Jan 07 2012
First ride of the New Year, slipped in between the quick rain showers. Pointless in its mission, but peaceful and pretty in the setting sun. Rounded the last curve to see a transparent full winter moon hanging (appropriately) over Moon’s Tree Farm.
It’s the last chance I’ll have before rain, cold, and a week-long cross-country trip intervene.
Charged my batteries a bit.
Dec 23 2011
Squeaks fridge magnet (skull art from SkullADay.com)*
In the Fall of 2006, I took the Riders Edge course to begin my motorcycle journey. On this blog, I’ve documented my progress from my rather pitiful performance in the class to my current competency — I’m no longer a danger to myself or others 
But I got much more than education in the class — I got some great friends! Lance had ridden dirtbikes, and was instantly comfortable in the class. I don’t think Greg had ridden before, but he caught on quickly. Melinda had ridden horses, and her husband was a longtime rider, so she made quick progress too. I was the complete novice in the bunch, but determined to make it.
We all hit it off, and vowed to stay in touch by email. It turned out that we all live within just a few miles of each other, too. In December 2006, we all met for dinner, with spouses in tow. “We should have a name, shouldn’t we?” Greg said. Given that we’re not exactly Sons of Anarchy material (engineer, insurance guy, IT geek, busy mom, and technical writer), I proposed “Squeaky Clean Motorcycle Gang,” or “Squeaks” for short. There was laughter, followed by a unanimous thumbs-down.
This week, we had our annual Christmas get-together. During the class, we’d been given a journal and told to jot down our thoughts and experiences during class and in subsequent riding. During dinner, Melinda pulled out her copy. She read aloud from the journal, including her entry mentioning our first “Squeaks” dinner in December 2006. We marveled at the fact that we’ve all known each other for five years, thanks to the class. How time flies…
As a joke, I created refrigerator magnets for my fellow Squeaks. Don’t worry — we’re not sporting any embroidered gang jackets. But it seemed appropriate to honor the fun little group.
Merry Christmas, fellow Squeaks!
*If you watch Sons of Anarchy, the “Snellville Originals” is [maybe] funny. If you don’t, well, just trust me, it’s hilarious. Especially if you live in Snellville.
Nov 26 2011
My old Xena disc lock/alarm lost the will to live; while it still functioned as a mechanical lock, it refused to make a sound, despite cursing, cleaning contacts and installing new batteries.
So I took advantage of the warm day to ride up to Cycle Gear and get a new Xena lock. This one is more petite, but should still do the job. I know that if the a-holes want my bike, they’ll drag it off in spite of a squealing alarm, but the hope is that it would at least act as a psychological deterrent to the casual thief. Besides, it’s yellow, and they threw in a Xena cable for free. How could I resist?
Xena XZZ6L disc lock/alarm; XZA-150 cable
This lock takes a single CR2 battery rather than the double stack of watch batteries required by the old one. I inserted the battery, reassembled the alarm module, and went out to the bike to try it.
Nothing. Not a peep.
I unlocked, reinstalled, relocked. Silent night. I wiped off the little reflector plate. Nada. Zilch. Argh.
Well, I thought, maybe I’ve installed the battery backwards… I went back into the house and disassembled the alarm module; the battery was installed correctly.
Wait — what’s this? I put on my reading glasses and, on closer inspection, realized that the battery was shrink-wrapped in thin, almost invisible plastic. Doh! I slapped myself on the forehead, and peeled the plastic off with a razor knife.
It hollers now: 120 ear-splitting decibels. That’s more like it!
Oct 12 2011
Arai Vector 2 Helmet in Hi-Viz Yellow
My five-year-old HJC helmet was showing some wear — rock chips in the paint, some small tears in the liner. It’s still sound, I’m sure, but a number of sources recommend that helmets be replaced every 4 or 5 years. It’s not just because of expected wear-and-tear; the DOT and Snell safety standards are periodically revised.
I’d lusted after Arai helmets for several years, and this year I decided to give myself an early birthday present. Some reviewers describe the Arai Vector 2 helmet as an “entry level” helmet — that just means that it isn’t designed to be used as a race helmet. The ~$450 price hardly qualifies as “entry level” in my book (or wallet). I rationalized it by dividing the price by its expected 5-year lifespan. Of course, there are the “how much is your brain worth?” arguments. And I’ll admit that the hi-viz yellow paint appealed to my desire to be visible (for miles). At last — a helmet that matches my DayGlo jacket. By the way, the selection, price, and service at Helmet City are great.
Handling the HJC’s strap and vents had long since become an unconscious set of actions; now I have to fumble a bit to buckle up. It’s a snug (but not overly tight) fit. Wind noise is considerably less than in the old HJC, and the Arai is much more aerodynamic; buffeting on windy rides is substantially reduced. I haven’t even tried using the earplugs yet.
That’s the good news.
Sep 12 2011
You know you’re living in a small town when…
…oncoming drivers do the one-hand-lift off the steering wheel to wave at you. You wave back. And you have no idea who they are.
…the guy at the UPS store greets you by name.
…the pharmacist says “Gee, why aren’t you on your bike today?”
Aug 06 2011
I live near a country crossroad which has been the site of several unsuccessful little diners attached to a convenience store. It’s one of those death spots (perhaps over an Indian burial mound or some other cursed land) that seems to suck the life out of any business. The newest incarnation is the Corner Stop Grill, which opened yesterday. (The more realistic name, “Soon-to-Fail Grill,” might put off potential customers. Perhaps they could European-ize the name: Szündeféle Grille.)
I rode up there today as a neighborly gesture, and had a grilled cheese accompanied by the NASCAR soundtrack on the TV. The owners are nice folks; we talked motorcycles a bit, and I wished them luck.
I ran my Saturday errands and took the long way home. The way the roads curve, the visible sky at the end of each of curve changed from clear blue with a hint of hazy sunset to threatening dark gray, and back again. Empty threats of rain are a constant tease these days, even accompanied by pointless thunder. What we’d give for a good gully-washer to clean the air and water the parched lawns.
The sky lied, and so we wait in summer quiet, with only a soundtrack of katydids and tree frogs.
May 26 2011
100-pack box of FogTech anti-fog wipes.
I’ve seen the 5-pack of FogTech for as much as $7 (the retail is $4.99). So I was delighted to find a box of 100 for $45 on eBay, through Mill Tool Supply. I now have enough FogTech for the rest of my life. And then some.
May 07 2011
The weather was April-perfect, so I couldn’t resist riding country roads up to Road Atlanta to see old friends driving (even) older cars. The morning air was crisp, and full of honeysuckle and freshly-cut grass. I was surprised at the large turnout: both the pits and the infield spectator parking lots were full.
While I enjoyed watching GT-40s and old Porsches roar down under the bridge onto the front straight, I was more interested in the lovingly restored old cars on display. I say “old” — these were the cars I lusted after in my early teens, when other girls were taking horseback riding lessons.
I considered the MG-TD to be the consummate British motor car, its flaring front fenders like a Shropshire gentleman’s manicured handlebar mustache buoyed on the wind, the slender wood steering wheel requiring fine leather driving gloves. Hat, optional.
1953 MG-TD. The metallic sage green paint was just delicious.
The Jaguar E-Type (often referred to as “XK-E” here in the States) truly conjures up the swinging ’60s. Twiggy on Carnaby Street, baby!
Jaguar E-Type in perfect BRG* (*British Racing Green)
And then there’s the stealth attack vehicle, the Sunbeam Tiger, which was essentially a life-support system for a 260hp Ford V-8 engine. What a kick in the pants!
Sunbeam Tiger: looks like it's speeding, even when parked.
These were my three favorite Brits from my youth. The only childhood love missing in pictures is the venerable Porsche 356; I saw one moving, but couldn’t catch it parked. That’s OK: it wasn’t meant for parking. Continue Reading »
Mar 19 2011
I should have been working on a computer project (hey, I can just stay up late instead), but the beautiful warm day was irresistible. I took the saddlebags off the bike so I wouldn’t be tempted to buy anything while I was out, and headed over to the county seat, Monroe, Ga.
Fine old brick courthouse in Monroe, GA (Walton County seat)
The main drag, Broad Street, has lots of little shops and restaurants I’d overlooked when riding through. I’ll have to go back to check out the little Italian place and the frame shop. Today, though, I just walked and enjoyed the sun and the simple pleasure of wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt for the first time in months.
Shops on Broad Street.
When I got home, I found my long-awaited Tire Ring in the mailbox. While it’s not a perfect replica of the Dunlop SportMax D220 tires on my bike (nor is it meant to be), it’s a very well-made piece. Brian Bergeron designs tire rings based on motorcycle, automobile, and mountain bike tires. The rings are available in silver, gold, platinum, and palladium.
Tire Ring in Silver
Nov 27 2010
All the hip folks wear yellow: One of my ARC classmates.
I started this journey with a Basic Rider Course (Harley’s “Rider’s Edge”) in Fall of 2006; my first attempts at street riding made me realize that, however good that course was, I needed much more practice before I’d be comfortable in traffic. Between tentative runs on back roads and some patient dirtbike instruction from a friend, I got better.
In the Fall of 2009, I took the “Dirt ‘n the Skirt” class at the Honda Rider Training Center in Alpharetta, GA. Even though I don’t ride off-road at this point, it filled in some blanks for me, and taught me some useful techniques, such as using my weight on the pegs to steer the bike, and shifting my weight on the seat to stabilize the bike in slow turns.
This year, I took the Advanced Rider Course at the Honda center. It’s a one-day course, and you ride your own bike. I assumed I’d be the oldest person there, but I was pleasantly surprised that there were three other, ah, old farts in the group — all of them Rider Coaches. Even though the course is labeled “Sportbike Techniques,” the content applies to any type of bike: In the group, there was a BMW F800GS, a Honda Gold Wing, a Harley Ultra Classic, a Honda dual sport of some sort, a Hayabusa, and my SV650.
By the way, all of these courses are sanctioned by the Motorcycle Safety Foundation so, wherever you take a course, you’re assured of being taught by an experienced Rider Coach, and the course content is standardized.