Chronicles of a Sport Riding Addict

The Healing Power of Motorbikes

2010-05-18T17:11:00.000-07:00

"You never see a motorcycle outside a shrinks office, unless it belongs to the shrink."

This quote is well known in the motorcycling world. I don't honestly remember where I first heard it, but I can tell you I thought that no truer words have ever been spoken.

I had some time over the weekend to get out with family, and re-evaluate my position in life. I realized how much of my life I have given up, and how things have not gone nearly as planned. The one thing that has always stayed steady, though, is my love of motorbikes.

I have been through quite a lot in the last couple years, and emotionally, I really believe I have been damaged beyond repair. I am lucky enough to have a great wife, and a strong in-law family, but it doesn't take the place of the people who have caused the biggest heartache.

Enter the motorbike: The one true release I've had through everything going on. You see, people, no matter how "neutral", are always going to have an opinion, and thus take a side. It's human nature to do so. The motorbike, however, doesn't. It doesn't care who you are, what you do for a living, or what age you are. The only thing it cares about is the next ride. "Where do we go from here?"

I was reminded of this over the weekend, during a short but brisk ride through some local backroads. I have been fighting with some decisions I need to make, and with some family-related issues. My wife, as wonderful as she is, has her own very biased opinions. Pulling that helmet on and thumbing the starter button on my GSXR, I took off down the road, and into my own thoughts.

You see, the motorbike may not be partisan to anything going on in your life, but it will force you to be alone with your thoughts. The solitude offered, and the lack of distraction in the form of stereos, cell phones, and computers, puts you smack in the middle of your mind. At that point, you have no choice but to sort things out.

The motorbike really is the perfect tool for the job, as well. You see, it has always seemed to me that the best way to sort thoughts has been to tour the rural roads. They snake back and forth through the lesser known parts of the country, just as one's thoughts snake through their cranial lobes. It has always seemed that as I chose a new direction, a decision would be made, or a memory dealt with. I could almost see the things in my head form in the road ahead, and the physical crossroads turn themselves into the choices I needed to make. If I went one way, and it turned into a fantastic ride, it was the right choice. If I chose a road, and it led me into a mess, the choice I associated with it was the wrong one. Call it fate, or blind luck, but it seems to have worked.

By the time I got home, the choice was made, and a new journey begins.

A Note on Travel, Humanity, and Kinship.

2010-04-26T17:11:00.000-07:00

"Ignore the pondering prose and just fucking do it amigo. The longer and more difficult the journey, the more profound the metamorphosis. There will always be reasons to postpone, that's what most people do about everything substantial in life. Forget the naysayers, they want to discourage others from achieving what they fear or are too lazy to attempt. Pick your goal and move forward without hesitation. A decade ago 7% of the US population had a passport but for Germans, that number was 90%. What does that tell you?

All journeys alter your perspective so imagine the creativity a lengthy international ride will stimulate. Is your life going to change? Hopefully. I don't know anyone who has traveled extensively and came back wishing they never left. Want to reassert your faith in humanity? Roam the developing world alone and reel in the magic of what occurs when we humans meet face to face without intervention from governments or the media. Surprise, surprise, we don't really hate each other after all.

What you do with that new angle on life is up to you but you will surely be more aware and in tune with what is really happening in the world, and in particular, in your own mind. Being broke down in BFE, or stranded in some remote desert sucks, but how you handle those challenges will also define your character and reveal what you are really made of. (And that's when you discover that great powers aid those who struggle hard.) Then there are the kindly folks along the way, eager to assist a foreign vagabond. Prepare to be overwhelmed as those with the least, share the most. Are there great lessons there?

Roaming the planet by motorcycle is like weaving your way through the landscape of humanity, an experience far more pronounced in tribal society. Indeed venturing beyond your comfort zone can be difficult, yet the further from "home," the deeper the experience. A trip to Europe can be enlightening, but not the jolt you'll get from camping with primitive tribesmen in Brazil or Ethiopia. We humans come in different flavors, yet still, we are cut from the same genetic cloth and you will surely learn to marvel at our similarities while celebrating our differences.

Don't worry my friend, raising your awareness of the world has no negative consequences." - Striking Viking

I was browsing a thread today on www.advrider.com, and I came across this statement by world-renowned traveler, Striking Viking. It was a response to another member who was worried about the transition phase after coming back from a long trip. I read through it 5 times over, because it hit me harder than I could possibly convey.

I pondered this quote for quite some time, reflecting upon it as I sat in a truck stop, 500+ miles from home and family, amongst people I have never met. In the background, CNN Live was on the telly, and other patrons were involved in random discussions.

Listening to the discussions, and thinking about my personal travels, and the caliber of people I've met, I realized just how we in the United States have become very distant from the people around us. I'm as guilty as anyone else in that regard, and it hit me like a boulder.

Years ago, Americans traveled this gorgeous country of ours, for no other reason than to see places they had never been. I'm talking way back, as in before the modern interstate system. These people, more often than not families, would travel down US highways, going from one town to the next, as they made their way to a final destination. Along the way, they would see the faces of the people in these towns, make eye contact, and acknowledge them, even if they never stopped the car.

Town after town, and farm after farm, America was viewed as it really was. The travelers would see the people working in fields, manning their shops, and living their lives. When they stopped for food or fuel, they stopped at privately-owned, small businesses where people served them as if they were family. Often, conversations would spark up, and the travelers got a chance to take in the life of someone they had never met. We, as a society, were interconnected in ways that were very personal.

Now, however, we speed past these small towns, often not even knowing they exist, with our faces buried in our laptops and our cell phones glued to our ears. When we stop for food or fuel, it's at large, corporate-owned businesses, where the people working are paid near minimum wage, and have no desire to even look at you. When you take your vehicle in for service, you never see the technician. When you go to a store, it isn't the the little shop on the corner, it's the large conglomerate in the retail park. The people you meet at these places could care less if you spent your money there, and often would rather you just go away.

I sat there reflecting on a few of the conversations I'd overheard (ok, so I eavesdropped a bit), I started to feel very depressed about the whole situation. Rather than debating the latest political dribble, light-heartedly arguing over sports teams, or discussing the latest happenings in the family, these people were all engaged in conversations of zero intellectual, moral, or familial value.

They argued about who should assassinate the president, what their latest welfare review was like and how to "beat" that system, and what races should be kicked out of our country. That last one struck me hard. It was a group of people, all well over 300lbs, who had been discussing the fact that they were disappointed in our president because he basically hasn't given them their money. They were, according to their conversations, unable to work because of various "health issues". Most of it centered around weight, while they took their 5th trip to the all-you-can-eat buffet.

The "family", and I use that term sparingly, had decided that the various non-white races, of which many unethical slurs were used to describe, should be "shipped back", because their stealing the money this family should be getting. It made me wonder if these people realize that their families stole the land from the Native Americans...

I eventually decided enough was enough, and left. It was time to get moving anyhow. I got back in the truck, and headed for my next stop, all while reflecting upon the quote from Striking Viking, my personal travels, and the things I've seen myself.

I've realized that we can no longer let our children run the neighborhoods with their friends. I took great pleasure in doing this when I was a kid. Back then, the neighborhoods knew each other, and we were always safe, even when we were out of sight of home.

We've lost the connection with out kin. I don't mean blood relation, I mean social kin. We no longer associate ourselves with the people around us. I mean, it took me 6 months to meet my neighbor, and our units in this duplex share a wall! When I was growing up, and a new neighbor moved in around us, we all greeted them, usually invited them for dinner, and got to know them right away. We made them feel welcome.

I've had the good fortune to travel to some fairly remote places, in countries aside from the United States. Striking Viking is very correct when he says travel will change you. I've never been to a "third world country", but I've been to places in Europe where they still plow fields with horses. I have continually heard that they were "poor", but as Striking Viking said, "the people with the least give the most". They aren't poor, in any form but monetarily. They live off the land, and each other. Entire communities work together to live and raise children. They work the fields by day, and by night they gather and celebrate the greatest gift in the known universe: Life. Seeing this and now having a family of my own, has definitely changed me, and I look forward to future travels, so as to continue the process.

Hopefully, I am able to pass some of this on to my children.

Long time, no post. The beast is back!

2010-03-27T04:29:00.000-07:00

As you may know, a year ago my 1994 GSXR-1100, with its brand-spanking-new big bore engine, was the victim of a botched chain install. The shop that did the work failed to rivet one of the pins, and 1500 miles into the riding season, the chain came crashing through the engine. No, it wan't a happy day for me. I do believe that all of the 7 "naughty" words were expressed, as well as some creative new ones.

The lessons I learned from this ordeal?

1) Always do my own work. I have the knowledge and tools. I need to make the time.

2) Double, triple, and Giga-check all work I may have someone else do, shall I fail rule #1.

I should have caught the problem, but I failed to do so and it almost cost me more than the repairs. You see, the chain broke while pulling into a fuel station, not 12 hours after having it out for some testing.

Fast forward to last weekend, and the moment of truth. After nearly a year in hiding, the big, blue beast saw street time. Yes, friends, the big Gixxer is back, and she is bad to the bone!

To be honest, after the engine damage, I was relegated to riding my wife's GSXR-600. Don't get me wrong, it's a fantastic bike, but not even on the same level as my pride and joy. The 600 is smaller, lighter, cramped, slower, and handles half as well. It also vibrates so much in the handle bars my hand would go numb in 10 miles.

I spent some time getting the 1100 back together, but I believe it's all worth it. The bike is electric-fast, handles like it's glued to the road (thank you RaceTec), and is butter smooth! The extra weight and better suspension also give this bike a very smooth ride, for a sportbike.

I dyno'd it last year at 185whp and 120 ft-lbs, on pump gas and no Nitrous. I'm going to throw some race fuel in it, turn the timing back up where it should be, and see what kind of Nitrous numbers she can pull this time.

One thing is for sure, I need to be careful. I forgot what it was like to roll on the throttle and have the back tire spin wildly. It's an interesting feeling, and I love it!

Epic fail, the laws of Physics, and the ways of good friends.

2009-05-07T12:10:00.000-07:00

Chains... Can't live with 'em, can't afford the kind of bikes that don't have 'em.

I'm a bit late posting this blog, but I've had a lot going on as of late. Family time, work, and a few personal things all kept me from really having the time to write all this out.

A little over a week ago I had a glorious, yet very UNSAFE ride to work. I've had my head in a dark and smelly place lately, and decided to have some fun with a very shiney new Corvette. We both decided the back-country road we were on would be a good place to test the limits of our machines.

Anyone who really knows me will tell you this is very un-characteristic of me. I'm normally very reserved, and respectful of most speed laws. For some reason, however, I've had a real case of the stupids as of late, and saw my bike bouncing from the rev limiter in top gear.

What does that mean? 185mph indicated on a road known for woodland critters crossing at whim. This was not a smart idea. I made it to work, thought about it for a few, and pushed it aside. I had a blast, and rode home obeying the speed laws... mostly.

The next morning I woke up, followed my morning routine, and headed out the door. The bike roared to life, and after a minute or so of warmup, I was off. I knew I was going to need fuel before coming home, so I decided to stop on the way to work.

I made it to the road just in front of the gas station, and heard a loud snap as I started the turn-in. This was immediately followed by a loss of power and clutch action. I flipped the kill switch, and the chain bound the rear wheel just as I was pulling into the parking lot.

I managed to keep the bike upright, and put down the side stand so I could get off to survey the damage. I figured my fresh clutch had just let go and locked up my trans. What I found was much worse.

I looked down, and saw my chain laying on the ground. I also happened to see a rather large puddle of oil forming under the bike, and pieces of the side cover all over. I knew then, it was not going to be good.

I was running late for work at this point, so I called my wife to come rescue me. After work, a good friend of mine took me out to retrieve the poor ailing Suzuki.

Upon getting home, and further inspecting the damage, we found that the chain had actually gone through parts of my lower crankcase. So much for it being a cheap fix! That chain had effectivley destroyed a very fresh, very expensive stroker engine.

At that point, I was ready to find the degenerate at the Suzuki shop that had put the chain on, and use it to do some fairly serious cranium damage.

That's when the whole thing came crashing down on me. Not 24 hours prior to the chain breaking, I had been doing nearly 200mph on that machine, in a very dangerous place to crash. That chain should have given out then and there. Had it done so, I would most certainly not be typing this blog today. It's amazing how one rash decision could have such an impact!

So now the big Zuk sits alone, in the back of my garage, dripping life-blood into a catch-pan. It's a sad sight, to be sure. Because of someone's inability to properly complete the simplest part of their job, I now have to find her a new heart. I've called every cycle salvage yard in the Midwest to no avail, and even followed up on some leads for privateers. You know where they are all going?

SPRINT CARS AND GO KARTS!!! So, to all of you people out there hijacking all of these engines, could you please back off a bit!? Seriously, there are plenty of other engines to pilfer besides these! Use the oil-cooled ones that ran for an additional 10 years and counting!

I guess it isn't all bad. The same friend that rescued my poor baby, also rescued me again. He had recently purchased a new bike, and sold me his 600 GSXR on very easy terms. Honestly, this guy has been a closer freind to me in the short 9 months I've known him than people I've know for my whole life. He's there to be a comforting ear, but he isn't afraid to be a voice of reason either. If I'm acting like a fool, he's more than happy to let me know. I need that sometimes. Granted, my wife does it well, but anyone who's been married for more than 10 seconds knows how we tend to tune out our spouses, and dismiss their advice as nagging.

You know I love you, right honey? I really do!

So, I continue to ride, at an infinitely slower pace. And to quote a song with a lot of meaning to me:

"And the road becomes my bride, I have stripped of all but pride. So in her I do confide, and she keeps me satisfied, Gives me all I need. And with dust in throat I crave, only knowledge will I save. To the game you stay a slave.

ROAMER, WANDERER, NOMAD, VAGABOND, call me what you will!"

The beauty before the storm, or how to spend a nice day not riding...

2009-04-26T09:09:00.000-07:00

We had an absolute beautiful day last Friday. Temps were in the mid-80's, and aside from some early a.m. showers, it was gorgeous out.

I decided to brave the small amount of rain in the morning to take the bike to work, just so I could enjoy the ride home. I ended up very wet for a good prtion of the morning. A slight bit of discomfort for a warm and sunny afternoon ride? I can handle that.

The ride home was great! The bike was running wonderfully after the clutch swap, and the roads were clean. It was my nicest commute ride this year.

Now, you may ask why I'm writing about riding when the title says I spent the day not doing so. Well, my 15 mile commute was all I got. My wife had an appointment after I got home, so I got to play Mr. Mom to my 2 young children.

So, what did I do? Well, what any good motorcyclist would do. I let the kids run crazy in the yard while I pulled out the cleaning and maintenance supplies. My trusty GSXR-1100 was about to get the Harley treatment!

It all started with scrubbing off the chain and wheel grime. No joke, I think I used half a can of degreaser on just the chain. Who would have thought it would get that nasty.

Then came a thorough hand washing. I scrubbed off every spec of bug gut, dirt, grime, and "other"(don't ask...). There really is blue paint under there!!

Next, I busted out the wax. We're talking multiple coats and all hand applied, and hand buffed. You could swim in that paint now!

The final cleaning step was the hardest. You see, I have a lot of polished bits and pieces, so I thought it would be fun to get out the Mother's polish. Boy, let me tell you, "fun" is not the word for it. I carefully applied the cream, and rubbed it in with the tip of my fingers. Then, I grabbed the clean cloth and buffed it all off. Its taken me 2 days to recover enough to type this blog!

The rest was just adjusting and lubing the chain, and checking various nuts and bolts for torque. By this point, I was absolutely done with cleaning for the rest of the season. This is as clean as she will be for a long time!

So, bascially I spent the entire afternoon and early evening cleaning and polishing. By the time my wife got home, the storms that were forcast for the weekend were rolling in , and I got the bike in the garage just in time to not get rained on. The rest of the weekend? Cold and rainy. Go figure...

At least she looks good sitting in the garage.

It's only water...

2009-04-20T11:05:00.000-07:00

Well, here we go with this blog thing. I figured I'd try it out. I'm also working on a podcast to back it up, so keep your eyes open for updates.

I'm an avid motorcycle rider. Ok, I'm an addict. I'll ride just about any time, and any place. It isn't unheard of to hear me taking off in the middle of winter, even. I ride a lot!

After a long and frustrating weekend visiting family, and no bike to disappear on, I decided I needed to ride to work. I woke up to cool temps and a bit of rain, but nothing that would even dampen my jacket, so off I went.

The ride in was nice. I have a short 15 mile commute, but it takes a back highway through some nice scenery. The weather was wet, but not bad. To be honest, I love to ride in the rain, so it didn't bother me one bit.

Now, I live and work in Harley country. The people around me spend so much time talking about their bikes that you would think they never got off them. Why is it when I walk in with my helmet still on, and water still beading up on the visor, people look at me funny? I'm the only one who has a bike in the lot today. I was the first bike in the lot after the new year. Hell, I'm usually the only bike out there unless its sunny and 70+ degrees out!

Water dries, an good gear keeps you warm and not-so-wet. You never see a motorcycle in front of a shrink's office, so I'll keep on with my "twist of the wrist" therapy, rain or shine.