I find myself walking up a mountain...

[NONE_too_SOFT]

on a brisk evening in early April. cars are passing me with fervor, ignoring the thumb I've thrust at them with a sense of hopelessness. People don't pick up hitchhikers anymore. The sun has been down for nearing thirty minutes, and all I've got are my thoughts, this slow gravely road, and a looming mountain. What has brought me on this hopeless walk hundreds of miles from home are a mixture of fate and hope, and the walk I've laid before myself has eerie similarities to the journey I've taken since i last graced gods earth on two wheels.

Thoughts of turning back cross my mind. Giving in would be so easy, as I've just barely even made it to the base of the mountain. 3 or four miles back wouldn't be so bad, considering the road has been straight up until now. But the road veers away from the mountain, being a mere few hundred yards from the dimly lit road ascending the hill, so densely populated by moving lights and even more so foliage of the most sinister type: gnarly trees waiting in angst for the weather to bestow upon them their source of life, much like we all wait through winter with a sense of melancholy in these northern states.

The road veers away farther from my destination, away from the goal I've set before myself like some sort of symbolic journey. Deciding what to do now was no hard choice. I could have followed the road, i could have turned back, but i couldn't take my eyes off of the light gleaming from the top of the mountain.

The field was wet, it was dark, and it was foreign. Fences have been jumped, streams crossed, and now i find myself looking straight at my nemesis, head cocked 60 degrees following the dark woods. about two hundred yards of terra firma is what lies between me and the pavement that leads to the light at the end of my journey.

Slipping on dead leaves, grabbing for any signs of roots and small shrubbery while thorn bushes and brier patches try to hold me down was not how i planned on spending this night. Determination has set in though, and the more i'm torn down the more i remind myself how far I've come, and it dawns on me that this mountain has become my white whale.

Making it to the road, i had to catch my breath. I turn around to look down about the near cliff i had just climbed, and i was come over with a feeling of relief. Adrenaline fading fast, again I'm left with my thoughts, the gravely road, and passing motorists. I don't bother sticking my thumb out, i wouldn't want to cheat myself after making it this far. The road is winding up this mountain, and i feel as though I'm falling uphill while making it to the steeper parts of the road. to my right, a guard rail, to my left, a ledge cut out of the mountain for this winding road.



I think back to the events that ultimately transpired to bring me to this walk. Thoughts are swirling, thoughts that will have feelings of brief genius, but i will ultimately never remember. Riding is something that had taken me out of a dark place in my life, and nothing else could have done as good a job at changing my views in life. Here i am again, counting on my motorcycle to bring me out of this slump and into a new season of life's memories.


Tavern on the hill. I've made it. Its maybe forty five degrees and i am sweating from the trek I've taken. It seems I've made my way back to civilization. I take a moment to look down from the mountain I've ascended, and all i see are orange lights speckling the ground. I wonder if I'll remember this thirty years from now, but the thought escapes my mind as quickly as It came. I realize I've made it to the top of my mountain, and now it is time to reap the spoils of my journey.


and now I've nearly made it to the top of my mountain, with 2 days to go, i can smell the engine in my nostrils and i can feel the grips in my hands.

[NONE_too_SOFT]

Brakes were like old abused machinery laying dormant in the farm yard. Chain was like something you'd see holding the gate closed at an old junkyard, rusty and malignant, yet still useful. Engine oil was was used, abused, and then some. calipers were dirty, begging for attention. filters were begging for a chance to breathe.


Then she was reborn. everything replaced, revamped, tuned... and all but tested. The f3 has laid dormant for six months, starving for attention, beckoning. I am actually getting emotional when considering the neglect the machine has received since the fateful events that transpired last summer. A curious fail in Tennessee, and then an unfortunate high side on the way home from droopycocks parents ranch... I wouldn't have blamed the bike if the brakes failed on the first attempted and she threw me into the dumpster like a man who's come home to his wife drunk and belligerent one too many times.


But it was bliss. Euphoria.


Still without my license i had to take my broken workhorse to the parking lot to test her modifications to ensure all was good... after all, she was now holding a salvage title due to her bruised body work. not the spring chicken it once was.

She performed flawlessly, and the smile on my face might have have torn a muscle in my cheeks if it weren't for the helmet holding my grin back. Time after time the brakes worked flawlessly, and even when user error presented itself and i neglected to pull the clutch in early enough on a quick stop she STILL stopped to my satisfaction, only uttering a slight grunt from her gearbox telling me what she was going through.


to be on my bike for fifteen minutes, was worth the entire six months of waiting in anticipation. Still stuck in a sort of purgatory, i wait for next Tuesday with anticipation... as i am sure the bike is waiting eagerly for our next encounter as well.

[NONE_too_SOFT]

I've finally got everything straight w/ the insurance company. They decided to give me retail value on the bike (instead of a salve title value) because of how well maintained it was. It was like the angels opend up the clouds and sang to me this morning. here's their offer.

nada value 4858.63
+303.2
-5
5156.63
-250 deductible
4906.63

Heres the story.

I lowsided 2 weeks from today because of some roadkill and pea gravel in a sharp up then downhill low speed (10mph) turn. couldn't find an apex w/o debris (dead ground hog in my lane) or stop the bike, and ended up putting it under a guard rail.

Testament to leathers, i walked away with only a bump on my knee as i slid into my bike and my back wheel collided with it. i was going maybe 25-30.

either way, the f3 is totaled, and im bike searching ferverously. Have been looking at a 929 locally, but im waiting on insurance to give me a go ahead w/ the whole deal before i make an offer or put a deposit down. havent seen any 600's that are clean. apparently people consider a "clean" bike to have only a few drops and couple cracked fairings.




all in all this year has started out shitty for me, as far as riding goes. I put in 300 miles that day before it happened, was just starting to get my bearings back, and lost my head for a split second before the asphalt met my ass.

the leathers ebbs helped me buy saved my fucking ass.

Yea my knee is still a little sore due to the collision, i slid for quite a few feet, remarkably the leathers held up GREAT. Only got to get my knee down once w/ em.

Its not a matter of if, its a matter of WHEN i get a new bike. I'll def have something before indy, i cant wait to meet all you guys up there. but in the mean time im just kind of using this as an opportunity to lick my wounds, collect my ego, and wait for an opportunity to present itself. I REALLY want to get to the rally though, thats my hurdle, ya know?


ya the best thing i took from this is to just ride the ride. all day i was just cruising around 70 on these back roads and just having a blast being out on two. i started to get back my fundamentals (looking through corners, body position, etc etc) and that coupled with having leathers on for the first time just gave me a little too much confidence. it was fucking scary how quick it went from being in complete control, to seeing the dead coon (ha i wish, it was a groundhog), and having to adjust the bike to go outside my apex and hit some nasty pea gravel. i remember going back and looking at the road in astonishment, cause there was actually so much of this black pea gravel in the middle of the road it just looked like asphalt (literally, if this was my lane, it was all located here, the X being the dead animal and the % being the gravel...
|| X % |)

anyways i look at is as lesson learned now, i just wish my ins co would give me a few more benjamins for the bike... i frickin loved that F3.



yea, im not even trying to make excuses. i know my limits, i knew the road, and i just let my adrenaline get in the way of of my judgment.

I've still got blood on my boot from kicking that mother fucking groundhog straight off the road.

Its such a shitty time to buy a bike, but... im only getting older my friends, i cant think i'll look back and this and tell myself im glad i wasn't doing what i loved while i still graced gods green earth in my youth.



and thats the story. paraphrased from a conversation i had with ebbs, but you guys get the idea.


I'll be back on 2 before my birthday (may14) and will have the cash to still make the rally and Indy. Things are looking up.

[NONE_too_SOFT]

Theres like fucking 6 "new bike day" threads out there now, can i start a fucking trend or what?


Went down to c-bus to pick it up today, no problems. nice little 2 1/2 hour drive. about 40 miles from c-bus i see a MASSIVE 4 car pile up on the other side of the road. 15 miles later, still traffic jam over there. so i decide i am NOT taking the highway back to my home land.

Overcast skies, moderately warm, its still an okay day. Get the title transfered no prob, hand over cold hard cash, shake hands, ride away. we've mapped an alternate route to get around the clusterfuck of 08, otherwise known as "you stupid fucking tailgaters deserve all that whiplash". First impressions of bike.

WHOA what is this thing? its another world. Omg cant find the shifter. Omg i missed a gear. Omg am i in neutral? Omg did i just stall? then i got 200 feet down the road from the driveway and figured out how to ride again. Point being it was very awkward, like going from your favorite pair of casual boots, to a brand new pair of state of the art running shoes. a little discomfort at first. got to the gas station a block away from the guys house to fill it up and ive pretty much got the kinks out of the whole "okay where do my feet go on this monster" situation figured out. begin the ride home.

The bike has some ooomph. The throttle is snappy, and the shifting is smooth and methodical. The clutch is a little more touchy than im used to, stalled a couple times before i got used to it. it was hard even adjusting to the speedometer and the tach, because i'd expect to be going a certain speed at 6k in fifth and i'd be going much slower on the RR (my f3's tach only went to like 14, the RR goes to 17).

And speaking of speeds, it was even hard going from looking at the analog dial to the digital readout. Once i got used to it i was happy with it, but its just so much weirder looking down and seeing a number rather than looking down and seeing a needle's position.


The most important part, feel. The bike is taller than the F3. I cant completely plant my 5 foot 9 1/2 (on a good day) heels on the ground. Even felt like i was sitting a bit taller, till i realized i was humping the gas tank and had like 6 inchs of room behind my but in which to scoot back into and lean down on. Much more agressive than my old bike. and i soon learned this.

At first the bike did not seem as responsive as my F3. Kind of felt like i had to really push it in to a turn, as opposed to the F3 that would just fall into one. I attributed this to the tires though, and forgot about it and just concentrated on riding for a bit, we were still on our detour route around clusterfuck ten thousand. and im getting tired of following this cage, its time to go fast.

We get to where the highway finally meets the road, and i signal a stop. Clouds are getting dark, storm is looming. My dad (my ride) says maybe we should go back and go around.

"No" i say, as it starts to drizzle. "i'll meet you at home"
I turn around and cruise up to the stop sign to get back on the main road, and then the highway.

No sooner do i get on the on ramp than the heavens open up and start to pound me. "HAHA!" i though "im in my leathers bitches! you cant phase me!"

Well thats partially true. a little water cant phase me...

30 minutes later of riding no more than 40, prolly an average of 20 mph in torrential downpour, i see light skys on the horrizon. the traffic starts to unclusterfuck itself (this was a separate, less severe clusterfuck. This one had more to do with the fact that nobody in ohio knows how to drive for a shit, so whenever the highway goes from 3 lanes to 2 people's brains melt and they have no other choice but to drive like monkeys).

So i take off. Im drenched by this point, really soaking wet, but going faster helps. I've bypassed most of the traffic and there are just a few cars in front of me, and im doing about 80 when the traffic gaps permit ( i was staying the FUCK away from any cage ) . Eventually i get to dry land again, and while i thought it would be a blessing, it was not. It was terrible. Suddenly everything starts to dry and any coldness i had before is now multiplied by ten. Im still making time though, cruising at about 85 ninety, i am determined.

70 miles down the road and i spot an offramp, its time for a break, as i almost just experienced a butt cramp on my bike and that is not something i want to do. terrifying. So i pull off this noname exit to some noname town (it had a name, but for bloggings sake we'll just be generic), and i stop at the end of the long, uphill offramp to some country road that crosses the highway, but has no exit BACK ON THE HIGHWAY. ah well, looks like im hittin the back roads home.

I take my gloves off and imagine having a warm heater for my hands. something, anything to warm them up. they are so cold.

Then i realize i have a fucking motorcycle that is producing heat somewhere in the 200* range, and i utilize my exhaust for a little while. ahh my hands smell like shit but they are warm! Then i realize my gloves are soaked, and i wish i had a glove warmer upper/dryer thing...

and again i have an epiphany, and i put my gloves over my exhaust and warm those bitches up.

Eureka!





So im on my way again after warming up and waving on some passerbys that stopped to make sure i wasnt lost or crazy or both. and i head into the country roads. By this point i've gotten used to the different seating and the different stance, and i realize something. This bike is DYING to fucking turn. Like a switch was turned on and suddenly everything felt right in the world. I guess i stopped trying to ride the bike like my F3 and just kind of got used to the RR, and suddenly everything felt good in the world. amazing how i had just had about the most uncomfortable depressing hour and a half ride of my life, and now i am simultaneously having the BEST ride of my life. The whole way home i was ecstatic, although i had to keep reminding myself what being overzealous gets you... a bike in the gutter and a busted ego. I was conservative, and will continue to be, but its just a matter of time before i start to really see what kind of can i've opened up...


So today i bid you a due, my faithful F3. You served me well and were exactly what i needed, and as a father never forgets a lost son, as a man never forgets an old friend, as we never forget our first love, i will never forget that bike; heres to you.

[NONE_too_SOFT]

"as soon as you think you've mastered that thing, it'll bite you"

Words out of my grandfathers mouth every time i see him. Couldn't be closer to the truth, either. I've been riding for about ten days now since ive gotten this new bike, and while i've been thrilled to be in the saddle again, nothing seems the same after an accident in which you blame yourself for.

I've been tense on my bike. A lot of it has to do with getting used to it, and a lot of it has to do with me not riding in a while, but a lot of it has to do with fear. Fear of going down again. Fear of getting hurt next time. Fear of loosing something you're passionate about. Its a tricky thing, dealing with your inhibitions, especially when they are totally justified.

Sometimes i worry my ambition overshadows my skill level, but when i think about it, that is really the reason i've always tried to be a better rider. Rarely have I found myself content with where I am at recently, it could always be faster farther shorter tighter smoother. For some reason i feel like I aught to be catching up to something, like im trying to make up for wrecking, or make up for loosing my license, or make up for lost time. Its a terrible feeling when you cant even get on your bike to escape your troubles.

Now riding home the other night i find myself riding along a reservoir right before the sun fell behind the horizon. All by myself on this road, everything just felt okay again. I understood what i was feeling before, and i came at peace with it, and it was like suddenly i could just enjoy riding again. Now every time i get on my bike i feel better and better, and appreciate it ever more.

I guess what i think about the most is when people ask me if i'd get back on a bike. I tell them the story about going down. Sliding. Hitting my bike. Going through all of the hassle afterwards, and they they ask that question seemingly presuming the answer will be at least an "i dont know".

Every time, without hesitation, the answer has been yes. On my ride a few nights back, and every one since then, i've realized why that answer has always been so easy. While we all may stumble, stutter, and even fall in life, if we never continued to do what we loved, what chance would we ever really have of making it out with a smile on our face.

[NONE_too_SOFT]

Went on the first big ride yesterday. hit the super slab until i found hill country, and then got off for some good cruising. was out for a good eight hours.

Started down south to meet up with some riders, and while down there i decided it'd be a good idea to visit the turn i crashed at. The rode was a great one, lots of ups and downs, a couple of switchbacks, and a couple good sweepers. Call me crazy, though, but i just didnt trust the road that much. My confidence has returned, but im still a bit overly cautious on unfamiliar roads, which isnt a bad thing. Needless to say i kept it under 70 on these back roads.

I came to the


fuck... trauma call. gotta get back to work. will finish later tonight.

[NONE_too_SOFT]

So, nobody died. good news.


I came to the turn where i met the pavement first hand, and i have to say even the second time around this thing looked like a whore of a twisty just waiting to eat the edge of my rubber. heres what we're talking about.


and the turn in. her name is gurnsey valley road.



... shes a tempting little whore, but you see the gravel thats washed out to the side in that panoramic shot? most of that was in the middle of the road and was practically impossible to see until it was too late at the time. So my back tire hit it, and my bike slid, and it hit the guard rail. I left my mark on that turn, in the form of a dent in the bottom of the rail from pulling my front calipers from its clutch, and the paint scraped on the side of its face.



After some nostalgic time spent at this location, I decided it was time to move on. I was sweating my balls off in my leathers in the sun. So we headed to a small village a while away farther west called Roscoe village.


It was a renovated canal town, and had some of the neatest places to shop and eat. Lots of nice people, and for some reason lots of hot chicks. i picked up some ice cream and flirted with the ice cream girl for a while (which suffice to say is the only reason i would ever buy sugar free ice cream) and then We went down to the old locks on the canal. They were impressive.

North east Ohio is all about locks and canals, especially in my area. they were a big deal once upon a time and pretty much made this part of the state what it is today. if you've never seen one before, here we have a good example.


After spending some time hanging out in this park It was time to split ways. the ride home was about two hours. It was not fun, because i had no map, and every time i thought i knew where i was it turned out i was way off. Over all, it was a great day of riding, my ass is sore from that cardboard seat on the Honda though.

A pic before i left.

[NONE_too_SOFT]

Packing is like having sex. its great fun, but over all, can be a frustrating experience. You've done it plenty of times before, but for some reason after everything is initiated and gets rolling you go blank for a little while.

I think i spent about ten minutes just looking at everything. Examining the undertail for anchor points. okay, great, there are none. Hmmmm, five more minutes. Okay, guess i could anchor everything to the passenger pegs and... Oh, look, i never saw those things before. maybe i can tie stuff to that.

Nope.



Shit.


Thats pretty much the story, until i figured out my game plan. Then i started getting that shit packed like a well oiled machine. It was like slow motion the way i was ratcheting, bungy-ing, tie-down-ing. Thrusting. no, wait.

Got that sucker tied down pretty good, was talking to CEO for a min while going through a double check and he mentioned Drewpy's epic luggage malfunction on the dragon. I have to admit that image popped into my head on more than one occasion while fixxing this up.

Tomorrow, 4:00 pm, the trip begins.


oh hay, on another good note, just got a text from a girl i work with.
Her boyfriend, a track coach sponsered by sportbike.com, wants me to come check out a day or two at mid ohio the weekend i get back. Bonus.