Ride Log 14: Texas: Day 13

Current location:  HOME
Total distance traveled:  4145 miles

I woke up in Ontario, OR (which is good since that's where I went to sleep) and realized the room was dirtier than I thought. I have allergies to dust mites as well as to various plants, so I was sniffling nonstop.   In a rush to get out of there I showered at warp speed and threw on my dirty clothes from the day before (my socks almost walked out by themselves).  I loaded up the bike and hit the road around 8:00 AM.  My first stop was the Love's fueling station for a little breakfast (I know how to live!) and some ice.  There was ice for my camelback at the hotel but I wasn't willing to risk it.

At the gas station I met a nice guy and his wife who were riding two up on a Harley, just returning from Sturgis.  They were very proud of their trip and about Sturgis in general.  How precious.  They didn't ask if I was alone (so maybe people from the West coast are more observant?  I'd been asked the day before about ten times if I was alone, followed by the standard, "Oh you are brave!"  As if there are wild people all over the country waiting to find a lone female rider and do unspeakable things. See, my paranoia has limits.)

Preferable over the Budget Inn?

I took Hwy 20 from Ontario toward Burns.  Burns will fool ya.  Don't get gas at the first place you see, instead go into Hines (about a mile away) where they actually have gas stations that have new pumps.  I had to wait for the attendant to manually add up the purchase before mine and hand write a receipt.  Imagine my dismay when around the bend I see gas stations that actually have the ability to take a credit card.  Damn it.  I also found another place to sleep along the route, which would have probably been better than the one I chose (look left).

From Burns I rode toward Christmas Valley on US 395.  This is where Hank (GPS) started getting all stupid.  For awhile he told me I was on an unpaved road (good for me, finally Runkle sees something besides asphalt) and then he stopped working all together, telling me to take non existant roads to nowhere and then politely telling me to turn around and head back the way I'd come.  After that the power kept flashing off and on.  If there is one place you need a GPS to work, it's in the middle of nowhere, which I can safely say is where 395 is located.   This was a cool stretch of road but is open range (like most of the smaller roads I'd traveled on during the trip).  Of course, in Oregon when they say "open range" the cattle are so smart they can read and they actually take to the roads.  I had some great photos of this, but my expensive camera died the day before (thanks Nikon).

There was one point where I was worried about my safety as I slowly pulled up to a herd in the road.  I wasn't that frightened, having passed some earlier..until I saw the largest arse ever.  I stopped behind it about 20 feet and when the animal turned it's head it was a bull (hence the large part) with horns that could have gone right through the bike.  It looked at me and I could tell by the way it's eyes were glaring that this was not a good time to remind him about all the beef I'd consumed in Texas.  The ribs I had left in my camelback (kept cold by the ice) were pork so at least I had that going for me.  I wasn't sure if I should go by quickly, slowly, or at all.  Since he didn't seem to have any intention of moving I started to slowly ride by when the bull on the side of the road started heading onto the tarmac.  I was essentially riding between two animals that could have crushed me on accident and my paranoia, kept at bay briefly, sprung a leak and I was mentally watching them "horn" me to death.  I could think of worse ways to go, especially since my diet of beef was probably going to kill me eventually anyway.

I eased my way into LaPine around 1:00 PM and stopped at the Taco Bell for lunch.  I was going to transport it back to the house and eat while relaxing on the deck so I needed a Pepsi to compliment this gourmet meal.  I don't have a cup holder (want one, dork gage just hit the red) and trying to get the Pepsi back to the house in one piece gave all the locals something to laugh about.  I made it, though, and pulled into the driveway full of awe that I'd made it that far (to and back from Texas, not due to the Pepsi, although I'd say that really was a Pepsi Challenge.  hahahah  Okay, I'll stop)

Once there I thought about Trout who in my mind was alone and sad because I wasn't there.  I got back on the bike and hit the road again, heading toward my final destination of Aurora, OR and home.  On Highway 97 through Bend then onto Highway 22 toward Salem I rode 55-60 mph which seemed slow after my previous day of 75-80 mph. I marveled at how the mountains in Oregon still have snow, how the sun seemed to shine brighter (but not be that hot) and how a familiar road gives you a sense of contentment.

The view from Bend, OR to Sisters, OR

The last 100 miles of my trip were the most challenging.  Perhaps it is because they were miles I've done a million times, perhaps because I had to use the rest room but didn't want to take the time to stop, or perhaps because I knew I was nearing the end of my journey.  Whatever the reason, my arse felt like someone had paddled it relentlessly over the last thousand miles and no movement on the seat was making things better.  I moved up and back and sat straight and slouched.  I leaned and even tried to just take my mind off it by imagining what I was going to eat for dinner (exciting, eah?)  Nothing worked.  Near the last ten miles from Woodburn to my exit I felt relief wash over me as I counted down the miles and told myself I'd already gone over 4,000 miles, ten more would not hurt.

Pulling into my driveway I checked the GPS and saw I'd ridden 4,145 miles over the last two weeks.  Others have ridden farther, ridden faster and ridden better.  The sun was shining, my plants were all alive and the garden was tended (thanks to my landlord and neighbor!).  I threw on a pair of shorts and flip flops and jumped in the car without even unloading the bike, anxious to pick up Trout before my motivation failed.  I drove the thirty minutes and picked her up.  She licked me and jumped up to kiss me repeatedly (not a good trick to show a dog when you have friends who are shorter than you).  When I opened the front door she ran out and jumped right in the car, tail wagging and eyes glistening (maybe I imagined that glistening).

Trout at "pick up" time.  She jumped in and wouldn't get out!  

 It was then I realized that over the last 4,145 miles I'd traveled, there were so many beautiful things I'd seen; so many mountains and drylands, waterways and freeways.  But the one view I would not want to live without was the one view that warmed my heart and made me smile, time after time.

That view could only be the one from home, with Trout laying in the grass or playing in her pool, me on the porch in a comfy chair sipping on a cold drink remembering the time my journey took me solo to Texas.

Thank you all for coming along with me.  I hope you enjoy home as much as I do.

As always, Be safe.

Chris Kilcullen Memorial Ride, June 2011

Last month I had the pleasure of tagging along with 250 fellow motorcycle enthusiasts on the Chris Kilcullen Memorial Ride (http://www.chriskilcullenmemorialride.webs.com/)  which was organized by Brian Antone (Springfield Police Department).  The event raised money for Kilcullen's wife and two girls and covered 248 miles from Eugene, OR to Sisters, OR.  The number of miles, 248, was a tribute to Kilcullen's badge number.  I've gone more than 248 miles in one day but never had the privilege of doing so with 250 other riders.

My first thoughts of the day?  Simply, "gosh I hope I don't make an arse of myself."  Which, of course, I promptly did by forgetting to put up my kick stand while attempting to pull out behind the minivan which was our pace vehicle.  Hey! Guess what?  I killed the bike and thought I heard one of the Harley rider's yell, "Kickstand!"  If that's not making an arse of oneself, I don't know what is.   Things improved from there until I ended up following about five riders who appeared to have gone a different way from the pace van (later I found out the van actually took a wrong turn).  It was at that moment, only about a half an hour from my house, where I thought, "I can just go home, no one will notice."  But I kept on and eventually we ended up in Sweet Home, OR.  I was amazed at how many bikes filled the parking area (Thanks, Sweet Home PD).  Upon leaving Sweet Home I tried to stay with the van and ended up cutting some Harley riders off.  Oops.  My bad.  That left me with some choice words for myself, and I actually thought, "Thank gosh there are police officers present just in case I have to kick some butt."  Okay, really, I thought, "I hope those Harley riders forget the color of my bike before we stop in Sisters."  Turns out those Harley riders are awesome dudes and dudettes and I had nothing to worry about.  But, I would by lying if I told you that cutting off a bunch of leather clad Harley riders didn't give me pause.  I had ample time to consider my actions and actually thought about throwing myself at their black leather boots and offering to lick them clean.  Thank goodness that wasn't necessary.


I have never been around that many riders before and I can't see myself doing it again unless I have the privilege to do this ride again.  I'm more of a "lets take our time and check out the scenery" rider who likes to go fast or slow, depending on how the spirit is moving me at any given moment.  Trying to keep up with others is torture for me.  When I do that, I feel like a 90 year old who is going to have a heart attack at every corner.  I worry about the people behind me and the people in front of me.  Heck, I even worry about the people a mile away.  I ended up at one point trapped behind a Honda scooter riding dude (seriously) who for some reason waved others past but didn't wave me by.  I wondered if he could tell that I was a girl or if he just thought I'd eventually get tired of following him and go home.

When we arrived at Sisters (Thanks Sisters School District for the parking area) there were many many bikes already there.  There were Hondas (more than just the scooter dude) and Suzuki's, Yamaha's and Harleys.  There were even a few bigger BMW's, not many, and we were all outnumbered by the Harleys. One guy even had a dog on the back of his bike.  If that's not cool, I don't know what is.  I can picture Trout on my bike and think she'd probably want to be in control of the throttle.  Needy, greedy lab.  A leisurely lunch at the local pub with some great gals who actually tolerated me was followed by a  relaxing time lounging in the grass, hanging out and chatting with our new found friends.

Harley Riders & Van Chicks, (photo: Lori Bumgardner)

On the ride home I cut away from the pack and headed to Salem while the rest went on to Eugene.  I waved goodbye and smiled for the next fifty miles, thinking of how great it was to  be a part of something for such a good cause and counted my blessings. I had met some wonderful people who made me laugh and consider possibilities I'd never pondered.  One thing I learned was that waving constantly to other bikes makes your arm hurt, but more importantly I learned that it's not important to keep up with the crowd but to forge ahead at your own pace.  I also learned not to be so judgmental of others.  I mean, just because they aren't riding BMW's doesn't make them bad people.  In fact, the Harley riders who stayed with the van were great people.  Ones I'd be proud to call my friends.

So here's a shout out to everyone who joined the Memorial Ride.  Kudos for taking the time out of your day to share stories and laughter.  A big THANK YOU to those who helped raise around $10,000 for the Kilcullen family, a HUGE tip of the hat to Brian Antone for putting the ride together and for the volunteers who checked everyone in at the start of the ride, and a heartfelt hug to those special Harley riders who showed me it's not the color or brand of your bike that matters, but that you ride.

The Perfect Accessory: A fantasy Giant Loop Tail Bag, "The Trout Tail"

"Charlie Brown's" F800GS

"Oh God!  It's starting to rain!"  That's what the man said.  But imagine it coming from Charlie Brown and you'll get the flavor.  It was entertaining but more so, shocking.  This big, tough man living in Oregon concerned about a little rain!  Imagine!

We were standing outside BMW of Western Oregon (http://www.bmwor.com/) talking about his BMW F800GS, a beautiful bike three years old with luggage that was my current envy.

I've been riding around on my fancy new G650GS and pondering luggage.  My first trip on the bike made me realize I needed something.  That feeling was exemplified on my second trip as I was headed to downtown Portland to go paddling (dragonboat dork, yep).  I had  fancy paddle bag strapped around my body (one end in the air and the other flapping against the bike), a personal flotation device with a rain jacket, Teva's, and a pair of rain pants bungee corded to the back.  Too much stuff and no where to put it, in the pouring rain.

Ocelot 17 liter tail bag

What I really need is something like what Charlie Brown has.  I mean, that bag...he says it was only $80 and it expands.  But, security?  Nil.  I mean someone can just come and take the thing off and walk away.  And it's much too large to be packing in and out of my office downtown from the parking garage.  Maybe I need hardcases.  Jesse Bags are only around $1000 and they offer security...but they won't come off easily.  I think this time around I want something that will be removable so I don't have to pack around that extra weight when I'm not using it.  The Giant Loop bag would be great, but at times it's too big, especially to throw on when it's not in use.  I think I've come to the conclusion that my ideal bag would be able to scrunch up into a smaller bag...maybe fit in a tail bag that has a strap that I could easily remove and carry with me when I go into stores.  But, if I'm putting a bag into a bag why not just use the tail bag?  I have one, a Ocelot 17 liter tail bag that has about four rides on it.  It's in perfect condition except the huge seam rip out that occurred the second time I used it.  I would have returned it but I kept it in the closet for about six months before I made that second trip with it.  Way past return time.  I've been stuck with this great bag of crappy quality for years.  Sides, in Oregon I really want something waterproof.  The Ocelot came with one of those black bags you can slide over it when the rain starts.  What a pain.

Maybe what I need is a Giant Loop (http://www.giantloopmoto.com/) quality tail bag.  Something for those days when I don't need all the space of the Great Basin but need more than the tank bag or the Coyote can offer.  You know something waterproof with nice zippers (or roll down top, I won't be picky), strong material that comes in awesome colors.  About 17-20 liters with some height, a couple external pockets, and bungees or straps holding it down for quick release and easy access. Is that really too much to ask for?

Apparently.

Maybe Giant Loop could at least consider it if it's not already on their list.  I mean, I am more than happy to offer up a name for it:  The "Deschutes Tail Bag."  The name is in support of the mighty Deschutes River in Bend (where Giant Loop is located).  I was going to go with the "Trout Tail Bag" (in honor of my Chocolate Lab, Trout and of course, the fish that comes out of the Deschutes) but I figured that may be pushing it a little.

I think I'll shimmy over to the truck stop and see if I can pick up some trucker's tarp.  Someone's gotta have an industrial sewing machine, right?

Bike Hunting Saga

With the Beast gone I've spent a fair amount of time thinking about motorcycles and going through what can only be described as moto-withdrawl.  I started watching gas prices and freaking out about having to someday drive my gas hog of an Xterra back and forth to town.  I was planning trips to the grocery store based on the least amount of gasoline consumption all the while hearing a voice inside my head screaming, "why did you sell your bike, you idiot?"  

Idiot indeed.  The voices inside my head and the empty spot in the garage gave me extra motivation to investigate bike options.  I thought surely I'd skip the BMW this go round since I was tired of the expense of maintenance and determined to prove I could live without a BMW.  I went to a local bike shop that sells Kawasaki's, Suzuki's, Yamaha's and all those other brands that most the time I just ignore.  I met a great salesman who obviously hasn't spent much time with female riders.  He first suggested if I were going to get a dual sport I'd best be suited for the Kawasaki KLR250 (250???)  as it would be easier for me to ride and probably accommodate all of my needs and wants.   I smiled politely and pretended to have real issues getting onto the thing so he could flex his manly muscles and help me hold up the bike.  While I sat on it (in flip flops no less since I didn't want to intimidate the salesmen) I told him I recently rode a 1200 BMW so I thought maybe I could handle a little more power than a 250.  Maybe.  I mean, if I were really really careful.

Jack (not his real name but since I would like to rename him to Jackass it seems the most fitting) then showed me some other bikes.  I sat on about 15 bikes that he carefully pulled away from the other bikes for me to throw my leg over.  He was even kind enough to stand with his legs on either side of the front tire and hold the bike while I was on it, "Just in case and for my safety".   I asked him once if he thought I was going to drop it and I started using my arms to toss the bike back and forth between my legs.  I thought he was going to crap his pants.  The bike was light and I was touching flat footed on the ground with about two or three inches of gap between me and the seat when I stood so I figured there would be no way for me to drop the thing.   Jack didn't have as much faith.  Poor sap.

Tiring of messing with Jack and getting treated like a chick who doesn't know a motorcycle from a lawn mower, I decided to get into specifics with Jack.  How many miles can I expect to get from a particular bike earned the response of around 44k.  44k?  My BMW would have gotten 144k.   What about service costs?  Around 200-250 for the full work up.  Now that's what I'm talking about!  What would you buy?  Jack moves over to the VStrom and says he actually has one that's bigger but I'd fit perfectly on the 650.  Look at the beautiful pealized paint.  Oooh  awwww.  

Turns out I don't like Jack much. But he has convinced me of one thing.  I'm putting my hard earned money into a bike that will last, has a great reputation, and is known the world over as an awesome dual sport.

I head over to BMW Motorcycles of Western Oregon (http://www.bmwor.com/) where I'm sure I'll find the dual sport of my dreams.  


   

The Beast goes to Canada

Henry, new owner, loading up the Beast

A few weeks ago my beautiful blue 2008 BMW R1200GS touched my driveway for the last time.  I didn't get my farewell ride as the funds were deposited into the bank earlier than I'd anticipated.  Maybe that's a good thing as I wasn't able to have any last minute doubts about saying farewell to the machine that made me love riding even more than I'd thought possible.  My last memories of the Beast will have to be watching it being latched down into the back of it's new owner's truck.  Henry and his wife drove from Canada to pick up the bike.  As I watched Henry prepping the back of the truck for the bike I realized there was probably no place safer than in Henry's arms for the Beast to be.  Six tie downs, a block drilled behind each tire, carpet laid out on the plywood flooring used to extend the truck bed...the Beast had finally found anal-retentive heaven.  I imagined it was at that moment of passing from my hands to Henry's that the bike would be it's dirtiest.  I'm sure it will be well ridden but I'm confident that every ride "after party" will involves a toothbrush, Q-tips and copious amounts of buffing and waxing.

The Beast got love from me but my rule was to only wash when I was trying to impress.  Luckily I don't abide by that in my everyday personal hygiene.   I think I washed the Beast twice during the two years I owned it.  Once was before a long trip because I thought it only fair that was started on a good note.  I think the second time was three days before Henry picked it up.   And trust me, that wash job was quick and ineffective for the most part.

The Beast is now simply one of those things I can say I used to have.  Like the 1964 Vespa I once owned, the Beast will forever remain one of my favorite things.

I was at BMW Motorcycles of Western Oregon, Tigard (http://www.bmwor.com/) talking to a woman who's husband had just bought a new RT the other day when I mentioned I used to have a 1200GS.  She looked at me and asked why I got rid of it.  I smiled and said the bike was just too darned good for me.  And that it was.      

   

I stopped at the Woodburn Honda/Kawasaki store to inquire about the 4 wheeler that's keeping my dog, Trout, happy running through the fields.   The wheeler isn't starting.  Bums.  The service department allows a view of the showroom...just enough to make you want to look more.  Since I'm pondering a different bike I thought this time I'd check out the showroom.

I walk in and there are a sea of bikes, mostly big Hondas.  But, tucked nicely in the middle is a pod of KLR's.  They still had two 2009 bikes, brand spanking new for a price of $5k.  They also had a green 2008 KLR in tip top shape, traded in by a 70ish year old man for around $3500.  I spoke to the salesman who kept yawning through his speech.  My mind was whirling as I inquired about where I'd plug in my heated vest or GPS.  The poor salesman looked at me like I had three heads.  I explained I've simply grown accustomed to the finer things in life (aka BMW) and wasn't really willing to lose all those luxuries.  

It was around that time I realized BMW has spoiled me.  Heated vest, secure metal bags, multiple trip counters, a fuel indicator light and an automatic switch over to the reserve.   Not to mention a shaft drive which means never having to think about oiling a silly chain.

Surely there is life without a BMW, right?
In what alternative universe is that?  

BMW Motorcycles of Western Oregon: Service Review

It was actually during one of those rides I had the pleasure of riding a 1200R.  That bike made me think twice about my BMW choices and the Beast.  Even so, I was able to resist the urge to trade up (or over) and settled into a happy existence with the GS.   Well, as happy as it can be considering there isn't a lot of time to ride and I have no riding buddies.  Drat!   

I dropped the Beast off at BMW Motorcycles of Western Oregon, Tigard (http://www.bmwor.com/) last week for some old recall issues and it's 12k service.   I hate taking the bike in for service for a few reasons.  The main being the price and the second being that a few years ago BMW of Western Oregon had this great service called LOANERS.  I could just drop my bike off and ride one of theirs for the day while mine was getting serviced. It gave me a chance to ride a bike I normally wouldn't even think of and also to avoid the agony of trying to find a ride from my country home to the Tigard area.  

1200R, a rider's dream!

I wanted to take a moment and offer praise to BMW of Western Oregon and specifically to Ben in the service department.  Ben is one of the few reasons I will take my bike back to BMW for service when I know there are other people and places that can work on the bike for lesser amounts.  Ben was courteous, helpful, and most importantly to me, entertaining.  He was a cool cat.   I had mentioned to Ben that I was thinking about selling the Beast and he took the time to have a conversation with me about the bike that was very helpful in making my final decision.  He even mentioned I was thinking about selling to someone on the sales floor who kindly called and told me about BMW's options.  I could sell them the bike outright or I could put it on consignment.  Great options for someone who is looking to sell a bike as soon as possible!   I'm in no rush to sell but it's good to know there are options.  

Lucky for me the day I picked up the bike the sun was shining in Portland and the weather was a balmy 54 degrees.  (Okay, not balmy but a girl can dream, right?)   I got my bill from Ben and walked to the front cashier to pay and was greeted by name.  (Freaky and cool at the same time.)  I tried to get them to take my firstborn child instead of my visa card but it was a no go (doesn't hurt to ask).  When I got back to the service area my bike was waiting outside, cleaner than it had been when I brought it in.  I bid ado to Ben and climbed on board the Beast.  We rode away poor but happy.  And we rode and rode thanks to the great day!

The Beast happy and back from service

Now, I must tell you that BMW of Western Oregon is one of two places I take my BMW.  The other place is hard to beat since the service guy (who actually works on my bike) and parts guy always take a few minutes (and usually more) to chat me up and they both give me a discount almost every time.  They offer free advice and are my "go to" guys.  If I could marry them I would.   But, BMW of Western Oregon is a place I'm warming up to.  Being called by name is a great bonus and having friendly staff in the service area is awesome (they haven't always been that nice).   I find walking through the store to pay my bill has the exact effect I'm sure they are going for...I'm checking out other bikes and the new shirts, eying the newest jackets and dreaming of some new straps.   And, even though I know that's a ploy, I still enjoy it because normally I wouldn't take the time.   

The only thing I'm not keen on regarding this service trip is that after I bought a new battery (at least they tested the old one and informed me so I wasn't stranded) they didn't reset my clock.  I can do a lot of things by myself.  Reset my BMW clock isn't one of them.   Last time I had service there they did reset the clock, so maybe it was an oversight.  But, even so, for what I paid for the service I'd expect to hop on the bike and have a clock that showed the correct time (and maybe made waffles). 

Overall I offer a big KUDOS to BMW of Western Oregon-Tigard for hiring people who know their stuff, who take the time to make you feel welcome and who remember your name.   The Beast and I thank you.  

 

The Beast is for Sale! $13,000

2008 R1200 GS 

This beautiful bike has been with me since 2008.  I remember when I bought it from Salem Honda BMW (http://www.salemhonda.com/), it's sparkly rims called my name from across the showroom floor.  I remember sitting on it,  my feet dangling above the carpet, toes stretching to reach the ground.  I held onto the grips thinking, "What an amazing machine!"  And, truth be told, I thought, "What a huge machine!"  It was all tank, a sea of blue that I couldn't wait to call my own.  My previous bike was a 2001 BMW650 GSAL.  It felt so much lighter and easier to throw a leg over.  On this Beast all I could do was step onto the peg and then climb onto the bike like I was a little kid climbing onto the back of a couch.  But still, I loved it.  

I didn't test ride the Beast before I bought it but simply signed the papers and waited for the lowered seat and Adventure boxes to arrive.   When they did arrive I was driven to the dealership by my friend Jenn who helped me pack the boxes into the back of her Suburban.  I would later spend a good hour trying to figure out how to attach the Adventure boxes to the bike while admiring the look of them since I was much too cheap to pay someone else to do the chore.

After Wes, my salesman, put the lowered seat on he pushed the bike to the curb as their awesome service guy, Mark, put on my new plates.  I remember Wes looking at me and I could see he had his doubts about whether or not I'd be able to ride the thing.  Watching me "climb on board" probably didn't make him feel any better about it.  But I was on, pushed up the kick stand, and zipped into traffic.

I remember the thing that I was most impressed with, other than the fact that I was riding away with a huge bike that only had two miles on it, was the power.  That still impresses me today.  A tiny little flick of the wrist and the bike surges ahead.  My little 650 never had the gumption.  The other thing about the Beast that I've always loved was the Adventure boxes.  They may be big and utilitarian but I used those boxes every time I rode.  I remember grocery shopping, helmet in the cart, piling bag after bag of paid for groceries in the cart.  The checkers would ask how I was ever going to get that stuff to fit on my bike and I'd just smile and say, "It's a Beemer!"  I sometimes wondered if they didn't sneak outside just to watch as I loaded the bike.

The Beast just turned 12,350 miles.  The 12k service has just been paid for (650 bucks!) and what sits in my garage is a freshly tuned, low mileage, riding machine.   It has a new battery (170 bucks) and a rear tire with about 2k miles on it.  It has heated grips (love those) and ABS and a regular seat that's been used roughly 10 times.  The lowered seat has been the primary but both are in perfect condition with no blemishes.  The bag keys are same as the ignition so there aren't a handful of keys to lose...just one!  Thankfully I haven't done that, but I do still have the plastic spare that came with the bike, just in case.

This bike has never had any issues.  I've ridden it lovingly and carefully, zipping down I-5 as if on a cloud.   In rain, sleet or snow this bike performs.

If you know someone who's interested in riding a bike of superb quality and awesome power, please send them my way!

Moto Gear: What works? Help!

I'm one of those riders who is never without a pair of gloves.  I won't ride without them.  Of course I don't ride without a full jacket, pants and solid shoes either.  I love watching people ride past in the summertime, sleeveless t-shirt billowing in the wind with their equally well planned shorts and tennis shoes.  And I can't get enough of those people who ride with half helmets.  I hate to be a pessimist but to me it's not if you'll go down on the bike but when.   I imagine myself never being able to wear a skirt again since my legs are scarred beyond belief.  Or never wanting to look anyone in the eye again because my face has been previously pulverized by asphalt.  I envision the nurses looking at me as I'm wheeled into the emergency room, shaking their heads and saying, "If only she'd had a real helmet on."   Of course, this isn't something I concern myself with on a daily basis.  I'm just saying, when I ride, I ride protected.

That in itself has become a times, a real Debbie Downer.  I mean when it's 100 degrees outside I do feel like an idiot when those t-shirt wearing bikers ride by.  I'm usually stuck in city traffic, every vent unzipped and still  sweating enough that it feels like I'm in a hot tub.  I try to look on the bright side and imagine how many calories I've literally melted off while waiting for traffic to clear.  Sure makes it easier to handle.  Makes my helmet smell really nice, too.  (Riggghhht)

Trout likes both Aerostitch and BMW

Good gear is important.  But what exactly is good gear?  Everyone has their own opinion and theory.  I need new gear that works, is a quality product, has a shelf life of over one year, fits good and looks good.  Okay, looks good isn't that important but if when I put on a jacket suddenly I look like a movie star, hey, even better.   Do they make gear like that?

I need a new set up but first I need to know what you think works.  Is there a particular brand you like?  A brand you would never buy?  I am currently using Aerostitch Darien pants and a Firstgear Kilimanjaro jacket.  For summer riding with no rain I have an awesome pair of BMW Santiago pants that have been sitting in my closet for over a year or two.  Last summer I decided to give them a try and guess what?  AWESOME!  But, I really need a pair of pants I can wear rain or shine.  And, although I'd love to gear up with all BMW and look like a studette with too much cash, my pocketbook won't support such things.

So, please send your suggestions my way!

First Ride of 2011: Rain!

I was checking out Fuzzygalore (http://www.fuzzygalore.com/) the other day and looking at all the snow photos from NY...when suddenly I felt like such a wimpy girl for not riding yet this year.  I mean, at least Fuzzy has an excuse...snow piled high all around.  Me, I'm just surrounded by a little Northwest rain and the occasional cold front.  It's not like I haven't ridden in that stuff before.  In May I was riding through Montana with the temperature gauge on the Beast flashing 29 degrees with it's cute snowflake, just in case I didn't realize it was cold outside.

So today I decided to ride the moto to my ADAPT (http://www.adapttraining.com/) workout with my team.  I'm only about 20 miles from ADAPT but the rain was pouring so I donned my heated jacket and my Aerostitch Darien's and set off!  I spent the first five minutes of my ride wondering why I haven't ridden sooner.  I mean really, somehow I had forgotten that the Beast is a miracle machine.  The power with just a tiny twist of the wrist,  the surge forward, the intense joy as I lean into a corner.

I had also forgotten that my Darien's are old and not all that waterproof anymore.  That my arms are at an angle that allows the rain to slide into my gloves with ease.  And that the Gerbing jacket works best when plugged in!

2005 KLR, maybe my second bike?

Even so, the ride was magnificent!  I slashed and sloshed through puddles and smiled as the rain pounded my helmet.  Suddenly selling the Beast and downgrading to a 650GS seems like a bad idea.  I mean, sure, I can pick that one up if I drop it, but truth be told, I haven't dropped the Beast yet.  It will happen one day but hopefully I'll have other people around to help pick it up.  And, in order to truly experience all the riding bliss I'd like to, wouldn't TWO bikes serve me better?  Maybe a zippy little dual sport (KLR?) that's light and easy to maneuver and the Beast that's awesome for longer rides and adventuring?

Lucky for me there's no one to tell me "No."  I mean, Trout doesn't care how many bikes I buy as long as she keeps getting her Milkbones and an endless supply of Hedgehog toys.

Rain and Mud? No Worries!

The rain has been here for what seems like months and today we were blessed with intermittent hail and snow.  Not the best weather for riding on two wheels.  In order to get our moto fix Trout and I took our time away from the daily grind to rush through fields of puddles and mud.   I have the luxury of acreage surrounding my house,  40 acres belonging to the landlord (Ivan the Great) and probably more than double that behind Ivan's field.  Since the 20 acres next to me is currently planted with winter wheat I've spent countless hours racing through the unplanted 20,  mud flying off the tires and Trout running like a crazy idiot through trenches made of rainwater.  
She loves those moments in the day when it's just the two of us, the smell of the dirt and grime, the four wheeler splashing through puddles as the water nearly leaves us stranded.  Trout rushes ahead then comes back for me, happy to be allowed to run free through such conditions.

In years past I was riding the GS this time of year, but now I putt around in the company car, unable to find enough time in the day or week to ride more than just to the store.  It is these times on the four wheeler I am reminded of what I am missing.  The freedom, the wind rushing past your face, the smells radiating off the fields.

And it is times like these when I beg for spring to come, for summer to bless us once again.  In the meantime I'm starting to think about the next motorcycle trip that needs to be planned.  Perhaps southwest where the sun beats down?

2011 BMW G650GS

Is it wrong to want one of each?   

Moto Speak: The Mice are Winning!

   

Summer 2010,  Beast with Giant Loop Great Basin Saddlebag

The Beast sits in the garage, mice trailing their way to it's precious pieces, as I watch the rain fall and the temperatures wane.  Remember summer?  Sweet summer with bright blue skies and warm goodness all around?  Oh how I long for summer!

It's been an uphill battle between the field mice, Trout and myself.  Winter isn't even officially here.  We have been battling over the Beast's territory...the large garage that must feel warm and inviting to the mice as their fields turn to mud puddles and the rain floods their underground homes.

After attempting various modes of mice destruction (bounce, moth balls and even electric noise makers) I slinked into despair as I laid out the poison boxes and waited for dehydration of the masses.  Ever aware that Trout is a labrador who enjoys eating anything and everything, the poison has been weighing on my mind and heart.  What if my Princess Trout were to eat some?  Would that be worth the price of a BMW that's mouse free?  Surely not.   Input from friends declared poison the clear victor, but still, I thought there must be something better and more humane.

After opening the back door and watching a mouse atop the screen door, staring down at me as we did a quick show down before he jumped down and scurried behind a chair, I vowed that whatever the cost the mice would leave my humble home.  Another friend and fellow blogger gave me a good tip:  electric mouse traps.  I rushed off to the store and picked one up for the steep price of $24.00.  I thought I'd give it a try on the back porch as that's where the last mouse villain I'd stopped seemed to be enjoying himself.  I followed instructions and put in four AA batteries and placed a small amount of peanutbutter in the trap.  I turned it on and went inside the house, sure that the electric trap would be my salvation.   A couple hours later I stepped outside to a blinking green light, which meant the trap had caught it's first victim!  Elated, I opened the trap and took tally for the night.  Mice: 0.  Me: 1.

I reset the trap and went to sleep, blissful that finally my mouse problem would be gone and the Beast would be safe once again.   Excitement purged through me and at midnight I crept outside and was elated to find I'd scored another win!  Mouse number two lay still in the trap!  Mice: 0.  Me: 2.  I reset the trap and drifted off to sleep knowing full well that I had finally found the perfect solution to all my woes.  When I awoke, to my disappointment, no mice had found my trap.  Still, I thought it worked well so I moved it into the garage near the Beast.

Today I donned my warm weather gear and walked out to the detached garage.  The first couple days of hunting I failed to kill any mice in the garage.  That would mean I'd only killed two mice, at approximately $12 bucks each given the price of the trap.  But still, I kept the faith.  It's been at least a week since I checked the trap.  I opened the garage door and expected to see the flashing light that would notify me of my victory.  Instead I saw nothing.  A still trap, an empty box of poison and another full box by it's side and a garage floor still littered with Bounce dryer sheets and moth balls.  And a Beast, still ashamed and wearing a pair of black panty hose filled with moth balls around it's middle.  The injustice of it all.

Hmmm, I ponder now, do I buy another electric trap?  Is there some type of special scent mice give off when they are electrocuted?  Why don't the moth balls and Bounce sheets work?  How long must the Beast wear panty hose and suffer the indignities?  Are country mice just smarter than city mice?  Clearly all the mice are smarter than I.

Here I am, beaten by the mice again.  A cat is starting to look better, day by day.  Now if only I can find one who doesn't eat, poop, walk on cars, sleep on motorbike seats, shed, go to the vet, or need any attention.  I'm sure that will be easy, right?

Weather and Visibility

Spot the motorbike!

Driving home from work yesterday, buzzing down a rainy I-5 from Portland to Aurora I spotted a motorcylist in my rearview mirror.  Huge Harley, bright yellow jacket soaking up the rainwash from my tires.  I was filled with envy as I wondered how much of a pansy I was for being in a car while someone else was out riding and enjoying their bike, weather bedarned!

As he passed me I was finally afforded the view I never get to see...exactly what it does look like when a crazy motorcyclist decides to ride in the wind, rain, and low temperatures.  And guess what?  It looks dangerous!  The motorcycle flew by and became a blurry streak of nothing, the yellow jacket barely visible.

I thought of all the times I've ridden in weather like this, braved the cold, the wind, the pounding rain that feels like pellets smashing against your heavy gear as if you have nothing on but a pair of thin tights.  And to think I've been doing this in a black and gray (or blue and black) jacket, my visibility turned to nil.

I decided to do a little research and this is what I found (compliments of Web Bike World @ http://www.webbikeworld.com/Motorcycle-Safety/safetypage.htm).  Basically this is what I learned:

Low conspicuity may increase the risk of motorcycle crash related injury. Increasing the use of reflective or fluorescent clothing, white or light colored helmets, and daytime headlights are simple, cheap interventions that could considerably reduce motorcycle crash related injury and death.

 _______________________

Be safe and be smart this winter if you are one of the brave riding!  I'm starting my Christmas List and what's on the top may be a brighter helmet and a jacket with reflective strips.  That is, if I can just quit dreaming about a new BMW!

Moto Gear: Mice and Bounce Part Duex

In a continued effort to keep the mice away from the Beast, my second love, I cleared a space in the garage.  I stapled Bounce dryer sheets to the lower part of the walls and spread them around the floor and on the seat and boxes.  I was proud of my work and impressed with my devotion to the cause.  As Trout and I checked on the Beast's progress we noted mouse droppings on the Bounce sheets on the seat...and on the boxes...and on the tank.  Frickity frackin feck.  Those mice don't seem to have any regard for the cost of the BMW or the fact that repairs aren't fun.  All those mice care about is play time!  They run up and down back and forth, climbing on and in the seat nibbling on the wires and the tool case.

Here are some terrifying facts.  Field mice typically move indoors during the colder months.  Hello October my evil friend.  Apparently mice can enter buildings through a space as small as a dime.  The average mouse lives up to one year and can have litters up to six times.  And, the worst news is that the average litter size for mice is 6-8 and it only takes 19-21 days for gestation.  And, sob, mice will be sexually mature after a month.  That means there are a whole lotta little buggars in the garage or waiting to move in, ready to eat the Beast piece by piece by next summer.  

Dryer sheets clearly aren't working and will not solve any issues, especially given that the population is growing as I write.  In fact, the most disappointing thing about dryer sheets is that Trout seems to LOVE them!  Every time I open the garage door Trout rushes over and rubs her body all along the walls where the dryer sheets are stapled.  She smears her face along the sheets and comes up smelling springy fresh.

I guess the only logical thing to do is to get a snake.  A big, long, scary looking thing that will live in a heated cage in the garage and eat mice for breakfast, lunch and dinner.   Yep, I'm going for it.  If you can't beat them, join them.  I will start feeding the little buggars, plumping them up, and then I simply open the cage and Mr. Snakey will come out and play. 

Oh, wait, I hate snakes.  And cats, they come in a rung lower on the ladder than snakes.  I guess I will have to just break out the poison and destroy the colony one by one.  (Insert evil laugh here)  Revenge will be mine!  Wait, I can't stand the thought of the little mice mamma wondering where her poor defenseless child disappeared to.  They probably have a mouse underground police station with my face on a wanted posted on the wall already.    May not want to start an all out turf war.

So today I started moving EVERYTHING out of the garage.  May be overkill, eah?  I figure if there were nothing but the Beast in the garage then it would be easier to see the little devils, right?  Rigggght.  As I'm moving Ivan's stuff to the pump house, an organ here, a saw there, I stop to put some burgers on the barbie.  I glance over toward the pump house and see a tiny little buggar (i.e. mouse) run into the pump house.  I rush over, Trout and Lab (the yellow stray who's temporarily adopted us, um, he's a Labrador, wink wink) following closely.  I catch a glimpse of the mouse behind the gas can in the corner.  I grab Lab and point in the direction of the mouse, anticipating a full force strike.  Instead Lab sniffs once then quickly loses interest while the mouse runs behind a pipe then back to the cans.  I grab Trout and instead of rushing forward she looks at me and I swear her eyes are asking, "Well what do you want me to do about it?"

Meanwhile Mr. Mouse rushes out the door and behind it.  I push the dogs out of the way and grab the biggest thing I can find, which happens to be a piece of plumbers pipe that's about three inches wide and open on both ends.  I have instant flash backs from the last time I tried to hit a mouse and the thing ran UP the pipe so I toss that and grab a rake.  I look behind the door and the mouse freezes and looks up at me.  Didn't expect that.  Now we are both standing by the door and it's like a western movie, both of us glancing at the door pondering who can make it inside first.  I slowly start raising the rake and the mouse catches me and bolts for the door, head ducking under the door and disappearing from sight.  I rush to the other side of the door and into the shed.  Stupid mouse runs for the corner again behind the cans.  I chuckle because I suddenly have the upper hand.  I'm ready to pounce and smash the mouse to little pieces when the Tiger rushes toward me, obviously deciding it's better to die fighting.  I drop the rake and scream like a sissy girl.  Didn't expect that either.  The mouse runs between my feet and disappears into the corner where I've already stacked a bunch of stuff.

Well, it is Ivan's stuff.  And it is in another building away from my moto.  I guess I've fought another battle, strong and valiant.  And then got upstaged by another mouse.  I'm not bitter though.  Well, at least not about that.

Moto Gear: Jesse Bags and Xplorermoto

Explorermoto is the USA's exclusive distributor for the famed Jesse Luggage Systems.  I recently helped a friend acquire a set of the Jesse Odyssey II bags for his BMW  650 GS.  Initially, he thought the bags were too wide for his uses although he liked the design (they have up to 5" of adjustment capable, moving them forward and back).  His major concern was the bags limiting his ability to weave in and out of traffic and other obstacles.  The hardcases have a width of about 39" where some soft bags come in at a width of 10 inches less.  However, what you gain in width you also gain in carrying capacity.  The Jesse Odyssey II bags have a total of  90 litres capacity, compared to about 50 litres or less of a softbag.

Recently a soft bag convert, the friend had everything loaded up on his BMW to head to Canada and on to Alaska when he realized the soft bag just wouldn't work for this trip.  Hours before his visa was set to expire he installed the Jesse bags (it only take about an hour and a half to do so, mounts and all!) and headed for the border.

After in Canada for a spell said friend took off to Alaska, traveling through mud and grime, side trekking though creeks and trails and riding the bike like there was no tomorrow and meeting chicks, ever impressed by his travels and new bags.  Through it all the Jesse bags remained waterproof and secure.   A few spills on the bike minorly dented one side of a bag but the mounting held without an issue.

According to the website for Xplorermoto (http://www.xplorermoto.com/) the bags are made of 2mm thick stainless steel, hand welded parts.  The bags are well made and will fit a wide range of bikes including BMW, Suzuki, KTM and Kawasaki.  The bags come in black, silver and charcoal and have optional lid loops you can purchase for only $15 for 4.  The Jesse bags can be purchased through Xplorermoto for roughly $995 to $1500 depending on the bike and the price includes mounting hardware and instructions.  Xplorermoto also sells other items including liners for the Jesse bags, Rok Straps, compact tool kits for a variety of bikes, lighting systems and Wolfman soft luggage bags.  Rick at Xplorermoto is a great guy who was very helpful through all my questions.  If you are going with hardcases, go with the best.  You won't find a better box anywhere.

Moto Gear: Bounce and Moth Balls

Earlier this summer I found a mouse in the garage that had gotten into a garbage can and couldn't get out.  He was barely moving and my guess was he'd been in there for days and he was dying of dehydration.  I delicately dumped him out onto the soft gravel and turned the hose on...letting little drips fall on his face, encouraging him to  drink and save his life.  He didn't seem to get it and his body shivered and convulsed (perhaps because I was drowning him) and then finally he stopped moving.  It was a sad moment for me.  Trout, who was barking in the mouse's ear, screaming for it to live, was very moved by the moment and she ran around me non stop as I did a funeral march to the trash can.

Lately the Beast has had a fair amount of mice droppings on the seat, tank, bags, and even tires.  Don't get me wrong, I think the little guys are cute, but the Beast hates them so they must go.  I Googled how to fix the issue and was informed moth balls do the trick.  The idea was to put the moth balls in nylons and hang the nylons over the bike.   I couldn't stand the thought of doing that to the Beast so instead I poured moth balls all over the cement around the bike.  They worked awesome!  In fact, they work so well that instead of being on the ground and occasionally getting on the Beast, the mice decided to stay ON the Beast and just hang out there all the time.

So I went back to Google and did some more research.  Turns out using dryer sheets works for keeping mice away from classic cars.  I went and bought a jumbo box of Bounce (since rumor has it Bounce works best) and envisioned my garage mouse free.  But first, I decided to clean up the garage.  I thought if I could clean things up and take everything out of that part of the garage then the mice wouldn't have a place to hide.  There are some items in the garage that are Ivan's so they've been there for awhile and the mice LOVE them! I started moving things and a mouse ran out from under a dresser and almost gave me a heart attack.  It jumped into a box and then couldn't get out.  I tried smashing it with a plastic pipe but it jumped into the middle and tried to shimmy up my arm then ran out of the garage.  The whole time I'm screaming like a little sissy and jumping up and down, waving this plastic plumbing pipe to and fro like a recently escaped mental patient.  Unfortunately for me there was a man outside the garage fixing the windshield on the work car.  I swear he looked around the corner and then slowly went back to the car.  He may have been laughing.  Probably not though, right?

Mouse hiding in the doorframe

After a bit of work I wrestled the dilapidated organ from the corner and another mouse ran out from under it and ran into a pile of discarded window blinds.  Like an idiot I moved the blinds and the mouse ran toward me!  I jumped up and down and scared the poor thing.  It ran into the garage door and shimmied it's well fed body into the frame of the garage door. I kept opening and closing the door, sliding it back and forth, and the mouse would peek out every once in awhile to see if I was still there.  When the door was closed and the mouse was closer he'd tuck under the bolts and hide from me.  He was so darn cute I almost forgot either him or his siblings had been under the motorcycle seat chewing on my wires.

Finally I went into the house, having screamed enough, jumped enough, and tormented the mice enough.  Maybe tomorrow I'll get the dryer sheets out and have the garage cleaned.  Today I decided to just sit back and drink a margarita.  I mean, it's not easy battling vermin and scaring windshield replacement technicians.

Moto Gear: Aerostitch Darien Pants

When I was first looking for motorcycle pants it was important that I have something waterproof, comfortable, easy to put on and take off, reasonably priced and above all, something that I knew had a good reputation.  I did a little research and ended up talking to a motorcycle cop from Eugene, OR who wore Aerostitch (http://www.aerostich.com/).  Turned out all the motorcycle guys on the force wore Aerostitch.  I thought if Aerostitch was good enough for them, surely they were good enough for me.

I bought my first pair of Aerostitch Darien's (http://www.aerostich.com/darien-pants.html) about four years ago.  After about three trips to the post office and two calls to Minnesota to get the sizing correct, I was happy to finally have a pair that fit.    I found I needed about two sizes larger than I thought, especially if wearing jeans under them. It is recommended that you wear something under since the fabric will get hot during a slide (sorry, can't test that as I haven't and don't plan on wrecking that severely anytime soon).  Since my purchase Aerostitch has initiated a policy of shipping the pants for free if you need a different size.  Kudos to them.  That wasn't an option when I purchased, but after writing them a brief letter they did refund half the shipping costs to me. 

The Darien's come with zippers that go all the way down the leg enabling you to totally open the pants on either or both sides.  I sometimes use the zips as air vents since the Darien doesn't have any, per say.  The Gore-Tex Cordura fabric is at first very stiff but eventually wears in and is comfortable and durable.  In the four years I've had the pants I've crashed once in the gravel and the pants were no worse for wear.  There are reflective bits on the bottom of both legs that have velcro under, thereby allowing you to cinch the legs in when needed.  There is also a snap at the bottom of the leg, but honestly, I never use it.  The zipper doesn't have any issues staying put.  

The pants come with a velcro optional map pocket,  a waist gusset (for those days when you eat too many cookies or drink too much beer) and a removable belt.  The pre-bent knees with removable armor are comfortable and large enough to cover the entire knee, above and below.  These pants are comfortable while riding and comfortable while walking around, eating lunch, or just hanging out.  

The only issue I've had with the pants is the pull tabs on the zippers. The pants are still usable without the tabs but a bit inconvenient.  I have put key ring circles into the tabs and those seem to work great.  And, as a bonus, they are easier to grip when you have gloves on.  After the years of riding with the pants the only real noticeable wear is near on the inside of the leg where my boots rub.  And, to be honest, the waterproofing isn't working anymore in all the right places.  I don't blame Aerostich for that, as when I first got the pants, and probably for the first year, all I did was wash them.  I wanted to make sure they were clean after a big ride.  What I didn't know at the time was I wasn't washing them in the proper stuff.  I later learned if I used Nikwax Tech Wash and Direct Wash In (http://www.nikwax.com/en-gb/index.php) which I found at various retailers for around $7-9 a bottle, the waterproof life would last longer.  

It's time for a new set of pants and you can bet I'll be going back to Aerostitch for a replacement pair.  The pants are a reasonable $297 and come in black or gray, sizes 30-46 and in long or regular length.  Aerostitch also makes a Darien Light that come in black, tan or gray and are made with a lighter Gore-Tex fabric.  

Aerostitch has a website full of other tasty morsels, including the Darien Jacket, silk scarves, and smiley face puppets.  And who doesn't need a smiley face puppet?

Vancouver BC Day 1

Viewed Vancouver BC from the back of the Beast today. It's a good thing that I already know how to ride because if I didn't, I wouldn't dare get on a bike again. Riding on the back, trusting your life to someone else, sucks. It's a lot like being on a roller coaster that could go anywhere at any time that brakes at the last minute. Weaving in and out of traffic, no turn signals, tires screeching, people glaring, pedestrians running, holding on for dear life thinking, "why isn't anyone as pissed as I am?" Finally a yuppie in a Toyota Landcruiser gets cut off and honks his horn not bothering to slow down and almost landing me on his hood. I want to turn around and thank him for honking and ask if I can have a ride back to the hotel.

I had no idea the Beast could maneuver in such a manner. I also had no idea you could whip around a 20mph corner at 55 with a rider on the back, slide between cars with an inch to spare on each side, and basically use your turn signal only when YOU personally think it's warranted. And, well, it's apparently not warranted when you slip between two cars who are cruising at 45 mph with not nearly a car length between them. Yep. Color me freaked. My thighs actually hurt from straddling the bike with all my might and the prayers I said and promises I made while under duress will keep me being a good girl for years to come.

On second thought, maybe not. But still, I learned a valuable lesson. Never let someone put you on the back of your bike. It's your bike, you ride it. Because really, no one rides like you do.

Canada July 18, 2010

From Portland, OR the ride to Canada is about 5.5 hours. I'd like to say it's a scenic ride but trudging up I-5 and through Seattle traffic is a lot like going to the dentist and having a root canal. Nonstop traffic once you are outside of Seattle and all the way through town. By the time I was through it both my wrists were burning from the constant shifting and braking. My allergies and asthma were acting up due to the smog...cars bumper to bumper zipping in and out of lanes as if moving one over would accomplish some great feat.

Past Seattle the road narrows again and until you hit the Peace Arches at the border it's smooth riding with small towns and trees lining the way. And the border on a Saturday around 4:00 PM is a five minute wait. The questions are quick, "what is the reason for your trip? How long will you be here? Have anything on board you're selling? What's in the bag?" All for naught since clearly I could have brought in an army worth of guns and no one would have noticed. They did make me remove my sunglasses so they could "see if my picture matched" but frankly, on my passport my face shows an extra 15 pounds and make up that I never wear.

Riding into Surrey, my destination, my first stop is a liquor store where I buy two 4 packs of Mike's Hard Lemonade with Vodka. That's the reason I love Canada. I get back to my bike and realize I really don't have room for that much booze on the bike. I take them out of the boxes and shove them into whatever crevice is available in my sidebags. I'm ready to roll when I realize I'm parked on such a slant and the bike and gear weigh so much that I don't have the strength to push the bike upright. Great, another opportunity for failure. I get off, put the stand down, and slowly start pushing the bike backwards so I can get on more level ground. The kickstand is scraping along the asphalt and everyone is staring at me wondering what the heck I'm doing. I can almost hear them saying, "look at the dumb american who bought a bike that's too heavy."

Of course, I knew the trip wouldn't be complete without at least one episode of me being a dumbass. Last time I was here I asked if they were closed for Memorial Day. Um, the USA Memorial Day. Coincidentally that was also at a liquor store. Maybe I need to stay out of liquor stores, stay out of Canada, or just wise up. But, now that I ponder it, I'm glad I didn't disappoint.

Ride on.