Moto Broad

Since I still have trouble with low-speed turns — I take about a half-mile diameter to do a U-turn — and I wobble when navigating at very low speeds, I signed up for a one-on-one class to work on that. As an excuse to go for a ride, I decided to reconnaissance the parking lot which will be used for training. I rolled down the entry driveway, rode across the parking lot to the other side, and began to go up the exit drive at the end. Catch was, I couldn’t see oncoming traffic to pull out, unless I pulled up to the crest of the drive. I saw my opening, started to pull out, and felt myself tipping over to the right. OH NO! I couldn’t find footing, and once past the tipping point, I was doomed to hit the ground. I was SO embarrassed. I took a couple of breaths, hit the kill switch, pushed the stand down, and positioned myself on the right side of the bike in an attempt to right it. I could get it started, but it seemed to catch on some bevel, and I could not force it past the catch to get it upright. Two separate guys, both in red pickup trucks, stopped and helped me right it. I cranked up, got back into position — and fell over AGAIN. This time, I think I bounced. My left calf began hollering. They helped me back up again, soothed me by saying it was a bit steep. One of the guys rolled the bike backward so I could get a running start, and the other watched traffic for me. When he waved, I pulled up out of the drive and onto the main road.

I was mortified, and I could tell that my leg was going to hurt for days. It was burning, I was a bit shaky and embarrassed, and the air was suddenly much hotter than it had been before the incident. Continue Reading »

Yum – the beginnings of fall are in the air (just in time for the equinox tomorrow morning). Temps in the 70s, blue sky with big cottony clouds. I thought I’d use the excuse of needing a new tire gauge to take a run up to Lawrenceville Auto Parts, my old auto mecca. I’ve long thought that they have a vast underground cave with every part on Earth; in almost 30 years, I’ve almost never come out of there empty-handed. Until today, that is. They’ve been taken over by CarQuest, and now it looks like every other parts place inside. After all these years, all my old familiar counter guys are gone, and it no longer feels like the familiar Saturday destination it once was. In the old days, they’d have had 8 different tire gauges and I’d have to choose. No such problem today: just one stiff-necked short gauge, and one enormous unwieldy device that might work if I pulled the wheel off first. Shucks.

So I kept going north, up to Cycle Gear. Thanks to the pretty weather, I passed a bike about every other block, exchanging the ceremonial wave. The shop was full, but I managed to find a perfectly decent gauge with a hose and a relief valve. (I have an AccuGage, but its readings have been erratic lately, and I’ve started to suspect it isn’t so Accu. Seems to leak a bit around the relief valve.)

I took the back way home, sailing down Lawrenceville-Suwannee road, which is just a few years old and consists of a series of nice, smooth long sweepers. Yum. I slowed to a stop at the light with a grin on my face. After a year, I think less and sail more. I don’t lean on the handlebars like I did in the early days. So little bumps don’t jerk my throttle hand, and I turn more effortlessly. A lot has happened in the last year…

The monthly Squeaks dinner. While I’ve ridden to a couple of them. this is the first time I’ve actually ridden with my classmates. I ride up to the corner, to wait in the church parking lot for them. I worry that the churchgoers will think they are being invaded by hoodlums when, in fact, we’re all dull middle-aged professional folks. I wait just a few minutes in the cool late afternoon air, admiring the waning sun on the pastures across the street. I love living out here. I wave at the old thresher driver when I turn onto the main road. I slow to watch the little goats grazing on Harrison Shoals Road. I gape at the expanses of pasture on the neighboring horse farms. It’s such a nice little bucolic oasis from the madness of Atlanta.

I hear a rumble in the distance, and here they come, headlamps bobbing like huge fireflies as they round the curve. Two Harleys, a muscular Victory, and a Suzuki Boulevard cruiser. Wow, those big V-twins sound wonderful! My polite SV650 sounds like a sewing machine by comparison. Lance (the Boulevard owner) says later, “shoot, I can’t even hear mine to shift!” Continue Reading »