Loose Ends

Yeah, none of them are tied up yet. Got the oil changed in the bike, and the horn back to loud (had lost one of the two airhorns). TJ doesn't like how loose the chain is, though, but didn't have the doomaflatchy to adjust it, so I have to try to fit in a visit to Power Sports tomorrow.

I have a stack o' clean laundry on my dresser, and now the fun is figuring out what to take. Looks like I'll have some lows in the 50s and most highs in the 80s. It's very likely I'll be taking both jackets again, mesh and textile. Shorts and quilted liners for my riding pants. Oooh. Winter gloves? Probably not. The heated grips should be enough compensation, and I won't be riding extensively through the 50s.

I bought a tail bag that matches up to my saddlebags, back before my first trip, but it was too big to reasonably fit on the Ninja. Now that I've got the hippier backside on the VFR, the tailbag fits just right. I think I'll be able to get the kitchen sink in just fine.

Plan now is to work a half day on Thursday, going in with the bike ready to depart, and then heading north once lunch is done. I'll get to see my friends Amy and Leo on Thursday night, September 15, which is the 10th anniversary of their wedding, at which I was a bridesmaid. Pretty cool.

Finally!

There is a ride in the offing. And more than just a putter-along-here-or-there ride. Thursday afternoon, I head up to High Point, NC, to stay with my college roommie and her family (with baby girl #3 due in October)(hers, not mine), and then to Virginia Beach on Saturday and Sunday, to stay with another couple and their four daughters (poor Ryan is surrounded!).

And then there's Monday. Monday is the culmination of many plans and schemes, rescheduling and waiting. Monday will be when I get to meet up with Mike and Gigi, (also known as OBX-Rider and Ms. Gigi on BBO), in Manteo, NC. After reading my blog for the trip to Colorado last year, he'd asked me to consider marrying one of his sons, so he could have someone in the family to keep up with him. The offer included use of his riding stable, among other things. Now, I do have a bit of a weak spot for Ducatis and there is one waiting to make my acquaintance next week...

I can't let the bike down, now can I?

Adventures in VFRing

(taken from an email sent to the apple man)

Riding this weekend, I was exploring a few new roads (one of which was aptly named Explorer Road...pretty fantastic, actually). This is not about that road, however.

At the end of a different road, a hillbilly-mountain, backwoods, in-the-middle-of-nowhere, crap-look-at-all-the-gravel, hiawatha-this-is-steep, kind of road, it ended in a T at a stop sign. I didn't remember this from the map, so I just hung a right. After a few turns, I was sure this was not the specific road I wanted, but since I was just on a fun jaunt, I figured I'd punt and just see where the road went.

The evil gravel continued in the curves of what would have been an otherwise decent road for a couple of miles, and then in a shady avenue, the asphalt turned to a dirt and gravel mountain road, wending onward and upward. The last time something like that happened (asphalt turned to mysterious gravel road), I ended up discovering a very nice connector road between two highways. But that was in my truck, with high clearance and four wheels.

Nonetheless, unimpeded by excessive prudence, I decided to proceed. For being a 550 pound bike, the Viffer handled pretty well off the asphalt. I find it interesting that gravel in curves will paralyze me, but a true gravel road doesn't phase me. There were mini washed out gullies with a steep bank up to my left and a steep bank down to my right. After the first ascent, the road leveled off, and since all was well, I kept going. The second ascent got a little more aggressive and prolonged, but I kept the speed pretty constant and just let the bike float along where it wanted to go. Passed some exposed slabs that hung out over some really nice views. Kept riding.

The third hill to charge was getting pretty gouged out, and there were smooth rocks in the road, as well as increasingly soft gravel and dirt, and just before the crest, the bike choked, not having enough throttle to get up over the top. I had the front wheel on a smooth rock face, and rear wheel just at the gravel line, with probably a 7 or 8% grade, and I was a mile up a road that wasn't wide enough for two vehicles to pass each other.

I got the sidestand down and off the bike to assess the situation. I'm pretty sure that was the last of the uphill fight to the summit, and what was beyond was just some slight undulation, but that didn't help much. I decided to concede, and began to plot how in the world I was going to get down the mountain. I didn't see any other tire tracks around, and figured this road wasn't used much by anyone, so it would be wise not to a.) break the bike, or b.) break me.

Once back on the bike (turned off), when I pulled in the clutch, even with the brake on, the bike started to roll back, due to the steep angle of the hill (there is some rubber left on that rock from the front tire). I finally was able to creep the bike back at a slight angle so that my rear tire was against the edge of the gravel, where the vegetation started, and I was facing about 11 o'clock to the road.

Started to seesaw the front tire in the loose gravel to get more perpendicular to the road, but I mainly was digging a divot for the front tire in the loose dirt. Did get some angle change, but when I gingerly tried to give it some gas and get another adjustment, the road wouldn't support the action, and the rear wheel stepped left, heading back down the hill again. There was no way I could try to just back it down the hill, so I kept up with the micro adjustments, and a few more sidesteps, until I was at just above 9 o'clock to the road.

I eventually had enough leverage, I was able to push the bike up out of the front wheel's divot hole, grab the brake and hold it, push again, grab the brake, and then tentatively tried some rear wheel action. It started to move, but by then, I was coming up on the other side of the road without getting much below the perpendicular. I knew if I grabbed the front brake, the bike would go down. I knew if I gave it too much throttle, I'd go over the lip of the road into the trees.

Not sure exactly how, other than by the grace of God, I managed to get it turned enough to start going downhill, and promptly began gathering speed. The last time I had to try to emergency brake in gravel, it wasn't pretty, so I tried to keep a light touch on the front brake, but still somehow manage to slow. Rolled down that section to the next downhill part, which was longer, and got up to near 30 mph, with the whole a.) and b.) above starting to screech in my head. On the level spot after that downhill, I finally was able to get the bike stopped and gather my breath and wits.

On the last downhill section, I had to fight to keep the front from tracking into the mini gullies washed in the road that all kept running towards the downsloping bank now on my left. It was indeed a feeling of great relief when I once again rolled onto the pavement, and sang the first three syllables of the Handel's Hallelujah Chorus.

As I rode on, I later saw what I suspected (and googlemaps confirmed) was the terminus of that road on the other side of the mountain. My instinct was right, but my mode of transportation could probably have been improved. I'm going to get my first official ride on a dirt bike in September, Lord willing, and I think I'll take to it fairly well :)



My camera batteries died (rawr!) but I did get one pic on the cell phone when I got off the bike, though it doesn't do justice to the angle or the road (clickonit for a bigger look).



(Yes, I have been riding some this year, but haven't had the epic trips planned, as in years past. So far, I have had a couple of nice runs on the bike and get to be a ride leader for a group from work this upcoming Saturday. I won't be taking them on any gravel roads, though.)

Farewell, Good Sir.

The day has finally come that I had to say goodbye to Mr. Crunchy. It was bittersweet, indeed. That bike and I went a LOT of places together, but now he gets to teach another newbie how to ride.

Today was the first sunny and warm day we've had in a couple of weeks, and it was also the day I put the ad back up on Craigslist, after having the sticky throttle fixed. Within 6 hours of posting the ad, the new owner-to-be emailed me, called me and drove in from a small town to the north. Her husband took him for a spin and was satisfied. She was pretty excited about buying him, though, so I think he's going to a good home.

So long, bud.

Friday's Crash Course to Daytona

So, Friday morning, I got up with about 6 hours of sleep behind me (my body prefers 8), loaded up the bike and met my mom for breakfast across town. This time, instead of heading to work from Mimi's, I went to the gas station for a clean starting tank, and hopped on the interstate. It was 32 degrees when I got up that morning, and the first few miles were pretty chilly.

A hundred miles into the trip, it had warmed up to 45, and I had my first (and only, really) stupid driver interaction, while going through Columbia. A college student (it appeared) was merging onto the interstate and wanted to immediately move left through two lanes, and the fact that I was in her line of travel didn't bother her too bad. Even when I laid on the horn, her response was a bit of a shrug and glance in her rear view mirror, as if to say, "What else was I supposed to do?" If she'd had a pen and paper, I could have given her a list.

Once I got off I-26 and onto I-95, I stopped for fuel and a bathroom break in St. George. No dragons in sight. I was about 160 miles into it, but was feeling pretty good. Kept the heated gear going (have I ever mentioned that I love my heated vest?) and layers on. Past the Georgia line, Savannah wasn't that much farther, with the next big town being Jacksonville, about 120 miles further. By Savannah, it was noonish, and had warmed up to 55 degrees. During this stretch, there was a pretty good crosswind to deal with, which was very noticeable on this bike, as compared with the nearly naked Ninja.

I got to about 174 miles on the tank before I was down to the dreaded 'flashing bar of doom' on my fuel gauge. I made it to the Kingsland, GA exit, had a bathroom break, and grabbed a Skor bar and citrus Sobe drink. The bike was thirsty, taking 4.969 gallons (it hold 5.5 gallons), and I was starting to need something more than breakfast.

I kept doing mental calculations to try to figure out when I needed to be heading down to Daytona from St. Augustine, if I was going to check into my room there first. I knew I was making good time, and was keeping a pretty, um, peppy pace. Definitely not the fastest one on the road, but by no means the slowest.

After Kingsland, the Florida line was only a few miles down the road, and I was able to get a little more concrete in my time estimates. When I realized I was only 70 miles from St. Augustine, and it was only a little after 1 p.m., I was pretty stoked. There was one slow down in Jacksonville (now we're up to 65 degrees), but it was fairly short-lived. I rolled off the exit at St. Augustine around 2:15, topped off my tank and went in search of the Holiday Inn Express.

As part of my check-in, they had some Pepperidge Farms Milano cookies for me, which I devoured. I had plenty of time to unload the bike, change clothes, sit down a few minutes and get back on the road by 3. In the meantime, I shot a quick message to one of the guys off the BBO website who was at the show, and who I was planning to meet.

Once I left St. Augustine, I had two routes I could take. One was a straight shot all the way down I-95, and then into town, and the other cut across country and rode the last 18 miles on a state highway along the ocean. The interstate in Florida is hairy, no matter how you slice it, and it was definitely getting more congested, so, even though it was likely to take a little bit longer, I went FL100 to A1A to get to Daytona. Boys howdy, did I make the right choice! I didn't realize quite how close the road was to the ocean, but it was right. there.

There was a lot of bike traffic on A1A, but it was primarily going north, and I never had to go below the speed limit on the whole stretch of road. I did have to stop for some glamour shots with the bike and ocean, but didn't linger too long. By 4:15, I was parking the bike in front of the convention center that was housing the IMS where CaptCrash had his booth and his books set up.

By way of introduction, there are a few stalwarts on www.beginnerbikers.org, and CaptCrash (aka Brent) is one of them. He's the type of member who gives sound advice, who enjoys riding and want others to do the same. He's a rider coach in Idaho, and had a background in news broadcasting, teaching broadcasting to high school students. He's got his own series of training videos, and a channel on YouTube.

On occasion, he'll post some thoughts about different aspects of life and how it applies to riding. He ended up getting a deal worked to publish his collection of contemplations (along with a few new ones), and had a booth at the International Motorcycle Show in Daytona where he was there to meet, greet, schmooze and sign (books). I'd not had it too much on my radar until there's been a reminder about it a week before the show. I got to thinking about it (always the first step), looking into it, and the rest, as they say, is history.

At any rate, there I was, parking the bike in a sea of bikes, and heading in to the convention center. On a whim Thursday, I'd sent him a PM, asking if he'd be able to get some posters signed for my nephew from the stunt riders, because we'd missed the signing opportunity when they were in Greenville. He'd let me know the posters were waiting for me when I checked in with him from the hotel in St. Augustine, so when I walked up to his booth, the first thing I asked was, "Hey, do you have any posters here?" At first he politely said no, and directed me back toward the entrance where I could get some, and then I clarified, "No...you do have some posters here for me!" Without skipping a beat, he agreed and grabbed them for me, and it was "Hey, Krystn!" and "Hey Crash!" or something like that. His wife Julie was in the booth as well, and they invited me in to sit for a spell and take a load off.

Even though it was a first meeting, we all had people and events we knew in common from the BBO forum, which was kind of cool. I was there almost an hour before the show closed, during which time I got my book signed, as well as one of the training DVD's he's done. (If you'd like, you can buy the paperback here, release date 3/17/11, or the Kindle edition here.) Near the end, his publisher and publisher's wife walked up, with more hello's and how are you's going on. Crash mentioned his publisher's always looking for new riding material...who knows, maybe some of this will get bookified one of these days. Maybe not.

Once everything was shutting down, I started heading back out to the bike, while the other four were heading out the back door, when Crash hollered after me, and asked if I'd like to have supper with them. I'd been hoping something like that might happen, but hadn't wanted to invite myself, so I was more than happy to accept :) I went up front to get my bike and rode around back to ride sandwiched between Brent and Julie in the car ahead and Michael and Andrea on his '68 Honda CB350 (a much older cousin to my VFR) behind. We went through hordes of traffic on our way to a home in Ormond Beach, where Rod and Linda welcomed me every bit as much as if they'd sent me an engraved invitation.

Supper was grilled burgers with all the fixin's and potato salad (with radishes!), followed up with homemade apple pie and cookies. Just wow. It was very nice to be relaxing around the table, hearing some interesting Idahoan tales, and after coffee and dessert, we went into the living room to further unwind. By the time it was about 8:30, I knew I needed to start making my exit, and Brent and Julie did the same. I still had about 40 miles to ride to get back to my hotel room, and I wasn't getting any more awake the longer I sat there. The short sleep, long ride, good food and comfy seat were getting to me. (I'd also given blood the day before, so I was already a pint short of a full load...)

Rod gave me great directions back to the interstate, and I was back in my room by 9:15. I still managed to stay up until around 11, but once the light was out, I wasn't far behind.

Simply Mahvelous!

Text to follow, but for now, here's a tease from today :)

Nephews, Ninjas and New Trips

Let's see...last weekend was the International Motorcycle Show, and I took my nephew as part of a belated Christmas present. The show itself felt smaller than the past two years, but traffic was pretty good, nonetheless. Since bike parking was free, and the temps weren't sub-freezing, LOTS of folks rode to the show. We took the truck to the show, but later in the day, as a finale for his present, I took Alexander out for a ride on the VFR.

He's wanted to get to ride since I bought the Ninja, but I was never comfortable enough with my skills or the bike's two-up prowess to do it. I borrowed a helmet and gloves from a guy at work, made sure Alexander packed his boots for the weekend, and had him wear a Joe Rocket jacket that was given to me when I first rode (guy's jacket, slightly large on me...fit A pretty well). It only got up around 65 for the day, so it wasn't hot, but not too cool for him wearing jeans.

The VFR handled well with the extra weight, and he leaned pretty good in the turns, so we didn't have any scary moments on my first ride with a pillion participant :) Stopped twice for little stretch breaks and took about 2 hours to get him home via an 85 mile detour, finding the twistiest way for the last few miles (hee hee!) I might have to do that again some time.

This week, in the continuing saga of the Ninja, TJ thinks he's gotten the throttle back to good on the bike, and it should be back on Aladdin Street in a couple of days. It's either time to repost it on Craigslist, or let my friend convince me that she needs to buy it. Her attention span is often gnat-like, so I'm not sure about getting her into what needs uber attention and concentration. Plus, I don't want her mom to get any more gray hair on my account. We'll see how that one goes.

Finally, in one of those split-second, 'that sounds like a crazy idea' moments, I've decided to head down to Daytona Beach on Friday, and come back on Saturday. One of the big guns from BBO (the famous Capt. Crash) has compiled a book of essays on riding, many of which were originally posted on the site, and he's going to be down there, autographing books. He lives in Idaho, and since I probably won't be out that way for at least a couple of years, this seems like the perfect excuse, erm...reason, for a ride! I've got hotel points with HI Express, and will be staying in St. Augustine, about 40 miles away from the craziness that is bike week, and it's costing about $15 more than a Super 8 in Jacksonville. This will be the perfect time to test out Spencer's seat on the VFR, as well as a good trip to blow some cobwebs out of my brain. Too many spiders in there lately.

eta: And it looks like I've lost my hit counter again. Snot boogers!