Just for Fun!

Last week a certain somebody saw me at a university in a car. This was because I had a factory guy out from Missouri.The dude just wouldn't ride pillion! It happened that a fellow blogger was also at the university and was riding. Full of themselves for catching me driving while they were riding, comments were made on my last blog post. Those comments were to the effect that perhaps I didn't every really ride but just wrote about it. Sometimes it is better to just savor small victories rather than try to push things farther.

You see, I also happen to know that this same individual had to go to Eugene on the day after he saw me driving. This is the city that is home to the University of Oregon Ducks. This same fellow blogger decided to drive instead of riding because they wanted to stay warm on the trip. The lamb should know better than to show the wolf their soft underbelly. These photos were taken on what I believe was the next day after our blogger friend decided to drive. They prove that once a year or so I actually do ride the motorcycle. Please consider this as good natured ribbing between friends and nothing more. That's certainly my intent here!









I certainly didn't get the last laugh, though. These photos were taken at around 9 AM. About an hour later rain started falling and got heavier as the day wore on. Let's see. What melts in the rain? Iron? Noooo. Candy? There are Ironbutts. And there are other..... Like I say, simply some "poking fun" between friends. My target is probably a better man than me. So I have to get my digs where I can!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

The Four Levels of Competence

As you all may have figured out by now, I sort of live, eat, and breathe motorcycles. Spending all these years as an instructor has also given me a unique insight into the process of acquiring riding skills. What I've come to discover is that the learning process can be divided into four steps. I'll share those steps in this post as seen from a new rider's viewpoint. In another post I'll share how it relates to those of us past that basic stage. I feel it's critical for us to understand the process and what it means to us on the streets.

Let's take a look at a typical basic class as we go through the process.


LEVEL 1: Unknowing incompetence


This is exactly what it sounds like. You've heard the saying that ignorance is bliss. We don't know what we don't know. In other words, we don't yet know that we aren't very good at a particular skill set. Mostly because we have no idea what skill sets are involved in riding.

Our basic classes are filled with scores of students who've never ridden a motorcycle before. They've certainly been aware that motorcycles exist. For the most part, however, these individuals have no idea of all the skills involved in riding a motorcycle. Therefore the students also have no idea of all the things they're not going to be very good at.

Here we see a batch of training bikes warming up early in the morning of the first riding day. Bike and student have not yet met.


LEVEL 2: Discovering incompetence

This is where the students begin to discover the things they aren't very good at. Clutch and throttle control, balance and coordination, smooth braking, countersteering, and a whole list of other things. The students are given directions from the instructors and allowed to practice under watchful eyes. In a safe environment the students get a large dose of self discovery.

In the photo below the class listens intently as the instructor explains what they'll be working on during the upcoming exercise.

What the students usually discover is that their competence level is pretty low for most skills. The difference is that they can now put names to the things they need a lot more practice on. At the first level the new riders were mostly unaware of what skills would be required. Thus they had no clue at what they weren't good at. With me so far?

This is perfectly ok, by the way. It's exactly what we expect from new riders. These folks are right in line with the grading curve. Now begins the journey of mastering the required skills. As instructors we are happily tasked with helping the students do just that.

In the photo above the rider contemplates as he waits his turn to take a run to the braking chute.


LEVEL 3: Discovering competence

At first glance this looks exactly like Level 2. Look closer and you'll see the difference. In the level 2 the students discover what they're not good at. During Level 3 they begin to work with the instructors during the exercises. As they do so the students start to discover that they're actually improving!! Yee haw!! They are starting to discover and experience competence.

This is the level that never fails to inspire me. It's at this point that the thousand watt smiles start to show. A student can struggle over and over with a skill and then it finally falls into place. I give them a big thumbs up and help them celebrate the victory. During that moment, no matter the actual weather, the sun comes out.

See what I mean about thousand watt smiles?

LEVEL 4: Automatic competence

This is where the student moves from having to intensely concentrate on skills towards an automatic response.

Call it autopilot, subconscious response, embedded motor skills, or whatever. The bottom line is that the ability to execute the required skills moves from being mostly a function of the conscious mind to becoming more a function of the subconscious mind.

We take this process into account as we coach students. For example, notice how the rider above is able to start looking through his turn. This is the first riding day. Earlier this rider needed to be looking down at the controls to make it all work. This is true of most new riders as they work on the skills needed to make a bike smoothly get underway as well as bringing it to a stop. As instructors we let them look down. It would be counterproductive to coach them to keep their eyes up at this point.

One of the illustrations we use in training new instructors is that of a whiteboard. You know, the new age replacement for the good old chalkboard. Each student has their own whiteboard. The size of the board may vary from student to student but each one has a finite amount of space available for writing upon. This whiteboard represents the amount of conscious processing space in a student's head.

At first the whiteboard is crammed full of notes pertaining to the basic riding skills. In the beginning it's clutch and throttle control. So we spend a lot of time letting students practice this skill. Eventually the information is moved from the whiteboard to the file cabinet that represents the subconscious storage system. As information is thus moved more room opens up on the whiteboard. So now we start writing down the information having to do with shifting gears, for example.

Once again, repeated practice begins to move this information from the whiteboard into the subconscious filing system. Now room becomes available for the next batch of information. And so the process goes. The skill required of instructors is to maintain the optimum amount of information on the whiteboard without overwhelming the space available.

I took this photo while standing next to an apprentice instructor whom I was working with. This was deep into the second riding day. Notice how the student is performing the swerve, which is an involved maneuver. Despite being in the middle of the swerve, the student has enough conscious concentration left to look right at me while I'm taking his picture. No, he didn't run into me, either!

At the end of a class the student is just starting to have an idea of what's involved in reaching Level 4. However, the skills are still at a very basic level. Sometimes the student doesn't know which filing system to look at. We see this during the riding evaluation. There's a bit of stress and suddenly the whole system falls apart. Instead of looking where they want to go in a turn, for example, they stare at the cones in an attempt to avoid them. You know what happens. You go where you look.

Getting to Level 4 and staying there is critical to those of us riding on the streets. Especially so to those who spend a great deal of time out there facing bogies. Unfortunately, a lot of riders never get past Level 3. To really be effective at the last level, we also need a thorough understanding of the previous steps. Yes, even Levels 1 and 2. In fact, if we don't do a great job at Level 2 our subconscious filing system will be lacking some important information.

I sure hope I managed to somehow clearly get my thoughts across. It's been a long week of 14 hour days. Due to having a factory guy out from the Midwest I've been forced to drive a car. My brain has become stagnated because of it. Yesterday I saw Mike in Vancouver, Washington. By coincidence we were calling on the same facility at the same time. Mike was riding his bike. I was so embarrassed to be in a car that I nearly crawled under it! Thankfully, I'm back on two wheels tomorrow!!

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

Buried, but alive!

Listen! Did you hear that? Wait. There it is again. Did you hear that rumble? Look over there. Did you see that mound of dirt move? Accompanied with much creaking and groaning, the pile of dirt slowly gives way to the figure of a man. Rising up out of the ground he sits up and looks around. Finally he stands. What's revealed is a man in a rumpled 'Stich with a motorcycle helmet tucked under one arm. A little worse for wear. Buried, but alive.

That has been my life, lately. This blog has been sorely neglected. It cannot be totally ignored, however. Like a cat rubbing against your ankle, the blog demands attention. Or, in my case, like a 14 month old blond haired blue eyed cherub who chases me around and lifts his arms up for me to hold him.

And so I return.

I heard a saying recently.

"If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough!"

If that is true than I am near escape velocity.

This has been a common sight in my life, lately. Corporate has decided I should be be sent around the country for management and leadership training. Up the proverbial ladder a vacancy will open next year. I am heir apparent. I'm leaving my options open but preparing as if it were to take place.

Connecticut, California, Nevada, Arizona, and Tennessee have been on my itinerary. Yes, Nevada included Vegas. I was one of several held captive for a week in Vegas. Sounds like a great time. We were told that what happens in Vegas would not happen with us. To increase the odds of compliance we were tasked from 6:30 AM until 10 PM.

This is from the window of my hotel room. I was on the 19th floor of Planet Hollywood.



Which was pretty much my entire view of Vegas. Why plan the training in Vegas if they didn't want people on the streets?

We did get out one night. Our handlers took us to see the Blue Man Group. Which was a stimulus rich experience.

Especially for the folks in the first few rows.

The establishment kindly provided plastic slickers for them. Security was pretty proactive about preventing people from taking photos during the show so these are all I have.

I did decide to walk back from the theater so I got an hour or so to see the sights.

One great thing was getting to meet Dick Vermeil. He spoke to our group for a little over an hour and then we got to mix socially. Dick is still a very dynamic person at 74 years young.

There was this whole Star Wars, Yoda, and The Force theme to this training session. There always has to be some sort of gimmick, doesn't there?

Training of a different kind is in full swing here. Both in teaching motorcycle students and train the trainer modes.

As if there isn't enough going on already, I'm going to start the book I've been threatening to write forever. Krysta keeps kindly offering to help me edit the thing and I may take her up on it. She's certainly been a motivating factor in keeping the idea alive. There are a lot of interesting and funny stories from the years of training. It will be fun to relive them as I work on the book.

I'm also chasing a modified RV around the Pacific Northwest. The corporation I work for is an industry leader in developing electronic security products for the commercial door world. The RV has been converted into a mobile showroom. Rather than one large event, the plan is make a lot of stops and hold smaller show and tell sessions.

This was taken at a community college on Monday. Yes, it does rain here in Oregon.

Inside the RV it's very nice.


I find the blue glow very soothing.

Besides being busy as all get out, one of the reasons I let the blog rest is that I felt I may no longer have much of value to share. I don't want the blog to become a newsletter of my life. I know blogging is a great way for people separated by long distances to keep in touch. I totally applaud that. Personally, I don' want to take up space without there being value added.

Interestingly, as we age our perspectives keep changing. Sometimes it's like getting a bad stain on a shirt and letting repeated washes set it in real good. On the other hand, a lot of times it's for the better as we gain wisdom. We also find new ways to apply the things we've already learned. This is what has happened for me with what seems like an accelerated pace lately. I find myself brimming with new insights. All the time on a plane has provided a lot of opportunity for reading and reflection.

In addition to all the training I've been to, I've also had the chance to spend some time with other people who have shared their insights with me. As my view of the world expands I have found much of value that applies to motorcycling that I would like to share.

As you may remember, my grandmother had her right leg amputated above the knee due to cancer. She is 91 years old. During her recovery and physical therapy she has been in a care center. I've spent a lot of time there with her. At 91 she's learning to walk with a prothesis. She has taken it in stride, no pun intended. Got to admire her courage. She has made friends in this place.

I am a big hit with the very elderly women. I mean, what's not to like? I'm male, not all the way to ugly, ambulatory, and alive. Besides, sometimes I make chocolate chip cookies and bring them along.

It's been enlightening to ask these people to share their insights, regrets, and wisdom with me. They're looking down the barrel at their last years on this planet. It's a unique perspective. One older guy named Del lived in this facility with his wife for many years. They had been married 70 years. Del shared a lot with me in the past month. Last week he passed away. Some of his soul will live on with me.

One thing I am bringing to motorcycling is that our motivations for riding have a lot to do with our attitude towards rider training. As well as influencing the decisions we make while riding. I'll share more later.

Speaking of training and riding, as I've reflected on training riders I've come to realize that there are four steps to competence. I'm looking forward to writing about these steps. The fourth step is critical for successful riding. I've counseled many of my students on getting to the fourth step without really realizing it was the fourth step in a process. Now I know and it won't sound so confusing next time!

Something else I've become very aware of is how cognitive dissonance affects our lives in so many ways. Both in how we deal with other people and how we react to events that unfold while we're riding.

Upon further reflection, then, it seems there may still be things of value to be shared after all.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Never stop living.

Powerful. The fact that it's an advertisement for a bank doesn't negate the power. Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vksdBSVAM6g&feature=player_embedded

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Cinnamon rolls and sporting goods.

Sometimes you just get hungry for something. When you have a little sunshine peeking out between the clouds and a motorcycle it doesn't matter if that certain something is an hour away. So we set out to satisfy the cravings. Riding and eating. What more could you want?

Katie and I were hungry for cinnamon rolls. We tried the frozen kind you bake yourself. No good. I could have made some but that would mean being inside all afternoon. Why do that when you can ride a motorcycle to a place that makes good rolls? Not just any place, mind you? We were after Cinnabon rolls. Valley River Center in Eugene has the only one I know of within 50 miles of us.

We got our rolls. As the true prince I am, I gave Katie the heart of mine. The really gooey, sweet part. Have to pamper a wonderful partner, you know.

Anyway, this really isn't about the cinnamon rolls even though I'm quite enjoying the memory. This is a follow-up to a previous conversation. Where in Springfield is the new Cabela's store going in?

After the rolls I added a bit of preload to Elvira's suspension and we headed to the Target store at Gateway Mall. There I saw it. So now we know.


This spot used to be occupied by Ashley Furniture. I had noticed the space being empty for quite a while. Here's the construction outside the mall.

At this point it doesn't look like the store will be as large as the free standing ones. Still great to see it coming, though!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Put a leash on it!

I came across something that may be of interest to those of us who ride and take photos. This might even make it possible to do both at the same time!

You may remember that one of our own who lives north of the Canadian border dropped his camera. Admittedly, this device may not have prevented that particular accident. For those who carry a point and shoot in their pocket ( which probably means no long lenses ) this contraption looks like it would provide some fall protection.

This photo is from the manufacturer's website. Not the best graphical presentation I've seen, but it gives you the idea.

The Gear Keeper Camera Retractor is a tether that's available with either a touch-fastener strap mount or a snap clip mount to attach to any loop or strap.

According to John Salentine, co-founder of Hammerhead Industries which manufactures Gear Keeper, "Gear Keeper systems were originally engineered for scuba diving so they were literally born out of a need to secure items in situations where you hands are otherwise occupied."

The Camera Retractor is built to hold up to 9 oz, enough for most small digital cameras, and can extend up to 25" so you don't have to unhook it to snap a photo.

There are other tethering systems on their website for various outdoor activities besides motorcycling. Which I didn't actually know existed. Activities other than motorcycling, I mean.

List price is somewhere around twenty bucks. ( U.S. )

Be aware that I have not personally tried this device. I am only passing along the information I have received. I also do not get any sort of compensation. They don't even know I exist, I'm sure. I simply figured this would be useful to those of us who like to take photos.

If you care to check it out, the website is http://gearkeeper.com/flyfish/cameraretractor.html

This will take you directly to the Camera Retractor page. If you want to check out other items you can navigate from there.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Let there be heat!

Irondad plugged in the fuse and heat came to be.

There now exists a plug for a heated jacket liner or vest. There is another one near the passenger seat for Katie. Yes, I did later erase my diagonal marks that helped find the center of the plate. That's why you use a pencil for such things.

There will be no heated grips, or seat, or whatever such. I reluctantly offer up this appeasement to the Gods of Comfort. I stoically bow my head as a blow is struck to my reputation as a hard core and spartan rider. It is necessary for the greater good. As was pointed out to me by Troubadour ( read the comments ), I must walk the talk of an instructor. If I preach the virtues of being comfortable on a motorcycle then my own steed must show the brand. Elvira has thus been suitably marked.

I have been riding this past week while deep in the grasp of bronchitis. The heat has been somewhat comforting. One day I was not up for going anywhere at all. Katie told me that she was sure even Superman stayed home and drank chicken soup once in a while. So I relented and went back to bed.

As a matter of utility rather than comfort, I also wired in the mount for the Garmin Zumo 550 GPS. To date I'd been using it by sticking the Garmin in the tank bag. I have a streamlined Jabra bluetooth device that fits nicely under my helmet. Voice directions arrive with the reliability of a back seat driver. The only two drawbacks to this are the fact that the GPS has to run on battery power and I don't get any clues before the voice commands. It's nice to glance up at the screen once in a while to see how far until the next turn, etc.

The Zumo comes with a motorcycle mounting bracket. It's monster sized. I also had kicking around a mounting plate based on this decorative nut on the steering head.

Firstly, I wasn't able to get this nut off in my first few attempts. I also wasn't anxious to try real hard. Secondly, even that mounting contraption was big and ungainly. With an added curse of putting the whole GPS thing right in front of the ignition key and instruments. Size alone was bad enough. Kind of like putting a bicycle rack on top of a Ferrari. It would be okay on a BMW but not on a sleek and sexy Yamaha. It would also seem that some people can't tell the difference.

So I found this.

It fits the feel of the bike. I stole the photo from their website but I'm pretty sure they won't mind as I'm promoting their product.

The unit mounts with screws that replace the existing clutch fluid reservoir screws. All in all a very nice installation that looks classy and puts the GPS into a good place for me. Here's the end result.

The company that makes this mount is called Adaptiv Technologies. They have a lot of useful stuff. Click here for their website. Notice how I cleverly waited to put this link at the end of the post so when people clicked they'd be done reading, anyway? Pretty smart for a guy obsessed with motorcycles, isn't it?

So there you have it. May our electric coils help delay the shrugging off of our mortal coils. Or at least may they make these aging coils more comfortable. Peace be the journey.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

For the right reasons.

It's 27 degrees (f) outside. A nice brisk morning except for the freezing fog that has settled into our valley. The roads are white. In some places it looks like it has snowed. As you'd expect, the streets are a little slick. And I'm out on a big sport touring motorcycle. My destination is 30 miles north. As I ponder for the second time turning around and going home, an unfamiliar question enters my head and lights up like a rescue flare.

Why am I doing this? The answer will prove a bit unsettling to me. I finally have to admit something to myself. I'm sharing it with you in the hope that you will find some value in it.

This is a really bad photo from my ancient cell phone but you get the idea. Cold and frosty. It's not the cold, it's the freezing fog that acts as villian. Here's what our local newspaper had to say about the day. This is an excerpt from an article on the front page of the Democrat Herald published on Wednesday, January 5.

"Freezing fog greeted some in the mid-valley Tuesday morning, and there was heavy frost at the Santiam Rest Area on Interstate 5, at points east, and around Albany, where in some places it looked as if it had snowed.

Despite Tuesday's slippery roads and streets, only a handful of wrecks occurred, and no injuries were reported."

I live in Albany and my travel route put me on Interstate 5 northbound. Right past the Santiam Rest Area. So named because it sits beside the Santiam River. This was the second place where I seriously considered going back home. The first was in the busy commercial district of Albany. In the first case the roads looked really treacherous but got better after a mile or so. Imagine my disappointment on encountering the bad spot by the rest area. It looked bad as far as I could see and the elevation climbs from there.

Yet I pressed on, thinking about the guy who tried to swim across the ocean. He got halfway across, decided he couldn't make it, and swam back. I'm this far, let's keep going.

It pleases me to say that Elvira and I arrived at our destination without incident. In fact, once at the top of the big hill, we were rewarded by clear roads and bright winter sunshine. I sent Katie a text telling her of our safe arrival. She had been really worried. Heck, I was concerned! I wanted to reassure her that things were fine.

( This is a photo of the streets about a mile from my house. Things got worse from here. )

I could see the worry on Katie's face when I left. She won't say anything to me. I don't know if that's a testament to her personality or a condemnation of mine. Katie knows my skill and experience level. On the rare occasions she does say something, she tells me that it's not me she's worried about. Katie's concern is the brain dead drivers out on the roads at the same time. There's a lot of merit to that statement, I'm sorry to say.

By the way, has anyone ever expressed a similar sentiment to you? They'll say something like,

"It's not you I'm worried about, it's the other idiots!"

Wait a minute. OTHER idiots?

This is just another among thousands of times I've ridden in bad conditions. I rode again in freezing fog again yesterday, now that you mention it. In fact, it's become sort of a running joke with Katie.

"Dan never seems to ride when the weather is nice. He's not interested until there's nasty weather of some sort."

There's more than a little truth behind the joke. During a lot of my rides Katie's worried. Once in a great while I'm a little concerned, myself. I can tell by the tense muscles and slight pucker factor. So, why?

That's the question begging attention. Why ride when it can seem smarter not to?

There's a smaller answer and a larger answer.

Ego plays a part. That's the smaller portion. I think it's perfectly fine to have a healthy ego. That's what drives us to excel and to be proud of our accomplishments,.

Take a rider that's worked hard on their physical and mental skills. Combine that with the experience gained from countless miles on a bike in all conditions. Why shouldn't they enjoy the fruitage?

Why not enjoy the feeling of doing what so many others can't or won't? Why not get a kick out of seeing drivers shake their heads in wondering consideration of our sanity? You can supply your own examples. Like I say, a healthy ego is a good thing as long as it doesn't replace reason or interfere with good judgement.

A larger portion of the answer, in my case, is this.

I believe that my reputation, in my mind, has become a monster demanding to be fed.

It's not healthy. I'm uncomfortable confronting it. Even more so sharing it. I'd like to just think of myself as a swashbuckling road warrior with a lot of bravery. Yet, the serious consequences of getting it wrong on a bike demand that we all make honest evaluations. Part of that "getting it wrong" is being on a bike when we shouldn't. I debated about writing this post for a long time and finally decided to offer this peek under the armor as a way to break the ice. I'll go first in order that others may feel more comfortable to follow. Your thoughts don't have to be public, of course. ( If you don't care to look feel free to use the big red X at the top right of the page. I won't be offended )

The pressure on me doesn't come from thinking about what others expect. Rather, it's more what I expect. I've been hardcore for so long now. It's become a case of,

"I can't NOT ride. Think of who you are."

Up until lately I think it was more innocent. I just loved to ride. Anything that threatened to keep me from doing that was simply regarded as an obstacle to be surmounted. The old, there's no bad weather, just bad gear thing. Extreme cold, nasty weather, big city traffic, you name it. I used my skill and experience to conquer it. If I got to enjoy bragging a bit about it, big deal. If I took pleasure in seeing somebody's jaw drop when I rode up on a bike, no harm. I'd earned the right.

So what changed?

At the risk of making this post too long to suffer through, I need to share this story from last fall. I'm pretty sure that my reputation, and the desire of somebody else to emulate it, probably put somebody I care deeply about in danger. That's been sort of nagging at me for a few months.

This is a quick snapshot I took during a Rider Skills Practice course in the summer of 2009. The red VFR on the outside belongs to my son Clinton.

Last September Clinton decided to ride this same bike to Aberdeen, Idaho to see somebody special. He rode straight through on the way there. It's around 700 miles and 11 hours. Quite the trip and his first really long ride. The weather was fairly warm and by the time he got to Boise it was nearly hot.

I knew Clinton's plan was to stay a few days then repeat the straight through ride on Friday. Since he had to be at work on Saturday this gave him the most time in Idaho. In the meantime, though, the weather was expected to make a turn for the worse. Heavy rain storms were forecast to roll though the area. I sent Clinton a text and told him I'd pay for a hotel if he wanted to break the trip up into two days. He politely declined my offer.

Long story short his ride home was very tough. He got a later start which meant a lot of his ride was in the dark. Heavy rains at night are bad enough without the added adversity of the battering and gusty winds in the Columbia River Gorge. If you think I was concerned about Clinton you'd be absolutely right. Not so much in his riding abilities per se. I'd taught him to ride, after all, and I'd seen his physical control of the bike. In fact, I had let him ride Elvira when she was brand new.

My concerns were his lack of experience and the really bad riding conditions. Fortunately he called in to give me an update and ask for some advice. Here's a hint towards what I'm referring to. During one call Clinton said,

"I'm sure glad I have Irondad to call and get advice from!"

At least his calls gave me a reading on his location. During the coming hours I was constantly running calculations in my head. I've traveled that route a lot and know it well. So much time to here where there's a gas station, or fast food, or something. Clinton called in about every hour and a half. So far so good. I repeated my offer of a hotel.

No matter how close to home, when it's time to get off the bike it's time. Don't fall victim to "get-home-itis". Find a hotel and call me. I'll give the desk a credit card number. Even though Clinton said he came close to taking me up on the offer he pressed on. Safely, thankfully.

Here's another clue that I may have had an unhealthy influence on his epic ride. It will probably embarrass Clinton so I offer you my apologies in advance, my son. It's for the greater good.

When Clinton was young we gave him the nickname of Pooh Bear. You know how parents are when the kids are cute. When Clinton completed his ride under very trying conditions I told him I was changing his name. From now on he would officially be known as Iron Bear. He had earned it.

You think the kid was proud? He only uses that signature on every other text and e-mail. He should be proud and I'm certainly proud of him. We've never talked about it, but I'm pretty sure a part of the reason he pressed on was me. Oh, he probably wanted to prove himself like a young man will. I can't help but wonder, though, how much living up to me was on his mind?

I've never put that kind of pressure on the kids. Still, a young man will often want to be like his father. I can't help but wonder if that unspoken pressure put my son in extra jeopardy. Guess we'll have to talk about it sometime.

So, there you have it.

There are a lot of reasons for riding as well as for not riding. Same goes with gear, the way we ride, and who we ride with. I'm always floored by how much influence pressures like peer groups and other things have on riders. Or potential riders. Toward both positive and negative actions. I would just ask you all to think about it. If it's not the time to ride that's okay. The ones who really matter will respect you. Not that I matter, but you will certainly have my respect, as well.

So much of being safe and successful on a motorcycle depends on good judgement. Don't let anyone or any pressure compromise that judgement.

As for me, I will admittedly keep pushing some boundaries when appropriate. My resolve is to make sure I'm doing it for the right reasons.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Who's under there?


Speaking of peeing, which we were recently and I can't believe my blog ever got to that level, this came across our instructor's list. It seemed relevant to the subject. A few commenters also noted the additional complications to taking care of "business" caused by the many layers we wear in the cold. Sometimes, even if we know each other, we're not really sure "Who's under there?"

Without further ado, here is the short tale.

One bitterly cold Winter's day a police patrolman came across a motorcyclist, who was swathed in protective clothing and helmet, stalled by the roadside.

"What's the matter?", asked the patrolman.

"Carburetor's frozen", was the terse reply.

"Pee on it, that will thaw it out", said the patrolman.

"I Can't."

"Ok. Watch, and I'll show you", offered the patrolman.

The patrolman lubricated the carburetor as promised. The bike started and the rider took off, waving. A few days later the Commander of the local police station received a note of thanks from the father of the motorcycle rider. The note began:

"On behalf of my daughter, who was recently stranded............"

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

When Nature calls.....

When we last met boxes of smoked salmon were being delivered to our distributors. I was in NW Portland with the next stop being down in Tigard. Normally it's not a bad trip due to the large arterials in a big city. My plan was to grab I-405 just as it came off the Fremont Bridge. Funny how we get so complacent about the marvels we encounter on a regular basis.

Just as a quick side trip, the Fremont Bridge has the longest main span of any bridge in Oregon. It also holds the distinction of being the second largest tied arch bridge in the world. Whatever in the heck that means. I'm just glad it doesn't fall into the river while I'm crossing it.

Anyway, the plan was to take I-405 South, the Sunset Highway West, and Highway 217 South. The trip is around 15 miles as the crow flies. Depending, of course, if your crow flies straight or imbibes in a little corn mash brandy in the crow bar beforehand.

Like any big city Portland has an ebb and flow of traffic. There's good times and bad times for being on freeways. Bad times make up the majority, of course. This day all bets were off. It was three days before Christmas and closing in on lunchtime. To top if off, my destination was very near one of the largest shopping malls in the area. It would not be fun. However, I'm not Irondad for nothing so I fired up the bike and faced the ride.

Imagine, if you will, a morning spent on a motorcycle riding in the cold. Mix in a few stops where coffee is consumed while business is discussed. About the time traffic started backing up there was this nagging urge for something else to flow. Like a small stream heading for the ocean, the farther I traveled the larger the current grew. Will power and fortitude were called for. In great measure. Laugh if you will, but you've been there. Indelicate as it may seem.



At last I exited Highway 217. I knew a back way to the distributor's business. I headed North on Cascade Blvd. Coming up was Bob Lamphere's motorcycle store where I had purchased Elvira. It seemed like a great place to head into the pits. For some illogical reason I decided to press on. It wasn't much farther to my destination. It's a sickness at times. Oh, to be like Steve Williams who thinks nothing of hopping off the scooter every 10 or 20 feet to make pictures, eat pastry, and drink tea. And, er, other things.

I, on the other hand, act more like a Japanese bullet train at times. Pick a destination, board the train, and hang on! The resemblance ends there as I am not long and sleek. Nor have I reached those speeds despite coming close at times.

Elvira and I have to contend with road construction just after we pass the motorcycle shop. The kind where there are two flaggers and one-way traffic. We sit and wait for a good ten minutes which feels like ten hours. Once past, we finally make good time as we are heading away from the mall. Kind of like a salmon swimming upstream. Which doesn't actually work as a good illustration but I'm trying to bring it back to the smoked salmon in Elvira's trunk.

We arrive at our destination at 11:30 AM. The only guy I know at this establishment is the owner. They only sell a small portion of our stuff so contact is very infrequent. His big corner office facing the front is dark. I decide to leave the salmon and Christmas card with the receptionist. Who just happened to frighten me. A lot.



She is a battle axe with a capital Medussa. Make-up cakes her face like a San Diego mud slide. I'm pretty sure that if one were to scrape off all the cosmetic formulas they'd find Jimmy Hoffa. In an effort to look somewhat pleasant she has a red smile painted where her mouth would be. If she were human, that is. The actual effect is more like lipstick on a dragon. I'm still in my 'Stich and standing in front of her counter. I don't know if it's me or the motorcycle gear, but she looks like she wants to drag me off and feed me to her young.

After reading various of his blog entries, I'm pretty sure that Jack R was married to this woman once. Perhaps that explains the venom in her eyes as she looks my riding gear up and down.

I already had to pee. Now this woman is scaring it out of me. Which is weird. I mean, here I am, a bad, tough, rider who's covered a hundred fifty miles on a cold morning already. I have on thick ballistic nylon gear. Somewhere underneath it all a Glock is cozily nuzzled up next to me. Yet, facing this woman I somehow can't muster up enough intestinal fortitude to ask,

"Do you mind if I use your Little Motorcyclist's room?"

So I do what any other tough guy would do. I slink back to the bike still holding it. Fortunately, the seated position helps while I ride away and ponder my next move. I just hope it's a voluntary one.

I'm drawn back towards the motorcycle dealership until I remember the road construction. So instead of turning left onto Cascade Blvd. I stay on Greenburg Road. I mention the street names because those of you who are local will understand what's happening. Greenburg Road crosses Highway 217. You can head North or South. If you stay on Greenburg without turning off you will find yourself at the South end of Washington Square Mall. I tried real hard to exit onto 217. Really. However, it's a long dang ways to the next restroom stop that isn't as crowded as a snow cone stand in Hell.



By now visions of Niagra Falls, Victoria Falls ( I put that one in for you, Dave ) oceans, aquariums, fire hoses, rivers, and broken dams are flooding my brain. Pun intended. Part of me is screaming that this is a huge mall three days before Christmas!!! The other part is screaming that it's close, dang it!! While sanity and physical misery fight for top spot my body is sort of just drifting along. My path of travel is largely dictated by traffic. Elvira and I are going with the flow while trying to avoid close calls that will make the final decision moot.



Now I realize it's too late. For changing our destination, that is. You were secretly hoping I'd embarrassed myself, weren't you? Like a bug drifting towards a whirlpool we don't realize we're trapped until it's no longer possible to escape. I'm not a trials rider, nor is Elvira a trials bike. Although the image of a large Yamaha sport-tourer up on its back wheel and riding over cars IS interesting to think about. Elvira's sleek and fast but that won't help in all this traffic, either. We're being sucked down the drain into The Mall. So I guess the decision has been made. It's kind of like standing and arguing about whether the tracks are from a deer or a bear until the train runs over your butt.



I'm going to pee at the mall, which will be both a blessing and a curse. While I'm there I might as well find some food and do a bit of looking around. Which is another story that will be in the next post.

Miles and smiles,

Dan