her Ruth. She'd never ridden before. No problem there. It was a beginner's class. Ruth came to class with her own helmet, a half shell. It wasn't a novelty type helmet and met our policy standards for use in class. I always hope to influence a rider's choice of gear during the course of a weekend. People have to chose for themselves in the end. Ruth had also purchased a brand new cruiser. Surprisingly, it was a Honda 750 Shadow, not a Harley. It had never been ridden before. A friend had trailered it to her house.

So here we are in class. Ruth has absolutely no coordination and very little ability to process things quickly. I actually took her out of class on the first range day. She was a safety hazard and my professional judgement told me she wasn't going to get better anytime soon. I kindly explained how the class was a chance to explore and discover. In my professional opinion, she should find another hobby. I know it sounds harsh. My integrity demands of me that I be kind but honest. Sending someone away with only a "feel good" experience doesn't do them any favors.

Usually I never see these folks again. As luck would have it, though, I was to encounter Ruth on several more occasions. She'd purchased the bike from the dealer I frequented. Ruth told me that she had sent the bike in for a custom paint job that reflected the college she favored. I asked Ruth if she had purchased a full face helmet, yet. I received an indignant response to the effect that there was nothing wrong with what she had. After Ruth left, the salesman told me that Ruth had asked his dad to teach her to ride. They were sort of family friends. She'd never told him about our range side conversation. That's probably why she left so quickly when I showed up.

The salesman told me that during the very first lesson Ruth had dumped the bike in gravel and scratched up the fancy paint job. None of us could figure out why Ruth was so determined to do this. As far as anyone knew, she didn't have a husband or partner at all, let alone one who rode. There wasn't a group of riders that she hung out with. It seemed to be her own thing. I shrugged and went about my business.

A couple of months later I encountered Ruth at another dealer. Her bike with the damaged paint job was parked outside. A guy was with her. He was the one who rode the bike with Ruth as passenger. Ruth was still clutching her half shell helmet. I sort of chided her to look at full face helmets. I was more concerned now that I knew what was going on. I didn't want to come out and say she was such a danger she needed all the protection she could get. Maybe it should have been said but it was still her choice.

The reason she was there was that she was blaming the bike for her ineptness. Ruth was convinced that another brand of bike would make her problems go away. I took the sales manager, who is also a friend of mine, aside and explained the situation to him. He'd already heard about her. A guy who is a motor cop had passed on the story of how she'd hired him to teach her to ride. This guy was a casual friend of Ruth. She'd offered $75 an hour for private lessons. After the second lesson he'd told her it was a lost cause and gave her back her money. Thumbs up to the dealer for acting responsibly in the matter. They weren't going to just take her money and hope for the best.

I saw Ruth once more. She came back to class. I switched assignments so Ruth would be in someone else's group. Maybe a fresh approach would be good. She failed miserably but at least she wasn't quite the same safety hazard as before. The half shell helmet was still around although with a couple of scratches on it.

Ruth crashed this last weekend. My neighbor happened to be telling me about it. He's a county deputy and was on scene. Greg was coming home from his shift and saw me working on the CB900. In the course of conversation he mentioned the accident. When he described the bike with it's unusual paint job, I asked him for the gal's name. It was Ruth. Seems she was riding out by herself. Ruth only has a permit and isn't supposed to have been riding alone in the first place. Her story was that a deer had jumped out in front of her. Greg told me there was a fifty foot skid mark from the rear tire then the bike fell over and slid some more. Ruth was wearing that half shell helmet. Her face hit the road and was pretty messed up from the initial impact and the consequent sliding along. It was a tragic result of really poor skills and equally poor gear. There was also no jacket, by the way. Ruth was riding in a short sleeved pink t-shirt and jeans.

I hate it when things turn out this way. My initial reaction is to wish I'd been more obnoxious about arguing for better gear. It wouldn't have mattered, I know. People have to keep the right to make their own choices. Along with that comes the obligation to suffer the consequences. It's the old "You can do whatever you want as long as you're willing to pay the price" thing. It's small consolation but I know I did whatever I could including telling her I didn't think she should be riding at all.

Maybe one of these days the medical profession will develop a vaccine to prevent the "That will never happen to me" disease. At least for every Ruth there's quite a number of riders doing fine because of what I've shared. That doesn't make me feel any less for Ruth, though. It's all the success stories that keep me passionate about training riders. I just really hate to win an argument like this.

Miles and a painful grimace today,

Dan