Geezer with a Grudge

Ride with the Gunny?

2012-01-30T11:39:00.001-06:00

This is the most baffling ad campaign I've ever seen. What is the attraction to riding a hippobike with a grumpy old guy? If that sells bikes, Honda should pay me to take squids out on the CBR250R. Hell, I'll even yell at them if that adds value. I'll check their hippy credentials, harass them about their poor riding skills, and hand them over to a cop for special attention at the end. We could fill a local jail with violators if that sells bikes. What do you say?

What Kills Local Dealers?

2012-01-23T21:07:00.001-06:00

All Rights Reserved © 2012 Thomas W. Day

I was wrapping up a Basic MSF course a few weeks ago, telling the new motorcyclists about the 10% discount they'd receive on gear at local dealers by showing the completion card when one of the students asked, "Where do you buy your gear." Somewhat dishonestly, I named the usual suspects without thinking much about it. And I do try to buy locally whenever possible, but it's harder to make that possible all the time.

First, my favorite local dealer, Kline Motorsports, closed its doors last fall. Jim Kershaw, Kline's parts manager, went above and beyond my expectations for customer support and I, in turn, went way beyond my usual routine in making sure that I bought all of my V-Strom parts from him. When I was getting my gear ready for a 2007 trip to Alaska, I'd heard stories about how easily bad gas could wreak the V-Strom's fuel pump and I was all ready to buy a backup pump for the trip. When I explained my plan to Jim, he said, "Don't worry about it. I'll order one and, if you need it, we'll drop ship it to where ever you are." From then on, I bought everything from spare screws to gloves to repair parts from Kline. I didn't even go on-line to compare prices. I bought several hundred dollars worth of stuff from Kline every year and usually placed my orders over the phone. They didn't ask for advance payment and always delivered what I ordered within a few days.

My experience with two other local dealers goes back to when I first moved to the Cities, in 1996. I was riding a Yamaha TDM at the time and neither dealer stocked any parts for that bike, neither could get parts in less than a couple of weeks, and both required that I visit their parts room with a credit card before they'd order anything for me. I can do better than that on-line, without the hassle of dealing with the arrogant parts counter kids. Honestly, I sometimes think my usual on-line supplier is personally more interested in my business than the local guys demonstrated. Unlike most Americans, I have a long memory: "Burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice, shame on me." Almost 25 years later, I still have a more personal relationship with Beach Yamaha in California than I've managed outside of Kline. It didn't hurt that the service manager and I both rode XTZ550's (his was a way cooler Canadian white version), but that store actually bothered to take customer names and worked to maintain that database.

Recently, I ran myself through the local service cycle to see if anything had changed. I needed an air filter for my WR Yamaha and I wanted it fast. I called the local dealers. Nobody had a filter in stock or knew how long it would take to get one and everyone wanted a credit card number to order the part. I called my neighborhood store for an aftermarket replacement and . . . again, a credit card and an undetermined wait and the kid wanted me to call the order line because he was too important to transfer the call. I went across town, got a counter guy who claimed to be able to get the part in a couple of days. I coughed up the credit card and waited. A week later, I called about the filter and was told it was coming from the other end of the country and I'd be notified when it arrived. There was no option to cancel the late order or inclination to call to tell me the two day delivery wouldn't happen.

My favorite on-line supplier had it in stock and could have delivered it next-day if I'd have paid the extra freight. So, while it would be hip and community-oriented to always buy locally, it's often the hard way to go.

The problem is that local dealers aren't all that interested in local customers. Their employees are mostly Boomerang Kids who have been convinced that living in mommy's basement and working at a motorcycle shop makes them cool. They don't need the job, or any job, and don't give a damn about the store's customers or the store itself. The store owners are disconnected from their customers and their business processes. Yamaha doesn't do it's dealers any favors either. Yamaha's "Greater Twin Cities Yamaha Dealers" site lists six dealers, including dealers in Belle Plaine, St. Bonifacius, and Forest Lake. The Hitching Post, Delano, 61, or Starr Cycle weren't even listed.

I, clearly, have some habits to break if I want to buy locally. First, I have to give up entirely on the dealers who have been useless in the past, regardless of how close they are to where I live. Starr Cycle, for example, has been incredibly helpful in the past but the 90 miles to Mankato is an obstacle. The same goes for Delano Sports Center, 45 miles from my home. Two to five hours of road time is hard to call "local," but you do the best you can with what you have.

A depressed economy doesn't just weed out the weak and incompetent. According to some reports, Suzuki lost almost 30% of its US dealers in 2008-09. A lot of good businesses have failed in the last four years and a lot more are on the edge. It's almost impossible for a working class dealer to overcome competition that is backed by a substantial trust fund. The good dealers need all the support they can get, but it may not be enough to overcome a stagnant economy. Going through the maze of chaff to find the good dealers is enough to drive anyone to the internet (where we search for the dealers in the first place). This is exactly what kills local business.

Moose Strikes Twice

2012-01-23T20:52:00.000-06:00

The headline reads "B.C. woman hits moose on way to visit sister who hit moose." Ok, this isn't really funny, but is sure curious. On the other hand, in British Columbia seeing a moose is about as common as hoofed rats in Minnesota. I saw at least a dozen on a 100 mile ride down the Stewart-Cassier Highway (Hwy 37) and that was in broad daylight on a cold, rainy day. (Ok, so the daylight wasn't "broad," but it was daytime. Better?)

Cuttin' to the Bone

2012-01-17T09:50:00.000-06:00

I'm on two legs now, walking around the house and using a cane when I go out for distance (1.5 - 2 miles a day average last week). Five weeks out from having my leg cut off and the jury (me) is still out on whether this was a good idea. I am a miserable cripple. I hate being unable to put my own socks on, let alone tie my shoes. My left leg jiggles like my belly, something that drives me crazy (both the leg and the belly). I lost about all of my muscle mass in the surgery and that comes back glacially at my age.

There is a great website, Edheads - Virtual Hip Replacement Surgery, that provides a complete look (less gore) of the procedure. Too many people, in my opinion, minimize the severity of this surgery and toss themselves into the hands of surgeons without a second thought. Go through the whole procedure, then decide how you feel about getting your leg cut off compared to whatever pain you're experiencing and disability you're suffering. If you don't have the stones to do the virtual procedure, I suspect you won't do well with the real thing. Lots of people don't.

I was in the garage earlier today, moving the battery tender from the V-Strom to the WR, and trying to imagine being able to swing a leg over either bike. It's impossible today. It's more possible today than last week, though. My wife cautions "patience." Patience, my ass. I want to ride something.

The Pace or the Ride

2012-01-07T14:56:00.000-06:00

Sev Pearman, my Minnesota Motorcycle Monthly editor and long-time friend and co-conspirator, sent me an article written by Motorcyclists' Nick Ienatsch called "The Pace." In the article, Ienatsch extolls the virtues of a particular sort of group ride. After several people on Sev's email list responded, I felt compelled to put my $0.02 worth of bullshit into the mix.

"Responsible? A bit. Educational? Probably. Fun? Most certainly not.

"Nothing about any sort of group street riding sounds rational to me. The opportunities for misjudging the surrounding riders, for getting overwhelmed with input data, or for becoming so bored that I drive off into a ditch to keep from falling asleep and to provide myself with a little entertainment are all reasons why I always "get lost" in group rides. Make one wrong turn, and you own the road again and don't have to worry about who fell down up front or who's about to run up your tailpipe on a boring straight section or where you're going to sit when 70 bikers decide to descend on a hapless coffee shop or greasy spoon. There is an aspect of 'togetherness' that many people link to motorcycling that is, as my hero Eric Cartman would say, 'Lame, dude. Totally lame.'"

Yep, I felt pretty good about that opinionated opinion. I'm still about half-doped up with my morning dose of 15mg of morphine sulfate and 5-325mg of oxycodone-acetamineophen (Percoset), so I could be wrong.

Sev whipped right back with, "I'm gonna disagree w/ you on this one, Thomas. There are times when I LOVE riding w/ 1-5 other riders of similar skill and mindset. Parade rides of pirate-costumed riders on clown bikes? No Thanks But a spirited ride among a small group of riders can be invigorating."

Which, finally, brings us to the point of today's Geezer rant. As you know, I can't tolerate disagreement; unless I get a beer out of the deal. When it comes to off-road riding, I'm sort of in agreement with Sev, although my group size would probably be smaller (1-3, with 1 being exponentially better than 3). I found, on my trip around Superior last fall, that I'd rather be in a cage if I'm trying to hang with someone (preferably with them doing the driving) than do the group ride thing. Economically, ecologically, practically, and socially, it makes more sense.

The conversation and, probably, the drugs brought up some old memories that had been almost entirely in the old age fuzz. Must be the morphine or Alzeheimers.

In Colorado, there were a group of three guys I hung out with for almost everything. We worked together, explored Colorado's cities and mountains and ghost towns, fixed cars, did off-road remote controlled car racing, hot-wired the company's intranet so we could play networked Doom and Hell on Earth (Doom II) all weekend, and generally hung out a lot. When I first moved to CO, I was the only active motorcyclist in the group, so we naturally did a lot of stuff in our cages and the "driver" of the event picked everyone up and sort of set the tone for whatever we were going to do. The two vehicles of group excursion choice were often my hippie Toyota van, which had no back seats, but was "decorated" in two large beanbags (for camping), an icebox, and a great surround system and a 1960 Pontiac Catalina convertible with an even better surround system. We covered a lot of ground in those two vehicles, including trips to New Mexico and Wyoming, an excursion to visit my family in L.A., fishing on Colorado's Arkansas River, road trips up Mount Evans and Pike's Peak, and at least one lap around Colorado's state RC off-road electric championship series.

A couple of years later, everyone decided they needed to become motorcyclists. We started to try to do the same things we'd done in cages by bike. It was a miserable experiment. Our skill levels were all over the place. Every trip ended up with one of the rookies in a ditch or dragging his ass back home with parts dangling from their poorly maintained bikes. In the end, I took to planning the route and heading for the end point at my own rate, expecting to spend an afternoon in that spot while the other guys straggled in hours later. On a Denver to Pike's Peak trip, I rode the whole mountain, twice, performed a thorough maintenance on my bike, had a long conversation with one of the Peak's railroad engineers, and had lunch before the other three guys straggled into the parking lot. Around that point, I decided group rides weren't going to be my deal and I have avoided them since. I will always miss the road trips we took, but none of the motorcycle adventures.

Where have all the model builders gone?

2012-01-01T20:15:00.000-06:00

One of my on-line friends (thanks Paul) sent me this link to convalesce with: Aviation: Where Have the Models Gone? The author attempts to link lost mechanical understanding and skills with the demise of kids' building detailed models. One of the activities I've let slide has been building motorcycle models. For a few years, I bought and built everything Tamyia made two-wheel-ish. I have about a half-dozen really cool models that I plan to get back to this winter.

When I was a kid, I had a huge collection of Revell and Monogram models, from Big Daddy Roth hot rods to WWII and Korean Conflict military planes, trucks, and ships. I don't know what I learned about mechanics from building models, but I did learn about following instructions, detail work, and how to blow stuff up. Every 4th, I would take out the year's model production, load 'em up with M80s and cherry bombs and spread plastic bits all over my parents' backyard. Nothing was spared. I had a tiny basement room in my parents' home. There was no room for anything other than me, a twin bed with a bookshelf headboard, the built-in desk and bureau, and if I wanted to make something new in the next year, I had to clear out the previous year's inventory. Plus I liked blowing stuff up. Still do.

One Week (Movie review)

2011-12-25T15:34:00.001-06:00

One Week
written and directed by Michael McGowen, 2008

All Rights Reserved © 2011 Thomas W. Day

This is one of the rare movies that will actually make you feel better for having spent the time; none of that bitter aftertaste of a wasted evening from One Week. The Internet Movie Database called One Week an "adventure, drama." Netflix (which currently has One Week on Instant Watch) categorizes the movie as "Indie Dramas, Romantic Dramas." I would have called it a dark comedy. It is, honestly, a lot funnier than the subject implies and a whole lot funnier than about 90% of what gets called "comedy."

The movie asks the main character, Ben Tyler (Joshua Jackson), what he would do when his doctor tells him, "I'm afraid it's not great news." Tyler learns he has terminal cancer with a "survival rate of one in ten" and an undetermined "minimum" lifetime. [Something that is true for any of us all the time.] On his way home from the doctor's office, Tyler meets an old geezer polishing up his 1973 Norton to sell because "my eyes are going, I couldn't get my license renewed."(Move to Minnesota. Anyone can pass our state's eye exam.)

The bike wasn't entirely a spontaneous decision, as "Ben had been circling around the purchase for a while" because his fiancée had told him that "driving a motorcycle represented the height of stupidity." After one of the weirdest haggling scenes in movie history, Ben says, "I'll take it."

Ben's fiancée Samantha (brilliantly played by Liana Balaban) walks a fine balance between loving, overbearing, and wounded. Her hatred of motorcycles, desperate faith in the miracles of modern medicine, and her desire not to be the woman who abandoned her boyfriend when he got cancer all blend into a complicated character you'll either like or hate; or both. My opinion of her swung from one side to the opposite in practically every scene.

Ben decides to postpone his wedding, blow off his mind-deadening grade school teaching job, and obey the instructions on his coffee cup and "go west young man." At a loss for what to do with the end of his life, Ben sets out on a bucket-list trip from Toronto to British Columbia with a minor goal of seeing all the “big things” along the way; big chairs, biggest fake dinosaur, biggest paper clip, etc.

Ben tells Samantha he’ll only be gone two days, but his real plan is to travel without a plan or a schedule. All he knows about his future is that he’s “not ready to be a patient.” Ben doesn't tell his family or employer anything. Just before he takes off on his trip, he and Samantha participate in Ben's father's 70th birthday party where Ben's dad gives thanks for his uneventful life and his good fortune. Ben doesn't ruin the moment with his depressing news.

One of the many things I was reminded of by One Week is how much I love travelling in Canada. The camera work is terrific, the music selected for the movie is innovative and sets a high bar for indie productions, and the sound quality was as good as modern movies get. There is nothing in this production to get between you and the story. In my opinion, it is as flawless a movie as I have ever experienced.

Ben's relationship with the Norton, while exceptionally lucky (based on my experience with British vehicles), is dead on the money. He was almost as perfectly unprepared for this cross-country trip as he was for his medical prognosis. Riding into the Canadian sunset in jeans, a designer leather jacket, and an open face helmet, Ben is soaked, frozen, bathed in warmth and light, and bashed about by the trip and the people he meets. You will be, too.

Doin' It for 45 Years?

2011-12-21T13:10:00.000-06:00

If you read my last Geezer column in MMM, you know I've been on the tipping point for a hip replacement for a couple of years. I tipped over last week and had the old hip cut out and replaced with what I hope is a high tech prosthetics. So, I'm stuck in the house suffering the great views of a warm Minnesota December while my bikes wither away in the garage. What to do?

So far, that's easy. I have a handful of physical therapy routines to work on, I upped my Netflix DVD allowance so that I can choke on all of the western movies I can't get on-line, and I'm too doped up on morphine and oxycodone-actetaminophen to worry about anything for long. One of the movies that passed a bit of time was "Bustin' Down the Door," a documentary about the origins of pro surfing in the 1970's when the Aussies took the sport away from Hawaiian control and surfing went big-time worldwide.

There are two motorcycling-similar stories in "Bustin' Down." One was the reaction of the old-time, biker gangster types (called the "Black Shorts" and headed by a surfing Hell's Angel stereotype named Eddie Rothman in the film). Rothman and his gangbanger buddies view the beach and surfing as their territory and fought back against the Aussie invasion with the only tools they had; violence and intimidation. "If you can't beat 'em, beat 'em up" has been the gangbanger chant for centuries and, as usual, laws and the cops proved to be as useless in Hawaii as they are everywhere else. The gangbangers kept the Aussies out of championship events until 1975. The Aussies couldn't even get into major events in 1974. In 1975, they won every event they entered and major press attention (and big event purses) followed. Even in their own words, the Black Shorts characters were about preventing change, true conservatives. They wanted to maintain control of the dinky surfing pond they'd managed to create and the Aussies wanted to put surfing into the ocean. Literally, the Hawaiians were afraid to attempt the maneuvers the Aussies were introducing, so their solution was to chase the Aussies out of the sport.

In the end, the Black Shorts sort of won. Hawaii is no longer the hub of surfing. The Harley gangsters managed to pull of the same kind of coup in the US. By creating "Harley-only" race venues and through rules and intimidation, the 1960's US motorcycling gangsters drove anyone who wasn't a gangbanger to the other side. Today, the US makes marginally functional hippobikes and practically every country in the industrialized world makes real motorcycles. The conservatives won and the nation lost.

The other similarity between motorcycling and surfing was pointed out by South African, Michael Tomson, "Very few people can look through their life, and say they've been doing something for 45 years. What have you been doing for 45 years? I will surf till I die."

Before this surgery, my wife tried to reconcile me to the possibility that I'm going to have to quit riding a motorcycle some time. "You can't ride forever." I can't live forever, either, but I can keep riding for a lot more years and you may as well assume that I will ride till I die.

'splain This

2011-12-13T08:53:00.000-06:00

Patrick, the man who had no problem understanding why HD would market Ken and Barbie biker-thug-dollies wanted me to explain this. I don't see me wanting to own this bike, but I can see the . . . attraction. It seems like a logical extension to the passenger position on most sportbikes, doesn't it?

Left Speechless?

2011-12-11T12:42:00.002-06:00

There aren't that many things that can leave me speechless, but everything associated with this Craig's List ad is wrong. The Hardly marketeers who commissioned this product should be traded to the Village People (The Village People don't have anything that worthless to exchange, so Hardly should just launch their marketing department in the general direction of whatever casino the Villagers are currently playing.). The cupcake who is selling this abomination should be jettisoned into the ocean from the national clown cannon (No, I don't care if it's a 12-yar-old-girl, but we all know it's not.). Even Mattel should take a hit in their micro-macho rating for packaging such a poofster product.

$350? Who says the economy is trashed? If this lamester can get $3 for this POS somebody has a lot of cash to trash. If I ran Hardly, I'd be buying all this crap up and burning it to recover whatever reputation the company has left.

Odyssey to Ushuaia (Book Review)

2011-12-10T10:56:00.001-06:00

Odyssey to Ushuaia
by Andrés Carlstein, 2002

All Rights Reserved © 2011 Thomas W. Day

This is a tour story of a ride from New York City to Tierra Del Fuego, but it's an odd version of the usual saga of multi-national hardship and extreme sports because the main character, the author, is something of a flake. At the time of the trip (1999), Carlstein was 25 years old and mostly a rookie motorcyclist. He was fortunate enough to have stumbled (through Internet research) upon a KLR650 as his vehicle of choice, but every other thing he learned he had to learn the hard way.
Intentionally or otherwise, Carlstein portrays himself as an anti-hero. He is often childish, regularly selfish and callous toward the women he meets and the people who cross his path, and often arrogant. Honestly, I kept at the book to the end because I wanted to find something about this guy that I would like. To that end, I came away disappointed. I can't say I dislike Carlstein, as he portrays himself in his own book, but I wouldn't cross the street to meet him either.

To give you an idea of what it took to hammer my way to the conclusion, a few pages from the end Carlstein meets a pair of motorcyclists and gets into a discussion about Greg Frasier's South America tour book. Carlstein says Fraiser's book was "not bad." And explained that comment by noting, "I was trying to be nice. The book wasn't bad--when compared to a book that is terrible." Carlstein does that throughout the book. When you are almost starting to like him, he will find a way to make you feel that his many crashes, catastrophes, and personal problems are a just desert. As an author, he isn't a modern Shakesphere or even one who would challenge the skills of most newspaper writers. He is confident and you have to give him that.

Carlstein begins his trip on the right foot. Somehow, he manages to connect with two experienced long-range motorcyclists (Robert and Peter) and they meet in Texas just before the first international boarder crossing into Mexico. These two guys have the patience of near-saints while over the next several thousand miles they put up with a variety of screw-ups, mechanical problems due to Carlstein's general lack of motorcycle skills, and fairly regular temper tantrums. I liked both of those guys and half-wished one of them had written the book.

All three of these guys have South American connections and possess a variety of language skills, which serves them well through the disaster zones Central and South America call "boarder crossings." The best parts of Odyssey are when Carlstein is describing the places and people he meets on the road. The worst parts are the regular sections when he is feeling sorry for himself.

In the end, I found myself neutral on Odyssey to Ushuaia. It was a distraction during one of the longest winters of my life, but I can't say I'd ever read it again or recommend it to someone who wasn't equally desperate for a motorcycle book. If you don't have an unnatural desire to know as much as you can about South and Central American travel by motorcycle, I suspect you won't find much to like in Odyssey to Ushuaia. If you are considering this trip and want to hear what crossing those boarders is like, there might be some value in the book.

Totally Cool

2011-11-28T09:52:00.000-06:00

The title is right, This Guy Can Ride.

Why I Pulled You Over

2011-11-18T09:17:00.001-06:00

All Rights Reserved © 2009 Thomas W. Day

"Do you know why I pulled you over?"

"My best guess is that I didn't put a foot down at the stop sign." (And, of course, you're trying to meet your quota without expending a lot of effort.)

"That's right. You didn't come to a complete stop back there."

"Yeah, I did. I even rolled backwards a little bit waiting for traffic to settle down."

"There is no way you can come to a complete stop without putting a foot down."

"I can." (If you were paying attention, you'd have noticed that I was stopped and balanced for a few seconds before we started this inane conversation.)

"I don't care about those motorcycle stunts. Tell it to the judge. I'm a police officer and I know you can't come to a complete stop without a foot on the ground. I need to see your license, proof of insurance, and registration."

So went my first minutes in Linton, North Dakota. A minute was all I'd planned on spending in Linton, but that turned out to be a pipedream. While the cop went through his routine of checking me out for warrants and past evil behavior, I thought about all the conversations I've had with cops and judges over the years regarding the things "you can't do on a motorcycle." Considering all of the false information the law has to work with regarding something as well-documented as motorcycling, it's not hard to understand why the legal system is so incompetent when it comes to dealing with complicated things like treason, corporate and bank fraud, identity theft, environmental catastrophes, and insider trading.

Anyone who's ridden or watched observed trials knows that really good riders (not me) can spend a good bit of time not moving without putting a foot to the ground. At a 1980's US national enduro, I caught up with a trio of US pro riders at a check stop. They were sitting with a leg swung over the tank, having a conversation, with no feet on the ground, and no kickstands down; just showing off their balance while waiting to get their timesheets punched. I have never been able to do that or anything close to that. But, if I'm not concentrating too hard, I can stop and stay balanced for a few seconds while I inspect intersection traffic. I feel safer and more in control of the bike when my feet are on the pegs than when they are on the ground, so I try to stay in that position whenever possible.

I did not end up receiving a ticket in Linton, so I shouldn't look that gift horse in the mouth. I'm old, well documented, wearing Minnesota Safety Center patches on my gear, and a likely candidate to be sent off with a warning. Your North Dakota small town cop mileage may vary, especially if you don't when to shut up or you are young or if you don't look familiar and harmless.

The point is, the law doesn't often reflect what the MSF trainer website calls "best practices." The law is intended to provide "guidance" for cops and beginning riders. Riders (and drivers) looking out for John Law and worrying about what might be called illegal behavior probably causes as many crashes as it prevents; if it prevents any at all. I know that every time I see a cop I wonder what half-assed, unwritten or badly written, non-existent micro-law I might be breaking and it makes me nervous enough that I make foolish mistakes in attempting to avoid whatever weird thing I've heard cops are pulling bikes over for this week. Because of their unpredictability factor, I put cops pretty high on my list of life-threatening highway hazards.

Of the instances I can remember, in my 45 year motorcycling career I've been stopped and ticketed (or threatened with tickets) by cops for:

"Reckless driving"; standing on the pegs while crossing obstacles (this has happened more than once),
"Failure to keep in proper lane"; moving in the lane to increase visibility or to avoid slick spots or pooled water,
"Careless or negligent driving"; not using hand signals along with the bike's turn signals or turning right on red when traffic is oncoming, about a 1/2 mile in the distance (right on red was legal, the cop just thought I was being too "aggressive"),
"Signals; method required"; not signaling while merging into freeway traffic (in a state where motorcycle turn signals are not required and . . . is there any other option other than turning left into the traffic lane while merging?)
"Driving too fast for conditions"; 3mph over the posted 65mph and at least 10mph under the velocity of the rest of traffic,
"Parking improperly"; not parked parallel to the curb, but with the back tire against the curb and the bike pointing out toward the street,
"Windshields to be unobstructed; wipers required"; seriously, I was wearing a 1970's Bell Motostar full-face which the cop deemed "too restrictive" for proper vision.

Motorcycling and bureaucracies combine as poorly as oil and British engineering. Back in the 70's, I argued with a Nebraska DMV employee that the state's license test advice for crossing railroad tracks or for hitting a pothole was blatantly wrong and downright dangerous. For that matter, the Minnesota motorcycle test's "best" lane position advice is questionable. In the 90's, Colorado's motorcycling pamphlet offered some pretty funny advice regarding the use of the front brake. California's motorcycle handbook might still have some really dumb advice about merging into fast-moving freeway traffic. In fact, the 1980's California DMV advice would regularly get you a ticket for "merging below the speed of traffic." This list could go on for hundreds of pages. [Feel free to contribute your experience with idiot motorcycle traffic laws or equally goofy enforcement.]

I consider all of this to be examples of bureaucratic incompetence, ignorance, and/or abuse of authority. Fortunately for me, so did the traffic court in every instance. Because I've had such erratic "luck" with law enforcement, it's hard not to keep two eyes out for official traffic traps and no eyes on other traffic and road hazards.

So, when I see one of those "public service" announcements that claims the HP or local cops are working to reduce crashes, I suspect the intent. If officialdom really wanted to save lives on the highway, they would do these three things immediately:

Make the driving exam about 5000% more difficult and quit handing out cage licenses in Cracker Jack boxes.
Drop the hammer on tailgaters; one rear end crash and you're a bus rider for life.
Detach cell phone use from driving. If the phone is moving more than 3mph, disconnect the call.

All that "get tough" marketing is nothing more than justification for activity that doesn't contribute much to public safety. Once you put the fools into the flow of traffic, pretending to be protecting them with nutty traffic laws is cynical and opportunistic.

On the other hand, at the Isle of Man:

Speed and Power Kills (or not)?

2011-11-16T09:33:00.001-06:00

All Rights Reserved © 2009 Thomas W. Day

A couple of years ago in his "Motorcyclist" column, Keith Code wrote an article titled, "Fast Bikes Save Lives." He argued, that the Hurt Report found that "the average speed of the 900 accidents studied was below 30 mph." He also listed statistics that found that the worst accidents on a California race track were on bikes under 550cc and pointed to another study that found 600cc bikes "were involved in far more major injury accidents" than 1000cc bikes. NHTSA statistics disagree, "Larger motorcycles are figuring more prominently in fatal crashes." The 2006-09 data found that 5% of fatal crashes were on 250cc and under bikes, 43% were on 500cc-1000cc bikes, and 39% were on 1,001-1,500cc motored bikes. (NOTE: The remaining 13% were listed as "unknown.") Since most liter bikes are actually sub-1000cc, I think Code is fudging the facts to fit his premise.

After praising 160mph bikes for their safety characteristics, Code takes a weird turn into a discussion on motorcycle training, claiming that "what statistics have also shown all along is that rider training works." NHTSA, the MSF, and a variety of training organizations actually caution us that statistics don't seem to show any particular advantage, after the initial six months post-training, for trained motorcyclists. Of course, Code wants to claim that track day participants are underrepresented in traffic fatalities, since he runs a track training program. Typically, there are no statistics to prove this statement, that doesn't stop him from stating "riders who have raced or been trained by professionals are even safer." It would be cool if it were true, but I have found no evidence that it is a fact.

I'm not a Code-basher. I actually like Keith's books and his column, but I'm not a Code Kool-Aid drinker, either. In this case, I think his reasoning contains more bias than facts.

First, the argument than "the average speed" of 30mph is proof that speed doesn't kill is a meaningless argument in defense of big motors. A police report of a 30mph crash doesn't tell us if the bike was slowing down, drastically, or winding up with the front wheel waving in the air when the crash occurred. More power means it's a lot easier to get into acceleration trouble and the power won't save you on the way back down the speed ladder. You could also argue that when a bike actually crashes into a more massive obstacle, it is at a dead stop at the moment of impact. How's that for useless data?

Anyone who's attended a regional road race could guess why the 550cc and under crowd get into more serious crashes. Most of the novice racers are on Ninja 500Rs, for starters. There are some absolute rocket racers on 250cc bikes, but most of that crowd are beginners on Ninja 250Rs. Talk about cherry picking your statistical evidence, claiming that novice bikes "cause" novice crashes is a fair stretch even for the math-disabled.

Code doesn't cite references, other than to call his source a "very complete study." I'll take the NHTSA stats over some unidentified study, complete or not.

None of Code's argument really addressed the issue of speed or fast bikes and motorcycle safety. I know that lots of RUBs and Squids think that an ability to rip by cagers at 60mph over the speed limit makes them safer, but I've never owned a bike that was particularly fast and I can get past a truck or cage as quickly as I need to. Most of the characters who make the power-equals-security claim have a nasty history of near-misses, crashes, and or mangled body parts. Squids tend to get into motorcycling with a flash of adrenaline and exit in a fog of morphine. Their long-term participation in motorcycling is mostly dependent on luck, rather than love of "the sport." Too many of the huge twin crowd are a lot more involved in posing and polishing than in actually riding. The number of for-sale 10 year old hippo bikes with less than 20,000 miles on the odometer is depressing. (Their current unsellable status is an encouraging sign, though.) Safety should be described in mile-per-crash terms, not in one-off near crash stories. Until you have at least a 100k miles under your belt, your experiences barely qualify you as a novice.

A dozen years ago, a friend who'd just become a road racer argued that his 650 SV was more bike than he could handle on the track, but that he needed at least a liter rocket for "safe" freeway traffic management. He was and is a faster, smarter, and a far better rider than I'll ever hope to be so I didn't argue the point. I just disagreed. A couple of years later, he told me he'd changed his opinion. He'd sold his big sport bike and replaced it with a much smaller bike because, after a few years on the track, he realized that he might never become skilled enough to over-ride the smaller bike. He learned that he had been substituting riding skill with vehicle power and, in an emergency situation, skill would be a more useful resource.

That has been my opinion all along. Some of my favorite motorcycles have had a lot more frame and suspension than motor and, because of that resource distribution, it is practically impossible to over-ride those bikes with the throttle. With reasonable skill, the motor will not overpower what you can do with the brakes, the handlebars, and a bit of weight redistribution. Add 40hp to the same bike and you have a bloody catastrophe waiting to happen to many excellent riders.

With that in mind, Keith Code and I will have to settle for a respectful disagreement (at least on my end of the argument). Keith is a wonderful rider. I am what I am. From where I sit, fast bikes are dangerous bikes and way beyond the skill level of practically any really good rider. If you are Kenny or Valentino, you can probably deal with insane amounts of power. If you are Joe Typical, anything more than 40hp and 70mph is probably beyond your capabilities on public roads.

And an Equally Related/Valid/Scary Point

2011-11-14T08:53:00.000-06:00

Thanks, Paul,

5 Things Your Kids Won't Learn in Drivers' Ed — But Should

Bikes Replaced by iPhones?

2011-11-13T20:50:00.000-06:00

Is this really possible? Check out this NY Times article.

Is the Era of the Motorcycle Over?

Can motorcycles be a dying product? Probably

What's with Stopping Distance Tests?

2011-10-22T17:03:00.001-05:00

Motorcycle Consumer News publishes a Performance Index summary on all of the bikes they have tested over recent years (for example: 2007/2008 and 2010). There are always some interesting statistics in those evaluations. For those of who are lazy and looking for an executive summary, skipping the list and heading for the Ten Best categories at the end of the article is the easy way to get a look at the year of motorcycling products.

One of the stats I've been most interested in is the 60-0 stopping time measurement, since that directly relates to safety performance. 0-60 is interesting and 0-100mph is information only for squids and racers, but stopping distance is a big deal for all of us. So, I manipulated the MCN data into a spreadsheet and played with it for a bit. what I found was an indirect correlation between what I expected and what actually happened. The ten quickest stopping bikes MCN tested in the last 5 years are:

Triumph Speed Triple 1050 '06	104.8 ft.
BMW Megamoto	106.4
Triumph Speed Triple '99	106.7
Honda F6 Valkyrie	107.4
Honda Marauder 800	107.6
Honda VFR800FI Interceptor '98	107.9
Yamaha YZF600R '97	108.2
Suzuki SV650 '99	108.8
Ducati Monster 750	109.1
Suzuki TL1000S	109.4

None of these bikes were among the lightest tested. In fact, five of the 50 fastest stoppers were over 700 pound porkers. All of those were metric cruisers (Honda's F6 Valkyrie, Valkyrie Tourer, VTX 1800, and Kawasaki's Vulcan 1500 Classic FI and Suzuki's VL1500 Intruder LC). Even Harley's 620 pound VRSC V-ROD puts on the brakes in 109.5 feet. The lightest of the quick stoppers is the '99 Suzuki SV650.

There is some connection between the lightest motorcycles and fuel efficiency. MCN's ten top fuel misers were:

Yamaha XT250	67.8 mpg
Yamaha Virago 250	66.9
Kawi Ninja 650R '06	65.3
Kawi Ninja 500	64
Honda Rebel 250	62.6
Honda CRF230L	61.6
Suzuki SV650S '07	58.3
BMW G650 Xcountry	56.4
Buel Blast	55.4
Moto Guzzi California	55.2

The Hondas and Yamahas were in the 10 lightest bike group, too. The Moto Guzzi was the heaviest miser at 540 pounds. You have to filter down to 45 mpg before you see the first over 600 pound bikes show up in the efficiency column. That was no surprise. Suzuiki's DR650 was the only light bike to push 40 mpg, which isn't a huge surprise, since the DR is also the quickest 0-60 mph bike in the group.

MCN does a lot of testing and collects all sorts of data on the bikes they test. I'm marginally embarassed to admit that I only care about one other measure; weight. MCN's ten lightest bikes were:

Yamaha XT250	288 pounds
Kawasaki KLX250S	294
Yamaha WR250X	301
Yamaha WR250R	302
Kawasaki KLX250SF	305
Suzuki DRZ400SM	319
Yamaha Virago 250	325
Suzuki GZ250	334
Suzuki DR650SE	358
Suzuki DR650SE '07	368

All things considered, the Virago 250 and the GZ250 are the only bikes of that bunch that I wouldn't like to own. So, maybe my first big issue is weight. If I only get to pick one value, maybe that would be the top of my motorcycle values. MCN doesn't rate suspension travel, turning radius, off-pavement handling, street vision (seat height), visibility, reliability, winter starting, ease of maintenance, parts cost, fuel tolerance, LD comfort, or many of the things I try to look at when I review a new motorcycle. Sometimes, I wonder if including a "can I pass a BRC on this thing" category would be helpful This was, however, an interesting experiment and I'm going to put the resulting Excel spreadsheet on my website.

The Rewards of Stereotyping

2011-10-17T11:37:00.000-05:00

Your Take?

2011-10-09T23:05:00.001-05:00

My most recent Minnesota Motorcycle Monthly rant, titled "Motorcycle Bigot," drew a bit of fire from a couple of cruiser fans. One of the funnier replies of outrage said, "I love ya man, although I do believe that your tearing down of the rides of a good percentage of the motorcycling world based solely on you narrow opinions is unwarranted. I love them all, from the Amazonas to the Zero, from 50cc mopeds to the 2000cc sled, and though you would never catch me owning a Gold Wing, I'd never deride in public (other than as the subjective subject of a road test) any person's choice of ride. I know that every rider has reasons for riding what they do and I may never understand those reasons, but it is not my business to understand, and it certainly not my place to call a whole group of motorcyclists' choice of rides 'hippobike' and liken them to Falstaff. I'm almost positive that most of the 'cruiser' owners reading that article will think that you are describing them, not the bike, and I'm confident that they will take this very personal."

I don't have much faith in human capacity, but I'm interested to see how this plays out. So far, I have two flames and six attaboys and the magazine just came out this weekend. Of course, what he calls "tearing down of the rides" I call criticizing mediocre engineering. For a guy who often derides political correctness, he appears to be sort of wimpy when it comes to motorcycles. As I said in the article, "In respect to motorcycles, my first thought is, 'Get over yourselves.' Nothing about disliking a particular type of machine is anywhere near as despicable as racial hatred or intolerance." When it comes to cruisers, they are barely past toys and I really can't take a toy seriously. That would be as silly as considering banjos serious musical instruments.

Murderball or Football

2011-10-09T14:27:00.004-05:00

This one's for you, Pat.

A while back, a friend commented that I was unable to appreciate the skill exhibited by a cop wallowing around a gymkhana course on his hippo-Harley. He said something about me being unable to appreciate the skill required to make this bloated tractor of a motorcycle maneuver almost as well as a motorcycle.

Pat, you're right and you're wrong. I do appreciate the cop's skill, for what it is. However, I'd rather see a great rider on a great motorcycle, because that is actually interesting. Who knows if the cops can actually ride well? Yeah, they're great considering their handicap, but why intentionally reach for a handicap?

I got another reminder of my preference for all around competence over being pretty good at a boring skill today when a local television station ran the 1931 "A Connecticut Yankee" with Will Rogers. I wish I could find a link to the jousting scene in this great movie. The king's man is on a draft horse, all duded up in armor and fringe, while Rogers is on a cutting horse, in working cowboy clothes, with a lariat for a "weapon."

Not only do Rogers and his cutting horse kick the cruiser . . . whoops!

Not only do Rogers and his cutting horse kick the knight's ass, the mobile pair are a lot more fun to watch. I wish I could find a link to the jousting scene. [Will Rogers rocks!]

It's Sunday afternoon as I write this and the whole argument reminded me of sports of all types. Yeah, it's really impressive that the guys who play Murderball are as good as they are at their sport. But what are the chances that Murderball will be on prime-time television Monday night or Sunday afternoon? What do you want to watch, guys in wheelchairs or guys who can throw a football 90 yards, run 100 yards in 9 seconds, knock other 250 pound monsters flat on their asses, or move like a ballerina hooked up to a freight train engine? Last I heard, the Special Olympics didn't get any television coverage, let along major station attention. I must not be the only one out here more interested in the "best of the best" rather than "pretty good in mediocre conditions." Harsh words, but someone needed to say them and it might as well be me.

Marketing = Engineering/Invention?

2011-10-07T14:50:00.000-05:00

This sort of off-topic, but . . . live with it. It's my blog.

All the media hand-wringing about Steve Jobs, "the 21st Century's Thomas Edison," is going a long way toward explaining to me why the country is going down the tubes. To be sure, it's a sad thing when a relatively young (55) man dies of a terrible disease (pancreatic cancer). However, I can't help but get a little cranky when a marketing guy whose claim to fame is based on his response to colors and rounded corners is regarded as a brilliant inventor. Even worse, when that marketing guy is getting credit for "inventing the personal computer" (not even close), being first to produce a portable digital audio device (not even in the running), and for creating a whole new market for "smartphones" (again, Apple was practically last to the market). This is a guy who lied to his partner about the payment for an early product design assignment with Atari, took credit for doing the design work when he was only the delivery boy, and cheated his partner (Steve Wozniak, the real founder of Apple and the only genius of the two Apple founders) out of $2,250 of the $5,000 contract.

Really? This is what passes for a great man in what's left of the United States of America?

"The Woz," as always was exceptionally generous about his memories of his "friend" when interviewed yesterday. I met Steve Wozniak in the 80's and thought he was one of the coolest, nicest, most humble brilliant and rich guys I've ever met. Another corporate CEO I knew pretty well at the time was a Jobs-worshiper, which was all I needed to know at the time about Steve Jobs. This guy was a lazy, credit-absorbing, blame-shifting shark and anything he liked I was probably not going to want to be near. Later, I got to know a few design engineers who had worked for Apple and they had been trashed and burned by Jobs at Apple and had nothing but bad things to say about the guy and nothing but hero worship for Wozniak. Wozniak's analysis of Jobs was that he "was a good marketer and understood the benefits of technology." I think that's a near-perfect analysis of Jobs' contribution.

But that's not my point. The point is the boys and girls (none competent enough to described in adult terms) of our mass media no longer know the difference between inventors, engineers, scientists, and the people who take advantage of those skills. If perception has become that knowing how to sell crap is the same as knowing how to make it, what's the point in going through the effort to learn how to do actual productive work? Obviously, this is the conclusion young people make when they blow off science, engineering, and technology and take the easy route to business and finance degrees.

When a character like Keith Wandell, who can barely be described as a rider let alone a motorcycle engineer, can be put in charge of a genius like Eric Buell and can conjure up the gall to shut down the only progressive division of an otherwise backwards, failing, obsolete product line, we are heading for membership in the long list of failed empires. Wandell isn't fit to take on the task of being Buell's secretary, but that's not the way business works in the declining US of A. Secretaries are running the asylum and inventors are sidelined as an unnecessary evil in a country that imagines product invention, R&D, design, and manufacturing can be farmed overseas and the easy part, marketing, will remain a US-only task.

In my experience, if you can do the hard parts you can do the easy parts. IBM discovered that when they shipped PC production to Japan and, suddenly, produced a truckload of competitors for themselves. Apple doesn't build anything these days. If you can find a "Made in the USA" sticker on anything with an Apple logo, I'd like to see it. If you can't make it, you can't design it. If you didn't design it, you're just a salesman and salesmen are a dime a dozen.

GIVI E36N Touring Side (or top) Cases

2011-10-05T13:22:00.000-05:00

All Rights Reserved © 2007 Thomas W. Day

[Right: The big-butt look of a Suzukli DL-650 and a pair of GIVI E36 side cases. Now I can take up as much room in a parking space as a Goldwing.]

It's hard to imagine a product that has been more written about than GIVI Monokey™ cases, but here I am writing about them. The GIVI E36N USA Monokey™ cases are side loading, 36 liter capacity, touring cases. The 36 liter cases are the smallest touring cases GIVI offers and because of that they are the narrowest touring cases available from GIVI. This was important to me because the Suzuki V-Strom has a high, large exhaust pipe and GIVI's mounting system attempts to make the silhouette and balance as symmetrical as possible. As you can see from the back view picture, that adds a lot of width to my motorcycle's rear-end profile.

Since I planned about 1,000 miles of fire-roading on my 2007 Alaska-Canada trip-Northwest USA trip, I was concerned that the added girth would result in some unnecessary "adventures" added to my adventure tour. The off-road stuff turned out to be pretty tame and there were only a few narrow passages, between 4-wheel vehicle guards, where the cases were a problem. On the other hand, I managed to cut a few filling station and motel corners close enough that I bounced the cases off of posts, buildings, and other "obstacles."

My following year's trip to Nova Scotia was less eventful, but the backroads between the far east end of the country and here put a significant vibration test to the cases and mounting. In 2009, I really put a pounding on the GIVI gear on my 3,500 mile North Dakota "ghost town tour" and the stuff held up without a moment of problem. At a filling station in Bismarck, ND, a cruising hip-hopper in a 70's Buick side-swiped my left side case, pinning me between the pump and the bike, hard enough that the lower hinge sprung open and left a 1/4" gap at the bottom of the case. I was sure that damage was permanent, but when I opened up the case, the hinge popped back into place and no injury was done, other than some bumper scratches on the side of the case. (Of course, the Buick driver, being the responsible citizen he was, sped away when he heard his car hit my bike and he saw me squashed against the pump. I'm sure, if he reads this, he'll be happy to know he didn't kill me.) Last year, my grandson and I racked up another 3,800 miles in the Rockies and on Midwest states' backroads and I have begun to treat my luggage like the most durable part of the motorcycle. 50,000 miles after snapping on the E36's, they are going strong and as utilitarian as the day I installed them.

I met another V-Strom rider on my 2007 Alaska trip who had laid his bike down at 30mph on the Alaska Highway and, while the cover of the case was nicely road-rashed, it was still solid and in one piece. He also had an E46 top case and noted that the seal was so tight on that case that he had trouble opening it when going from a high-altitude campsite to a sea level site. He claimed that when he opened the case he could hear a "pop" as the air escaped. We were both impressed with the extreme waterproof qualities of our GIVI hardware, especially considering the fact that we'd been rained on for more than 20 days straight..

The GIVI mounting frame is something worth discussing. It's built to take abuse and to support substantial weight. The frames are designed to accept any of the GIVI Monokey™ cases, which means anything from 21 liters to 52 liters could be mounted to the same frames. In all of the above crash and fender-bender scenarios, the GIVI mounting system was undamaged. For a 4-day vacation trip with my wife this summer, I added the GIVI E528 tail-case mount. Like the side-case mounting system, the tail-case mount is easy to install and built to withstand abuse and support any of the GIVI Monokey™ cases. Attaching the cases to the mounting system is simple, quick, and almost foolproof. All you need to do is align the bottom of the case into the two tabs and snap the top keyed-section into the Monokey™ lock.

[Right: The E36 containing clothing, towels, food, spare parts, and a sleeping bag with room to spare.]

I'm totally impressed with GIVI's Monokey™ mounting system and never, even once, had a problem with the case attachment; durability or security-wise. These are tough cases that aren't quite deep enough to hold a helmet, but are plenty big enough for a significant amount of luggage. My wife and I managed to cram all of our clothing and necessities for our 4-day trip into one E36N case, which gave her more passenger peg leg room and a back support.

You'd think that a measly 30 liters capacity increase would be pretty meaningless with a load like mine, but you'd be wrong. Being able to load the cases from the side, meant that my packing was organized, accessible, and logical. The E36N cases, however, make perfect sense for adventure touring or vacation trips with a passenger.

My wife complains that the location and width of the cases make it difficult for a passenger to mount the bike. I haven't found a solution to the wife-comfort problem, but my grandson didn't have any complaints. However, passenger comfort aside I have depended on my GIVI cases for more than 50,000 hard miles and they have never let me down.

Protesting China

2011-10-05T13:09:00.000-05:00

My WR250's rear wheel requires a 27mm wrench to break the wheel loose for tire repairs or chain adjustments. The Yamaha tool is a POS that couldn't possible crack the specified torque for that nut. Motion Pro makes a very nice combination 27mm wrench and tire tool , but after looking at it I suspected the quality and torque capacity of the wrench end of the tool, plus the $30+shipping price tag put me off. I found a perfectly good 27mm wrench at Fleet Farm for $9, cut off the open-end end, and ground out a tire tool in about 20 minutes.

I know, my time was worth thousands of $ and I could have saved the world while I was making an over-capacity, less-than-hip looking tool, but I had fun, got exactly what I wanted, and it works really well at both ends. Motion Pro's tool is slicker looking, but Bob's didn't carry it and I wanted it in the tool kit this weekend. Now I'm ready for a road test.

GEICO vs Deer

2011-09-30T13:25:00.002-05:00

GEICO has some advice about avoiding hoofed rats. It's not bad: http://www.geico.com/information/publications/newsletter/2011/deer-safety-tips/

Bikes vs. Cars on MythBusters

2011-09-30T09:10:00.000-05:00

MythBusters did a pretty thoughtful comparison between motorcycles and cages, on an economy, pollution, and practicality basis. Like they said, the comparison "wasn't perfect," but it was a pretty fair comparison. Obviously, bikes are inefficient on multiple levels. Economically, motorcycles barely make any sense at all, particularly the way we ride and select our vehicles in the US. Hell, about the time the microscopic advantage in fuel economy starts to pay off we have to buy new tires.

I keep comparing my motorcycle transportation economy to my daughter's experience with her 1990 Geo Metro convertible. She gets 50-something miles per hour, sometimes pushing 60mpg. I get 50-something miles per hour. Her Geo has more than 100,000 miles on the odometer and has crossed the country a couple of times in the Geo. She replaces tires because they begin to crack before they wear out. Her car was low emissions in 1990. My first low emissions motorcycle (2004 DL-650) was manufactured in 2004. We have about the same luggage capacity, when all 3 of my cases are on the DL. We can both carry a passenger, but her passenger is more comfortable. I can go faster. She can go further on a tank of gas. She loves her Geo and maintains it with the care and detail worthy of any garage candy owner.

I thought about this a lot while my brother, Larry, and I were looping Lake Superior this summer. We were "riding together" on two motorcycles, both getting 55mpg, for 1600 miles. We passed dozens of biker clans of four to a dozen riders, some with passengers, all doing what we were doing. As this trip wore on, I began to question the purpose. Larry and I don't see each other much, maybe for five days out of every three years on average. We stopped for fuel and novelty on the trip, but we had 1600 miles to cover in four days. Traveling by motorcycle, even with a passenger, isn't about being with someone.

Motorcycling is a solo activity and only becomes silly when we try to pretend it's a community thing. One motorcyclist traveling unbeaten roads, traveling light and flexibly, makes some sense. Not a lot of sense, but at least it's not entirely irrational. Even traveling with one other rider is irrational under most conditions. I've been talking to a friend about doing the Pan American Highway in the next year or two. On the Lake Superior trip with Larry, I realized that trip would make more sense in a VW than by motorcycle. Even better, a VW-powered dune buggy setup for touring. Everything from fuel economy to security to camping to maintenance makes more sense in a VW Bug-based vehicle. Put a Baja-quality suspension on the Bug and even a dirt bike begins to seem silly.

So, we aren't efficient, we aren't low impact (unless the real advantage of off-road motorcycles were set loose), and we aren't communal. We better be good at something and we must be, because a whole lot of us ride motorcycles when better transportation is available all around us.

What Honda's Thinking

2011-09-30T08:18:00.001-05:00

Bill Bassett from Motoprimo had his curiosity piqued by my comments about the CBR250R's tool kit. So, he called Honda to ask "What's up?" The response was funny enough he had to call me about it.

It turns out that Honda thinks motorcyclists are a lot lamer than most of you anticipated. And most of you anticipated that we're pretty incompetent, as a buying crowd. Honda's policy is to included only enough "tools" to allow the user to get to the battery. So, the CBR250R's kit includes one 5mm Allen wrench because you have to remove the seat to get to the battery. The Goldwing's battery can be accessed without any tools. So, guess what's in the Goldwing's "tool kit?"

Bill said Honda is, so far, alone in its low opinion of customer mechanical capacity. Yamaha and Kawasaki, for example, still include a reasonable collection of marginal quality tools with their bikes.

A Confused New World

2011-09-28T10:42:00.003-05:00

I had the pleasure of riding a spanking new Honda CBR250R for 100 miles this past week. This is the epitome of modern motorcycle engineering--fuel injection, water cooled, single cylinder, long maintenance interval, high-tech electronics--in a small package. Exactly the sort of package that is selling in large quantities all over the newly-industrialized world.

Everything about this motorcycle is likable, except the tool kit. That's it, to the right. An Allen wrench and a helmet cable.

When I mentioned the undersized tool "selection" to Dean Cross, Motoprimo's Off-Road Product Manager (who is a cruiser-riding-only guy, which is another confusing topic altogether), he joked that the CBR didn't come with any tools but that they'd scavenged this tool bag from a Harley. After I failed to get the joke, he asked, "What would you do to this bike?"

I started listing the things I do with tools and motorcycles and he interrupted me by saying something about me being old, unusual, and out-of-touch with reality. Apparently, modern people don't work on their own motorcycles. I really wanted to argue with him, but I had nothing to work with. At the music school where I teach, many of our students are incapable of properly tightening a microphone stand's parts without accidentally disassembling something in the process. If that something actually falls off, they will stand fixated by the reflection of the dropped part like a deer trapped in headlights until I show them how the part is reattached. These are, mostly, not stupid kids, but they are mechanically clueless.

Some time ago, in an interview with Kevin Cameron, Kevin said "every new entering freshman class has better keyboard skills and more math, but they are less prepared to deal with the physical world. When those people become engineers etc. and go on the job, they have to go and do the playing that they would have done when they were 12 or 8 or 16. They do it on the job and some pretty ridiculous things come out of it. But in the end, the same function is performed, namely, the person gets squared away with physical reality." In my field, I don't see either the improved keyboard skills (unless illiterate texting counts) or improved math capacity, but I can only hope that is the case for engineering students.

In response, Honda created a small motorcycle with large maintenance intervals and assumed that even this fairly simple motorcycle would receive all of its service care at the dealership. Where those high quality dealership mechanics are going to come from appears to be an item of faith or wishful thinking.

I wish I could claim this idea for my own, but it belongs to Dean Cross. He suggested that all of modern experience comes from video games, so video games ought to provide some value to society by including technical demands with the mayhem. For example, before you can pillage an Iraqi village in Gears of War or Battlefield or Call of Duty you have to disassemble, clean, and reassemble your weapons (like basic training). Occasionally, your weapons will jam in the battle and you will have to fix them while ducking for cover. Motocross Mania, MotoGP, and the like are obvious candidates for a little maintenance reality check. Tires should be replaced between races at the dead minimum. Force players to actually figure out how to slip a door lock and hot wire a car to go anywhere in Grand Theft Auto. Make up your own list of games that need to reflect the physical world. If you play video games at all, I'm sure your list will overwhelm mine. I had to go to Amazon.com to find the names of any of this stuff. Hell, I might get interested in video games if the games actually required a little thought.

I don't, however, have a solution for stupid games like Guitar Hero. Just pick up a real guitar and learn to play music. Pushing buttons on beat is the definition of "lame."

Easy Fix, Never Happen

2011-09-27T21:59:00.001-05:00

All Rights Reserved © 2011 Thomas W. Day

The news report read, "Hennepin County attorneys say that on the morning of Oct. 7, 2010, 20-year-old Amanda Elizabeth Manzanares was driving without insurance and under a restricted instructional permit when she drove her car across the centerline of Excelsior Boulevard in Minnetonka and struck a man riding a motorcycle. The man suffered severe injuries that have, to-date, required $500,000 in surgeries and other medical care. . .

"After retrieving Manzanares' cell phone at the scene, Minnetonka police investigators found a series of text message exchanges and calls on Manzanares' phone that were made and received in the minutes surrounding the collision.

"But, according to court documents, Manzanares denied using her phone at the time of the accident, telling Minnetonka police she had “blacked-out,” was tired, that she hadn't taken prescribed medication and that she was still getting comfortable as a driver."

This is what passes for "news" in modern America. Tainted, slanted "information" intended to inflame the unwashed, illiterate masses without providing any solutions, context, or depth. Back when he was funny, Dennis Miller defined television news as a series of unimportant but bad things we could all be glad didn't happen to us.

Don't get me wrong, Manzanares ought to prosecuted for nearly killing an innocent bystander with her miserable, incompetent (for whatever reason) driving. But by shining a bright light on this pitiful excuse for a human being, the law and the media are doing their damndest to distract the blame from the real criminals in this all-too-common sort of incident; cell phone providers. On one hand, television reminds us at every cop-show opportunity that any cell phone can be tracked if it is on. If it can be tracked, its trajectory and velocity can be determined. If all that is true, any communications attempted while the phone is in motion can be terminated. End of problem.

Driving while yapping on a cell phone use is clearly an example of driving while incapacitated. Every study that has examined the relationship between driving drunk and driving while asking "whut r u doin?" has found that cell phones are linked to driving mental retardation. One study (published in Human Factors: The Journal of the Human Factors and Ergonomics Society) found in simulated driving conditions that drunks (at least those with a 0.08 percent blood-alcohol level) are better drivers than cell phone yappers. None of the drunks crashed in that study, while three cell phone morons did.

Why it took a study to identify this character of cell phone abuse says more about academia, society, and capitalism than it tells us about the actual problem. Any half-conscious motorcyclist knows that you stay as far from a cell phone user as the road permits. They are erratic, marginally conscious, and as dangerous as gangbangers. I'm no less worried about riding near a cell phone user than I am about trying to get by someone who is tossing out the occasional empty beer can or has an Easy Rider rifle rack loaded with automatic weapons.

If you're brand new to this planet and these United States, you might ask, "Why is this tolerated if the solution is so simple?" The reason, dear alien life-form, is money. The slim splinter that remains of our democracy is dedicated to the idea that the profits of a few override the security, health, safety, and quality of life of the nation and its not-rich citizens. Those trust-funded, grossly overpaid and under-skilled corporate executives who are the only real beneficiaries of the death and destruction their products cause (not the cigarette executives, this time) are more important than the lives of every other person on public roads. Why that argument doesn't hold true for alcohol-pushing corporate executives is a little inconsistent, but I'd bet it's because the cell phone execs are richer.

Of course, my electronic trigger isn't the solution I'd recommend in an ideal world; too passive and forgiving. Personally, I'd rather see cell phone manufacturers forced to install a spring-loaded 4" spike in every cell phone that would be triggered by cell phone use at any velocity exceeding 10mph. At worst, the cell phone user would have some part of his/her anatomy skewered for violating rational cell phone laws. At best, one more idiot would be spiked from the gene pool.

Honestly, I don't expect either idea to take hold in my lifetime or before the next comet blasts an idiot wind across the planet and restarts the evolutionary cycle. The rapid degeneration of our species depends on the right of the dumbest and most corrupt evil spawn's access to every damn toy their idiot heart desires. So, my favorite solution is dead in its tracks. Second, the attention deficit disordered have grown to depend on knowing what their friends and family are doing at this very second and they are perfectly happy to kill anyone in their path to have that knowledge. What's the worst thing that can happen, being prosecuted for "felony texting and driving?" That sounds slightly more serious than unpaid parking tickets.

Collector's Wet Dream

2011-09-19T22:00:00.002-05:00

Chicago's Lee Hartung died recently and all of the items in the Lee Hartung Barn Find Collection will go on auction in November.

This video and two others makes an effort to document the immensity of the collection. Crazy. There is an absolutely nutty amount of transportation-related items in this collection: cars, motorcycles, bicycles, oil cans, event posters, parts, medallions, stamps, books, clothing, etc. I am incapable of comprehending how or why someone would hoard this much stuff, but you might.

Gas Gas and Cigarettes

2011-09-17T18:34:00.000-05:00

Like all things trials, this rocks:

Like all things marketing, I have no idea what it has to do with some dumbass brand of cigarettes. Anything to see someone ride spectacularly well, I always say.

They're Havin' Fun Now

2011-09-10T18:07:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago, my wife and I were westbound on I694 when we came upon a dude on a Harley towing a trailer. At least I think he was towing the trailer, he was riding so badly it's possible the trailer was pushing him. As the wind blew the bike-trailer-rig from one side of the lane to the other, he would lean way over to try to coerce the bike back into the middle of the lane. He clearly had no idea how to steer a motorcycle, but he was all duded up in his armored headband, wife-beater with the HD logo, raggedy but stylish jeans, and tennis shoes. I did not have a camera with me, but I'll never forget him.

I will also never forget what my wife said about the boy, "He's havin' fun now."

A couple of days later, my grandson and I were biking around the neighborhood on a summer Saturday afternoon and I decided to snag a few pictures of folks who were having fun at the moment, but would be in a world of hurt if anything (I mean ANYTHING) went wrong.

As my wife says, "They're havin' fun now." If they have to stop quickly, swerve to avoid a bug in the road, or make any sort of emergency maneuver the odds are they will "have to put 'er down" and then they won't be havin' much fun. There are a few helmets in the group, but they are mostly haircut bowls that won't do much for the riders or passengers when the face meets the pavement. No armor, few gloves, awful footwear, just a lot of people counting on luck to save their silly asses and havin' fun now.

Motorcycle Advice: Harley Davidson Rider Gives a New Biker Some Tips

2011-09-10T11:58:00.004-05:00

How to be cool, from the mouth of someone who can almost spell "cool." It's pretty much all here:

Thanks Sev.

Readjusting to Smallness

2011-09-01T14:42:00.000-05:00

When I finished my test ride of the Honda Custom Interstate, I was hurting, tired, and frustrated. All of this misery was not because of anything specific to the VT1300, but generally due to all of the flaws in the design philosophy of a cruiser. The weight, length, awkwardness, and anti-ergonomic design of that style of motorcycle contains none of the things that I love about motorcycles. I've said this before, if this was the only sort of motorcycle I owned I'd probably ride fewer than four or five times a year. If that sounds familiar to you, maybe you own the wrong motorcycle.

In response to the often-screeched complaint that I'm a "motorcycle bigot," I have to say "fuck you." I also have a personal "no assholes rule," if that applies to you, deal with it. This isn't about religion or race, it's about bad design. I am too old, too beat up, and have too little time to tolerate assholes in my life and, likewise, I'm not particularly interested in lousy engineering.

That is the real problem, for me, with the cruiser style; it's all about fashion not transportation. Unlike those gaywad old fat guys who imagine that an expensive motorcycle actually changes who they are or how silly they look, I know that no motorcycle is going to make me young, rich, smart, fast, or sexy.

Like the guy with the undersized dick who was asked by a hooker, "Who's that going to satisfy?" All I have to please is "me." And there is nothing about riding toward a eternal gynecologist appointment that makes me happy. Sitting on my tailbone in an unrelenting fixed position would drive me to stop at every "biker friendly" bar if I were inclined toward addiction or using alcohol for pain relief. Riding straddle-legged is something I gave up when I quit riding horses, sometime in the early 1970's. Even more, sacrificing personal safety for fashion with no aspect of enjoyment involved is totally out of my interest or capacity.

Hippobikes are freakin' terrifying. They can't turn, can't stop, can't go off-road, and are so freakin' close to the ground that the rider can't see over or around anything taller than a go-cart. What idiot thought that made sense? We're not talking engineering here, this is "design" at the lowest level. Motorcycles as women's shoes.

Riding the big Honda so put me off that, after I ended the test ride last Friday afternoon, I didn't get back on my own motorcycle until the next Thursday. It effected me so strongly that I didn't get comfortable on my beloved WR250X until I'd been on the bike for more than an hour. It took me that long to regain confidence that what I was riding could stop, turn, and competently be maneuvered in traffic. No wonder so many hippobike owners whine about how "unsafe" the freeway is. If I had to ride the crap they ride I'd be afraid of my own neighborhood.

A while back, I wrote an article called It's Not a #&^%#@ Wheelchair. Turns out, I was wrong. This kind of motorcycle is barely up to the standards of wheelchairs. Check out the comparison at right. All three bikes were backed up to the garage door, to make dimensional comparisons easy. In every measure, except length and mass, the VT1300 is a kid's bike. The incredible extra length is nothing but a detriment to maneuverability. The weight is to provide something for the owners' $14,000.

After my cruiser experiences, I sort of have sympathy for the guy I described in Why We Die So Often, "Whether by design, inability, or inattention, the cool cruiser guy didn't make the slightest move to avoid the oncoming cage. He didn't even cover the clutch, let alone the brake. He didn't swerve or slow down, he just stared at the cage as if he was Darth Vader and the cager was one of those Return of the Jedi teddy bear things. He just clung to the bars like a pair of streamers, glared at the cager as he rolled past, barely clearing the wagon's bumper." That's exactly how I felt in heavy traffic on the VT1300; almost as helpless as a passenger or a bumper sticker. The fact is, you can't do much when you are hanging on to 1000 pounds of lumbering iron. That sympathy is no different that my feelings toward squirrels crossing the road in traffic, though. There was nothing wrong with the damn tree they were in before they decided to test the asphalt. Likewise, only an idiot would pick a motorcycle that isn't road-worthy. There are too many squirrels and idiots in the world and this is how nature sorts 'em out.

The Laugh Machine

2011-08-25T21:56:00.002-05:00

This morning, I picked up a Honda VT1300CT Custom Interstate to review for MMM. This thing is an amazing hippobike that probably does everything hippobike buyers want a bike to do. It's long, low, loud, and fat. In fact, when my wife saw the bike in the garage, she said, "Wow! That's an old fat guy's bike." And it is.

The Interstate's seat height is a troll-like 26.8". It's almost a foot shorter than my WR250X's seat before I dropped it a bit. (See the picture above. That is the VT1300 in the foreground, the V-Strom in the middle, and the WR250X in the back. The shot is taken straight out from the VT1300) If you can't swing a leg over this monster, dude, you are a cripple. Stay up tonight, watch a little Channel 29 and get that number for the guy who will get you your Hoveround for "no money out of your pocket."

There are all kinds of prices to pay for a low seat height. For example, at right the WR250X is in the foreground, the V-Strom in the middle, and the VT1300 at the back with ground clearances of 10.5", 7", and 4.5". Four-and-a-half inches of ground clearance with no rider! You couldn't drive that thing over an ant hill without being responsible for a massacre.

Honestly, if all I owned was a Honda VT1300 I doubt that I'd ride more than a couple of times a year. The bike is a total pain to get out of the garage, and that's when it's in the front of the garage. I don't think I stopped and started twice competently in 140 miles today. The Interstate makes me feel weak, old, and uncoordinated. I'd feel sorry for all those hippobike riding ERC students I've insulted over the years, except they picked the damn things to ride. It's not my fault they can't ride what they bought. I can't either. Feeling sorry for someone struggling through a corner or wobbling away from a stop light when they had options that included actual engineering is like feeling sorry fora fat man at a basketball court. "You don't have to eat everything you see, you know?" I know I didn't (have to eat all that stuff, that is.).

Finally, the last straw was being seen on that monster. No, I'm not worried about my reputation. I trashed that years ago. This was more of a funny bit than an embarrassing bit. When I ride my WR250X into the city, I get a lot of kids (people under 40) asking about the bike. Men, women, boys, and girls notice the WR and comment on how cool it looks. On the big Honda, the age limit of the commenters jumped up about 20-30 years. Lots of blue hairs mumbled "Nice bike" as I wobbled toward them at stop lights.

Great. Grandma likes the VT1300. Gotta get one to pick up those hot near-mummies.

Irritating Follow-Up

2011-08-23T11:18:00.001-05:00

Edmund's InsideLine followed up my comment on automotive boredom with a list of "The 100 Greatest Cars of All Time." I agree with exactly 10 of their choices (the numbers are theirs, the comments are mine):

4. 1938 Volkswagen Beetle: Edmund's comment was that this car "May be the most beloved car ever." I would still consider owning and driving a '67 Beetle if I didn't live in the Rust Belt. If I were going to drive the South American Pan-American Highway, it would be in a Beetle. This car was in production for 65 years with minor improvements. If this isn't the greatest car ever made, the standards for "greatness" are stupid.

9. 1908 Ford Model T: This is more of a political choice, for me, than engineering. The Ford Company was beginning to become something democratically revolutionary, inspite of the company's fascist owner. "It was the first car most people could afford." The people behind and on Ford's assembly line created America's first middle class. They are still doing it, too.
15. 1964 Ford Mustang: The original car was just a screwed-up Ford Falcon and how it "made Lee Iacocca an icon" is more about how modern management pulls credit up and pushes blame down than saying something about Iacocca's "vision" and leadership. Since the Falcon wasn't on Edmund's list, I'm left with the residual choice. I like the Falcon better, though.
24. 1949 Ford: My first 4-wheel ride was a '54 Ford convertible, which was definitely one of the models that Edmund's said "would follow" the '49. Solid car that proved it could run without an air filter for longer than it should have. I was a dumb kid.
27. 1990 Acura NSX: I don't lust after sports cars, but I always lusted for an NSX. If I won the lottery, I might have one. Probably not, though. I'm too old now.
34. 1984 Honda Civic CRX: Edmund's silly comment, "The first fun economy car" just shows how out of touch their writers are with history. The VW was fun, especially the convertible. The VW Karmann Ghia was fun. The original 1972 Civic was fun. The CRX is unnecessary, for me. Honda made a mark with the introduction of the Civic and has been denting the auto industry since.
46. 1992 Toyota Camry: This was the 3rd version of the Camry, but I thought the original '82 Camry was pretty "standard" setting. I owned a '73 Toyota Hilux at the time and was already sold on Toyotas.
45. 1976 Honda Accord: Nothing to be said here. A nice, Americanized Japanese car that everyone wants to own.
74. 1946 MG TC: Like all MG's, this is British crap, but it was fun crap to drive when it worked and sort of fun to work on (which owners had to do all the time).
79. 1950 Volkswagen Type 2: The VW microbus was the original do-everything vehicle. I loved mine, low mileage engine and all. You could camp with the family or bag up your 125 and drive to the motocross in a VW Bus. This vehicle started the whole mini-van business.
97. 1968 Datsun 510: A cheap, sort-of-sporty car that got good mileage and held up during every challenge except Midwest salted roads. Had one, liked it, thanks Doug.

My additions to the list:
A. 1986 Nissan Pathfinder: the only real SUV Japan ever made.
B: Datsun 520 Pickup: the Japanese break-through vehicle to the US market (mostly in California).
C: 1973 Toyota Hilux Pickup: The single toughest vehicle I have ever experienced.

I probably don't disagree with Edumnd's about the other 90 cars, I just don't care about them. The whole "great car" argument is lost on me. Cars have two too many wheels and make driving so simple even the simple can do it. When it comes to driving, I'm an elitist; if you can't do it well, you should be on the bus. When it comes to expensive and mostly useless cars, I can't generate enough interest to even look. Cars are for carrying people and stuff you can't carry on a motorcycle.

That is all I have to say about cars. Let us never speak of this again.

A Partial Gearhead

2011-08-21T07:27:00.001-05:00

All Rights Reserved © 2009 Thomas W. Day

Most of my friends think of me as a gearhead. It's true that I like almost all kinds of gear; motorcycles, guitars and other musical instruments, recording studio equipment, computers, manufacturing and machining tools, almost everything mechanical or electrical. It's not true that :I like all things mechanical, though. I particularly dislike gear that has passed into obsolescence and continues to waste human resources and energy; like cars. I don't like driving them, riding in them, thinking about them, and, especially, I hate owning them.

My wife ruined her knees walking on concrete, while working for one of the big box hardware stores. So, riding a motorcycle is no longer a pleasant pastime for her. For our anniversary this year we took a cage trip south along the Mississippi into Iowa. She gets carsick, so traveling by cage, plane, boat, or bus isn't all that pleasant for either of us. She usually drives and that's fine with me. Other than the knee issues and the motion sickness, she's a fine traveling companion.

I hate driving cages. There are two too many wheels and the damn things give me an unpleasant feeling of instability and cumbersome awkwardness that is mind-numbing and a little scary. For three to four months every winter, I'm stuck in my Ford Escort wagon wishing bus service was even close to practical where I live. No, having a "better car" wouldn't help. I've driven Beemers, Porsches, stockcars, dune-buggies (my favorite cage), and a collection of staid Eurotrash luxury sedans and unpronounceable Italian "sports" cages and they all leave me bored. Convertibles are almost tolerable. If I could poke out the windshield, they'd be better. If I could legally drive a dune-buggy wearing a heated suit and helmet, I'd be about as happy in a cage as I'm likely to get. However, if I have to be in a cage I'd rather be a passenger than a driver. Being a passenger in a cage is at least productive, since I can write stuff like this as I ride along isolated from the wind, weather, and all sensations of speed and motion. If I'm going to be caged, I prefer the biggest cage I can get into: buses, trains, and such.

Floating past my favorite letter roads along WI35 was particularly frustrating. My GPS is littered with routes I would be taking along the river, if I were on a vehicle that well-tolerated dirt roads and twisty two-lanes. That kind of path is a perfect formula for agitating my wife's nausea. And her getting sick doesn't do my traveling Jones much good. I can hang upside down in a moving box while reading a technical journal without a lick of stomach instability, but if someone else gets sick near me I'm following their path like a cow heading to the barn. Barfing is something else that never happens to me on a motorcycle.

I keep hearing about "man's love affair with the automobile," while talking heads try to explain why we're pouring money into the black hole of cage manufacturing. I don't get it. What's to love about a cage? To me, that's like loving a chair or a wheelbarrow. At best, a cage is another utilitarian device that has outlived its usefulness; like horse-drawn plows or buggy whips or cell phones. We only cling to the damn things in the US because we haven't been bright enough to maintain our mass transit infrastructure. We're going to pay for that within a few years.

In San Francisco or New York, I could rent or borrow a cage on the rare occasion I need one. Where I live, the bus stops running anywhere near my home at 6PM. A decade ago my route ran till midnight, but that schedule ended after the current administration took office. I don't expect to live long enough to see real mass transit in the Cities. We're way too conservative and oblivious to reality to put rail or any other alternative on the burner until the last pump drips its final drop of gas. Then, in true conservative fashion, we'll shriek "the sky is falling" and it will.

We made the Wisconsin-and-back trip safely. She didn't get sick. I didn't throw a boredom-inspired tantrum. That's as good as cage traveling gets for us.

The next day I mounted up and headed back to Wisconsin. Almost immediately, I got stuck behind a gaggle of doddering cheese-burners on WI35, but at the first county road (which happened to be gravel), I split off and got back on my pace. Within a couple of hours, I had almost forgotten the torture of being trapped and strapped behind a windshield, listening to poorly selected radio music or talking head babble. On a real vehicle of transportation (physical and mental), I was swinging through the countryside with my own music in my head, pacing my own rhythms, thinking my own thoughts, enjoying the ride and the place. I hate cages and love motorcycling.

My Application

2011-08-18T20:53:00.002-05:00

So, here's my application, Motorex.

I am a 63-year-old experienced motorcyclists with arthritic hips, worn out knees, and a little extra padding around the middle. In almost 20 years of racing (my last race was almost 30 years ago), I never managed to win a single trophy. Some stupid ribbons, an occasional trophy tire or set of goggles, but no trophies. In fact, the only trophy I've ever earned was a "Spud Award" from a past California employer for being an "unidentified flying object" when I crashed a mountain bike and busted a clavicle and a couple ribs. The only trophy girl I ever got to kiss has been my wife.I'm not complaining.

While I am old, I am also a little slow around the track. About 30 years ago, I crashed and broke all of the ribs on my left side. Since then, I've been a little shy about catching air. I can do it, I just don't like it much. [See left: You may have to blow up the picture a ways to see the actual air under the bike. I've been told a brand new US dime could be slid under that POS Honda while it was airborne. This may seem like sour grapes, but I was trying to minimize the impact because the Honda was falling apart in several directions as I rode it around the track. I have launched my new WR250X a lot further into the air, but nobody has bothered to get a picture of that because they don't want to embarrass Yamaha.]

It's not that I wouldn't like to be fast. I would. Maybe if I had the right oil in my motorcycles I'd be faster. The only way to find out is for you to sponsor me and we'll hit the track together. Me and you and our race bike. What do you say?

I'm not only old, I'm a little lazy. So, I'm assuming your sponsorship comes with a mechanic and a driver and a trailer with sleeping quarters (for me, the employees can find their own accomodations). I'm not broke, though. I am assuming I'll be responsible for my own food expenses. I think that's only reasonable.

Pure Kid's Bike

2011-08-17T13:13:00.000-05:00

For those of you with money to burn:
Date: 2011-08-12, 3:42PM CDT

Reply to: sale-ykmtw-2543698219@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
_____________________________________
i have a 1992 kitana bike for sale with no title not sure were it is bike do run cluctch is out bike have been droped farins is off bike but i still have them all this here not sure how much i want but shoot me a number thanks 763..291...7073 greg

[Thanks for the warning, Paul.]

What A License Means

2011-08-08T20:49:00.000-05:00

Last night, I was in a non-motorcycle related meeting with three other middle aged guys and after the meeting broke up we all ended up congregated around my motorcycle, the WR250X. All three of the meeting participants had motorcycle licenses and used to be motorcyclists. Two of them still owned non-functional motorcycles. This would be an example of the "180,000 Minnesota motorcyclists" often cited in pro-motorcycling propaganda.

All three of those guys are competent, intelligent men who would probably be decent riders if they rode. However, they make a solid case for changing the idiotic state of national motorcycle licensing. Nothing about having passed a remedial riding test 5 to 50 years ago says anything about a rider's current capability. That's true for any driving license, but considering our outrageous mortality and morbidity rates it's particularly true for motorcyclists.

The subject of motorcycle technology was the reason for the little post-meeting parking lot gathering. All four of us had a stake in our opinions. The oldest guy was an English ex-pat retired physician with a nationalist penchant for all things Brit, especially mechanical things. When I described the WR's fuel injection, he eulogized the "great British carburetors" and their superiority over all things Japanese. Having experienced the wonders of SU (MGA & MGBs), AMAL and Villers (Triumph & BSA & other assorted marginally functional Brit bikes), I'm less than convinced that the Brits can build anything that can hold fluids of any viscosity. The other two guys weren't particularly ethnocentric, but they are of the "old bikes are best," anti-electronics crowd. I am, obviously, all for as much modern tech as I can get my hands on, afford-ably.

I also ride my motorcycles (except the Sherpa which is just not interesting after the WR). At the end of the shade-tree mechanics' meeting, I realized that possessing a motorcycle license is as much an indicator of motorcycle-capability as having health insurance protects me from bankruptcy if a life-threatening disease were to strike. None of these guys would try to pass himself off as an expert motorcyclist, but they would all feel confident in their ability to ride a motorcycle because they all possessed a license that gave them the legal right to ride. If motorcycling were in some what like driving a car, that might not be catastrophic. But motorcycling provides at least 100-times the opportunities for disaster as driving a car. Our licensing system is dumb and needs to be reworked.

Decisions, Decsions

2011-08-08T20:48:00.001-05:00

This weekend, my wife decided she wanted to take a short motorcycle trip. Short it was, but it was also informative. We have a moderate armada of vehicles, for two people; two cars and three motorcycles. Since the 250 has been stripped down for one-man (me) touring, the only option of the day was the V-Strom.

It had been a while since I'd fired up the 650, the WR250 had become my vehicle of choice since early April. The little bike is, simply, more fun. It is also dramatically easier to get out of the garage, especially when the garage is stuffed with cars and household crap (see previous post). It's just a no-brainer, especially when my arthritic hips are acting up. Wrestling the V-Strom out of the garage reminded me why I don't ride it much. Loaded with gear, the V-Strom weighs almost as much as two WR250's. The V-Strom is twice as wide, a few inches longer, and the overall feel is "large."

When I used my WR250X in an MSF "Experienced Rider Course" a few weeks ago, my co-coach kept referring to my bike as "Tom's bicycle." Like most of the students in that class, he rides a large liter-bike and, relatively, my motorcycle is a bicycle in comparison. My top speed is about 90mph. His is about 140. His bike is twice mine in every category except engine displacement where it is 4x my engine's size and his engine cranks out that much more power, too. The students were all on hippobikes, so their motorcycles were even more dramatically different, although not as dramatically different top speed and horsepower-wise.

So far this season, I've put about 3,000 miles on the WR and less than 300 miles on the V-Strom. My brother checked out the V-Strom, again, for a trip to Canada so the bikes' total annual mileage is a little more similar than my actual riding preference would indicate. I, in fact, always pick the 250 these days for everything I do. Unless my trip plans make a sudden change for long distance, it's possible I might end up being a one-bike guy with the 250 as the one bike.

A New Motorcycle Safety Theme

2011-08-08T14:33:00.000-05:00

My wife made this one up after watching idiots tailgate and bumper-chase each other on the freeway yesterday, "It's not a video game, this is real life. Ride like you know the difference."

Thor 50/50 Motocross Boot

2011-08-08T13:20:00.001-05:00

All Rights Reserved © 2009 Thomas W. Day

"The ultimate motocross boot to meet the demands of professional riders." Yeah, that's what I need for touring backroads on my 250 enduro and a V-Strom 650 because I'm obviously a "professional rider." Ok, my reasoning was a little sketchy, but when I tried on a dozen or so boots at Bob's the 50/50 boots were the best of the lot.

Back in my off-road racing days I was as old school as you could get, including wearing padded denim overalls, hockey pads, and lineman's boots instead of slick nylon integrated modern gear and--more important than all of that--the best protection afforded to modern motorcycling; Heckel boots. Bultaco distributed those blue and yellow plastic spoke-killers and only the rich or sponsored could afford them, at least in my realm. I eventually managed to con a distributor into letting me test and write about a pair of Malcolm Smith labeled Hi Point boots. I still have that same pair and wear them occasionally, off-road. To this day, I envy the bulletproof protection those plastic-hinged warrior boots provided.

When I decided to armor up for a long-range back roads trip into North Dakota, I went shopping for more protection than my spiffy Gaerne "G Class" road boots provide and more mobility than I get from my ancient motocross boots. Neither pair, to be honest, are comfortable on any kind of hike. The Gaerne boots tear up my heels and the Hi Points blister every contact point on my feet in less than a mile. Considering the places I wanted to go and the bike I planned on taking there, I needed tough boots that I could wear if I had to walk back. Leather hiking boots might have been the ticket, but I was in a rare money-spending mood.

After trying on practically everything on the store's wall, I ended up liking the Thor 50/50 boots best. The stitched-on, double density sole, ankle protection, two locking adjustable buckles, and the flexible Achilles protection were big parts of making that selection. Instant walking comfort was next in line. Two aluminum buckles per boot and you are cinched in and heavily protected; no wimpy zippers like the Gaerne's or awkward belt-hole buckles like the Hi Point's. You cannot twist your ankle in these boots, if they are laced up right.

The 250 didn't make the trip, so my back-up V-Strom did. I didn't have to walk out of anything resembling remote territory, but I did do a lot of walking on that trip. I walked all over various museums and parks in Bismarck. I hiked almost 20 miles of the Teddy Roosevelt National Park. I practically ran through the Icelandic State Park hiking trail, chased by mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds and horseflies with attitude. My feet were never tortured by the 50/50 boots on any of those trips. In fact, I think my oldest, completely broken-in hiking boots wouldn't have been an improvement.

[At Left: View 2 of my Thor 50/50 Boots at 10,000 miles of road and 2,000 miles off-pavement.]

At the other end of the comfort scale, that trip put me in the middle of North Dakota's wettest ever June. I was rained on from Day 1 to the last few feet of my driveway into the garage. I could have sworn the salesperson told me the 50/50's were Goretex-lined, but if he did he was wrong. The funny looking mesh above and below the lower buckle is a water-magnet (read "sponge"). My feet were wet almost every evening and most of every day. As bad weather touring boots, the 50/50 Thor's are a wash, literally. I'd suspect this is a weakness for actual motocross use, too.

Bob's Cycle is the local distributor (Little Canada, MN) of Thor Products.

My Kid's Book

2011-08-07T20:39:00.004-05:00

Ok, I'll admit this has nothing to do with motorcycles. However, I'm a father and damn proud of my kids. This is the display a friend and I found earlier this week of my daughter and son-in-law's book, Walking Twin Cities. If you live in the Cities, you owe it to yourself to check out this book. It will take you places you never knew existed, even if you've lived here your whole life.

Personally, it makes me more of a Garrison Keillor fan than I've ever been (it's his bookstore). I couldn't ask for a more prominent, nicer display of their wonderful book. I think I love this bookstore.

And now back to your regularly schedule motorcycle-related program.

Aerostich A.D.1. Pants

2011-08-06T13:32:00.000-05:00

Early this spring, I thought my 5-year-old Darien pants had been stolen from my car. There seemed to be no other explanation, since I'd recently piled all of my gear in the car when I went to pick up my newest two-wheel acquisition. It turned out that my wife had bundled the pants up, hauled them into her sewing area for a minor repair, and forgot about them.

[Picture at left: This is what a brand new, un-abused pair of Aerostich AD1 pants looks like when modeled by the Invisible Man. (Aerostich photo)]

After searching the usual storage places a dozen times I gave up and visited my local motorcycle accessory store to buy a cheap replacement. I usually punish myself for being stupid (losing the pants, for example) by buying a crummier version of whatever I've lost. That was my theory this time, too. I looked at First Gear, Tourmaster, Icon, Alpinestars, Joe Rocket, and the rest of the usual suspects and learned that I am spoiled. The difference between the imitations and the real thing, Aerostich, is subtle but massive. For as little as $120 I could have had more pockets, a zip-out liner, an MP3 player pocket, and probably an insulated cup-holder with any of the above brands, but the zippers were lightweight, the material is flimsy, and the construction quality and workmanship is not even in the territory. So, off to Duluth we went for a "winter vacation" and a visit to the RiderWearHouse.

Looking for a deal, I found a pair of Roadcrafter pants that fit perfectly. I bought them, took them home, and discovered they were too perfect. I have a toad-like body and the Roadcrafter's attempt to make me look streamlined resulted in a fit around my thighs and calves that could be politely described as "snug." After a few hours around the house, I began to feel like Roddy McDowell in Arnold. When we found my old Darien pants, it was obvious how uncomfortable I'd be in the Roadcrafters. Taking advantage of Aerostich's money back offer, I traded the Roadcrafters for a pair of AD1 pants. (AD1 is for "Asian Darien 1," as the AD1 pants are the first US-designed, off-shore-manufactured Aerostich product.)

Like the lower priced competition, the AD1 pants are loaded with pockets (5), including a waterproof zippered "cargo pocket" and hook-and-loop secured cover flaps on all front pockets. No more lost billfold in the campground when I hang my riding pants out to dry. Unlike the competition, the HT600 denier nylon (up from the standard Darien's 500 Denier Cordura®) is tough and the oversized and durable zippers are classic Aerostich. The AD1 pants are a closer fit than my old Dariens, but the knee and crotch gusseting makes them at least as flexible right from the start.

One of the things I have always hated about most nylon motorcycle clothing is that god-awful flimsy perforated nylon inner lining that snags on boot heels and anything else with an edge and is usually torn to shreds after a few uses. The Aerostich gear is lined with smooth and durable GORE-TEX® nylon that holds up and is easy to get in and out of, regardless of the abuse I heap on it when I'm tired, hurting, and grumpy after a day's ride or a bad night's sleep. GORE-TEX® works, by the way. I have ridden in downpours in my Darien gear and the few leaks I discovered in my old Dariens are plugged in the AD1s; the gusset behind the fly being the best idea since the pocket knife.

The single most valuable improvement I can suggest for the AD1's would be double-height hook pads for the knee pad mounting. The current pad position works for some people and, according to the company's reviews page, works badly for a few of us. I realize that my troll-dimensioned body represents a one-man counterargument for Intelligent Design, but there appear to be a few of us out there based on the company's website reviews. I'm cautious about the supplied money belt, too. I've had an Eagle Creek (from REI) money belt that uses the same nylon buckle and it has been fragile, to put it mildly. The Darien belt's side-release buckle has been bulletproof for 60k miles and if it ain't broke, I say "keep it."

Many things farmed to Asia are well-designed but suffer workmanship flaws. My AD1 pants were no exception. The fly zipper began to disintegrate at the bottom because the stitch missed the zipper tape. Not something that would pass any part of the Made in USA Aerostich process, but something Aerostich will have to inspect for with the Asian product. Aerostich repaired the broken zipper for free and got the pants back to me in record time.

After three months of cold weather riding, a long hot summer, and two options for riding pants, I found myself almost always opting for the AD1's. The pocket security is a big deal; having lost keys, a billfold, earplugs, a retirement plan worth of spare change, receipts, and a sense of personal security to the slippery front and rear pockets of my old Darien pants. The crotch and knee gusseting makes the stretch on to my bikes easier. I haven't used the extra pockets much, but it's nice to have them. The AD1's are somehow more comfortable than my well-broken-in Darien pants that were specially tailored to my troll dimensions. It could be that familiarity is simply breeding contempt, but I'm feeling the beginning of a new long-term relationship.

All the News that Didn't Fit

2011-08-05T12:36:00.002-05:00

Two Motorcyclists Down in Mankato
At approximately 11AM on July 20th, a 17-year-old delivery driver for Arctic Ice, a Mankato packaged ice delivery service, crossed the center line on Highway 14 outside of North Mankato and killed two west-bound motorcyclists, Lars A. Albrecht, 49, of Rio Rancho, New Mexico, and Robert N. Austin, 61, of Canby, Oregon. A car driver and his son were also injured by the out-of-control truck. The driver of the truck was slightly injured. The Minnesota state patrol said the teenager fell asleep at the wheel and allowed the company-owned Dodge pickup to drift into the opposite traffic lane.

Albrecht was pronounced dead at the scene and Austin was flown to St. Mary's in Rochester where he died of injuries. The truck driver's name has not been released because he is underage. Both motorcyclists were wearing helmets.

Motorcycle Hitchhiker
A Victorville, CA motorist discovered a semi-conscious motorcyclist in his backseat as a result of a rear end collision. After a motorcycle slid into the back of a turning minivan, the van driver continued a short distance to his home to call the police before returning to the scene of the crash. Meanwhile, police had arrived at the scene, found a damaged motorcycle, but no victim. The motorcyclist had crashed through the van's rear window and ended up dazed and confused in the van's rear passenger seat. Other than asking for an ice pack for an injured hand, the motorcyclist was, apparently, uninjured. Police said his helmet "sustained most of the impact," No charges were filed and the crash was listed as a "non-injury collision with a twist," according to the San Bernardino County Sheriff's office.

American V-Twin Dealer Show
First they have segregated racing events, with each boutique manufacturer lumbering around a track tailed by a dozen identical motorcycles. Now, they want to have their own dealer show without the hassle of those nasty current technology manufacturers messing up the lines of giant chrome cruisers. So, Advanstar Communications is accommodating the "premium" v-twin brands with "The American V-Twin Dealer Show" at the Indiana Convention Center in Indianapolis February 17-19, 2012.The event is designed to be "a haven for Independent Specialty V-Twin Dealers, Harley-Davidson Dealers, Custom Bike Builders/Designers and Multi-Franchise Dealerships with large cruiser lines." No motorcycles with any connection to 21st Century technology will be allowed.

Airbag Jackets and Vests
An US company, SaferMoto, is marketing a line of "airbag-equipped jackets and vests for all ages" that can "deploy in less than a quarter of a second. A tether cord connects the vest or jacket to the motorcycle, and inflation from a compact replaceable CO2 cartridge is triggered instantly when the rider falls." Airbag gear is used by the Tokyo Police Department, is marketed in more than 30 countries, and has been credited with saving lives and limbs by all sorts of riders. The company makes airbag gear for equestrians, too.

Suzuki Evacuates the Beach
Suzuki Motor Corporation announced that it would move the motorcycle business from Iwata City to north central Hamamatsu to consolidate operations and to be further from the Japanese sea shore. The new facility, tentatively called the "Miyakoda Technical Center," will be the hub for motorcycle and next-gen alternative energy vehicles engineering and research. The Miyakoda Plant will assemble motorcycle engines and should be in production by 2017. The current facility is only 200 meters from the ocean and Suzuki hopes to avoid catastrophe from the next Tokai earthquake.

Honda vs. India
In March, Honda dissolved its arrangement with Hero Motors, selling the 26% share and severed dealer and distribution arrangements with the Indian manufacturer. While it appeared that Honda was abandoning the massive and Indian two-wheel market (11.79 million units sold in 2010), the company's actual plan is to take on that market directly. Honda opened a new plant in June and will be adding a third manufacturing facility with the intent to increase Indian manufacturing capacity 2.5 times to 4 million units by 2015. The company expects to double its dealerships in 4-5 years, also. Currently, Honda owns a 10% Indian market-share. Hero Motors sold 5.26 million domestic units in 2010 (India, alone) and control 44.7% of that market. In 2014, Honda Hero dealers will have to decide to sell Honda or Hero and both companies are pressuring dealers to make the decision soon. Hero has gone on an engineering raid of the local Yamaha organization and rival Bajaj Auto and has more than four times (approximately 4,000 dealers) Honda's sales outlets.100-110cc commuter bikes, selling for approximately $900, are the volume product in the Indian market Honda is releasing several models in this size and price range.

If you've ever considered the possibility that the US might not be the motorcycling center of the universe, these numbers should shed some light on that discussion. In 2010, all domestic and importing manufacturers sold about 664,000 units in the US, with about half of the sales going to the 250cc-and-above category. The US manufacturers exported 493,464 units, 70% of which were over 250cc's and half of our export production went to Europe.

Triumph vs. India?
In a related story, Hinckley, Leicestershire, UK's Triumph Motorcycles (sometimes regarded as the "fastest growing motorcycle company in the world") appointed a "Managing Director for India" and issued a PR statement saying, “India is a very important motorcycle market and Triumph has assessed it carefully before deciding to step in. We see it as the next step in our global business model. The appointment of Ashish Joshi is a signal of our seriousness about success in India. I wish him the best and look forward to comprehensive growth from the Indian market.” [Wonder how a 100-110cc market will react to Triumph's 2,300cc Rocket III? Triumph's smallest bike is the Daytona 675.]

Land of the Brave and Free?
French drivers and motorcyclists banned together on June 18th to stage a protest against their government's draconian attacks on drivers and riders. Across the country, 75,000 motorcyclists staged a ride-in under the guidance of the French Federation of Angry Bikers. In Paris alone, 15,000 participated in the protest. Local police assisted in directing traffic and managing the protest riders' safety. Two of the prime considerations for protest were the banning of lane splitting and filtering and speed trap targeting of motorcycles. While in the US, we can't even manage to get a noticeable showing of motorcycles on the road for Ride to Work Day. [Almost makes you proud to eat French Fries, doesn't it?]

Man Rides Motorcycle "Nearly Naked" To Beat The Heat

2011-07-31T21:23:00.003-05:00

You have to watch this "news report" to get it. This kid is cute, but he's risking way too much for a moment of attention. Many of the things that are not illegal are still stupid.

Lane Sharing Study

2011-07-25T15:28:00.001-05:00

Steve Guiderian has published a study, "LANE SHARING: A GLOBAL SOLUTION FOR MOTORCYCLE SAFETY, which compares the safety record of the only state in the US that allows traffic filtering and lane sharing with the abysmal record of the rest of the country. This is, as far as I know, the only study that uses data instead of emotion and speculation to look at the safety of this traffic management tactic. His conclusions found that "California does have a lower rate of fatal rear-end motorcycle crashes when compared to other similar motorcycling states. This figure also shows that the rate of fatal rear-end collisions in California is also lower than the national rate, which includes many states with a limited riding season and fewer motorcycle riders." Guiderian also found that "California has fewer motorcycle deaths involving a motorcycle rearending another vehicle, and significantly fewer deaths from a motorcycle being rear-ended by another vehicle."

One aspect of lane sharing that Guiderian does not address is the fact that lane sharing increases the viability of motorcycle commuting, which would increase the visibility of motorcycles in typical traffic which could also result in an improved motorcycling safety record. If you have ridden in California, you know there is no downside to lane sharing. Superstition, fear of the unknown, and conservative timidity is all that prevents all 50 states from allowing lane sharing. Claiming safety as one of the restraints is unbelievable.

Looping Superior

2011-07-25T14:50:00.000-05:00

Last week, my brother and I made the loop around Lake Superior.We hadn't done a motorcycle trip together since I lived in Colorado in the 90's and he hadn't been on a bike since he mashed his foot into a deer.We started slow, down two lanes and dirt roads, and took a really convoluted path to south Duluth where we turned east into Wisconsin. We toured the south side of Lake Superior through Michigan's UP and crossed the boarder at Sault Ste. Marie into Ontario. From there, to Thunder Bay in two days and two days back to the Cities.

Our big day was about 375 miles and our short day was a little under 250. That's kind of an ass-pounding on the WR250X, I'm sorry to admit. The only disappointment on the trip was that the V-Strom got exactly the same mileage as the 250. That's good for the V-Strom, since it knocked down 55mpg consistently. That sucks for the WR since it has a 3 gallon tank and a 150 mile range, when I'd hoped it would get better efficiency and at least 200 miles out of a tank.

Looking Old?

2011-07-25T14:14:00.000-05:00

I spent the week with my "little brother" and we made a loop around Lake Superior on two of my motorcycles: the WR250X (me) and the 650 V-Strom (Larry). Early on, I discovered he shares a dysfunction with my wife. Larry and my wife lived the first decades of their life blessed with great eyesight. Now that they are old, they need glasses but won't wear them because it makes them look/feel old.

I have always been legally blind in one eye and somewhat sighted out of the other. Going from single-prescription glasses to bifocals was no big deal for me. In fact, I started experimenting with bifocals when I was in my mid-40's. Since I've always resembled a troll and have never been cursed with worrying about looking good, smart, or young, glasses are just one more nail in the coffin of my un-coolness.

As best I can tell, some old people resist wearing bifocals because they think glasses make them look old. So, they squint helplessly at menus and other text and ask other people to read for them or fumble through their pockets and purses looking for their "reading glasses." They also screw up a lot because they can't read anything with print smaller than a traffic sign. In short, because they can't read normal text, they look dumb a lot.

Even with a zillion dollars in plastic surgery behind her, Joan Rivers still looks and moves like a geezer. She's just a freaky scary looking geezer who inspires me to look for a cross and a stake whenever I see her face. Here's a hint, it's not the glasses that makes you look old. It's being old that makes you look old. You really have only two choices to worry about: wearing glasses or don't. If you don't, you'll be a squinty geezer who also appears to be illiterate. Or put another way, look old or look old and stupid. It's your choice.

Thinking about MC Training

2011-07-24T12:02:00.002-05:00

Here are some important thoughts about the future of motorcycle training: "The State and Future of US Motorcycle Training 2011." (Thanks Paul). Some of the more important ideas are:

"Most of our panelists believe the ideal training and licensing system is one that is graduated. In this regard, the group established three tiers and focused on the training standards that should be ascribed to the tiers rather than restrictions that the graduations should entail. As trainers, we leave it to regulators to decide the regulatory aspects of each graduation. That said, we anticipate that limitations would include motorcycle size or weight, hours of operation, and limitations on carrying passengers. Only a sparse minority of panelists felt that engine size was a useful metric."

"Rider training, however, is primarily an educational activity. Institutions of higher education (and even the agencies that regulate them) know that over-regulation of the educational product leads to poorer overall outcomes. This is because the course is less able to meet the individual learning needs of its participants. It is also less able to benefit from 'field innovation' where front-line educators discover, try and perfect small and simple, yet highly beneficial curriculum improvements." [This is similar to my argument that education is not a science, but an art. You can teach or you can't and all the credentials in the world have no effect on that fact.]

One of the key instructional philosophies of mainstream curricula is that students don’t need to know the 'why' of something, only the 'how.' In fact, basic rider training discourages teaching why things work as they do, considering it a distraction. This is antithetical to all other kinds of operations and safety training and even to most higher education." [This is definately a carry-over from academic educators, where "how" is considered unnecessary.]

"Every jurisdiction should have a dirt-based training alternative available to students who want either beginner or dirt-specific rider training." [Personally, I think the asphalt portion of training is useless.]

Still Deluding Yourself?

2011-07-14T09:46:00.001-05:00

Just in case you think dragging a knee is a big deal, Red Bull and Casey Stoner used some insanely high tech equipment to show how far a MotoGP bike can lean.

"You've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya, punk?"

All the News that Didn't Fit

2011-07-14T08:20:00.000-05:00

Harley Opens the Vault
The Harley Davidson Museum's 2011 summer exhibit is called "Collection X: Weird, Wild Wonders of the Harley-Davidson Museum." The exhibit is featuring never-before-seen concept bikes, early 20th century motors designed for "everything from lawn mowers to military drones," and the rich history of 108 years of Harley Davidson accessories. In a special event on July 23, Frank Fritz, from the History Channel's, American Pickers, will be at the museum telling stories of his "pursuit of rare and unique treasures."

Marketing Genius from Vespa
Some marketing wizard at Vespa came up with the brilliant idea of linking the scooter brand with Havaianas flip-flops which is either the most cluelessly stupid or the most criminally cynical promotion since Harley's 1990's promotion that used a prison background for their Bad Boy ads. The Vespa ad says, "You might win a stylish pair of MYOH and a chic & enviro friendly Vespa." Seems like a better link would be between Vespa and a foot surgeon.

Second Chances

2011-07-11T19:28:00.001-05:00

Last night, I sold my 2000 KL250 Kawasaki Super Sherpa. The buyer was an older guy who showed up to check out the bike on a big Kawasaki cruiser of some sort. (Sorry, they all look alike to me. He told me what it was, but I just don't care.) He took the bike for a long test ride, both on the street in in my backyard "test range," we haggled a bit, he put down some money and said he'd be back the next day with the cash.

The next morning, he called and wanted me to put all of the LD stuff on the bike for him so he could see that it all fit. I didn't express a lot of motivation. It felt like he just wanted to jerk me around. Later that day, he called and said he was having second thoughts and didn't want the bike after all. I had three other buyers who I'd already told the bike was sold. I've already deposited the deposit check, so giving him his money back is out of the question, at least until the check clears. He seemed to think that was unfair. Not having been in this position before, I don't know what to think.

Oddly, other than the hassle and wasted time, I'm sort of relieved. I had some alternative plans for the Sherpa that I wasn't all that happy about canceling. On the wild chance that my grandson gets over teenage angst and decides he wants to ride a motorcycle, the Sherpa would be hard to beat. I sort of thought about keeping it around as a backup bike for when friends need a temporary ride. It is an insanely fun motorcycle around town and sometimes gets nearly 100mpg.

Like most carbureted motorcycles, it's a pain in the ass to start in the winter and starting is not all that reliable anytime the temperature gets below 40F. I think that's fixable, but so far the fix has eluded me. So, for the time being it's still a project bike. I might put it right back up on Craig's List, but I'm in no hurry at the moment.

I've heard of this kind of funky transaction, but this is my first experience with a sale that turned into no sale. What do you do with the deposit? I've been on the other end of this sort of transaction before, but it never occurred to me to renege on the transaction once I have said "I'll take it." Must be a cowboy thing.

Failed Another Test

2011-07-06T09:28:00.000-05:00

I can't do this with either of my dual sports, so I clearly bought the wrong bikes.

Late to Lucky

2011-07-05T22:12:00.000-05:00

When we lived in southern California, I rented a two bedroom, 900 square foot, split-level duplex with a tiny one car garage (too small for any 1980's car). I'm not complaining. We could have had a larger place, but it wouldn't have been four blocks from Huntington Beach's pier and the ocean. Our apartment cost $1600 a month plus bills, including a coin operated sometimes-working laundry room. In 1983, that was a good bit of change. We lived outside 90% of the year, the apartment was where we slept.

Still, there was one guy who made me a little jealous. I bicycled to work everyday that I didn't motorcycle and I put in long, long days, coming home well after dark even during the summer. The guy lived on Indianapolis Avenue, one or two blocks west of Beach Boulevard. He had a corner lot and his double car garage was one of the sights I looked forward to on my ride home every night. I never stopped and talked to the man, but I never missed looking into his garage as I passed. As Ernest Hemingway would say, "It was a clean, well-lighted place."

My garage, on the other hand, was crammed with tools, motorcycles, a tech bench for my audio business, and all sorts of family crap that wouldn't fit in the minimal closet space of the apartment. My lighting was a single bulb in the center of garage roof and a fluorescent work light mounted to my bench on a boom. We weren't hoarders, but working in that garage had the feeling of being in a junk-filled hoarders' shed.

His garage was bright as daylight, decorated with a real moose head near the door, and there were posters on the walls everyplace there weren't tools, storage shelves and cabinets (all painted white), and he was always at the back of the garage doing something with his tools. He was a geezer, probably about my age now, and he looked about as content as a man can look. This was a workshop, not some freaky yuppie pimped-out pseudo-garage where you'd get yelled at for dropping sandwich crumbs on the floor. The floor was unpainted concrete. The walls were partially finished and the ceiling was bare rafters. Sometimes, if it was raining, he'd be sitting on a rocking chair in front of the garage, usually under the moose head smoking and watching the traffic and enjoying the rare smell of clean air in southern California.

Tonight, we had a quick rain shower that soaked the yard and washed the mosquitoes away for a few moments and cooled everything down to practically air-conditioned temperatures. My wife and I propped my shop chairs up near the garage's backdoor and we watched the rain and enjoyed a great and private view of our neighbor's backyards. After the rain stopped, I hauled a ladder to the garden and we stripped the cherry tree of its produce. Before the grocery store closed for the evening, I bicycled out to snag some groceries and when I came home, I realized I was that old guy. Both garage doors were open and the lights were blazing because my wife was looking for one of my tools for some godawful gardening task. (For once, she failed to find a $50 sidecutter with which to snip some damn flower before I chased her out with an actual gardening tool in her hands.) Clearly, I need a moose head. I freakin' love this garage.

Puttin' Off Order

2011-07-04T07:34:00.001-05:00

Last winter, too many things happened at once and I missed the moment; the garage cleaning moment. Since then, nothing has gone right in my favorite room of the house. Work stuff, personal stuff, family stuff, hoarding tendencies, and general laziness kept me from performing a ritual that has kept my life semi-ordered for decades; scrubbing the garage before winter. Once I missed that window, everything has gone downhill. Finally, this weekend, I have no MSF classes to teach (looks like the rest of the summer's schedule might cancel out on me) and no freelance deadlines to meet. So, I'm out of excuses.

The problem is I've lived here too long. My natural hoarding instincts are overwhelming my disciplined mid-tech transient practicality. All of my life, I've moved every 2-5 years. Before moving into my current home, the longest I'd ever lived anywhere was the 7 years my family lived in a dinky Huntington Beach apartment. Since I was working 80-90 hour weeks, going to school nights and weekends, and managing two small businesses during that period, it's hard for me to consider the actual time spent in that California beach apartment as being more than a blip in my life. But I've lived in my current home for 14 years and the collected crap is starting to become overwhelming. My wife collects girl-stuff and most of the house is crammed with that crap. I collect guy stuff and the garage and my basement shop and the attic studio are stuffed with that crap. In the garage, I have squirreled away parts for all of the cars and motorcycles I've owned in the last decade, service manuals for the same vehicles, tools for a wood shop, toys and kid-projects that my grandson started and gave up on, acetylene welding stuff, bicycles and assorted maintenance bits for bikes, an idiotic collection of electronic components for audio products I will probably never design, mountains of acoustic treatment materials for recording studios I will probably never build, construction materials that may (or may not) end up being used on the house, and dozens of yard and gardening tools for a yard that could suck up my whole life.

It's a really big garage, but it can shrink up dramatically if I can't find the guts to toss out the stuff I will never get around to using. When I bought the house, the previous owner had stuffed the garage front-to-back and eight feet high with all sorts of crap. He had a tunnel carved in the junk to allow access to his huge television dish antenna. Most of the residue of his existence is gone from the garage now.

I used to love moving because moving forced me to make those kinds of decisions. I don't mess around when I move, either. In the last four decades, I've moved from Kansas to south Texas to Kansas to west Texas (again) to Nebraska to California to Indiana to Colorado to Minnesota. My moving motto is "when in doubt, throw it out." I don't, however, apply that philosophy to cleaning up my crap-filled garage. I use more of a "when in doubt, stuff it in the rafters" policy. The rafters are about to collapse and crush me flat. Some decisions will have to be made.

The first things to go are the kid stuff. My grandson has progressed from a sweet, energetic, fun little guy who used to direct me in building everything from robots to rockets to the usual sort of sullen teenager who is pissed off at everything I do. That makes emptying out the unfinished kid projects an easy assignment. I set the kid stuff on the curb with a "FREE!" sign and it all vanished in a few hours. It's not like I'd ever mess with model rockets or stop-motion animation on my own time and having that rocket stuff in the garage is a fire hazard.

Next goes the unfinished construction project materials. I will probably never roof a house, so all the scrap roofing materials hits the curb and instantly vanishes. I'm not adding a door to another room in this house, so the interior door that's been sitting in the rafters since we bought this house hits the curb and disappears. Likewise, the louvered closet doors, the baseboard electric heating elements, and the unused wall-to-wall carpeting left by the previous owner. All set out on the curb and all claimed in less than an hour. I'm on a roll.

Electronic parts and project cases hit the trash. I disassembled my wooden saw horses and chopped them up for materials. I have cool folding metal ones and don't ever use the old style horsies. Flammable construction materials practically fling themselves into the burn box for the wood stove. I can almost see my metal work bench and the wooden bench has been cleared since morning.

As I toss crap, I inventory the non-crap possessions and put them up on Craig's List and eBay while I organize. By 5PM Saturday, I've sold almost $200 worth of idle crap. I also have the Kawasaki Sherpa up on the jack ready to strip down to the frame and rebuild with the original stock parts. By Sunday night, the KL250 will also be on Craig's List. Once, I'd thought Wolfe and I would be doing some off-road riding together this summer, but he's made it clear that isn't in the works so I'm clearing the garage space for something useful (or just for the luxury of free space). I can always find another dirt bike if it turns out I need one. That's another transient motto of mine, "if I ever need it again, I can buy it again." Two spare helmets are on Craig's List and so is the cruise control I never installed on the V-Strom because I couldn't convince myself I could tolerate the control's added clutter under the tank.

While I'm tossing stuff and selling stuff, I'm fixing stuff, too. That's why cleaning the garage takes so long. If I find a repair part I've been looking for, I stop cleaning and do the repair so I won't lose the part again. Tomorrow, I'm installing the throttle for the electric scooter and, if it works, that damn thing hits Craig's List, too. Another dumb idea that got a lot of playtime, initially, and ended up taking up space afterwards.

Ten hours later, the garage is clean and civilized. Both work tables are clear, the work area is wide open, the kid stuff gone, a giant curb-load of stuff has been claimed by the neighborhood collectors, and a bunch of boxes are going to be part of our Fourth of July celebration as starter material in the fire pit. Mission accomplished. Now I'm afraid to start anything in the garage because I'll mess up my new order.

Looking Retarded/Idiotic/Stupid or Just Being Me

2011-06-27T15:41:00.002-05:00

My Geezer with a Grudge Minnesota Motorcycle Monthly column is always as much a surprise to me as it is to the magazine's readers. Part of the motivation for this blog came from the fact that I write a lot more than the magazine can publish. In the past, I have had more than two-dozen columns available for the editor to pick from and some of those articles just become useless after a few months. So, a blog was born to dump my rapidly decomposing thoughts and experiences.

Victor Wanchena, the magazine's owner and past editor, gave me (what seemed like) a good reason for stockpiling essays because he picked his way through all the craziness on my article pick-up page and found bits and pieces that he connected to the rest of the magazine. In retrospect, that might have been one of the meanest things I've ever done to someone I like. I hate to think that onerous task is why Victor decided he wanted to back away from the editor's desk.

The current Managing Editor, Bruce Mike, and the long-term editor, Sev Pearman, took a different approach for the first few months they ran the magazine without Victor's direction. Sev asked me to put my first choice for the monthly article to publish on top of the sort. So, I did that and had been doing that for a while. As best I remember, my March 2010 article was the first Geezer column that I selected for the magazine since my very first rant submitted in October 1999.

That policy changed this month and, for the first time in my MMM career, I was politically correctly edited. Bruce decided to change the title of my essay from "Defining 'Retarded'" to "Defining 'Idiotic'." Aw, man, I feel so Faux News'd. I mean, the only good thing about getting old is knowing that the punishment for political incorrectness is going to be short-lived, since I'm also going to be around for a limited amount of time. My personal goal in late-life is to be one of those cranky old men in a wheelchair rolling around the home pinching cute nurses on the ass and acting stupid when they complain about my behavior. Sarah Palin's 2010 pretend-offense to Rahm Emanuel's use of the word "retard" sounded like cynical posing from a broad who advocates "targeting" her opponents, especially when she wasn't particularly bothered by Rush Limbaugh's use of the same word. However, I take all of my political correctness cues from South Park. About 30 years ago, if Bart Simpson said it on Fox I figured it was good enough for me. About a decade ago, I moved my baseline to South Park, Jon Stewart, and Stephen Cobert. Since Cobert combined all of the PC offenses when he called Palin a "f--king retard," I didn't worry about calling myself "retarded" in my own column.

However, I wasn't all that satisfied with the whole story, so I shoved it down to 7th place in the column list. Since only the top option had been used for the last year of magazines, I figured I had some time to polish the article. So, I was surprised to learn that not only that article had been picked for the July issue but that it would be PC'd. If I'd have been asked before publication, I probably wouldn't have objected to the edit. I would have asked for a few moments to go over it again. Bruce let me know, in advance, that the changes had been made but the magazine had already gone to press when he sent me an email about the edits.My pick for July was an article about plowing up the nation's asphalt and turning the place into a haven for dirt bikers.

All this means is that I'm going to have to get some payback . . . somewhere. And here is that somewhere. So, for the record, buying a motorcycle from a kid is a chronic problem. Idiotic, stupid, and foolish are acute problems. Being repeatedly dumb is retarded. Buying one motorcycle from a kid is idiotic. Buying my last four motorcycles from kids is retarded (even if I managed to luck out on two of those four bikes).

Riding to Work

2011-06-25T11:32:00.002-05:00

Another Ride to Work Day passed, on the 18th. Did you ride?

Hell, I didn't even work, but I did take the bike out for a trip into school for a meeting, a collection of errands and a little dirt road cruising. In the summer, most of my work days come on the weekends. Monday is "reserved" for hellish meetings (of which I was forced to partake) and boxes-stacked-on-the-bike expeditions to Fed-X for my occasional eBay sale shipping trip.

As usual, you could count the number of motorcycles in the St. Paul and I35E traffic on the fingers of one hand. That whole "start seeing motorcycles" BS campaign needs an associated "start riding your damn motorcycles" poster for cagers. How the hell does the ABATE crowd expect to be seen if they don't have the balls to ride?

Yeah, I'm pissed off. I spent at least 45 minutes editing helmet-cam footage in hopes of finding a motorcycle or two to post on the Geezer YouTube site and here only to find three other riders in 2 hours of freeway, business traffic, and highway footage. I think it's time to start forcing motorcyclists to retake the driving test every year to prove they can still ride. Screw the statistics. There may be 180,000 licensed riders in Minnesota, but they don't deserve to be licensed.

As for the Teabaggers and wingnut hate mongers who did their damned best to inspire the shooting of U.S. Rep. Gabrielle Giffords (regardless of the shooter's eventual motivation), I hope there is a hell because that's where you'll be spending eternity. You don't put a bull's eye on public officials, shriek "Don't retreat, reload," and agitate crazy boneheads to violence without consequences, unless you're a wingnut. Giffords is one of the good guys. There aren't many of those left in public office.

Asphalt Wars

2011-06-23T10:41:00.000-05:00

This past weekend, one of the nicest people I've had in a motorcycle class took a hard spill near the end of the course. She entered a curve a little fast and decided to apply brakes while the bike was leaned over. The bike dropped into a lowside so fast that she didn't even have time to get her hands down to cushion the fall.

[This guy demonstrates the crashing "technique" pretty well.]

Unfortunately, our student was poorly protected by her gear. She really tore up her chin with a face-plant and her eye protection (sunglasses) caused significant bruising and abrasions to her right eye. Her 3/4 helmet provided about 3/4 protection, but since face plants account for 40-70% of injuries and impact points in crashes (depending on whose statistics you use) that description is misleading.

For me, her crash was harsh reminded of how unforgiving nature is. I haven't seen someone go down that hard for a few years. She was probably going about 15mph before braking, so her impact speed was no more than 10-12mph. The front tire slid out so quickly, she didn't even know she was in trouble until she was inches from the ground before reacting. She hit face-first, followed by a hard twist to her back, and a hard bounce across the asphalt where she lay still on her back for a few seconds. During that second bounce, her head was about 2' from the ground before coming back to earth hard. She tried to get up, failed, and lay back down with some muscle twitching before going still. The other coach and I signaled for the rest of the class to shut down and we ran for her. The other coach beat me to her by yards and he kept her still while I shut off her bike and moved it away from her. She was coherent but seriously in shock and bleeding. We patched her up, as best our medical kit allowed, and got her back to the trailer to take stock. She is a nurse and provided considerable assistance in her own care. She is tough and practical, so it really helped that there was absolutely no hysterics on her part. I was probably in less control than the actual victim. My co-coach was clearly the better care provider of the two of us.

A few years back, a couple of days before a long trip, I crashed my bicycle at about 2-5mph and shredded my right forearm. That incident was a reminder of how important a little gear can be, even at low speeds. Last weekend's crash was another wake-up call. The side and back of her helmet was rashed deeply. It is entirely possible that she would have been dead or seriously injured without that helmet, but it's also true that she would have been unhurt with a real helmet. Other than the head injuries, she had some minor scrapes on her arms and one shoulder. If she'd have wanted to continue the class, she could have without the head injuries.

Regardless of the pseudo-statistics the anti-helmet crowd blows around at us, the overwhelming majority of motorcycle deaths are due to head injuries. Not wearing a helmet is evidence of ignorance and foolishness and nature abhors a fool (the universe is full of vacuums, but fools don't live in a vacuum for more than a few seconds). Two of the three motorcycle deaths I have witnessed would have been prevented by a helmet. I suspect I just witnessed what would have been a fatal crash, but instead it was turned into painful but minor injuries by a helmet. A real helmet would have eliminated all but the slightest of those injuries. Motorcycle gear would have made the crash into a non-event. AGAT, folks. Wear it or pay the price.

Best Crash of 2011

2011-06-22T21:52:00.001-05:00

This might be the funniest crash of the century (thanks Sev):

A Two Wheeled Party

2011-06-14T11:13:00.001-05:00

My kind of club ("the Blind Lizards Motorcycle Club meets exactly one day a year") and I can't help but admire the art. The event is the Blind Lizard Picnic and it's held at Nicollet Island, Father's Day, Sunday, June 19. Only bicycles and motorcycles are invited, no cages. It's advertised as a family event.

What It Isn't

2011-06-14T09:40:00.000-05:00

This month's Geezer column was my 100th, since beginning the first Letter to the Editor/Geezer Debut called What Are We Riding For? in April of 1999. I'm still asking that question, too. As I work through this season, I'm working on my 10th year as a Minnesota MSF instructor, too. That really brings up that original question after a couple weekends teaching both BRC (Basic Rider Course) and ERC (Experienced Rider Courses) that were experiences in the best and the worst in what motorcycles bring out in Americans.

The first ERC was pretty interesting. The first range exercise in the ERC is a large rectangle around the course. It's an attempt to get riders to break their lazy riding habits and use both brakes before the entrance of curves, look and accelerate through the turn, and knowingly counter-steer. After about 5 minutes of watching the cruiser characters use their engines to decelerate and, when that failed, hold on desperately through the corner until they either made the corner (they all did) or crashed into the adjoining BRC class (none did), I stopped the group. After getting them to shut off their racket-makers, I told them they made me feel like the kid in The Sixth Sense. The only thing I could say about their cornering ability was "I see dead people." I went through the procedure for turns again and restarted the exercise. The only people, out of 11 riders, who used their front brakes consistently were a lady on a Buell Blast, a guy on an old Suzuki GS, another guy on a beat up Triumph triple sportbike, a guy on a huge Victory who was a new rider and had taken the BRC the previous weekend, and a guy who was taking the course with his wife riding passenger. The rest either ignored me or wiggled their fingers at their brake lever without actually using the brake.

And so the day went. They got better, but I felt that most of them would return to their old habits within a week or so. No wonder motorcycle training doesn't seem to improve motorcycle crash and fatality statistics.

The BRC was one of the most frustrating in my MSF career. Of 11 "students" (to moderately abuse the word), 5 dropped out or failed. One, who already owned some kind of Sportster, started badly after telling us that she had been riding for several years and ended early the 2nd day by telling us she didn't need to put up with this crap (negotiating tight turns) and would get her license from the Harley folks. In 10 years of teaching MSF classes, only two students have seriously scared me and this woman was Number Two. Every time she came my way, I planned out my fake and my escape route and I had to use those tactics at least a dozen times in the first day. In retrospect, we should have removed her from the class earlier to protect the other students, but I think we were both just trying to survive the day. Even two of our better riders failed the license test and everyone ended the day frustrated.

The next week, I had another ERC with the same coach I worked with on the BRC from Hell. He's a good guy, an excellent rider, and we usually run a fast, efficient class together. This ERC was a totally different kind of people; generally the same style of bikes, same age group, but completely focused on the purpose of the class. Right from the start, these "students" tried to do everything we suggested. I think we could have just handed them the course book and they'd have done pretty well teaching themselves. They politely thanked us for every correction we offered and continued to exponentially get better with every repetition. I felt pretty good about being part of this program at the end, but I have to wonder if the major contribution was made by the practice space and the students. Regardless, I was there to set out the cones and pick 'em up again as the day progressed.

The next BRC was equally different from the previous. This was a young group with the oldest in the class at 44 and the youngest at 15 (the youngest I've ever taught), so it should have been easy and it was. There were two scooter riders in the group and, otherwise, no motorcycling experience among the bunch. We went from basics to some pretty advanced riding demonstrations in four days (counting the classroom) and the whole group passed the license skills test. We even had three perfect scores and a couple of one-pointers. In fact, the cumulative skills test points of all 11 students didn't add up to a failing score for a single student (21 points is a failing score). Again, managing this class was so easy it didn't seem like I was making much of a contribution. My co-coach even mentioned that if every class was this easy it wouldn't be right to accept payment for doing the work.

On the other hand, the two earlier and opposite classes deserved hazard pay. Seriously. You could be killed or maimed standing any where near our Student from Harley Hell. The only skill she demonstrated was an ability to crank on the throttle at exactly the wrong times, every time. I will never forget her swinging her bike in a circle and rolling out-of-control towards another student while I shouted "stop" and she kept saying, "I am stopped." The only thing that kept her from slamming into the other student's bike was me hitting the kill switch. Then she said, "What did you do that for? I was stopped."

When blessed with meeting a motorcyclist like this, I have to wonder if the guy who sold her that shiny new Harley should be prosecuted for attempted murder or given a Medal of Freedom. Know what I mean?

Gangs, Gangbangers, and Biker Clubs

2011-06-13T15:58:00.001-05:00

By now, it might be obvious to my readers that I'm not a fan of biker gangs.To be politically correct, we're supposed to call these groups "clubs," but I'm so tired of political correctness I'm almost ready to reinstate my grandmother's 1930's pissed-off vernacular. I consider every collection of excess men a "gang" and all of those members to be "gangbangers" and their basic intention to instill fear in the non-members of the group.

To be fair to bikers, any group of excess men makes me nervous: gangs, clubs, football teams, the Mob, military units, Blackwater mercenaries, male support groups, police, heavy metal bands, heavy metal concert crowds, men's movement drum groups, poker runs and charity rides, or just unemployed bums hanging out on a street corner. My wife's term, "excess men," about wraps up the meat in this argument. Men who don't belong to families, have meaningful occupations, feel personal connections to the surrounding community, possess moral values that extend outside of their group, or even a crowd of testosterone charged boys with no adult supervision on a Saturday night. I try to stay clear of anything that resembles a Lord of the Flies congregation. Nothing good will come from getting tangled in their "us against the world" mentality. I, apparently, consistently represent "the world." When those groups are situated in our goofy well-armed country, "dangerous" becomes a grossly understated word. Combine crazy young men, weapons, and a cult-like "mission" and you have the basic formula for social instability.

I know a few people with biker gang histories who resent my implications against the sanity and value of biker gangs. I respect (from a long, disinterested distance) their point of view, but remain perfectly unconvinced. Personally, I'd be happy of there was a Constitutional amendment that prevented groups of single men from congregating in groups of more than two without adult supervision. (None of those "adults" would be permitted to wear uniforms.) The Dave Roth rules of crowd IQ particularly applies to men; "The bigger the crowd, the lower its IQ" and divide the highest IQ in the crowd by the number of people in the crowd to get the crowd IQ. Four Einsteins in a bunch would still be a retarded crowd.

The motivation behind most gangs is the human flaw of mistaking fear for respect. Dictators over the long haul of history have made this error and some have gone down in flames and complete confusion when the people they assumed loved them shot them down like dogs. Most, however, have done pretty well instilling terror for riches and fame. A human life is a short, painful thing and most of the characters who have populated history couldn't manage a Popsicle stand without threatening their customers with injury or death as incentive. So, there is a logical reason for them to band together to oppress competent people who do have lives. The ordinary person makes a useful contribution to the community and doesn't have to scare the shit out of their neighbors to pull it off. However, most people aren't comfortable being surrounded by dangerous, unstable, uneducated men and that makes the average person easy prey for gangs.

History is jammed full of that story and Hollywood has made a bundle on the fantasy that one skilled, well-armed man can protect the rest of us from whatever flavor the local gang provides. Louis L'Amore would have died a poor farm laborer if that one-against-the-gang story had no basis in society's wishful thinking. For the short term, however, fear is an acceptable substitute for respect since respect requires time and energy to earn. All you need to inspire fear is a well-armed gang. Hoot Gibson, Joel McCrea, Jimmy Stewart, Gary Cooper, James Arness, John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, Bruce Willis, Steven Segal, and even Chuck Norris would be easy pickings for your average US gang; from the inner city Crips and Bloods to Idaho's Aryan Nations.

The other delusion many biker gang members suffer is the fantasy that everyone loves them. As they pass through towns scaring the shit out of the local police and ignoring traffic laws with impunity, gangsters imagine their admirers waving cheerfully at the parade. The reality is that the majority of those people are cursing the bikers' existence and wondering what donut shop is serving as a hideout for the local police?

Gangs of all sorts are convincing arguments for forcible population control. If the gang we hire (the police) can't control the gangs we want protection from, the whole idea of fighting fire with fire becomes obviously hopeless. All that makes for a convincing proof of the "all gangs are bad" argument, but it's mostly useless information and one more reason for suspecting that humans are a evolutionary dead-end.

So, when it comes to gangsters I'm all about avoidance. I don't travel armed. I obviously don't share any of the concerns or opinions of any gang on this earth. We have nothing in common and I suspect we're going to be happiest if we stay as far from each other as possible. (I suspect most people feel that way about gangs. Otherwise, most people would belong to a gang.) When I was younger I just tried to get by gang parades as fast as possible and put as many miles as possible between me and them. These days, I just pick an alternative route and do my best to be where they aren't. Riding a 250 will humble you that way.

Personal Delusions

2011-06-10T21:19:00.003-05:00

A while back, I got tangled up on a users' page in a discussion about pro riders. It went something like this [edited for brevity]:

ME: . . . So, forgive me if I'm unimpressed by a non-pro rider's "power is like a dog dragging its ass across the carpet stock" comments. Any tool can go fast on a straight section of freeway, but real riders prove their point on the race track.

Squid #1: . . . You also don't have to be a pro-rider on a race circuit to be considered 'pro.' It's all in experience.

Squid #2: . . . I'm considered/called a pro artist but I don't get paid for my work. Just because someone races and gets paid for it doesn't mean they actually know what they are doing.

ME: . . . My bet would be that if you put a great rider on a WR250X in a tight supermoto track with all of those poser Hypermotards, Diavels, and SM's, you'd see a WR on the podium. I really want to see a Hypermotard in the whoops or on a big jump. Now that's comedy.

And so it went.

There seems to be a complete disconnect among the Boomerang generation. Anyone who considers herself a "pro artist" but has never earned a nickel as an artist is delusional. The definition of "professional" includes the exchange of money for work. It's easy to imagine that people who are proud of their "navel studies" degree and believe they are adults able to make their own life-decisions while living in their parents' basement might be clueless about the meaning of the word "professional." For the generation that grew up playing MX Action and NBA Live! and imagines that has some connection to riding a motocross bike or playing basketball, I suppose we should excuse the strange belief that being "professional" has something to do with "experience." I, however, am not interested in excuses or ignorance.

There is no connection, genetically or talent-wise, between professionals and the rest of us. Anyone who can watch Valentino Rossi, Bobby Hannah, Dougie Lampkin, Jeff Ward, Kenny Roberts, or the rest of the world's best and see any connection between that level of performance and their own riding better be ready to put up or shut up on the track. Otherwise, it's just arrogant babble from drunks at the bar.

Having watched a few pros (motorcycle, basketball, engineers, and musicians) close up, I resent the implication that those exceptional people are just "experienced." Their courage, commitment, ability, dedication, and creativity is almost unimaginable among ordinary humans. The people who finance professional sports don't care about your experience, they want to win. Coming in second is no better than finishing last. You are either the world champ or one more guy who finished behind the world champ. If you are good enough to convince a motorcycle race team to hand you a zillion dollar race bike, you are better than 99.9-something-% of all motorcyclists in the world. Everyone is "experienced," only the best are professionals. And, yeah, they do know what they are doing.

All the News that Didn't Fit

2011-06-06T21:44:00.000-05:00

A Motorcycle Safer May?
May was officially Motorcycle Safety Awareness Month. Early in the month, the Motorcycle Safety Foundation (MSF) asked that "all motorists" use this as an opportunity "to improve their driving, improve their riding, make better decisions and increase safety for everyone on the road." I want to add to that that May should have been a month when we all got better SAT and IQ scores and made more informed voter decisions. How'd that go for you?

BMW and Husky
BMW's plans for Husqvarna is beginning to make sense. The German company has announced a new 900cc street model using BMW's 800cc Rotax twin power plant. It appears that BMW is going after KTM's adventure touring, supermoto business with their new label.

Motorcycles and Toll Booth Lines
Have you ever been stuck behind a truck in a toll booth line, or any kind of line? At a toll booth in France, a truck belonging to Herve Poncharal's MotoGP team decided another line was moving faster, backed up, and headed for the other line, only to find a motorcyclist tangled in the truck's wheels. The rider died before emergency vehicles arrived. The driver has been charged with involuntary manslaughter. The incident makes a strong case for motorcycle-only lanes in similar situations.

Feeling Mortal

2011-06-06T21:27:00.000-05:00

All Rights Reserved © 2011 Thomas W. Day

This has been a tough 24 months. In the spring of 2009, my step-mother died. Later that year, two friends bought the farm, one of whom was considerably younger than me. Spring 2010, my father died: he was almost 91. This past winter, one friend announced he had been diagnosed with a fatal cancer and another died in a car crash. There is nothing like losing friends and family to remind us of our mortality. There is nothing to like about being reminded of mortality. I know that my father's 91 years seems like a long, long time. It's not.

Thirty years ago, when he was my age, my father didn't have a personal doctor. He lived 64 years without a single cavity, broken bone, or even a bad cold. He'd lived through the Great Depression, multiple WWII landings in North Africa and Europe, kamikaze near-misses on a Pacific aircraft carrier, forty-five years of teaching high school and coaching football, tennis, and basketball, and being the sole support for a five-kid family. Up until his first major medical event, he was a state champion "over-30's" tennis doubles competitor for more than 30 years. He was knocking down 3-pointers and kicking his kids' and grandkids' asses on the basketball court well into his sixties. He worked an 18-hour work day until he retired. In his late-sixties, cancer and his cancer therapy took away most of his sight, hearing, his mobility, his golf game, and a good bit of his life. A heart attack in his mid-70s mostly bound him to his home. Every year, he lost a little more of his physical life until he was only able to leave home in an electric wheelchair. After having a ramp built for his front door, he had the chair for about two weeks before he died.

Like a kid with a new bike, Dad loved his electric scooter. He ripped out of the house, leading whoever was going with him, blasting through residential intersections. It wasn't a matter of not looking. Dad couldn't see a car coming if it were topped with flashing lights and painted like a GSXR. He reminded me of an old guy with a new Harley and about twenty minutes of riding experience. Unlike that stereotype, my father didn't have much to lose. For a change, he was having fun and experiencing a little freedom from the limitations of his life. For the first time in his life, he might have had some empathy with my love of two-wheeled adventure.

When I was twenty, I thought I had all the time in the world. When I turned thirty, I felt like an old man and thought it was all downhill from there. When fifty rolled around, forty seemed like the prime of youth. At sixty-something, time is the only thing I know I don't have to spare. Time is the only completely non-renewable resource. You get however many years you get and, then, you are done.

I suppose the next stage is where I will begin to realize that no matter what I do, I will never be in better shape than today. That's got to be the definition of "being old." At some point in life, exercise, diet, and self-discipline lose their power over age. The day you know that every facility you possess is on a non-stop trajectory downhill, is the moment you switch from feeling alive to dying. Of course, that's illusion. As Bobby Dylan said, "He not busy being born is busy dying." The arc of our lives is a quick peak with a long decline, a skewed-left bell curve of abilities, endurance, and energy.

With that in mind, most of the piddly stuff of life shrinks to insignificance. Work, politics, money, possessions, Facebook, and all the silly crap people allow to get between their lives and the things that matter all shrink to insignificance. In the end, family, the friends you've made, adventures and inspiring sights, and the good and bad you have done are the sum of a life. It would be terrible to have put off living until retirement and discover that you've slipped past that point of no return before even getting started.

WWII set my father back some. The death of my mother, when she was 34 and he was 36, took some more starch out of him. His desperate desire to "fix" his broken family inspired a hasty remarriage and an instantly large family. The stress from all of those events and decisions pushed him into a shell where he stayed for most of his life. His quest for adventure was so suppressed that a family hike up an Estes Park mountainside was over-the-top extreme sport.

In his mind, I was always "that dumb kid." I've lucked out and none of life's real catastrophes have struck me directly. In his mind, my motorcycling jones was a crazy, irresponsible, incredibly dangerous addiction that probably should have been treated with medication and corporal punishment. As should have my backwoods backpacking, white water canoeing, mountain biking (which started with a 40 pound Schwinn on our neighborhood hills), and my rock and roll guitar-playing habits. He was probably right about bicycling because I had more near-misses and catastrophic hits on bicycles than anything I do, other than household repairs.

It took me years to realize that WWII was all the adventure my father needed or wanted in his lifetime. His last couple of weeks of life were, maybe, the first time he connected to the fact that I'm still accumulating a tiny portion of the lifetime experience he collected in his twenties between 1942 and 1946. Hopefully, I will have better memories of my experiences than my father held.

Rub-Rub

2011-06-06T07:01:00.001-05:00

I worked at a range next to a pack of Hardly noise makers yesterday. My stock answer, when students ask "What do you think about loud pipes?" Is, "Watch South Park."

That's all there is to say about the question.

Reputations and Reality

2011-05-31T21:19:00.003-05:00

I clearly don't understand motorcycle history. Today, I found myself in another discussion about the "rise of Harley Davidson" and that company's misfortunes and fortunes. The HD expert informed me that Harley's fortunes turned around after the terrible years of "AMF's Hardly Ableson" mismanagement. He went on until I escaped about Harley's tremendous advances in engineering in the last decade, but I remain unconvinced.

1972 XR750

I've heard that story many times, but when I got home today I found an email from Harley's marketing department in my Inbox that described Harley's race success of the week:

"Harley-Davidson Screamin’ Eagle Factory rider Kenny Coolbeth finished fourth in the opening round of the Grand National Twins portion of the 2011 AMA Pro Harley-Davidson Insurance Flat Track Championship on the Springfield Mile at the Illinois State Fairgrounds. The race was won by RogersLake/ Blue Springs Harley-Davidson rider Jared Mees on a Harley-Davidson XR750.

Springfield was delayed until late Sunday afternoon to allow the track to dry following heavy rain on Saturday. Coolbeth placed second in a heat race to qualify for the 25-lap main. A lead pack that included Mees, Kings Kustoms rider Sammy Halbert, Brad Baker on the Lloyd Brothers Motorsports Ducati, Zanotti Racing/Schaeffer’s Harley-Davidson rider Jake Johnson, and Chris Carr on the AMA Harley-Davidson . . . "

All of the competing Harley riders were on XR750s, one of the company's all time most exciting, successful motorcycles. In fact, other than some Buell models, I don't know if HD even exists in racing outside of drag racing in very restricted classes. The deal is American Machinery and Foundry (AMF) bought Harley Davidson in 1969 and sold the company in 1981 and the XR750 race bike was produced from 1970 to 1985. That means that AMF was responsible for the only successful Harley Davidson race bike ever and that motorcycle continues to be successful against far more modern motorcycles (in its limited class). You'd think, if Harley's engineering and production capability had improved dramatically since Beals and Davidson bought the company, they'd have managed a new race bike by now. Wouldn't you?

Reagan's 45% import tax on over-700cc Japanese motorcycles gave Harley the opportunity to outsource practically every complicated component on their bikes improved quality, but at the cost of becoming an "assembled in the United States" rather than a "made in the USA" company. Of course, they're not the only company pulling that stunt, but they are the noisiest of the bunch. The closest thing to a replacement for the XR750 was 2009's XR1200, which did a fair job of matching the cosmetics of the legendary Harley but has been a racing bust. With so much of the product being engineered and produced in high tech countries, I will always wonder why they have stuck their racers with a product that should be linked to the period in the company's history most reviled by their fans? Couldn't they get one of their partners to build them a race bike? The XR750 colors and styling are pure AMF retro and while it's still the coolest looking bike the company ever made, its continued support confuses me.

Explain please?

REI Luggage Tag/Key Case

2011-05-30T11:45:00.001-05:00

From the copyright date above, you can tell this is one of my older product reviews that didn't find a publisher until the product disappeared from REI's shelves. However, it's such a cool product, that I'm hoping someone will point me to a similar replacement.

You'd think this would be an obvious product for somebody to make, but I haven't been able to find one anywhere; a key case that holds more than two keys and doesn't scar up my motorcycle. Think all you want, but I don't think this product exists. Maybe the problem is that I'm a homeowner and motorcyclists aren't supposed to be homeowners. We're supposed to be carefree vagabonds who only need one key for the motorcycle's ignition and we're on our way into the night.

Nuts, I don't ride at night either. Too many drunks and hoofed rats for my tastes. I go home at night or put up my tent or hammock and go to sleep. I'd love to live up the stereotype, but my wife would miss me. She says she would, anyway.

So, I'm stuck with the problem of carrying at least four keys and, sometimes, more. I tried a leather case my locksmith recommended, but after only a week the lame ball-end swivel popped out of the case, dropping all of my keys in the parking lot (lucky for me). I tossed that piece of crap into the trash and went back to looking.

During a shopping expedition to REI (looking for something to cover my video camera on the bike), I was prowling the luggage and travel gear area when I spotted REI's Luggage Tag. At $3.50, it's probably the world's most expensive luggage tag, but with a little modification, it made a terrific, secure, abrasion-free motorcycle key case. Just add an ordinary metal key ring (twenty-five cents at my local hardware store) and you have a nice looking, practical key case. There is even a window for storing your business or address card, in case you lose the case and someone honorable finds it and wants to return it (fat chance, I know).

The "luggage case" has a large hook-and-loop closure that allows you to really snug the unused keys into place, so they won't slip out and gouge up your console or handlebars. I'll admit that it's a little bit larger than ideal, but it's the best I've found for the purpose. And on the Geezer's Night Out, it saves me the trouble of buying a cucumber for that "big man on the prowl" look.

Tossing Away History

2011-05-25T21:08:00.001-05:00

Now that I am freshly stocked with exceptional riding gear, it's time to clear out the garage. I have five pieces of riding gear that I will never wear again: my original Aerostich Roadcrafter suit (from 1983-84), my Motoport jacket and pants, the infamous deer guts Belstaff rain suit, and a pretty decent prototype jacket from the mid-90's. They are all on Craig's List, if you want a laugh:
http://minneapolis.craigslist.org/ram/mcy/2402636302.html
http://minneapolis.craigslist.org/ram/mcy/2402612763.html
http://minneapolis.craigslist.org/ram/mcy/2402260877.html
http://minneapolis.craigslist.org/ram/mcy/2402597572.html

With two full sets of Aerostich Darien gear, I don't need any more spares. I do need the garage space, though. I'm fighting my way through a spring garage cleaning and there could be all sorts of weird surprises for me in there. As usual, I'll be following my anti-hoarding rule, "When in doubt, throw it out."

Long, Good Day

2011-05-24T22:01:00.001-05:00

Today ripped! Started off with one of the strongest Basic Rider Classes I've ever taught. If "teaching" is what I'm doing here. The worst rider in this class would be the strongest rider in some past classes. The average age of this group is probably about half of the current rider average for the US, which always accounts for a quicker class. Even the older students are listening and working hard at learning the skills. Nobody scared me at all anytime this morning.

I'm battling one of the many fine adventures of aging, arthritis, these days. My hips and low back have been grinding away bone-to-bone for a few years and about two years ago I think my lubrication system ran dry. I wasted a lot of time and a few thousand dollars on a doctor who didn't seem to know anything that hadn't been fed to him by his HMO directors or the drug distributors and after a year of assuming I was just going to grind to a halt, I changed doctors and lucked into a guy who pinpointed my problem immediately, talked me out of using my home surgery kit (an X-ACTO knife set and a bunch of dental and surgical tools I picked up at Axeman) to fix my back myself, and shipped me grumbling all the way to a physical therapist. Four weeks ago, I couldn't move quickly without feeling like I'd freshly broken a rib. Today, I'm getting better every day and almost feel human again. An old human, for sure, but at least not like I'm heading for the crematorium willingly and fully awake. Physical therapy rocks.

After my therapist appointment, I hung out at Barnes and Noble sucking down coffee and scanning the latest in western novels (a contradiction in terms, if there ever was one) until it was time to head south to Dakota Country Tech College for the rider-coach get together. First time to work out the new WR on a closed track. What a great bike. The usually boring ride down 52 to the school was at least slightly more interesting because of the bike's maneuverability. The first few laps around the course were the easiest I've ever taken on that course, including a KTM outing a few years back where I got to play with all of KTM's supermotos. Honesty, if I had to pick one bike to own for the rest of my life, the WR250X is damn close to perfect.

To top it all off, one of my favorite people from my years in Minnesota, Pat Hahn, showed up on break from his new job with Team Oregon. Honestly, I'd have ridden the 50 miles just to get to hang with Pat for a while, but getting to play on a twisty closed course and catch up with Pat was the topping on a beautiful day.

Today almost made me forget I'm old.

What You Missed Yesterday

2011-05-22T13:09:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was the end of the world and Aerostich held a motorcyclists' garage sale to celebrate. I'd been planning on making the ride to Duluth on my WR250X, but with the morning downpour and the weather prediction for the day (80% chance of rain, thunderstorm and tornado warnings, 40-55F temps) I chickened out and rode the V-Strom. That was a good move, since the rain turned from strong drizzle to roaring downpour before I escaped it a few miles north of North Branch and the temperature dropped at least 15F slightly north of Rush City. I usually make the 140 mile trip to Duluth without a stop, but I stopped twice yesterday morning to add layers and seal up tighter. Approaching the climb into Duluth, the clouds touched the earth and I rode past Spirit Mountain in a dense fog that would have reminded me of San Fransisco if SF was ever that cold.

When I got to Aerostich, about 11AM, there were a pack of motorcycles and motorcyclists hoovering over tables of cool but weird stuff in boxes, on the ground, and hanging from racks in the hallways. I had a couple of dream products in mind and hunted those down first, snagged a basket, dropped my gear and my first finds in the basket, and went looking for Andy.

I found him about half-way down the hall to the RiderWearHouse store and he led me to the breakroom and pointed me at the coffee and donuts and cookies. Apparently, my hand was cold enough to make him uncomfortable. Four cups of coffee and a plate of donut holes later and I made it back to the garage sale tables. Since I was riding my "big bike" I had snapped on the side cases before I left and it began to look like I might need to take advantage of Aerostich's free shipping. In the end, I filled one case and wore the bulk of my purchases.

My big score of the day was a prototype Darien HiVz AD1 jacket made from lighter-than-my-old-Darien's 600 denier material and with waterproof zippers everywhere and more pockets, zippers, sealed flaps, and accessory and pad attachment loop pads than I have ideas for things to attach. Since I've long battled with the neck closure on my old Darien (that design has been dramatically improved since 2005), I opted to move my armor to the new jacket and ride the rain back home even more hermetically sealed. I didn't feel a drop of the drizzle I rode through for almost 70 miles before I hit clear skies just north of the Cities.

I suspect I'm not telling stories out of school, but the reason a company like Aerostich has a "first ever" garage sale is no different than the motivation for all of the garage sales in my neighborhood this weekend; the economy sucks and they need revenue. A lot of great businesses are stressed to the breaking point by the wind change of the downsizing of the United States and an innovative, product-driven company like 'stich is exactly the kind of business that will come out of this in better shape, if there is an "other side" (both the economy and the business) to come out of.

I went through this with QSC Audio Products during the seemingly-endless recession of the 1980's and we had the advantage of Pat Quilter's wealthy family to fall back on; and we fell back on them often. As Pat so honestly said in a recent L.A. Times interview, "It got to where my mom would grab her wallet when she saw me coming." Aerostich and many other great US small businesses do not have a mom's wallet to dip into.

If you know me at all, you know I am an incredible cheapskate. So it is saying something when I told Andy that I felt a bit guilty for the bag of goodies I left Duluth with. In his typically generous manner, he asked "why?" and thanked me for coming and spending my pinched pennies, but any observer would know the answer. Of course, part of my sympathy for Aerostich comes from knowing that I left that still-wintery place to return "south" to the Cities and 20F warmer weather. The other part came from buying a lot of stuff at 50-90% off of list price when it was obvious that many of those products were a labor of love that had gone unnoticed by the buying public.

Now, the US motorcycle market is changing (read "aging and growing poorer") and the world market simply knocks off Aerostich products the cheapest way possible. Today, it's almost impossible to remember when you couldn't find textile, durable, waterproof, purpose-designed motorcycling apparel, but 30 years ago when I went looking for an all-season suit in southern California the only game in the world was Aerostich. For the next decade, BMW Motorsport Collection, Honda Gear, and the dozens of high and low-end motorcycle gear manufacturers sprung up from the market that Andy Goldfine and his Duluth conspirators created. Sure, there were a few Old World alternatives like Belstaff that made raingear that made waxed cotton gear which had the abrasion resistance of a decent pair of jeans and required as much maintenance as a pair of old fashioned cross country skis. Good looking gear, for sure, but no competition for leathers when it came to protection and even Belstaff made a urethane-coated nylon "rain suit" intended to be worn over their "waterproof" cotton gear if the wearer really wanted to stay dry. I know, I still have one (Want to buy it?). That first Goretex lined, cotton padding "armored" Aerostich Roadcrafter was a breakthrough in commuter riding gear (I know, I have one of those, too. Want to buy it?).

In the political area, everyone keeps babbling about how small businesses are what create middle class jobs, innovation, and stabilizes the economy. While all that is true, the Powers That Be spend all of our tax money on too-big-to-fail and too-dumb-to-survive "financial services" speculators and tax breaks for giant corporations that hoard our cash in off shore banks and move jobs to whatever country is the most desperate and least ethical. Letting every Misfortune 500 CEO starve (or knocking them off more directly) is the first step to fixing our economy. Anyone who has worked for one of those cultural disasters knows competence is purged from those mental deadzones as fast as it can be identified. Not long ago someone said the real purpose of the Misfortune 500 was to drive competent employees into starting their own businesses.

Even knowing the importance of small business, that valuable segment of the economy has no one to speak for it in Washington, so it's up to us. Aerostich and the rest of the great companies who service specialty motorcycle requirements count on us to pay back the some of the loyalty they give to us. If you like 'em, at least tell them so if you can't afford to buy their products.

More of Wendy Moon's Video Work

2011-05-16T17:28:00.000-05:00

I admit it, I think Wendy has some interesting comments on US rider training and motorcycling in general:

Dangerous Profits: Rider Education Goes to The Movies

2011-05-16T17:14:00.000-05:00

An interesting and entertaining perspective on the all powerful Motorcycle Safety Foundation and motorcycle safety training:

The one thing that keeps me listening to the critics of the current programs is the MSF's constant reminder that safety training doesn't result in reduced crash or fatality statistics. Explain please?

Seriously Funny Ad from Kawasaki

2011-05-11T20:18:00.000-05:00

Ok, it's definately politically insensitive and moderately irresponsible, but it is funny.

Ride-On® Motorcycle Tire Protection System

2011-05-07T11:20:00.000-05:00

All Rights Reserved © 2007 Thomas W. Day

If buying stuff on user recommendations is they way you like to shop, you're going to feel solidly confident about buying Ride-On Tire Protection System (http://www.ride-on.com). When I first started looking for a tire sealant for my 10,000 mile 2007 Alaskan expedition, I went on-line to the adventure sports sites and found a few recommendations for slime^® Tube Sealant, mostly from KLR riders. I ordered slime^® from an adventure touring gear website and the the first clue I got that this wouldn't be useful to me was a warning on the bottle "for high speed application (over 45mph/75kph) use only as a repair . . ."

The website hadn't identified slime^®as "tube sealant" (which is what it is) and I planned to ride a good bit faster than 45mph between the Cities and Prudhoe Bay and back, so slime^® was clearly the wrong stuff for my application. When I mentioned this dilemma on a V-Strom riders' list, I received a couple of strong recommendations for Ride-On. I did some more research and found that Rider Magazine gave Ride-On an unrestrained recommendation. Ride-On--"a tire sealant containing fibers six times stronger than steel--" is claimed to "eliminate 85-95% of your flats in tubeless tires from objects up to 1/4" that penetrate the contact area of your tire." That sounded good to me. Ride-On is also "designed to actually hydrodynamically balance tires at highway speeds . . . as high as 150mph." Now that's more like the kind of road speed I'm looking for, if only the V-Strom would go that fast. A whole list of tire manufacturers recommend the use of Ride-On and using it does not void their warranties. That's a pretty strong recommendation, too.

I got four bottles of the stuff and, before I took off for the thawing north. , I loaded up my tires with Ride-On and ended up with a little more than 1 bottle of Ride-On left for future repairs after applying the recommended dosage to my tires. The documentation that comes with a direct factory order is extensive and I followed their advice as accurately as possible. Immediately after refilling my tires, I took a long ride to distribute Ride-On. A few days later and I was on the road to Alaska. A real engineer would have intentionally punctured a perfectly good tire a few times to test this stuff, but I have abandoned my real engineer credentials in exchange for a moto-journalist's whims. I just figured, if my usual luck held, I'd find a way to test Ride-On somewhere between Alaska and home.

The tires used in this "test" were Metzler ME880 bias-plies. They were recommended by several LD riders and their recommendations implied that I could expect nearly 20,000 miles from the tires. Being the gullible type, I accepted this advice as gospel and left my backup tires sitting in my garage, instead of shipping them ahead to Glenallen, AK as I'd originally planned.

One of the things I worried about, regarding using a tire sealer like Ride-On, was heat build-up and rapid tire wear. I've seen how quickly a tubeless tire dies when you install an emergency tube and I half-expected something like that to happen with a tire sealer. There is no way for me to prove, or disprove, that Ride-On caused my tires to wear faster than expected, but they did. At 6,000 miles, the rear tire was down to the wear bars. At 6,600 miles, threads were showing and I yanked the tire. The front was also wearing weirdly, but I left it on for the ride back home. At 10,000 miles, I replaced the rear tire, again, and installed a new front tire.

When the good folks at Seattle Cycle pulled the back tire, the mechanic said the goop was slightly less messy than other tire sealants. The remaining sealant was still gooey and had pretty well covered the area inside the tire's contact path. The Dempster Highway had nicked chunks out of the tire and in the center of the tire (see the dent in the goo, pictured at right) a fairly large puncture had been filled by Ride-On. I have no idea when this damage occurred, but I'm glad Ride-On worked.

All the News that Didn't Fit

2011-05-05T21:02:00.002-05:00

Celebrate RTWD

June 20 is, officially, Ride to Work Day. So, put away the video game controller, leave the SUV in the garage, and ride that piece of garage candy to work. As the RidetoWork.org press release puts it, "The date marks the twentieth annual worldwide ‘Ride to Work Day’ event. An estimated one million riders become two-wheeled commuters on that day to help demonstrate that riding is an efficient, economical form of personal transportation. Participant-riders are of all ages, occupations and from all walks of life." Even you.

85-90% of the Race

Nothing in motorsports is more exciting than the gate dropping at a motocross. Honda Powersport's YouTube site has a new video called "The Art of the Holeshot." Honda riders Trey Canard, Josh Grant and Ashley Fiolek tell you how to get moving "when it's go time" and how to look cool while spraying champagne on the trophy boys and girls afterwards. In fact, the whole Honda Powersports YouTube page is worth checking out: http://www.youtube.com/user/HondaPowersportsUS.

Zero News

In the "Coincidental? I don't think so" category, on March 3rd Zero Motorcycles received a $25 million cash infusion from it's principal investor, Invus, LP. Invus has been Zero's cash daddy since 2008. On April 5, Zero Motorcycles announced that its "long-time CEO," Gene Banman, was "retiring from the operational management of the company." I supposed 4 years is a "long-time" for an electric motorcycle company. Banman said, "I plan to get some R&R and travel, and then do some part time work with non-profits." He will continue to be a board member. I smell the acrid resin odor (similar to cooked brakes) of a golden parachute.

On the non-financial side, Zero announced it will have an entry in the 2011 AMA MiniMoto SX on May 6 in Las Vegas, advertised as "the world’s biggest mini bike event." Zero's electric motorcycles will be taking on the world's fastest 150cc gas-powered motorcycles.

Had to Lay 'er Down

Eight riders (reportedly all were on Harley-Davidson motorcycles) were traveling in a group on Kentucky's Interstate 65 when they approached a road construction area and the scene of an earlier crash. The police reports stated that "the ones in the back didn't recognized that traffic had slowed. They had to lay down their bikes to avoid a rear-end collision." One rider, Jeremy D. Byrd, 33, of Dayton, Ohio, was airlifted suffering from life-threatening injuries. Two others, Peter A. Sendlbeck and Christopher Kauffman were taken to a hospital where Sendlbeck was treated and Kauffman refused treatment.

While the Kentucky police appear to believe that falling down is a valid emergency tactic, most of us suspect that tires and properly applied brakes will stop a moving vehicle faster than sliding metal bits. A more accurate crash description would have been "they panicked, grabbed their brakes, and fell down."

Even LEGO Hates Us!

LEGO Creator has included a motorcycling bad guy in the "Prisoner Transport" toy set. The set includes a "police officer and robber . . . [a] motorcycle, road block, money sack and money brick. I'd be ok with the concept, except the robber is riding a dirt bike. Whoever heard of a dirtbag dirt biker? Come on LEGO, get your stereotypes right.

From the I'm Crazier than You Mailbox

The wizards from Parker Brothers Choppers have assembled the nuttiest bit of garage candy yet. It's based on the Huffy Green Machine but it's a lot sillier. This goofy Big Wheel has a 45-inch front wheel and an 80hp Harley Evo power plant. Jeff Halverson, Parker Bro's nuttiest employee, took the thing up to 50mph and survived. The company is looking to get into Guinness Book of World Records with the world’s largest wheel on a trike.

The French Take A Crashing Course

France, a country already losing its patience with motorcyclists, saw a 49% jump in motorcycle deaths in March 2011 (compared to March of last year). 2.7% of all vehicle deaths were motorcyclists. Keep that up and French motorcyclists will have to do their riding in Quebec.

Jesse James Quits

Back in 2009, bad boy Jesse James saw the coming of the Honda Fury and sensed the beginning of the end. His exact words were, "I think it signifies the end of the whole chopper craze.” After having his day in the media sun, West Coast Choppers closed its doors and James is down to his eco-burger joint, Cisco Burgers. James said, “I guess I’m better at making burgers than I was at making motorcycles” and we can't disagree with that. Supposedly, he has 25 burger franchises in the works.

Despicably Cool

2011-05-03T15:46:00.000-05:00

The 1997-2011 Honda VTR250 is one of the hippest motorcycles ever built. The faired, sportbike version of the VTR was imported into the US from 1988-1990, but it was too small (layout-wise) for most US riders and the 1989 pink graphics turned off anyone who didn't carry a purse. Being a lifetime courier bag kind of rider, I owned a 1989 VTR for several years and loved the bike.

I sold it to my brother and he went on to put even more miles on the little guy. He hasn't forgiven me for neglecting to warn him about the pink lightning bolt, though.

Honda intermittently imports the VTR to Europe and Australia, but their Asian sales of the little Monster-clone keeps the production line busy enough without bothering with EPA/Euro 1-5 export/import issues.

For my money, the red paint/black frame 2002 model is the coolest looking version of the bike, but I'd go for any iteration if it ever became available here. 2009-and-newer models have fuel injection, which makes them at least 200% hipper.

My Alaska Adventure

2011-05-03T15:45:00.000-05:00

When I was a kid, growing up in flat-as-a-pancake and boring as television western Kansas, I led a kind of Walter Mitty life. On the surface, I was a normal kid. I went to school during the week, went to movies and church on Sunday, played sports, threw a paper route and had part-time jobs, and tried to act normal. Under the surface, I read science fiction and adventure books, listened to jazz records, and planned my escape. My two favorite writers were Mark Twain and Jack London. My two favorite escape destinations were California and Alaska. I lived in California for almost a decade and discovered that frontier had been overpopulated long before I got there. Alaska is different.

I read about Twain and London's adventures in the wilderness and among men who risked their lives for a chance at doing something unusual and imagined myself living that kind of life as soon as I ran away from Kansas. I imagined myself saddling up a couple of horses and taking off for some remote part of Canada or Alaska, never to be seen again. The phrase, "this isn't Kansas anymore, Toto" held nothing but positive connotations for me. I couldn't wait to get as far from the Midwest as I could travel. Life didn't turn out the way I'd imagined and I've spent most of my life near the center of this country, including a dozen years in Minnesota. Now that my kids are grown and on their own and I'm in pretty good shape, financially, and in reasonable shape, physically, some of that old wanderlust returned to itch at me.

Three years ago, my 60th birthday was on the horizon and a collection of unrelated events jumpstarted my interest in traveling to Alaska. I began to seriously plan an extended trip to Alaska in the spring and summer of 2007. "Extended," for me, meant more than two weeks. I've been employed since I was 14, so two week vacations have been the limit of my adventures for more than 45 years. I planned to take 30 days to ride to Alaska and back. I mapped a route through northern Minnesota, North Dakota and Montana, up through Alberta, nicking British Columbia, into Alaska. I'd hoped to hit every significant historical and natural high point in the Alaska before I headed back down through British Columbia into Washington. I had a fairly extensive route planned for my return, too. There was a lot of wiggle room in my plan, because I'm usually pretty spontaneous once I get on the road, but I had a specific set of goals in mind for my first real adventure.

Then my wife stepped in and starting maneuvering some "security" into my plans. She, apparently, decided that I'm too old and fragile to do something like this on my own, so she recruited a work friend, Michael, to ride with me. She and I had dozens of conversations about how this wasn't going to happen, but I lost. "Conversation" is the word wives use for "argument" and "agreement" is the word they use for "I won."

For 50-some years, I have done almost every cool thing in my life on my own. I backpack alone, scuba dive alone, bicycle alone, and I dislike riding in a group, even for short distances. A "group" is two or more people. Having someone else along on my first month-long trip was a major concession for me. "Concession" is the word I use for "losing."

Michael and I met once, in January, as part of my wife's plot to get me to take on a co-rider. My wife introduced us. Michael asked when I wanted to leave. I said, "the first of June."

He said, "That's too early, it will be cold."

I said, "That's when I'm going."

He said, "Huh."

He rightly seemed to think I was far too stupid to ride with, if I thought Alaska in June was a good idea. I figured that ended that and went back to planning my trip. In May, my wife mentioned that Michael had put in for his vacation days and had been given the time off from work.

I said, "Huh?"

She had, apparently, continued recruiting him for the trip all through the winter and he'd decided that June was good enough for him. Now I had a co-rider, so I began to rationalize how this might turn out to be a good thing. By mid-May, I'd almost convinced myself a traveling companion would be less uncomfortable than a sharp stick in the eye. I figured we could start off together and, if it didn't work out, we could go our own ways. We'd both been on long solo motorcycle trips and we'd proven we could do it alone. That's the ointment I used on myself to keep from giving up on the trip altogether.

We had one more meeting, a week or so before June 1, and I discovered that Michael had his own route planned and it was a lot different from mine. I assumed we'd be going our own ways a lot sooner than I expected. You know what "assume" means, I assume.

Due to two cases of Midwestern Guilt and both of our well-evolved desire-to-get-along genes, it took us ten days to split up. The first 3,500 miles of my trip plan were scrapped for a route that Michael picked and one that only included a few hundred miles of my plan. I'd waited more than 50 years to make this trip. Some of Michael's plan was better than mine, but I'd have rather gone where I wanted to go. We went north, mid-Montana, into Saskatchewan instead of making the crossing at Glacier National Park where I’d planned to exit the US. We attempted to ride the Dempster Highway to Inuvik, where I crashed, separated a shoulder, cracked a collection of ribs, bruised a kidney, busted a bone in my right hand, and gravel-rash’d my bike and luggage. The Dempster had not been on my route plan, but I'd hoped to make a run at the Dalton Highway to Deadhorse.

In Glennallen, Alaska after a day of rest and maintenance, I was sort of back on track; although I was off schedule and busted up. Michael and I shook hands and began two different adventures. He needed to get back home for work. I needed to get used to being on my own with my mending injuries. I arrived at the base of the Dalton Highway, just north of Fairbanks, where it took me an hour of staring at the road to accept the fact that I was too beat up to take on 1,000 miles of dirt road. As I turned south to explore more of Alaska and Canada, I also realized that I was completely in charge of where I’d go next. The next 6,500 miles and 18 days were some of the best moments of my life, let alone on a motorcycle. Nothing beats being by yourself, in the middle of nowhere, knowing that you are in control of everything that happens in your life at that moment.

So, if my wife ever tries to recruit you into going on a motorcycle trip with me, she's working on her own agenda, not mine. If she tells you I'm old, feeble, incompetent and suicidal, she's probably right. If she tells you that I need someone to take care of me in the wilderness, she's still probably right. If she says I want someone to ride with, she means she wants someone to ride with me. She is working from the purest of motivations. However, she is also working with poorly socialized material; me.

I'm as likely to want company on the road as I am to want you to slide your foot into my airport bathroom stall. I'll call you if I want company, otherwise, I'll be on the road; alone and enjoying my solitude.

Elka Street Motorcycle Series Shock Absorber

2011-04-25T20:21:00.004-05:00

[NOTE: I'm disappointed that the MMM editors took so long to find a place for this review. I understand it, but I think this is exactly the kind of product that gets a short shift from magazines because suspension parts aren't noisy, flashy, or the kind of thing that newbie riders or vintage collectors care about. From my experience, it's hard to describe the value of a giant change in a stock bike's suspension can add to an otherwise competent motorcycle.]

(courtesy of Elka Suspension)

All Rights Reserved © 2009 Thomas W. Day

The V-Strom clan from Stromtrouper.com got together in late 2008 to make a group buy on rear shocks from Elka. I almost passed on the opportunity because I wasn't convinced that my V-Strom needed any suspension help; especially the kind of help that costs $1100. In the end, thinking about the 9,000 mile trip I'd be making that summer to Nova Scotia and back, I decided to gamble on a major suspension improvement. I bought a two-way remote reservoir damping system with the remote hydraulic preload adjustment. There are a variety of options available and I'd suggest you call Elka's customer support line (1-800-557-0552) for advice for your bike and riding conditions. John Ilkiw was incredibly helpful to me and the shock I received required next-to-no setup after installation. These are custom shocks, designed and setup for your bike, your weight, and your riding style. If you give Elka enough information, the shock will come practically ready to ride.

When the shock arrived, I was impressed by the bright and shiny red, black, gold, and stainless-lined made-in-Canada Elka parts. Jacking up my bike's rear end and pulling the OEM shock provided my next impressed moment; but it wasn't a good impression. The stock shock seemed under-built and cheap in comparison to the Elka. I struggled in sorting out Elka's installation instructions, since the manual that came with my shock was missing the V-Strom information, but it all went together in a short Saturday afternoon.

After messing with the preload a little, I took the shock out for a test ride. Within a few yards of home, I was already convinced the bike felt more "planted" than it had with the OEM part. Accelerating through the 10mph curve that outlines my front yard, I found the back tire felt unnaturally stuck to the asphalt. Fifty miles later, I was convinced that I'd lost some pressure in my rear tire during the shock installation because my dual purpose tires simply seemed to solidly connected to the road to be inflated at their usual 42psi. The ride was a little too smooth and the front wheel tracked a little too predictably. The tires were at their normal pressure. The only thing that had changed was the rear shock.

I rode out to the trails of Carlos Avery Game Reserve to give the shock a real test. In the past, I've had to set the forks at the softest position to keep from pounding my wrists into dust on those trails, but I actually ended up adding some preload to the forks this time. The stutter-bumps that cars and trucks have ground into the trails were literally non-existent from my riding position. If the road got a little rough, I just shifted more weight to the rear tire and cranked up a little more throttle. Skating the deep sand was less terrifying, too. I could steer the V-Strom through sand, using the throttle and peg weighting, almost like a real dirt bike.

The real test would come in 2008 when I loaded up the bike and headed north into Canada later that summer. By then, I was used to the Elka's ride improvement but it wasn't that long ago that I made the trip around the North Shore to Ontario. My last trip was a real bun beater, but in 2008 I had the added benefit of a hail storm at the boarder crossing and intense rain for the next 150 miles east. Not only did the V-Strom's new suspension soak up the winter-crusted Canadian Highway 17, but my new stability really became apparent in the rain and high winds.

For the next 9,000 miles, the bike was so comfortable and predictable that I forgot all about the changes the Elka shock had made in my ride, until I met another V-Strom rider in New Brunswick. His bike was tricked out with all sorts of Touratech adventure touring farkles, some of which I was thinking of adding to my bike. We were both riding on dual purpose tires. The bikes were loaded close to equally. We swapped rides for a few miles and I got a quick reminder of the stock suspension. He'd put a cartridge fork emulator on his bike, but it didn't make much difference as far as I could tell. He, on the other hand, thought my bike was a lot nicer ride than his own. We were on some fairly rough 2-lane roads, traveling at a quick pace, and it was a good test of suspension parts. The Elka shock really made an impression. In 2009, I took the V-Strom into North Dakota and covered almost 1,000 miles of dirt roads during my 2,500 mile tour of that state. Deep sand, rutted gravel, and wet clay was so much easier to handle than it was two years earlier that I can only credit the Elka shock for the transformation of my bike and my riding capabilities.

Last spring, I test rode Kawasaki's Versys and my only negative comment about the bike was that the rear shock seemed unresponsive and transmitted a lot more shock than I was used to receiving. I suspect Elka could resolve that complaint. An ex-pro-racer friend commented that suspension parts are the least noticeable bits for manufacturers to cheap out and the most noticeable improvements you can make on a production bike. My experience with the Elka Street Motorcycle Series Shock Absorber proves him right. I'm buying one for the new WR250X. Enough said.

Techmount Mini Handlebar Mount

2011-04-24T22:11:00.000-05:00

This cute little bracket fits all 7/8" handlebars and the blank mounting plate will accept anything that will mount on a 2.25" x 3" flat plate. If you care, it comes in two colors, anodized black and chrome and two "flavors," the 30996M standard mount and the 30996MX off-road version. The manufacturer claims it is suitable for mounting "GPS, Radar Detectors, Toll Transponder, Cell Phones, Radios, Cameras, Change Holders, Garage Door openers, PDA's" and the like. I bought mine from RiderWearhouse in Duluth for about $80.

The mount comes with Velcro^® strips for attaching your farkles and the necessary (allen wrench) installation tools. Techmount claims that their "handlebar mounts use a machined clamp designed to clamp onto round handlebars without damaging the bar. They require only 1/2" of bar space." The "universal" mounting plate is universal in that it's possible to drill pretty much any set of holes you might need to mate the Techmount to whatever you're trying to mount. The Techmount's plate is connected to the handlebar bracket with a ball mount that is positioned by a trio of very small Allen screws, so practically any angle is possible for your farkles and electronic equipment. That's the good news.

The bad news is that this mounting system is not made for moderate weight accessories (like my Garmin 2610 GPS) and it's not tough enough for rough road use. The screws are too small to provide much torque on the mounting ball and that allows the plate to sag under mild vibration. I hoped to mount my 2610 with my Mini Handlebar Mount, but I was continually disappointed with the inability of the mount to hold the GPS in position. The Mini Mount was totally useless on rough roads. In fact, even smooth freeway vibration eventually caused the GPS to droop out of sight.

I tightened and re-tightened the setscrews on this thing in the eight months I owned it and it always gave up after a bump or so. This makes the unit more irritating than useful. I'm considering drilling out the ball mount's Allen screws to install larger screws, in an attempt to increase the mount's strength. Eventually, I gave up on the Techmount system and installed a Ram Mount, which a lot of folks (including me) think is the most durable, flexible equipment mounting system available.

The Wrong Place, Wrong Time

2011-04-18T21:10:00.001-05:00

Check out the fancy backpedaling.The guy nearest the curb shows some excellent reaction time and moderately good logic. The guy at the other end of the line of bikers and the guy behind the first row quickly recognized a dumb shit in a semi and got the hell out of there. If you look closely, there was a bicyclist who dropped his bike and ran. I think the bike vanished in the truck rubble. What do you want to bet a cell phone was involved in this? If that boy gets another driver's license in his lifetime, civilization as we know it is doomed.

If Loud Pipes Save Lives . . .

2011-04-17T09:20:00.002-05:00

From Imagine T-Shirt, PJ's Parts for only $17:

"Imagine T-Shirt

"If loud pipes save lives, imagine what learning to ride that thing could do.
Let the world know that you believe in and support rider training and competence over riding strictly to get attention.

"This is an original saying coined by PJ, who, along with Paige, is a former Motorcycle Safety Foundation RiderCoach. We truly believe that every person should ride the type of bike that suits him or her best, but only if he is willing to get professional instruction and continue to work on improving his skills throughout his life.

"Visit www.msf-usa.org for information on rider training in your state."

Fleeting Fame

2011-04-14T19:49:00.000-05:00

Fame is fleeting, but infamy lives forever. This year, I experienced a little of both:

I feel like Steve Martin in The Jerk, "I'm in the phonebook!"

Actually, it's pretty cool being in an Aerostich catalog. The rest of the Minnesota Motorcycle Monthly staff has decorated the magazine's illustrous pages for years. Now, I'm there too (3rd from top, far right).

If I had to snag any picture of myself that moment, standing on the watchtower at North Dakota's Fort Abraham Lincoln State Park with the Missouri River in the background, would have been high on the list. My mostly-off-road trip around North Dakota in 2009 was one of the coolest motorcycle trips of my life. It was a real adventure and nothing but good things happened to me while I hung out around Bismark, ND.

The Rest of the World

2011-04-09T23:36:00.000-05:00

You gotta like this:

Too Tall for Me

2011-04-09T23:34:00.000-05:00

For years, I've suffered the outrage of being discriminated against by every off-road motorcycle manufacturer in the world. They just don't care about short people.I suspect the dirt bike engineers' favorite song is by Randy Newman.

Well, I don't want no short people
Don't want no short people
Don't want no short people
`Round here

36-38" seat heights are normal for modern dirt bikes. I have a 29" inseam, so even if I could get a leg over a 38" seat, I'd be dangling 10" from the ground. Admit it, you feel sorry for me. Michael Jordan looks like a giant spider on a sportbike, but he'd fit perfectly on a 2011 Honda CRF400F.

My WR250X is one of those over-tall discriminatory machines. However, once I'm on it the suspension squashes down to something rideable. The problem is getting on the damn thing. Since I really wanted one of these things, I figured I'd sort out that problem once I had it in my garage.

A month and a half later, I've dropped the suspension about an inch and a half, installed a shorter seat pad, and the bike is a bit shorter. However, I still have to use one of two weird-assed bike mounting tactics to get a leg over that damn giraffe of a bike. I either use the side stand as a step ladder or I get on the bike as I drop the clutch and swing up on the move. We used to call that "pony express style" when I was kid learning to ride a bicycle. I get back off the same way.

Once I'm on the bike, the height isn't much of a problem. I can get the balls of both feet down and I don't spend a lot of time with my feet on the ground when I'm riding the WR anyway. It's just getting off and on that is pretty much a clown show.

They got little baby legs
That stand so low
You got to pick em up
Just to say hello
They got little cars
That go beep, beep, beep
They got little voices
Goin' peep, peep, peep
They got grubby little fingers
And dirty little minds
They're gonna get you every time
Well, I don't want no short people
Don't want no short people
Don't want no short people
'Round here

Yeah, I got your "little baby legs" right here assholes.

I was feeling pretty lame about my bike mount and dismount style, until I hung out with a friend who has about a half-foot on me, height-wise, and a good bit of inseam advantage. He rides a collection of off-road giraffe bikes and told me that he "always" uses the side stand as a mounting crutch. Paul is a notoriously macho guy and if it's good enough for him, it will do for me.

Signs of Spring

2011-04-09T09:32:00.000-05:00

The freaks are out of their cages!

In my rarely humble opinion, that is the first sign of spring in Minnesota. As soon as the temperature rises above 40F, all bets are off on what you'll see on the public roads. Friday started off weird and decayed into something Terry Gilliam would have had trouble putting on screen. First thing, as I'm getting on to the freeway ramp I see a ramshackle Honda Accord stopped just past the on-ramp with all four fenders dangling from scraps of metal and duct tape. Seriously. The Honda has been pulled over by one of Minnesota's Finest, or largest, since the HP walking toward the collapsing piece of Japanese junk has to weigh 400 pounds, minimum. He is so fat that his legs bow outward because his huge thighs are forcing his feet to splay. Calling his gait a "waddle" would be complimentary. The state must install truck springs on the left side to offset the patrolman's mass.

On the road, it appears that every evidence of common sense has left the majority of the driving public. "Crazy" would be a compliment if you were describing the highway tactics of the tailgaters, wannabe road racers, and distracted idiots with cell phone lobotomy devices. "Stupid" would be more accurate. From the air, I35E must have looked like a bumper car track. Maintaining space among this crowd of mental midgets is impossible, so I gave up and went to surface streets.

Unfortunately, the residential streets have been taken over by bicyclists. Now that the roads are clear and most of the icy obstacles are gone, the bicyclists have decided that the only place for them is the middle of the road. After toddling along behind two spandex-lined doofuses on bikes for a block, I split the "lane" between the road hogs and they practically disassembled themselves in shock. For characters who appear to believe they are invincible and entitled, they sure collapsed into insecurity when their road-hogging plan failed. They were still wobbling when they vanished in my rear view mirror.

Getting to work was worse than an episode of Jackass. But I swung by the parking garage gate and headed to my usual space. This time, I was followed by one of the garage's many non-English-speaking employees who wanted to present the annual "no motorcycles" argument. The garage is decorated with motorcycle parking spaces and their are motorcycles parked (mostly permanently) on every level. Usually, I put up with this yearly idiocy and try to politely explain to the resident Arab-in-charge that I have an annual pass and would be happy to take my business elsewhere if my money isn't good enough. This time, I left the earplugs in place and ignored the moron. My idiot-quotient has been exceeded and neither of us wants to see how I will deal with one-too-many-stupid-people before 9AM.

Work was work. Too long a story to tell in less than a million words.

The way home was detoured by a quick trip to Woodbury for a consulting gig. On the way out of St. Paul, I was trailing a really big dude on a fairly new KLR. It appeared to be his first ride of the year as he struggled to get into the right lane, to get the bike rolling after each light, and his entry into rush hour I94 traffic was a horror show. If I had been wearing my helmet camera, I'd have trailed him for a bit, but without cinematic motivation, I had no reason to stick around for the carnage. The trip to Woodbury was a carbon copy of my commute into work that morning. Stupid has been spending a lot of time reproducing over the winter and I suspect the country has more than enough brain damaged consumers to sustain corporate America for the residual years of the American Century.

The state is clearly giving out drivers' licenses in Cracker Jack boxes and too many people are eating Cracker Jacks.

Spring, Spring at Last!

2011-04-07T23:01:00.001-05:00

The temperature hit 60 today, for the first time in months. Snow is melting, the roads are clear, and all that's left is for the OHV parks to open the trails. I made a quick dash north to Carlos Avery this afternoon. The trails were closed, but the dirt roads on the way out and back were great. I am clearly out of shape. Only 100 miles and my butt is sore and my legs are stiff.

When I insured the WR250X, the agent asked me which of my 3 bikes would I consider my "primary motorcycle." At the moment, it's hard to imagine that being anything but the little supermoto. I will have to put the V-Strom on the road soon or I'll forget why I own it.

Why Don't We Get That?

2011-04-02T22:33:00.000-05:00

Yamaha's YBR250 sportbike

I hear this all the time, "Why don't we get that great bike? The Europeans/Japanese/Chinese/Canadians/Icelanders get all the cool stuff." When the conversation goes further, it almost always turns out that we are going to totally disagree about what's cool and what's not. For example, most guys are upset at not getting the latest full-on liter-plus racerbike. I could care less about that sort of over-priced, over-powered minutia. I can't afford a bike like that and, if I could, I'd be bored riding something that can do 200mph in a 55mph world. I'm too old and poor for racing and uninterested in pretending to be a racer on public streets.

The rest of the world is demanding moderate performance, high fuel mileage, multi-purpose bikes and that's exactly what I'd like to see here. When I did race, I was a 125cc motocrosser and I still have a special feeling for small, lightweight motorcycles. Like the Yamaha YBR250, a 21hp, fuel-injected, air-cooled, 4-valve 4-stroke single, electric start, 300 pound "naked bike." Or Honda's CBR125R, the XL125V Varadero, or the mid-sized bikes like the L700V Transalp and Yamaha's XT660X.

Honda's XL700V Transalp

Since Honda brought the 600cc Transalp into the US in 1987 and gave up on us in 1988, that bike has become cooler and cooler every year. Apparently, Honda doesn't even consider bringing it to the US. We're not hip enough to want something this trick because we're easily distracted by wads of chrome and blubbering engine noise. Even Canada hasn't been worthy of the Transalp since Honda decided North America was living in the dark ages.

Practically everybody but the US is drenched in Japanese small iron, from 50cc to 400cc models. Every once in a while, Japan brings in something half-cool, like Suzuki's TU250X, but they only make a half-hearted run at creating a market for this kind of practical motorcycle and they become disappointed easily. I half-suspect they take it personally. When we don't appreciate their finer works of engineering, they pout and blow off the substantial customers who are interested in those products.

Honda's XL125V Varadero

When the product is smaller than 250cc, it seems that we have no chance at all of seeing it. There are tons of bikes in the 100-250cc territory that have never seen the light of the Port of Long Beach.

Honda's CBR125R

The Honda VTR250 was a late-1980's marketing bomb and that was the end of the US version of that experiment. The Ducati Monster version of the VTR250 just kept getting cooler and cooler until Honda canned the model in 2009. Honda's XL125V/CBR125R singles are every bit as cool and every bit as unavailable in North America. Why? I wish I knew. The CBR version is a 13hp, 300 pound, fuel injected natural for any urban road warrior. With a 2.6 gallon tank, fuel injection, and an estimated 94mpg, the CBR is perfect for about 90% of what most of us do on a motorcycle. One test claimed the bike had a cruising speed of 60mph and a top speed of 75mph with a 160 pound rider. Totally thrashing the bike on-and-off road, one owner recorded an average of 62mpg out of the dual purpose Varadero version of this power plant. The CBR125 is imported into Canada, mostly as a trainer, but the Varadero is only available in the twin-cylinder liter version. We get neither.

Yamaha's XT660X

The liter Varadero is pretty appealing, but Yamaha's XT660X and the macho version, the XT660X is way more interesting. I've lusted after the since it was a paltry 600cc dual purpose bike with way more function than style.

Kawasaki and Suzuki make a couple of interesting 125's that we don't get, but it appears that their days of cool small bikes may be declining. Suzuki has the DR125SM and Kawasaki has the Kawasaki D-Tracker 125, but they didn't list any interesting small street bikes on any of their 2011 ROW sites. Either Suzuki and Kawi are giving up on the modern motorcycle market, or they are waiting to see what happens next. That's not much of a marketing approach when playing it safe could be the same as handing off the future to those with the guts to go for it.

With the many problems motorcycling has--our crappy public image, mediocre fuel efficiency, noise issues, high prices, old demographic, and general lack of social value--small motorcycles offer a lot of solutions. Call them "starter bikes," if that makes you feel good about yourself, but many serious riders spend their whole riding lives on 400cc or smaller bikes. Getting great mileage, light enough for the smallest riders, versatile as a Swiss Army knife, easily maintained, and more fun to ride than practically anything else on the planet, small motorcycles are a solution to a collection of problems that haven't even been asked yet.

My current road bike is a 650 and it's bigger than I need for one-up touring. Most modern dirt bikes are too damn tall for me, as much as I love them. Many of the 250 street bikes that have been imported to the US aren't just starter bikes, they're kids' bikes. My 250 Kawasaki Sherpa is too wimpy for anything other than local commuting. My new best friend, a 2008 Yamaha WR250X is the closest thing to a perfect all-around motorcycle engine ever built. A few weeks ago, Andy Goldfine introduced me to formula that explains it all: L + S = MF. (Light plus Simple equals More Fun.)

One More Movie for the "Must See List"

2011-03-28T13:28:00.000-05:00

Watch this trailer and get ready for the next "Faster."

All the News that Didn't Fit

2011-03-27T19:27:00.001-05:00

This month, I probably crossed a line. We had some real and some fake news reports (it's for the April issue, after all) and one or two didn't get picked up by my editor. However, I remain completely tasteless and until Google starts editing blogs, whatever Minnesota Motorcycle Monthly didn't want will end up here:

Indians Take Indian
Two diverse groups combined their resources to buy the Indian Motorcycle Brand. After tiring of waiting for the current owner of the fabled motorcycle company name to produce something that resembles a ride-able motorcycle, the Cherokee and Comanche Nations saddled up and raided the idle North Carolina facilities, catching the company's management in what one observer called "a mindless, pointless, endless executive planning meeting" and taking control of the facilities in a bloodless coup.

After the events at the Indian plant, Harley Davidson management is on the lookout for anyone wearing bowling shoes as there were rumors that AMF and Brunswick were looking at a copycat attack on what is left of the Harley Davidson Milwaukee facilities. Ex-Buell employees have hinted that they would be willing to join with the bowlers in the takeover.

Zero Helicopters?
Neal Saiki, the founder of Zero Motorcycles has left his own company to compete in the Igor I. Sikorski Human Powered Helicopter Competition. The former Cal Poly, San Louis Obispo aeronautical engineering student, founded Zero Motorcycles Inc. in a Scotts Valley, CA garage in 2006. The company now has 60 employees and a broad line of electric motorcycles. Saiki said, “Founding Zero was exciting, fun and a lot of hard work. At this point, I think it is well established. I’m extremely proud of the team we’ve assembled to carry Zero into the future. I can now move on to pursuing the dream of building a human powered flying machine."

For Your Dirt Biking Pleasure
Finding a dirt bike is usually hit or miss, but BikeFinds.com makes the search a little easier, regardless of where you live. With search categories for "Mini, Motocross, Trail, Enduro, and Dual Sport," the website allows you to narrow your search to a region, state, or city.

More Motorcycle Airbag Technology
A French firm, the Bering Company, has released a jacket/air-bag intended to moderate motorcyclist injuries. This helium-inflated riding jacket puffs up like an oversized life jacket to minimize the torso's exposure to the forces of velocity and impact. As described in the company's press release, there is a "crash module, attached to the fork of the bike" that uses accelerometers to detect sudden deceleration. If a crash is detected, a microcomputer sends a signal to the jacket to release 21 liters of helium and inflate the jacket.

State Motorcycle Legislation
Georgia, Kansas, and Illinois state Houses are looking at Minnesota-similar bills permitting motorcyclists to escape motorcycle-hostile signals. Maryland and Rhode Island are looking at bills that will require state-owned parking facilities to provide motorcycle parking. The Tennessee, Oregon, Missouri, and New York Houses are considering bills that would modify the states' helmet laws.

The New Mexico House of Representatives passed the "Scooter Law Proposal, HB 11" by a 60-0 vote. The bill defines "motor scooters" as bikes with automatic transmissions, motors between 50cc and 150cc, and that are capable of exceeding 30mph. Under-50cc and under-30mph two-wheelers remain classified as mopeds. Scooters under 3.73 kilowatts are also "mopeds." Two-wheeled vehicles powered by 3.73 and 8.95 kilowatt electric motors are classified as "motor scooters." Everything above 150cc or 8.95kW are "motorcycles." The key term of this legislation state allows any licensed driver over age 18 to legally operate a motor scooter with no additional testing or endorsement required.

King Kenny Indeed

2011-03-26T18:40:00.002-05:00

I'd heard about this, but didn't realize it was online to see again (and again and again and . . . )

Panic in the Northlands

2011-03-26T17:53:00.000-05:00

A few weeks back, when I was about to collapse with the flu that's floating around the Twin Cities, I went through a flurry of activity getting ready to drive up north to pick up my new WR250X and ride it home before the temperature dropped and the snow hit. Turned out, the guy didn't have the bike ready to sell and he ended up delivering it to me a week and a half later.

During that disease-demented activity flurry I managed to get about half of the gear I'd need to ride the bike in the car. Left the helmet sitting on my shop roller bench. Left one of my gloves on the kitchen table. And managed to load up my Aerostich suit without noticing the pants were missing. I was obviously on the road to a nasty physical crash and a day later I was as sick as I have been in years.

After a week of misery and my first sick day in 9 years, I was almost ready to give the WR a test ride, but I couldn't find my Darien pants. We tore up every storage space, pulled apart the back end of my wife's station wagon, and looked and re-looked in every one of our nine closets. No pants. So, I decided to make a trip to Bob's Cycle to buy something cheap (First Gear, Tourmaster, Icon, Alpinestars, Joe Rocket, or whatever) to get me by until I could convince myself to put out another $300 on another pair of Aerostich pants.

I couldn't do it. The zippers, snaps, material, and design of everything I tried on was so inferior to the Aerostich gear I'd grown used to that I couldn't even convince myself to blow $100 on a temporary pair of pants. I convinced my wife that a winter weekend vacation in . . . Duluth would be a cool thing to do and off we went to the frozen north for a couple of days in what usually is the coldest month of the year.

I'm not usually a quality-over-quantity kind of guy. If I were hungry, I'd rather have two In-N-Out Burger Double Doubles than a Morton's Porterhouse steak. I buy my clothes, mostly, second hand. I buy my cars and motorcycles, always, second hand. I'd buy used food if I could digest it. But four years ago, I got tossed off of my V-Strom on the Dempster Highway at 50mph into 8" of freshly ground arrowhead-sized rock and slid for a good hundred feet without doing anything more than scratching up the reflective tape on the back of my jacket. It could happen again and, if it does, I want to wearing gear that I know works. No cheap lightweight zippers, no women's purse sized snaps, no parachute nylon, but real heavy duty Cordura held together with oversized zippers and snaps and designed, built, and inspected by people I know and trust.

So, $300 later, I have a 2nd set of Aerostich pants and, yes, we found the first pair in my wife's sewing pile. She'd hauled it down to the basement in November, promising to get the suspenders repaired and back on the hangar "real soon." I fixed them myself and they will stay with the rest of the suit from here out.

Bikes vs. Cars

2011-03-08T11:21:00.004-06:00

When Honda Did Marketing

2011-03-08T11:21:00.000-06:00

What could this man of god do with a supermoto?

An Amazing Bicycle Race

2011-03-05T00:45:00.003-06:00

This is pretty amazing:

VCA 2010 RACE RUN from changoman on Vimeo.

And this is a little more professionally recorded:

Another Great Reason to Ride

2011-03-03T15:25:00.001-06:00

Just Too Cool

2011-03-01T21:23:00.000-06:00

Now this is just too hip; the MN state MSF program's bikes for 2011.

A truck-load of 2011 Suzuki TU250X's in their new imitation-Brit paint job. I do enjoy these little bikes.