All the News that Didn't Fit

California Smog Testing for Motorcycles
Senator Fran Pavley has introduced California Senate Bill 435 that "would mandate motorcycle smog testing for all model year 2000 and newer class III bikes (over 280cc)." The AMA is launching a campaign to oppose this "unwarranted proposal."

Minnesota “Fail to Yield” Bill
As of this writing, the Minnesota “Fail to Yield” Bill (House HF45 and Senate SF639) is progressing through the congressional system. In March, three more State Representatives have joined the list of authors (Brown, Scalze and Newton joining Emmer, Kohls, Morgan, Brynaert, Kiffmeyer, Gardner, Tillberry, Bly, Slocum, and Urdahl) to provide a little more clout to the bill. If you want to see this pass, contact your state representatives and let them know how you feel.

Polaris Joins with Bobcat
Polaris and Bobcat have announced a “long-term strategic alliance that will leverage the complementary strengths of both companies to penetrate work related market segments globally.”

“We are thrilled about the long-term implications of this alliance.” said Richard Goldsbury, President Bobcat Americas. “Bobcat’s and Polaris’ long tradition of innovation, product passion, and similar cultures complement each other very well. We are combining the strengths of the #1 compact construction equipment manufacturer with those of the #1 off-road vehicle manufacturer to deliver innovative product solutions for our customers. This alliance will enable both companies to extend our customer bases and provide profitable growth.”

Fly Australia Biker Style
On a late March Sunday afternoon, three Hells Angels motorcycle and three Comancheros bikers found themselves seated on a Qantas 430 from Melbourne to Sydney. They, apparently, called ahead to have more of their gang meet the plane and, on arrival, began a classic biker battle that resulted in dead Hells Angel and an injured Comanchero. Airport bystanders were given credit for chasing off the rioting bikers, calling the police, and attempting to assist the dying biker. The Sydney Daily Telegraph called the event, “the passenger manifest from hell.”

Need a MAID?

The European MAIDS document (Motorcycle Accidents In Depth Study) is pretty interesting. "MAIDS is the most comprehensive in-depth data currently available for Powered Two-Wheelers (PTWs) accidents in Europe. The investigation was conducted during 3 years on 921 accidents from 5 countries using a common research methodology." Since the 1981 Hurt Study, funded by NHTSA, not much new information about motorcycle crashes has been uncovered. This European study sheds some light on the value (or lack of) of expanded licensing testing and additional safety (helmet) equipment regulations. Read it and weep.

"I need some hep." Yes, you do.

"$50 to borrow your scooter for a 1/2 hour - $50 (Eagan, IGH, Burnsville)

---

"I need some hep and if you have a scooter that is at least 50cc's, street legal and licensed, I would like to borrow it for a 1/2 hour to take my Minnesota motorcycle test. I quickly found out last week that my full size Harley Davidson will not, under any circumstances, navigate that course. We could meet there, I use it for 20 minutes and then you are on your way. The preferred location is the MN License Center on Cliff Rd."

Ah, Craig's list. The place where all sorts of entertainment can be found and where people admit to the damnedest things. Sometimes the most personal failures become hillariously public in the strangest places. In this case, a big, bad Hardly rider looking to borrrow a 50cc scooter so he can pretend to ride competently enough to pass the state's license exam. I wonder if he'll wear his black toilet bowl helmet, tasselled buttless black chaps, and patched-and-badged wife-beater leather vest when he takes the test? That would be one hell of a picture.

Funny. I could have sworn that I met this guy, 4 times, this past week. We get this plaintive whine at least once an MSF class. Hundreds of Hardly owners take the Minnesota MSF course because "it's impossible to pass the state's test on a real bike." I'd like to address the "impossible" bit first. I've seen an old guy (my age) pass the state's test on a Goldwing with his wife sitting in the passenger seat. I've watched a couple of successful tests taken on Yamaha R1's, not exactly a bike designed for close and slow encounters. It's not a hard test. It requires basic low speed control skills, but it's a long way from being an observed trials event.

The problem with buying a bike for image is that most of us can't live up to the image. Usually, you have to work up from beginner to whatever target you're hoping to become. Buying a race car doesn't make one a race driver and buying a motorcycle doesn't make one a motorcyclist. The Hardly beginner-bike path is similar to those game players who actually buy into the idea that playing a video game is the same as doing the thing portrayed in the game. I've witnessed this disconnect with people who play Guitar Hero, Motocross Madness, and God of War. Unfortunately, going for the real thing in hopes that it will be liking stepping into a simple-minded video game is bound to end in tears and physical injury.

The character who listed this ad would be better served by removing all of the fluids from his Hardly, having an attractive stand fabricated for the hippobike, putting the Hardly on the stand in his living room in front of a big screen TV, and putting Wild Hogs in constant-loop mode on the DVD player. He could pretend he was cruising the streets in the safety of his home and nobody would be able to burst his self-image or break his bones.

On a more honestly entertaining level, a friend hooked me up to this New York Times article: The Case for Working with Your Hands. In the first few paragraphs, the author says, "The trades suffer from low prestige, and I believe this is based on a simple mistake. Because the work is dirty, many people assume it is also stupid. This is not my experience." He makes a case for real work over virtual work that is compelling and honest; something that is missing from practically every social and economic analysis I've read in the last decade. Thanks, Rob.

A Politically Incorrect Product Idea

Most of what I do requires a good bit of political correctness and, even worse, a reasonable quotient of civility and sensitivity. I teach at a liberal arts college. PC hell. I run my own music equipment repair business and many of my customers are sensitive musician types. I work in television and audio. And I teach MSF (Motorcycle Safety Foundation) classes.

I, however, am not the sensitive type. Left on my own, I can blue stainless exhaust pipes with a string of expletives. I can make my machinist next-door neighbor shut up his un-air conditioned house in the middle of August when I describe how happy I am to be flipping the crap in my mulch pit instead of lounging by a lake. I am an equal opportunity grumpy old man and there is hardly a subject on earth that can't piss me off at the right moment. My kids and grandkids accepted, the world disappoints me mightily. Like Samuel Clemmons, I suspect humans descended from the higher animals; such as bugs and single cell life forms. I am convinced that Murphy and the universe are conspiring to keep me from enjoying my old age and the senility that accompanies that condition. Behind this calm, well-mannered exterior lies a seriously grumpy old man. From that background, comes this story.

I'm teaching a boatload of MSF classes this summer. About 5 classes into the season and I'm mostly enjoying the work. Since gas hit $4 last summer, the average age of my classes has steadily dropped. Younger students mean less work for me. Mostly, the old guys and broads are Hardly characters and have alcohol-murdered the majority of their brain cells during the first 3/4 of their lives and don't have the attention span, basic intelligence, reflexes, or common sense to be moderately safe on a motorcycle; even at 15mph on a closed range.

So, it's good that the wannabe motorcyclist age is declining. Regardless of the economy or fad of the moment, there are two sorts of "customers" who wear me out:

The first is the tattoo model, oversized factory worker white guy with an attitude. This guy is pissed off that he couldn't managed to waddle his hippobike around the DMV's simple course and is taking the class to "cheat" his way to a license. It's almost impossible to teach this guy anything because he thinks he already knows it all. He's convinced the DMV's test is fixed so guys on hippobikes can't possibly pass it. It doesn't make a mark on him to say that you've seen old guys on Goldwings pass the DMV test with their old lady in the passenger seat. He's special and his Hardly, Boss Hoss, Victory, or whatever blimpmobile his fat is draped over is "too hard to ride" in small spaces. No matter the outcome of the MSF class, this character is doomed to become a statistic.

The second is a sort of woman I like to think of as "bar maid." In her prime, she didn't need to learn how to ride a motorcycle because she could easily find a seat on the back of all sorts of hippobikes. What she did to earn that ride we can easily imagine, but we won't. Ok? Now that all the booze and bar smoke has turned her jowly, floppy, and wrinkled, she has to strap those bulbous boobs into some serious wire frames and drive herself to and from the bar. So, she bought a Hardly and discovered that he didn't have one single clue how to get the thing going without crashing into her garage door, parked cars, or the neighbor's barbeque grill. Or all three.
Now she's in my class and she has to justify herself with every piece of advice I give her. "The throttle sticks on this bike . . . I can't look where I'm going because I'll fall over . . . these brakes are sticky, I barely touch them and the bike starts jerking . . . the clutch is too stiff, I have to let it go fast or I'll break a nail . . . " Blah, blah, blah. All day long, it never stops.

I've only been doing this MSF stuff for 7 years and I've been teaching friends and other folks how to ride a motorcycle for 40 years. You bet lady, I'm sure that someone who started riding 20 minutes ago has all kinds of breath-taking-ly original things to say about motorcycling. I'm even more certain that my riding your bike and finding nothing wrong with it is perfect evidence that the bike is the problem and you are the feminine version of Valenino Rossi and Bob Hannah.

I get home, pick up a book, sit down in my favorite deck chair and my wife asks, "How'd your day go?" I tell her all this stuff that I just told you and finish with "What I want to say to the barmaid and the tattoo-boy is, 'Until you can ride, I don’t give a fuck what you think.'”

My wife said, "You should print that on a tee-shirt."

She's right. I might. (I sort of did.)

What is the difference between a Harley and a Hoover?

Sadly, I did not write this, but I found it on Craig's List and was overcome with an irresistable urge to make sure as much of the world as possible has the opportunity to read it. Whoever the author is, I salute you:

What is the difference between a Harley and a Hoover? (Minneapolis)
Date: 2009-04-19, 9:54AM CDT

ANSWER: On a Hoover, the dirt bag goes on the INSIDE!

(Sorry, Craig's List removed the rant. Probably some loser HD fans in CL's admin. Nuts, it would have been cool to have copied and pasted the whole rant, but I didn't realize CL would be so wimpy.) I must have received a dozen accusations that this was my rant and I was too gutless to sign it. If I could write that well, I'd have signed it.

Cheap Bike and Me: Poscript

Remember the category my Honda won at the MMM inspection, "least likely to be resold"? Yeah, thanks for the curse guys.

The first buyer of the CB450 was willing to take the bike away before the official title arrived. A couple of weeks later, the title showed up and I mailed it to the address he had provided. A month later, I got a call from the buyer claiming he'd never received the title. I don't know about you, but I don't have much trouble with the USPO and always doubt folks who claim "the check is in the mail" or "it must have gotten lost." However, he was trying to sell the bike and wanted me to help with getting a new title. Since we're talking about a $250, 38 year old dead bike, I wasn't particularly motivated to put much time into that project. I offered to meet him at the Roseville DMV if he ever managed to make it to our area.

In February, another guy called claiming to be the current owner of the CB and hot on the rebuild project. I made him the same offer. In April, yet another new owner of the POS called with the same story.

You know the "6-degrees of separation" theory of how we are all connected? I figure by the end of 2009, I will be directly connected to every person on this planet through that POS Honda. Great. Just how I want to be known. I am probably the one guy on the planet who absolutely hates old street bikes, Japanese or otherwise, and I'll run into some kid in West Buttplug, Montana who will want to talk about the fix he came up with for solving the starter problem on "my" CB450. Someone even tried to connect my Facebook page to a ramshackle Honda CB450 fan club. Man, I disliked that bike when I owned it, but I'm starting to hate the damn thing now.

Some Guys Will Whine about Anything

It's true. Even a gift horse can be a pain in the ass. When I was a kid, I dreamed about doing the things I do everyday now. I hid and slept under a crappy desk in a western Kansas 4-track recording studio just to be there when the band came the next day, so I could pretend to be a studio employee to the band and a member of the band to the studio owner. My plan was to find a way to make myself useful and become a recording engineer. The studio owner wasn't fooled and he always immediately tossed me out. I quit that dodge when I was 15 or 16, since I was in a real band by then and could get into studios legitimately, sort of.

Now, I not only have the run of a number of recording studios, but my day gig is teaching others how to work in studios. A big part of the teaching gig is getting to play with incredibly expensive recording equipment in facilities that I had a big hand in designing. Some days I whine about having to go to work.

Thursday night, I picked up a brand new Kawasaki Versys 650 and was told to ride it for at least 400 miles and report on what I thought of the bike. On top of that, I will get paid for riding someone else’s bike for a day. Yep, I can whine about that, too.

The night I picked up the bike, it was slightly over 70F. I put in 50 quick miles north of the cities and went home after a long day. The next day was an even longer day at work and I came home nursing a flu and hurting everywhere. Saturday morning, I woke up creaking like a rusty door hinge. My sinuses had been jammed all night, my throat was sore, my eyes were dripping like British Columbian waterfalls. I had a bike to ride and the day’s high temperature would be somewhere around 50, but it was 39F when I hit the road that morning.

I was wrapped up like an Eskimo mummy, bagged from head to toe in Aerostich gear, helmet, boots, double sock, and long underwear. I was still shivering, even though I could hardly move in my gear. Without being able to fire up my new heated vest, I was back in the stone age of basic insulation, high on decongestants and coffee, and on the edge of mutiny. But I volunteered to do 400 miles this weekend and I was damned if I’d back out. I half-hoped I’d die trying, though. I practically filled my helmet with snot and every stop required a song-and-dance of pulling off gear to get to my snot rag and emptying my head of half of my bodily fluids.

You can read about the Versys in next month’s MMM, but suffice to say if it had been a Hyosung I’d have ridden the damn thing into a river and hitched a ride home after 100 miles or less. It’s a testament to Kawasaki’s engineers that I kept at it and even enjoyed the riding part of the day.

Tonight I’m reaping the rewards of ignoring my body’s powerful “stay in bed” signals. I may never breathe through my nose again. I’ve practically twisted the damn appendage from my face, wiping it with every soft cloth in the house. My knees are killing me, my back needs a rack and a bed of nails to relieve me of the pain, and my eyes are being pushed out of my skull by my sinuses. If I can work my way back to “weepy” I’ll feel almost human.

Along the way, I realized that I have settled into “old man’s disease.” Instead of being thrilled to be riding something new, I was a little discomforted by not being on my own familiar, personalized, convenient, well-suited for my style and body V-Strom. I’ve never been particularly envious of the possessions of others, but I’m taking that lack of competiveness beyond healthy and into “if it’s not my bed, I can’t sleep in it.”

Which, by the way, is also true. I absolutely can not sleep in hotel/motel beds.

I’ve made my V-Strom so much my bike that anything else is likely to be uncomfortably unfamiliar. I have places to store stuff, places hide from weather, all of the emergency gear I ever need, and grips, a seat, bars, and other geegaws to make me feel at home. This is probably the bike I’ll own for the rest of my life, not that I expect that to be saying much.

A Cool Idea?

I'll admit it, I'm a sucker for video. In the last year, I've been sent at least a half-dozen YouTube clips that turned out to be phony; and I fell for all of them. This could be the same kind of scam, but it makes some sort of sense; at least, to me. It's a hell of an idea for those field repairs that require more time, tools, and patience than some of us have.

Frustratin' Weather

The weekend was semi-warm, after a weird snow on Saturday morning. I got out on the 250 Saturday afternoon and put in a few early morning dirt biking hours on Sunday. Just enough riding, in fact, to remind myself of why I hate my car.

Boredom, that's why. In another life, I was a field service tech for industrial equipment. I drove 100,000 miles a year, ever year for 7 years. Those miles all came first in a Chevy 3 /4 ton pickup followed by an F200 Ford Econoline. The Chevy got about 4mpg, but it would clip along Texas highways at 100mph without complaint. The Econoline up'ed the mileage to 15mpg, but topped out at about 95 screaming its pitiful 240 cubic inch in-line 6 an unsafe distance past redline (if it would have had a tach installed). By the time I quit that occupation, I was unable to stay awake in a cage after 50 miles of any kind of driving. I resorted to sticking my head out the driver's side window on -20F mornings and dumping cold water on my head while I drove to stay awake. Nothing worked, but I managed to live through the job long enough to find another line of work. The residue of that career has been an extreme dislike of being trapped in a car and an inability to find anything worthwhile about four-wheel transportation, outside of weather protection and an ability to haul crap.

For 10 years in California, we owned a variety of cages and I rarely knew if they worked or needed repairs. My bikes (petalled and powered) got me everywhere and I even did grocery shopping on two wheels. Colorado wasn't much different, but I needed slightly better rain gear for the winter months. Minnesota is kicking my ass.

If this damn winter doesn't end soon, I'm going to do something desperate; like move south or west or to another country.

To Lead or Not to Lead

Damn! I hate mixed feelings. Like everyone, I'd love a black-and-white world; a world where it's easy to spot the right side of an argument and where it's even easier to be on the right side.

However, hardly anything is black-and-white. For instance, the much-hated CPSIA, the Consumer Product Safety Improvement Act of 2008, which banned kids' motorcycles and OHVs because of their lead content. The industry, of course, is upset because motorcycles for rich little kids is a dependable source of income and sales. In this economy, the rest of us may end up living under a bridge, pawning our motorcycles for lunch and a tarp to sleep under, but the children of the rich will aways have their expensive toys.

Unless the government bans those toys.

And the federal government did just that.

As soon as the CPSIA was announced, motorcycle dealers discovered they were committing a federal crime in selling these expensive toys; a crime that could cost them $100k per sale. Even with the over-inflated prices of toy motorcycles and ATVs, it's tough to come up with a profit margin that would include a $100k tax.

On one hand, an old biking hero, Malcolm Smith, is staging his version of the Boston Tax Protest by selling 3 of these bikes on television and gearing up to fight the following court battle. Of course, he's also asking for a contribution from "everybody" to help pay for his legal costs, "I'll have to get a loan to pay it. Hopefully everybody will send five dollar checks in or something." If he goes to jail, will he ask each of us to serve a day or two for him? I'll probably pass.

On the other hand, the US is practically the last 1st world nation to ban lead from common products. We still, as Malcolm Smith proved in his protest, sell lead weights in sporting goods stores for fishing. We still use lead in electronics manufacturing. We are saturated with lead products and lead waste and it is probably affecting the national IQ. The theory seems to be, "by the time we decide lead is a bad thing, we're all going to be too lead poison-retarded to do anything about it or care."

Finally, from the perspective of an old fashioned progressive, populist radical, I don't much care about the availability of expensive toys for the children of the rich or over-credit-extended. The three characters who bought Smith's illegally sold OHVs were Troy Lee (Troy Lee Designs), Glen Helen Raceway owner Bud Feldkamp, and Jeff Ward. All millionaires, all folks with vested interests in keeping this market alive. This isn't exactly the same kind of crowd who were present at the Boston Tea Party, regardless of what Smith would like to believe.

The "right" to contaminate the planet for recreational purposes is up for question. The "right" to put our kids on dangerous vehicles, in front of spectators, for our entertainment and personal glory is also questionable. I've said it before, so I realize I'm redundant, but I hate that "break" in AMA Stadiumcross where the little kids line up and launch themselves at pro whoops and jumps as much as I hate torture scenes in movies. I can't get up an interest in kids on motorcycles, ATVs, snowmobiles, or any other motorized vehicle. Kids should be self-powered. Add to that belief my total disinterest in the problems of the rich and idle and I am completely disconnected from any concern over this vital motorcycling issue. The plaintive cry of rich dads bawling, "think of the kids!" is less than inspiring. I just don't care about this non-issue.

All the News that Didn't Fit (April)

Poor Little Wannabe-Racer Rich Kid

Alan Wilzig is being picked on by the other folks in his neighborhood. Wilzig, heir to a banking fortune (Those fortunes still exist?), wants to build a “recreational sporting course” (for his 60-plus bike collection) called the Wilzig Racing Manor. It sort of irked the neighbors that Wilzig built the track before asking permission from the local zoning board.
“What really infuriated us is that the world is falling apart, psychologically, financially, every way possible, and this man is worried about his Ducatis and his racetrack,” said Ben Shecter, who lives in a restored barn and silo near Wilzig’s property. “It is such indulgence, these billionaires, these Madoffs of the world, build these walls where they are just totally immune to what’s going on.”


After 3 years, the battle for the Wilzig Racing Manor goes on. The Zoning Board of Appeals will hear Wilzig’s petition, again, in March. Most likely this battle for another version of the Hearst Castle will go on for a few more years.


Motorcycle Stimulus
Along with tax cuts, buying a new motorcycle will provide you with a tax break in 2009. "This inclusive and equitable solution will provide much-needed relief to riders, as well as to those who sell motorcycles," said AMA Vice President for Government Relations Ed Moreland. "When it appeared that motorcycles were going to be overlooked in this bill, the AMA and the Association's members, along with Harley-Davidson and others, took our case straight to Capitol Hill and persuaded lawmakers that this was the right decision."


2008 Motorcycle Sales Figures

While the major media is still calling the current economic disaster “a recession,” readers with a more seasoned sense of history suspect the world is in a depression that could be a long term affliction. The Motorcycle Industry Council reported motorcycle sales suffered an overall 7.2% decline in 2008, with off-road sales taking a huge 30% hit. Small bike and scooter sales were up, substantially, particularly in the first part of the year due to rising fuel costs. Scooter sales, alone, were up 41.5%, not counting small non-MIC member manufacturers like Kymco, Hyosung, and the many Chinese imports. Dual-sport sales were also up 22.8%, for the year. Big iron manufacturers, like Harley Davidson and Victory are hard-hit by the economy. Harley has announced the company will be eliminating 1,100 jobs over the next 2 years and Polaris will cut 460 jobs.

Fuel costs could be the economic driving factor for 2009. MIC President, Tim Buche, said, "We could find that many people who are getting into bikes just for the economics will discover the moto DNA within themselves and wind up becoming lifelong riders."


New California Motorcycle Air Standards
The AMA reports, “California bill proposes emissions testing for motorcycles. Recently, California State Senator Fran Pavley introduced legislation that would ‘amend Section 44011 of, and to add Section 44012.5 to, the Health and Safety Code, relating to air pollution.’” The legislation requires California motorcycle owners to get smog tests every two years for all 2000 or newer vehicles. Obviously, California EPA approved exhaust and fuel systems would be required to pass the smog tests.

The Best We Can Do?

On the right, that showroom picture? That's "America's Most Beautiful Motorcycle." According to the 59th Grand National Roadster Show in Pomona, CA, Carl Brouhard designed and built this $175k (Brouhard's estimated value) concept-topping, prettiest-in-the-nation bike and everything else is Ugly Betty by comparison. I know, you know what I'm thinking. 

You're right. 

I'll give Brouhard's boat points for a great paint job. The Batman in Drag styling is impractically, weirdly, non-functionally uncomfortable looking; the cute girl in a wheelchair kind of look or a paraplegic weight-lifter. (If you think those comparisons were politically-incorrect, you should have heard what my wife compared it to.) For posers, this mechanical abortion is the perfect bike: all kinds of imagined power without a lick of performance, 0-ground clearance and a wide, flat rear tire so it can't tip over, and airport turn radius so . . . I don't have a reason for the yanked out fork arrangement. 

Like Douglas Adam's Vogon guard said about his job, "The hours are good, but the minutes are quite miserable," some of Brouhard's details are pretty but the whole is damned ugly. It's true. I don't get non-representational art. Jackson Pollack-style wallpaper, Chagall's my-3-year-0ld-can-paint-better-than-that portraits, or Ornette Coleman's harmony-and-rhythm-free jazz all leave me with a little less appreciation for chaos. A pile of shiny pieces, randomly glued together into a hippo of a motor, stuck in the middle of a bunch of swoopy Euro-bend sheet metal puts me in a mood to watch some X-Games moto-x'ing. I've seen some bikes, even around here, that I'd pick over that crazy looking geek-mobile at the top of this page. 

Somebody in Duluth turned a VFR into a Supermoto monster. I took a picture of it, during the 2004 World Trials at Spirit Mountain, but I fed those pictures into my data-eating Mac and that bike remains an image in my mind's eye that I can't share. That was the meanest, coolest, most sophisticated custom bike I've ever seen. I freakin' loved it. 

 A quick browse through Google found two other bikes I'd pick as being a lot closer to "America's Most Beautiful Motorcycle." For example, the tricked out little Honda single Supermoto MX'er (above) or the totally weirded customer VFR that looks half road bike and half Supermoto (right)? I admit it. I have a bias against motorcycle that can't be ridden. I don't much like bikes that can't be ridden practically anywhere. 

"America's Most Beautiful Motorcycle" actually has pads under the bodywork that prop the bike up for show. No kickstand, just a pair of belly-skids that work like immobile training wheels. The wheelbase must be approaching 10 feet. The motor is, by far, the ugliest aspect of a long list of ugly aspects. It is a butt-ugly conglomeration of chrome bits, randomly jutting out like a bunch of trumpets, trombones, and saxophones almost compacted into a neat pile ready for recycling. My love of functional cool goes a long ways back. I can't even guess how far. 

My grandfather was a particular fan of function. He managed the installations for the company he and my grandmother ran. He was good with tools and appreciated a good tool for its utility and appearance. I followed that with a job in Texas where I worked with an Air Force trained tech and a self-trained machinist for 3 years. Both of those men built equipment from scratch as complicated as multi-station electronic weights and measures system to as simple as a four component hitch system that could support and restrain 50k pounds and be disassembled with a single hitchpin. Both men had a gift for simplifying designs to the point that our company's design engineers refused to look at our installations because they knew they would be better than the original proposed design. 

A friend once compared my form-follows-function tastes as "fundamentalist." My wife says I'm more Calvinist. I have a feeling that either comparison is insulting, but I'm going to ignore the fundamentalist tag since I know where it came from. I'm not sure there isn't some connection to Calvinism in me, though. I'm some part English (3rd generation American), some part German (3th generation), some part Dutch (no idea what generation), and more mutt bits that are probably better left unknown (by me). I do subscribe to the philosophy that says, "don't work, don't eat." I think that came from whatever brand of rejects who survived the attempt to settle Jamestown. 

Apply it to motorcycles and you have "don't work, don't waste fuel." I can live with that. That won't be a problem for "America's Most Beautiful Motorcycle." It appears that the ridiculous thing can't move without being picked up. The only fuel likely to be found in the vicinity of this strange sculpture will be used for cleaning parts.

Doin' the Right Thing

My step-mother died last week, on a cold Saturday afternoon, in western Kansas, at age 78, after a long illness which she nearly wore out (She managed to survive almost 20 years with a vicious respiratory bacteria that was supposed to take her down in five.). Her death has affected me in ways I would not have anticipated.

You can't be near death without thinking about mortality; your own and that of your friends and family. When you are thinking about mortality and the meaning of life, others notice and you end up in conversations that are a ways outside of the usual small talk. For instance, after offering condolences, two of the guys I work with began talking about the death and deterioration of their own family members. After a bit, the topic landed on Alzheimer's and the effects they had witnessed.

A grandfather who went slowly into dementia: at first, he had trouble recognizing his grandson when he would visit. Later, he didn't recognize him at all. He'd try to hide it by quickly entering into casual conversation, "What kinda car are you driving now?" He'd go on about cars, the weather, and such until, finally, his curiosity got the better of him and he'd ask, "So who are you, sonny?"

"I'm your grandson. I'm Scotty, Bill's kid."

"Oh. Hmmm. So what kinda car are you driving now."

And back around the loop he would go until, he'd ask for the identification of his visitor, followed by another car inquiry.

An aunt went into dementia angrily. When she first began to lose her memory and current status consciousness, she thought people were playing tricks on her. She'd accuse whoever was closest of moving her things, of turning on or off lights behind her, and, later, of putting drugs in her food so that she'd pass out and lose track of days and weeks. Eventually, she settled into a sullen, constant scowl and barely snarled at old friends and family who would visit. In the end, she was a catatonic who looked out at the world with an expression that was pure hate.

The three of us decided we don't want to go like that. To lighten up the conversation, we each picked a final exit strategy. The guy with the forgetful grandfather wants to die in his sleep. The guy with the cranky aunt decided he'd rather die awake, but in bed with someone half his age. I've had a favorite Colorado mountain hairpin turn, edged by a several thousand foot drop, picked out for my final missed corner since sometime in the mid-1990s.

Sinking into our individual foul moods, we jabbered on for a while about how disappointing it is to be getting old and creaky. Someone made a crack about aging drivers and their vanishing skills and how that solves a lot of "how do I want to die" questions. One of us mentioned the notion that a lot of wrinkling Baby Boomers seem to be finding ways to end up on a slab after trying out some X-games style sport or machinery.

I sort of bailed out of the conversation at that point and started meditating on my own experience with aging characters in my MSF classes. I remembered seeing some recent weird statistics that indicated that twenty-five and under males have almost exactly the same disdain for safety equipment as do the sixty-and-over geezer crowd. Both groups "rarely wear" helmets or upper or lower body armored riding gear and have some strong opinions about those who do.

It suddenly struck me that I've been bashing a fine old American company for doing a public service. They cater to a specialized crowd of aging folks who have an image to project and self-image to preserve, right up the final moment of life. Like my friends, they don't want to die drooling on themselves in a wheelchair. They want to go out in a bang! With their marketing and their products, Harley Davidson has been trying to serve the most precious interests of their special market and I've been knocking them for their effort.

I officially apologize for the misunderstanding.

Product Review: Sargent Cycle Products World Sport Performance Seat

All Rights Reserved © 2009 Thomas W. Day

Initially, I was pretty happy with the stock Suzuki DL650 seat. I hadn't planned on swapping it out for a custom unit because I had other, more critical, places to put my money. After a 2 day, 900 mile trip through a variety of roads and non-roads, I was convinced I had "old guy butt" and needed some additional support for my upcoming 2007 Canada-Alaska-west-coast marathon. In the past, it was a no-brainer for me to buy from Corbin, whose replacement seats I've used on a half-dozen bikes. The last two seats from that company were disappointing, so I was looking for an alternative supplier. I'd heard good things about Sargent from other riders and decided to give them a try for the DL's seat replacement,

A week and a half after placing my money on the table, I received my new butt-platform. It wasn't cheap, which is why I didn't go this route right from the beginning; $399.90, including shipping, for the base-stock, GTX/Black welting, no-frills seat. The shipping container was incredibly light, much lighter than the stock seat, and I wondered if they'd forgotten to put anything other than packing peanuts into the box . I opened the box and found the seat was there, it's just incredibly light. There were a lot of packing peanuts, too.

This is a true custom seat, unlike some brands that simply recover the bike's original seat or use bits of the OEM hardware. You can sell your stock seat, because Sargent provides a complete replacement part. The Sargent seat slipped on to the V-Strom's frame much easier than the stock seat. The base is surprisingly flexible and, I suspect, that is some part of why the seat is so comfortable. Sargent puts almost as much thought into the bottom side of the seat as the business end. The documentation for the seat is conveniently rolled into a plastic tube that is bungied into a notch in the seat base. The tube provides a secure, water-tight place to store your owner's manual, insurance and registration information, passport, extra trip cash, and lots more.

Fit and finish-wise, it looks at least as good as the stock seat, even though I didn't buy any of the attention-getting color options and I went for the utilitarian GRIPTEX stock material. Sargent offers a lot of possibilities for the exterior decorating motorcyclist, one of which I'm not. This was one of the first 650 V-Strom seats they'd made and I was warned that it was "near-experimental."

The only things that really matter about a motorcycle seat is how it sits and how it holds up. I found the seat to be very roomy, for me and for a passenger. The platform base is wider than the stock seat, the foam support is stiffer, and that distributes the pressure more evenly across a rider's backside. After a 27-day, 10,000 mile trip to Canada, Alaska, and back, I can say that my Sargent seat was extremely comfortable.

On a negative note, the standard seat material (GRIPTEX, pictured at right) didn't prove to be particularly durable. After three months and 12,000 miles, my seat began to deteriorate, on both sides of the seat, at the point where the seat frame turns upward toward the tank. It looks to me like the frame edges needed to be de-burred to prevent abrasion at this pressure point.

However, the whole lower edge of the seat looks pretty stressed, so it could be the material is inappropriate for motorcycle seats. Maybe that thin, flexible seat frame creates an edge that is too sharp or flexes enough that it makes contact with the frame? Sargent stopped offering the GRIPTEX material, as of July, 2007, so when I returned it for warranty repairs I was offered a different material (out-of-warranty) as a replacement. I declined. Eventually, Sargent repaired the seat by trimming the pan and tucking the excess material back under the edge, hiding the damaged material under the seat.

I had my last Corbin seat repaired by a local boat upholstery technician and it held up for another four years (the original seat only lasted a year) and still looked like new when I sold the bike. I'll just take the Sargent back to that guy if the material flaws become a serious problem. At this point, I'd have to say, "No, I probably wouldn't buy a Sargent for my next bike." Their "one year limited warranty" was a disappointment, at least as far as the torn section of the seat is concerned. This may be another American company that is suffering from too much success? However, I can't complain about Sargent's customer service. The tech was communicative and did a good job repairing the tear and reworked the other side of the seat to prevent a similar failure there.

POSTSCRIPT 7/1/2018: 12 years later, my Sargent seat looks as good as it did the day it came back from the factory repaired. I put another 60,000 miles on that seat and never again reconsidered my initial investment as anything but brilliant. I sold the V-Strom today to a relatively young rider who plans to double the bike's mileage in the next few years. He was as impressed with the comfort of the Sargent seat as me and has written me twice to comment on how well the bike "fits" him. I've changed my mind, the odds are excellent that I'll buy another Sargent seat for my WR250X.

Book Review: A Cure for Gravity

A Cure for Gravity, by Arthur Rosenfeld, 2001

All Rights Reserved © 2008 Thomas W. Day

I'm a binge reader. I get hooked on a topic and read everything I can about it. This month, I started an adventure touring binge and I checked out every book in the library on motorcycle adventures. While I was doing my library search, I bumped into A Cure for Gravity. Mostly, I'm not much of a fan of motorcycle novels. I've read a few. Most are poorly written, motorcycles ignorant, and closer to romance novels or bad westerns than they are to entertaining literature. Sometimes, however, I run into an author who reminds me that the only skill I've picked up in forty years of attempting to learn the writing trade is a refined ability to know when I am reading the work of a master. Arthur Rosenfeld is a word crafting master.

It was the title that made me stick this book on my checkout list, A Cure for Gravity. Motorcycling has "cured" gravity for me, momentarily, several times and I thought that the author might have some actual insight into motorcycling. It was a lucky guess. When I saw the cover page, an upside down view of a long, straight section of two-lane, I suspected the author might really know something about riding. Rosenfeld is, in fact, a motorcyclist. He is also a fine writer. If I had to put him in a category, he'd be in the Elmore Leonard, William Goldman, Joe Heller, and Pete Dexter category. Those writers are my favorite in a curious genre. The genre is "story teller." Is it a mystery? Is it a fantasy? Is it a ghost story? Is it one of the best, funniest, most complicated novels I've read in years? Yes. All of those. And a motorcycle trip is in the mix. Like the work of my favorite fiction authors, Rosenfeld weaves a story that is beyond genres.

in either an event of synchronicity, bad luck, or not-so-clever marketing, for his first novel Rosenfeld (or his publisher) chose a title very close to Joe Jackson's 2000 autobiography. Jackson's story was about how music lifted his life above the gravity of his social caste. Rosenfeld's title refers to something less specific.

Gravity has a large collection of characters, but the main focus is on two riders crossing the country on motorcycles; Mercury Grant and Umberto Santana. The two bikers meet each other fantastically defying gravity with the assistance of an Oklahoma tornado. Grant is a middle-aged, ex-vet, ex-limo-driving-fishing-boat-captaining refuge from an incredibly failed love affair on the way to an unclear destination. Santana is a 17-year-old Cuban bank robbing bike mechanic on the run of his life. Other principle characters are FBI agent Eagle Cooper, 6-year-old blind Audrey and her widowed grandmother, Santana's gorgeous wannabe-a-movie-star pregnant girlfriend, a murderous lover, and a collection of bad memories and ghosts.

Santana thinks he pulled the perfect crime, that he's set himself up for life with a $370,000 one-time bank robbery. However, a U.S. Senator freaked out during the robbery and, in an asthma attack, suffocated and died. Now, her rich husband wants revenge and Santana's otherwise incredibly lucky day takes a vicious turn. Grant isn't part of the plan until he involves himself. The FBI and Cooper are on Santana's back tire and that means both riders are on a different trip than the one they planned to take.

A Cure for Gravity is a rare gem in an otherwise desolate pile of rocks. We often meet interesting strangers on a long motorcycle trip, but this is one strange trip. While you're at it, check out Rosenfeld's 2nd book, Diamond Eye. It is also about a character who occasionally rides a motorcycle and it is, also, a terrific read.

MotoFizz Camping Seat Bags Revisited

All Rights Reserved © 2009 Thomas W. Day

I reviewed the MotoFizz large bag in 2007. Mostly, I liked it. However, I had complaints about the waterproof-ness (lack of) of the bag and the kinky position of the all-important coffee thermos holder. When I got back from Alaska that year, I gave up on making the large MotoFizz bag work and replaced it with a hard tailcase. A friend now has my large bag permanently mounted on his 1992 Yamaha 850 TDM and loves it. Every time I see it, I suspect I made a mistake. It looks much neater on his bike than it did on mine. Of course, he isn't suffing a month's worth of camping gear, clothing, and food into the bag.

Last summer, when I needed to find a camping tailbag for my 250 Super Sherpa, there was no contest. I bought a small Motofizz bag and found that everything I liked about the large bag was there in the small size, plus the rain cover worked much better on the smaller bag and it has two all-important thermos holders which are mounted on the side of the bag where they do not do double-duty as a butt plug.

Note to Mr. Subjective: When a less-than-brilliant customer is overcome by the thought of having readily available access to coffee, suggest the two smaller bags because they will hold twice as much caffeine. You probably did that and I ignored your sage advice, right?

I had the new bag on my Super Sherpa for exactly two weeks when it was stolen. Like Monty Python's King of the Swamp Castle ("When I first came here, this was all swamp. Everyone said I was daft to build a castle on a swamp, but I built in all the same, just to show them. It sank into the swamp. So I built a second one. That sank into the swamp. So I built a third. That burned down, fell over, then sank into the swamp. But the fourth one stayed up."), I bought a second MotoFizz for the Sherpa. So far, I still possess this one. If I lose it, I will buy another one.

The small Motofizz bag, like the medium and large, is constructed to withstand a hurricane and sticks to the bike as if it were designed for it. The multitude of zippered storage pouches, plus the plethora of tie-down loops, makes the bag perfect for securing enough gear for a several day outing. Motofizz, apparently, listens to complaints because they replaced the silly elastic shock cord on the raincover with a much more secure nylon cord and are now using a much heavier material.

The small Motofizz, plus moderate-sized saddlebags, is a terrific minimalist touring rig. I'm going to put it to a real test this summer when I tour North Dakota on the 250.

As usual, Motofizz gear is available from RiderWearhouse.

Beer and Motorcycles

Courtesy of Mr. Subjective:

Product Review: Chase Harper Sport Trek Magnetic Tank Bag

All Rights Reserved © 2009 Thomas W. Day

I have three pieces of Chase Harper gear (European Tour ET4000 saddlebags, Compac Line 1150 Tank Bag, and a Sport Trek Magnetic Tank Bag) and this review could be about any one of them, but the Sport Trek bag was the most recent acquisition and the one that brought this review into focus. Everything I've ever purchases from Chase Harper has been a superior piece of equipment, so this review could apply to any of my current three pieces.

Have you ever tested a product's "lifetime warranty?" How did that work out for you? For example, I have a Martin acoustic guitar with a "limited" lifetime warranty. It's "limited" alright. Martin's warranty only applies to the original purchaser still possessing the purchase receipt having registered the warranty with Martin within 30 days of the original purchase and, after all that, the warranty only covers workmanship or material flaws as determined and accepted by the Martin Company. The few problems I've had with this guitar have all fallen outside of Martin's criteria, leaving me with almost as much money invested in repairs as I originally spent on the guitar. A few years back, the bridge cracked and I've decided to live with that until I die. My kids will inherit the guitar and its worthless lifetime warranty and it will theirs to agonize over. Every time I look at the damn thing I want to toss it into my fire pit; the instrument has contributed to twenty-plus years of buyer's remorse. That's my typical experience with lifetime warranties, but Chase Harper gear is the exception.

Take my Sport Trek Tank Bag, for example. I called it a "recent acquisition" but that's a relative term. I've had the saddle bags since the early 1980's and the 1150 about as long. I bought the magnetic bag sometime in the late-1980's. I only remember that because it lived on my 1983 Yamaha Vision for about 20,000 Colorado miles. The original magnet and base material did not agree with my Yamaha TDM and the bag was unstable with a full load, so I returned it to Chase Harper before I took off on a long west coast trip. Ron Harper tried a new padded rubber material on the base and increased the magnet area, which worked for another decade and another 100,000 miles on the TDM and my Suzuki SV. Last year, the base material began to disintegrate, getting very close to exposing the magnets to the SV's tank. I went back to using the 1150 bag and tossed the magnetic bag on a shelf in the garage.

Both of these bags have similar features; they are both expandable to more than three times their compressed height with double zippered compartments. The 1150 has a rear-facing zippered pouch for holding small items like a flashlight, coins, and cigars. The lower compartment comes with a foam base for holding a phone, cameras, tools, or other fragile stuff. I toss the foam and cram my Belstaff rainsuit into the bottom section. Large strips of Velcro keep the bag small, allowing the bag to incrementally increase in size as you load the top section. They are both constructed of heavy urethane-coated nylon CorduraPlus. They both have a Neoprene foam base to protect your tank from scratches. The Sport Trek bag has 908 cubic inches of storage space and the 1150 has about 1100 cubic inches of space.

I bought a Suzuki V-Strom and the plastic surrounding the base of the tank makes it difficult to get to the rear straps on the 1150 bag. So, I sent the Sport Trek back to Chase Harper for repair. I didn't bother asking for a return authorization (RA). I didn't look for the original receipt. I didn't write to ask if Mr. Harper would repair it again under warranty. I didn't do much more than write a brief description of the problem and put the bag in a shoe box with a shipping label. I didn't even clean it up before tossing it into the box. Three weeks later, the shoe box came back.

Ron Harper doesn't waste a lot of time with words. He rarely returns (my) email and I've never had a telephone conversation with a real person at Chase Harper. In his ads, he doesn't say much about his products, other than basic specifications and line drawings to describe the features. He doesn't brag about the materials, workmanship, or engineering of his products. He just puts them out there and lets them build a reputation. My experience is part of that reputation.

When I opened the shoe box, I found the bag has a brand new base with a really clever magnet flap. It works perfectly on the V-Strom, which doesn't provide much metal at the top of the tank. Mr. Harper installed a new map case and added a nice rubberized handle at the back of the bag. Some of the Velcro was replaced. A new front mounting strap was included and the buckles are all new. The bag is still faded and it's clearly my original bag, but you'd have to look closely to see that it's more than 15 years old. The new Sport Trek base sticks to the top of the bike as well as the 1150's four straps had held that bag and it's way easier to get fuel into the tank with the single strap and magnet bag.

I hate to say this, but I suspect I may actually have a lifetime product, now. It looks like it will easily outlast me. But I don't have to worry about it. Over the last twenty-plus years, if I have had a complaint with any of the Chase Harper products that I own, I ship them back and they fix it better than it was when I bought it. If you can think of a better warranty than one that improves the product as you own it, I'd like to hear about it.

Product Review: HJC CL-15 Full Face Helmet

All Rights Reserved © 2009 Thomas W. Day

The long affair was over. I walked away, only looking back once, later wishing I'd taken one last picture to remember our time together and the painful end. My friends all said I should have left sooner, much sooner. My parents were simply ashamed of me. My wife had held her tongue for so long that she was about to burst into mocking derision every time she saw me leave the house. Finally, even I saw the light (actually, I saw gouges cut so far into the fiberglass that small bits of foam were exposed), I had to leave my old Shoei X11 helmet and find a new lid.

I was stuck in Seattle with a smashed up helmet and, while the folks at this bike shop were good to me, asking me to pay full list for anything is almost taken as a life-threatening gesture. After taxes, a new bottom-of-the-line Shoei from Seattle Cycle would be more than $450 and I've already spent $600 on new tires, a heavy duty chain, brakes, and gloves. I'm decision-seized and almost ready to go out into the world with my old, massively damaged, but still mostly comfortable Shoei.

The salesman is going overboard with his "once you've gone Shoei you can never go cheaper" routine. I react poorly to pressure sales tactics. Usually, the salesperson gets exactly the opposite reaction he/she expects: I don't buy anything when I'd fully intended to buy something. I am, however, a discount buyer. When I can, I buy my motorcycles, clothing, furniture, and computers second hand. If I'm not getting at least 50% off, I wait until I can get 50% off of most everything I buy new. I'd buy used food if I could figure out how to safely digest it.

However, the helmet is wrecked. So, I kept looking. I found a bright yellow HJC helmet and tried it on. The salesman says "you won't like it, it's not a Shoei." But I did like it.

The HJC CL-15 fit really well, the visibility was better than my old lid, and it was much lighter than my Shoei. As if I expected to get a straight answer, I asked about the quality of the HJC brand and received "it's a cheap helmet, it won't last as long as your Shoei." I paid a small fortune for the Shoei and wore it a good two seasons beyond the expected lifetime because I wanted to get my "money's worth." Maybe a helmet that won't have such a tight grip on my billfold-memory would be a good thing. It was Seattle-expensive, but not so painfully prohibitive that I couldn't justify replacing my ruined lid.

On the road, I discovered the miracle of actual ventilation. The CL-15 flows air. On a cold morning, I opened up the chin vent, and in motion the fog vanishes and I can breathe normally. I thought my X11 was quiet, but the CL-15 is much more quiet. Like the Shoei, the famous V-Strom "buffeting" is unnoticeable due to the aerodynamic design of the helmet.

The face shield is designed so that I can flip it all the way up, at freeway speeds, and it doesn't shake or threaten to rip itself from the helmet. It stays in place, also at every intermediate setting. In the worst crosswinds I've ever experienced, in North Dakota (surprised?), I latched down the shield and that added a little stability to the helmet and quieted down the noise a bit, too. When I got home and went shopping for a backup face shield, I discovered the HJC shields are almost half the price of Shoei replacements. The shield is easily removed and reattached with a simple mechanism. The shield "securing system" parts are repairable and reasonably priced.

The cheek and crown pads are removable for cleaning. The chin strap is fastened with an old fashioned D-ring system with a securing snap to keep the end from rattling in the wind.

HJC warrants the CL-15 for a year (limited warranty). The helmet is Snell and DOT approved. After 18,000 miles of use, my CL-15 is still quiet, well ventilated, and comfortable. I'm happy with my cost-justified decision and expect to live with this helmet for a few more years before I have to deal with a buying decision on this piece of protective equipment again.

Product Review: Aerostich Darien Jacket and Pants

All Rights Reserved © 2008 Thomas W. Day

I'm getting gas in Montana. It's only 10AM, but the temperate has ripped past 95oF and is still climbing. It will top 105oF before sunset. The moment I get off of the bike, I pull off my gloves, helmet, and Darien jacket. A couple on a Harley laugh at me and the guy asks me, "Don't you get hot in that gear?" Neither of the two wore helmets and their riding gear consisted of leather vests over tee-shirts, jeans, designer boots, and bandanas. 

"I'm fine, as long as I'm moving," I said. 

"Seems like a lot of clothing on a hot summer day. Couldn't you get by in something a little more comfortable?" the lady says. 

"I don't believe in magic," is the only reply I can think of. 

They wandered away, probably confused by my response. It's the truth, though. I don't carry a rabbit's foot, a crucifix, a picture of Jimmy Carter in my wallet, or have a Suzuki tattoo on my butt. I don't believe in magic. I do believe in preparation and luck, but I only have control of the first of those ingredients. So I practice my riding skills, wear good gear, and leave the luck to whatever is in control of that aspect of my life. My Aerostich Darien suit is the best full-body gear I've ever owned and I wore it non-stop for 26 days and almost 10,000 miles this past summer. 

This piece of equipment has received so many positive reviews that it is probably pointless to add another. However, I feel an obligation to tell the story of my Darien riding gear. I "tested" the Darien suit in a 45-55mph crash on 4" of arrowhead shaped rocks and the suit held up better than my helmet. I can't say I came away from the crash undamaged, but I didn't lose a drop of blood. From the waist down, I was completely unharmed. The shoulder armor absorbed most of the impact and the 500 Denier Cordura barely shows any evidence of abrasion, even though I slid thirty feet on my side and back on that godawful road surface. I crashed on the 9th day of a 30 day trip and my Darien suit is responsible for my being able to go on with my lifetime-dream motorcycle trip to Alaska. 

I spend a lot of my year riding in the rain. Since sometime in the mid-1980's, I've covered myself in an Aerostich Roadcrafter one-piece suit, but the GORE-TEX® has long abandoned the waterproofing realm and I've "grown" a bit in the last 25 years. I bought the Roadcrafter when I lived in California when a local dealer thought I was "crazy" to want to ride year around in L.A.'s insufferable winter weather. I went hunting in motorcycle magazines and discovered an ad for the original Aerostich Roadcrafter. Some folks say I look like an over-stuffed gray sausage in my old Roadcrafter. Last season, I too often became a wet, over-stuffed gray sausage when I got caught in the rain. I hauled out my old Belstaff rain suit for emergencies for the rest of the year, but I decided to upgrade to a more modern Aerostich. 

In January 2007, I drove to Duluth and got fitted for a new Darien two-piece suit. I picked the Darien over the Roadcrafter because Mr. Subjective said the Darien is more waterproof. Since I expected to be rained on for a good bit of the 12,000 miles I planned to be on the road, I went for waterproof-ness over style and convenience. I bought whole Darien rig, including the standard liner. I should have gone for the electric liner, but I can always add that to the garage closet later.

After decades of breaking in my old gear, I wasn't looking forward to dealing with the stiffness of the new suit. My old Roadcrafter is so worn and worn-out that it will wad up into a ball small enough to stuff into a tailbag or a GIVI E21 side case with room to spare for lots of other stuff. The Darien suit takes up all of both E21 cases. The stiffness relaxed with use, but storage has not become less of an issue. That is the high cost of better protection. 

After wearing the Darien suit almost every day for two months, it became much more flexible. After two years of wear, the suit is part of me. The Darien pants-jacket combination is warmer, drier, more visible, more versatile, and tougher than anything I've ever worn. I'm still discovering pockets (at least 9, not counting the liner) in the Darien Jacket. I'm pretty sure there is a cup holder somewhere on the jacket. 

I often used the large front pockets to store a video camera, a still camera, and lenses on my Alaska trip. I was rained on for 20 days on a 27-day trip stayed mostly dry for the whole trip. I am the polar opposite of a "pencil neck geek" body type and my one complaint is that the Velcro'd neck gusset is too short when the collar of the jacket liner is added to my neck circumference (18 1/2"). When the Velcro lets go, water dribbles down the front of the jacket and the back of my neck. Not much water gets in this way, but enough to let me know that I'm riding in cold weather.  

Aerostich has offered to extend the Velcro tab, but I have to give up the jacket for a few days for that to happen and my desire to be perfectly dry hasn't overwhelmed my affection for this jacket. When I'm zipped up, hook-and-looped, belt and shock-cord adjusted down, I'm water, wind, dust, and abrasion resistant and secure in all ride-able weather and some weather that a smart person would only observe while sipping whiskey in front of a fireplace.  

At the each end of weather extremes, the jacket's air flow design is good enough that I'm comfortable on a 90oF or a 25oF day. I'm not flexible enough to unzip the jacket's under arm ventilation without removing the jacket, but I've seen it done. A combination of open sleeves, under arm vents, and the large rear jacket vent allows for a lot of air flow. When you stop moving, it gets hot in the Darien suit fast, but when I'm moving I'm comfortable. 

The Darien pants have fewer features than the jacket. The pants are equally waterproof, abrasion resistant, and adjustable for comfort and fit. There are two deep front pockets and a single back pocket closed with a hook-and-loop patch. The TF2 armor is held securely in place where it protects the rider's knees and a good bit of the shin. The zippers are on the outside of the leg, as are the Scotchlite™ covered ankle adjustment gussets, so they don't hang up on kickstands or footpegs like another brand's gear (left unnamed). The zippers are well covered by inner and outer flaps for weather protection. A heavy-duty removable belt is included so you have someplace to hang your Leatherman case. 

Last, but among the best, is the Darien liner. It is removable and becomes a very nice free-standing insulating jacket when separated from the Darien jacket. Nylon on one side and fleece on the other, it's a good looking casual windbreaker away from the bike. One of its seven pockets doubles as a stuff sack, including belt loops so you can carry it like a fanny pack. The liner is a highlight of the Darien suit, in my opinion: comfortable, practical, good-looking, and compact.

All the News that Didn't Fit (March)

Craig’s List Scam
Pennsauken, NJ bike sellers are experiencing a nasty version of seller’s regret. The buyers get the sellers to deliver the bike to an isolated area. Once the seller unloads the bike, the thief rides away. Detective Eric Davies says, "They [the sellers] get the thing started up and they [the thieves] jump on it and go. It's a very easy thing to do." Sellers are advised to have the buyer to come to them, either at the seller’s home or at a familiar site.

Steve McQueen Movie and a Bike
The possibility of a movie about McQueen’s life is beginning to sound somewhat solid. The film would be based around Marshall Terrill's biography "Steve McQueen: Portrait of an American Rebel." Lots of names are being tossed around for the lead, including Brad Pitt and Ewan McGregor.

Rob Phillips bought a 1970 Husqvarna 400 Cross for $1500.00 in February 2008. At the time, he figured it was “just another bike” purchased for restoration. After chasing down the bike’s paperwork, he discovered it had been ordered by and delivered to Solar Productions (McQueen's production company). The bike has been restored and is on display at the San Diego Auto Museum.

Prescott, Wis. Considers Noise Laws
The Star Tribune reported that Prescott residents are debating the value of motorcycle commerce vs. motorcycle noise. As yet, the city has introduced no new laws, but Prescott’s debate is a lot like the one we saw in Stillwater last summer.

New Hampshire Goes after Exhaust Noise
New Hampshire: House Bill 95 proposes outlawing all motorcycle exhaust modifications, including aftermarket modifications and requires all motorcycles to have tachometers. The law would require all motorcycles to produce less than 95 dBA at 20 inches from the exhaust outlet.

California Lawsuit Finished
The three year old legal attempt to overthrow the California helmet law was thrown out of the Santa Cruz Superior Court. ABATE Executive Director, Tim Tennimon, Sr., said, “There is no further avenue of appeal on this lawsuit. It is finished.”

Nigeria’s Pumpkin’ Heads
In a really creative protest against helmet laws, Nigerian motorcyclists have taken to wearing dried pumpkin shells on their heads. “Kano Federal Road Safety Commission commander Yusuf Garba said, "We are impounding their bikes and want to take them to court so they can explain why they think wearing a calabash is good enough for their safety."

If you have a 39 cent per pound head, wear a 39 cent per pound helment.

Speed and Other Stuff Kills
A special 1½ year NHTSA study found that a variety of things injured or killed drivers and speeding was only a minority contributor. Out of 5,471 crashes studied, the following factors were found to be the major cause: 36% turning or crossing an intersection, 22% driving off the edge of the road, 12% stopping, 11% drifting over the center line, 5% “traveling too fast for the conditions,” and so on. The study concluded that 21% of the crashes were due to “Inadequate surveillance” and 11% were due to “internal distraction.” The study concluded that most of the studied crashes were caused by “a failure to correctly recognize the situation (recognition errors), poor driving decisions (decision errors), or driver performance errors.”

Texas Warning
The Texas DOT has a new web site (http://www.txdot.gov/) where bikers and cagers can flag road hazards. The site even tells you what to expect when you provide a notice. Recently, Texas hackers changed an Austin electronic road sign to read, "Zombies Ahead." http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,484326,00.html
Someone must have stumbled upon a Daughters of the Alamo meeting and overreacted.

Screw it. Let's Repo
Back in May, Harley initiated a campaign called “Screw it, Let's Ride.” According to Business Week, the company “seems to have applied the same logic to its loan portfolio.” Harley-Davidson Financial Services (HDFS) took a $6.3M write-down due to “rising default rates and decreasing interest among buyers for its securitized loans.” Apparently, one-third of Harley’s loans have been made to those now-infamous sub-prime borrowers. Harley offered dealer incentives to push HDFS loans and moved their share of Harley loans from 38% to more than 50% in five years. Harley’s stock has fallen from a high of $75 two years ago to $12 this month.

Winter Blues Solution?
If there is still winter left after you read this, SnoMoX (http://www.snomox.com/ “the world leader in design and development of snow kits for motorcycles”) may have a solution for you. Put a ski on the front forks, a belt tread contraption on the swingarm, and $3,000-$4,000 later you're on the trails tearing up the snow like it's July.

In Case You Didn't Go (2009 Cycle World International Motorcycle Show)

Here are some of the pictures I took of the things I found interesting and/or amusing:

What the Show Showed

I spent a few hours staring at bikes, bikers, gear, and the usual suspects at the Cycle World Motorcycle Show this afternoon. There are, in fact, some cool new motorcycles, but (as my editor, Victor, suspects) they will probably be economic failures.

Honda, Yamaha, and Kawasaki have new 250cc dual purpose street bikes. A variety of companies have mid-sized bikes, most of which are not new. Honda put a lot of effort into displaying their new Fury VTX chopper-thingie. It is one of the silliest vehicles I've seen since my last visit to Pioneer Village in central Nebraska. The average age of the characters surrounding the Fury had to have been over 60. The same sort of geezer was seen climbing off and on of the Polaris Vision.

Friday afternoon wasn't a good day to judge the turnout or the character of the Minnesota crowd, but I talked to several people who said the show was down at least 20% at all stops. There is an air of desperation you can almost taste coming from the vendors. The customers emit something more like resignation.

I got home in time to watch a PBS movie called "Horatio's Drive" about the first cross-country auto trip, in 1903. About half way through the movie, our youngest daughter called to tell us she'd been laid off by Bank of America. She is an optimist and is convinced that she'll find a job soon. I've been through this sort of economic mess before, in the 70s through the 80s, and I hope she's right, but I worry for her and my son-in-law.

Times have been bad before. The country was less organized, more socially-segregated and stratified, and more destitute in 1930, but we don't know where we are in the curve of the current economic catestrophe.

If I get my druthers, we'll struggle through this recession/depression for long enough that many of the social inequalities and irrationalities get fixed but not so long that the nation seriously suffers. I'd like to see a little resurgence of American frugality and, along with that, a little attention paid to small motorcycles because of their economy and practicality. I don't, honestly, care if gas costs $5 a gallon at the end of the decade. That might be good for motorcycling, too. I would provide some initative for us to cut free from foreign oil.

I wouldn't mind if the whole gangster biker fad died a painful death. If the Angels, Outlaws, Bandidos, and the rest of them all end up replacing the crowd in Guantanamo, I wouldn't care. If even looking like that bunch of degenerates caused bikers enough trouble that leather fringe, bandanas, and Valley People butt-less chaps became fashion misstatements, I'm good with that.

In the end, maybe Honda will have to back off of their Orange County biker junk-mobiles and return to promoting the Nicest People. That's a future I can look forward to.

Thinking Bi-Futuristically

The Cycle World International Motorcycle Show is hitting Minneapolis this weekend. Being a media kind of guy, I don't have an excuse not to go and it's usually kind of fun. It's an excuse to bump into old friends, look at the usual suspects of two-wheeled toys, and avoid thinking about five or six more weeks of winter.

Last year, for the second time, I took my grandson to the show and we had a particularly good day of fooling around with mechanical objects. He's 13 this year and will probably be even more interested in motorcycles. None of my kids have been bikers and I don't really expect Wolf to be any different. I think the two-wheeled jones is going to live and die with me. My brother was into it for a while, until a close encounter with a deer demolished his ankle, but he's mostly over it now. My step-brother was a dirt biker and a bragging-rights Harley owner/crasher for a very short time, but he and his son have "grown up" and moved on to big trucks. Like I said, I'm the family's lone two-wheeler and, outside of bicycles, I'm probably going to be the last.

There is some speculation among industry insiders that my family experience is similar to the national trend. As an answer to the often asked question, “Honda has a marketing department?” Honda has dumped the Honda Hoot (apparently, permanently) this year and blamed the economy for the demise. Honda has been making noise about abandoning motorcycles in the US, due to liability issues, since the 1980's economic crash. Yamaha and Kawasaki are about equally enthralled with our low-tech, high maintenance, marginally economic stability marketplace and, if they could find a replacement for the US income, they’d probably dash to it so quickly that there would be a small tornado caused by the vacuum.

I’ve heard off-road distributors describe vanishing youth from those sports and road bike dealers and marketing gurus wonder if street bikes will become a “rich kid’s toy.” The companies who positioned themselves to take advantage of characters who would be willing to spend $30k-$100k on a giant cruiser and now wondering where their customers went. The biggest of the bunch, Harley, is stuck with hundreds of millions of dollars in bad loans after chasing the poor credit risk crowd that is wiping out the housing market. I imagine it won’t be long before we hear that the other companies in this market are suffering similar pains. In the end, the only people who will be buying a $20,000 Polaris Vision will be the guys who handed themselves million dollar bonuses for screwing up their companies and got out before the feds slammed them in jail. That might be a small crowd if those of us who are paying their bills have our way.

Risk is a big topic in the country, too. I’ve listened to several big-time ex-offroad competitors explain why they wouldn’t consider letting their kids ride motorcycles. For a country founded by folks abandoning their homes, history, and security to gamble on a life in “the new world,” we seem to be turning into a caricature of conservative, old-world. Hell, almost every European country is more progressive than the US and if we keep going backwards we’ll get to enjoy hearing China brag about being more contemporary than the United States. Won’t that be fun?

So, I’m going to take in the Motorcycle Show with the thought in mind that I might be the last of a breed, watching obsolete technology fun its course in my lifetime, wondering over what kind of world it will be without risk, adventure, surprise, or even real-world sensations over virtual experiences. Maybe, I’ll even look for something new from the motorcycle industry. That would be a surprise.

Counting on Spring

Yesterday was above freezing for a couple of hours. I went outside, for a few moments, without sealing myself up like a walking refigerator and tossed frisbies at my dog for an hour before driving the cage to work. I think we've had three days that warm since sometime in December. The good news is that I've finished my attic studio remodel, cleaned up most of my basement shop, tweaked my video gear for next summer's projects, and we'll probably have the bathroom remodeled before spring. The bad news is that my garage shop is a disaster zone from dashing to the Shopsmith, carving out whatever woodwork I'm in the garage to do, and dashing back without cleaning up the mess because I'm more concerned with frostbite than order. It will be June before I get all the crap tossed out and all the tools restored to their proper places. Unless I decide to re-side the house, then the shop will be a disaster until next summer.

I tried to start the dirt bike, to take a winter lap around our snow covered frozen lake, but the Sherpa wouldn't fire. It burped, but it wouldn't go. The V-Strom fired up, but I'm not man enough to ride that monster on ice.


The first hint of possible spring came today, though. I bought some motorcycle gear; a new Aerostich heated vest. I've been thinking about a heated vest since I frosted my butt in the Yukon two years ago. In a couple of days, I'll have one. I may hook it up to my cage to cut down on heater fan noise on my drive to work until I can use it on the bike. I am, officially, tired of being cold.


Aerostich has been mailing me taunting sale ads for heated vests since I decided I wanted one. Until now, the discounted vests were gone before I managed to log on to their website. Yesterday, I beat the rush. I'll admit to being cheap. I'll even admit to being irrationally cheap. I have an aversion to paying list price for anything. Honestly, I'm really fond of buying used for a fraction of list price. I'd buy used food if I could digest it. Disgusting, right?


This time of year, it's hard to remember what it is I like about Minnesota. It's dark, cold, dangerously slick, and uninspiring. I get up in the dark and go home in the dark. I'm cold inside and outside, especially outside. Yeah, the cold keeps the riff raff away, but I may be riff raff. I can't remember the last time I was actually warm, outside of when I'm in the shower. If my shower time keeps extending, by May I'll have gills.


I had a dream, a couple of days ago, about being on my dirt bike in the middle of nowhere in North Dakota. I was stopped in an abandoned town that was overgrown with weeds and the buildings were slowly going back to nature. Other than the wind, it was dead quiet. The town's roads were all but returned to the earth, with huge cracks in the remaining bits of asphalt sprouting grass and dandelions and thistles. The main street brick road was heaving and cracked. Power lines were drooping across the roofs of houses and some of the poles were on the ground and others were heading that way. The town was completely abandoned, all of the residents were dead or gone.


I think my bike was either out of gas or busted. I wasn't worried or upset. I was warm. The sun was shining, it was a beautiful June day. I had my gear off of the bike and was setting up a campsite. I had food, water, and I was warm. In fact, I was sweating a bit. Ok, I was stranded an unknown number of miles from help, but I was freakin' warm. It felt so good to be warm that being stranded didn't seem like much of an inconvenience.

I may wear my new heated vest around the house until June.