Have a Happy New Year!

That's it for today. Happy New Year!

36 Inches of Torque

I finally bought a breaker bar, and a 27mm (aka "the freakin' huge one back there") socket last night. Within mere minutes of getting the annoying plastic security tabs off my new tools, I had the chain slack adjusted and everything tightened back up.

It was late, though, so I didn't have a chance to take it out for a test ride/shakedown. So today, once again, I rode the scooter in to work.

It's a hard knock life, it is.

Today I took the mighty Vespa on the freeway for a 75 - 80 mph blast in to work. Good times! I thought it was pretty well-behaved at those speeds, and going that fast on a vehicle that isn't much bigger than a shopping cart is a lot of fun.

As I exited, I was amused to see a Harley stopped at the light at the end of the ramp, waiting to turn. The dude - reet and compleet in chaps, leather jacket, backwards baseball cap, and bug-eye goggles - was smack in the middle of the lane, so I wasn't able to get next to him and harass him at all.

So instead, when he roared off, I zipped along quietly behind him. This irritated him to no end, apparently, because he kept riding faster and more recklessly, trying to shake me. I saw him check his mirror for me repeatedly.

I guess he didn't want his cool tarnished by a dorky old scooter.

It didn't work though, because "stupid fast through a turn" on a Harley is "just starting to be fun" on a scooter. We finally hit a red light, and he got in the left turn lane. I puttered up next to him in my own lane, but he saw me coming and inched forward so he wouldn't have to be next to me.

Because scooter cooties can jump pretty far, you know. And I might want to say "Hi," or do something even less macho.

Lady Luck has accused me of being an elitist when it comes to riding. I probably am, but I'm willing to ride with anyone. I just don't like it when people who "ride" don't actually ever ride. Other than that, they can ride whatever, and look however they want.

On the other hand, I think the "breed apart" line as an excuse not to ride with/wave at anyone else is a bunch of bullshit, and protective coloring at best. I'm guessing these people are actually so afraid of being unaccepted that they choose to actively reject anyone who doesn't meet their narrow definition of "cool biker."

As the cliché goes, nothing annoys a non-conformist as much as another non-conformist not conforming to the first non-conformist's standards of non-conformity.

I say, as long as you aren't a complete tool we'll probably get along just fine, so follow me and I'll show you some great roads.

Another Reason to Love Scooters

It was raining slightly on my ride in to work this morning. I kept my legs tucked in behind the cowl on the Vespa, and my legs stayed almost perfectly dry. Nice!

I miss the smooth, powerful brakes on my Triumph, however. I realize that the Triumph is, for all intents and purposes, a supersport and as such has exceptional brakes to match the rest of the package. The Vespa, meanwhile, is not a supersport, and shouldn't be compared to the Triumph.

The Vespa rockets from a dead stop to cruising speed pretty quickly, though, and my tendency to speed on the Vespa makes for a lot of hard squeezes on the brakes (It doesn't feel that fast, I swear!). Since it was wet this morning, I took it easier, but the brakes still felt kind of... agricultural.

However, my legs were dry, and I was happy, so I'm not going to bag on the scooter too much. I might look for some upgraded brakes for it, though, as a Valentine's Day gift for Lady Luck.

Scooters Are More Dangerous Than I Thought

The Speed Four is still down, waiting for it's chain to be adjusted. I got some great advice on how to break the axle nut loose, but that sucker is torqued on tight. 110 Newton-Meters of torque, to be precise. The goofy little wrench in the Triumph tool kit isn't NEARLY long enough to lever that little bastard free.

Tonight I'm going to go and get a breaker bar. That oughta show it who's boss.

In the meantime, I've been riding Lady Luck's Vespa to work. The Vespa, for me, is no end of trouble. For one thing, I can't feel the speed at all, which results in my riding everywhere at 65 miles per hour. Fun, yes, but certainly not wise when trying to avoid the hidden cameras of the law.

The other problem I have is that it's just too darn much fun. Last night I had a great time riding home on side roads, seeing Christmas light displays I haven't seen before and, of course, speeding.

I was having such a good time, in fact, that I stopped paying attention to where I was, and wound up riding an extra five miles or so before I realized I'd missed my turn.

I wish I was kidding.

I was shocked when I finally looked at the name of the road I was crossing and figured out where I was in relation to home.

Oops.

Anyway, I made it home, late, happy, and mildly embarassed.

It's been slightly easier keeping my speeds down today. Hopefully I won't get unintentionally lost tonight.

X-Mas Lights Tour

Saturday night, Lady Luck and I went out riding with a couple of scooterists. I'm not sure if I can call them "members" of the Scarabs Scooter Club or not, but since they're associated with the Scarabs, I'm just going to call them the Scarabs.

I had intended to ride the Triumph. Luckily for me, the chain was far too loose, and I wasn't able to get it adjusted, so I borrowed Baldy-Beard's scooter instead. It turned out to be a very good thing.

We all met up at a nearby coffee shop. Three of us rode, and one followed in a "support truck." We started out by riding past the local Mormon temple, which always has a disturbingly large christmas lights display.

I say it's disturbing because, seriously, that display can't be cheap and if they have that kind of money to throw around, why aren't they giving it to some poor folks?

Whatever, it's a great display either way, and I'm a sucker for twinkly lights. There were some entertaining protesters out, too. We had some people yelling things like "woo! Scooters!" as we rode by.

From there we went to an investment company that always has a huge display. There was even a Santa outside making balloon animals. We got a lot of waves from kids and yelled seasonal greetings.

Then it was on to a neighborhood known for their awesome light display. Here's where I started to be really happy I was on a scooter. There was so much traffic that we spent more time stopped than going. Had I been on the Triumph, I expect my clutch wrist would have been very upset indeed.

The neighborhoods light show was pretty neat, though. Santa's air control tower was especially neat. The air traffic controllers even had little radar screens that glowed. I think the kids who were walking through thought we were a parade. If I'd been working the clutch, it would have been a lot harder to wave back.

Traffic in that area was insane, and we managed to lose the support truck (my bad). We pulled in and got on a cell phone to guide the errant truck to where we had stopped.

From there we went to the nearby rich neighborhood with another awesome light display. Traffic was stupid again, but the waving kids were pretty cute. As we rode by one house that had a bunch of seizure-inducing flashy lights, some guy in a passing car told us to tune our radios to a specific station because the lights were synchronized to a song.

Because, you know, we all had radios on our scooters. We had a pretty good laugh about that.

Anyway, the lights were all pretty neat, but the most fun was just goofing around on scooters. We agreed that next year we'd have to decorate the scooters before we went out riding.

I understand that one of the Scarabs asked Lady Luck if I'm going to be getting rid of the Triumph in order to get a scooter. Although I would definitely like to get a scooter of my own at some point, the Triumph isn't going anywhere.

Merry Moto-mas

Since a bunch of you are probably going to be too busy to look at my blog before the holidays are over, Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Good Yule, Happy Plowfest, and best wishes for whatever holidays coming up I might have missed.

Personally, I'm hoping for a Triumph Daytona 675 under the old Plowfest shovel, but don't let my other bikes hear that.

All the best to you and yours.

Lightning Quick Product Review - Yoshimoto Fog-Off

Yoshimoto Fog-Off

This stuff doesn't work. I've tried it several times.

Winner of the 2006 "Biggest Waste of Lucky's Six Bucks" award.

Disappointing, because I was thoroughly pleased with their other product "Lid Cleanz."

Can anyone recommend an anti-fog product that WORKS?

No One Wants To Play With Me!

This morning it was cold. I know a bunch of you live in places where it's really cold, but thankfully I don't live there with you. And either way, when the weather 70 degrees colder than what you're used to, it sucks.

As I left my phat, palatial estate this morning, I noticed that I could see my breath. For those of us in Phoenix, that's weird.

Fortunately, I had prior warning that it was going to be colder than a... very cold thing. I had a big bowl of oatmeal (I don't care what the ads say, Malt-o-meal doesn't keep me warm AND tastes like butt) and wore 3 layers under my jacket.

Good thing, too, because I stayed warm for almost a whole mile longer than I would have otherwise.

Anyway, I rode in to work with my visor varying between somewhat and very foggy (cold hands, warm lungs). I could see well enough to note, however, that no one else rode to work today. And the car pool lane was suspiciously full.

Why live in Arizona if you're not going to ride in the winter or summer? Truly, you know a state has gone soft when the rough and tough bunch who thrived in the extremes of the desert gave way to the S.U.V. driving pansies who won't go outside except for when the weather is perfect.

Lady Luck asked me the other night "So will you ride through the winter when we live somewhere that gets snow?"

I barely had time to think of how to respond when she said, "Of course you will. Who am I kidding?"

I said "Naturally, but I'm getting a sidehack for the winter."

Anyways, I guess until it warms up I'll be playing in traffic by myself.

Thoughts from the Saddle

***Attention - This post probably sucks. You've been warned.***

When traffic is light, and roads are boring, bikers have plenty of time to think. As a thoughtful and introspective kind of guy, I think a lot when I'm riding (when I'm not keeping myself entertained by singing "Rainbow in the Dark.").

One of the things I've been pondering lately is my own curiosity about the lives of friends, acquaintances and sworn, bitter enemies I haven't talked to since high school. High school was, generally, a miserable time and I have no desire to go back in time. I don't view it as "the greatest time of my life," though it was certainly interesting.

For those of you who don't know, by a strange blend of luck and fate I attended a well-regarded, "world class" international private school in Germany for my last two years of high school. The education I received there shaped me into the reasonably-proficient writer I am today, as well as an intolerable know-it-all (reformed) and snob (not so much).

Since the people I went to school with could be anywhere in the world right now, I can't just pick up a phone book and expect to find any of them in it (unless I move to L.A., anyways...). That's not so bad, because I don't want to talk to 99% of them anyway. This is the reason I don't go to reunions.

That 1% I do want to talk to, however, has proven incredibly elusive. Every six months or so, I get a strange compulsion to find out what the heck happened to them. Evidently I'm the only one of my old friends with an Internet presence.

Recently, I've taken to wondering why the hell I even care. There are plenty of people I've known and fallen out of touch with over the last ten years where my curiosity begins and ends at, "I wonder if they're dead or not."

Is it echoes of the intense emotions of the time, and the resulting friendships and hostilities? It could be. I was, to put it mildly, bat-shit crazy back then.

Is it just the unique quality of the experience of living in Europe that makes it stand out? Well, I had already lived abroad once before, so it wasn't that unique.

I don't have an answer, and in the great scheme of things it seems pretty silly.

I really gotta find some gnarly, twisty roads to get my mind off this garbage.

Turning the World Down A Bit

A couple years ago when Baldy-Beard loaned me his scooter for a couple months, I rode with an open-faced helmet. The wind noise was incredible, and I began wearing earplugs pretty quickly.

Then I got my own bike (the mighty VX800), and a full-face helmet. The helmet was so quiet (in comparison) that I felt like I was riding in a luxury car. Only, you know, much more awesome.

Now I've got my Triumph, and she's a bit louder than the VX. And the wind noise is incredible again (that might be because of the increase in power and resulting speed). So, I vaguely thought I should get some earplugs again.

Last week I finally bought some (at the prompting of Lady Luck) and started wearing them.

I love it.

All the annoying noises, such as the roar of tires and wind, are barely noticeable, while the good sounds, such as the roar of the intake and my always hilarious vocals, are perfectly audible.

Of course, there is one downside: I have tinnitus. I have had it for as long as I can remember. I'm guessing it's because when I was born, Black Sabbath was there to mark the occasion.

Anyway, for most of my life I just figured it was the "System OK" sound, much like the spots one sees in the dark (uh, you all see those too, right?). After college it finally dawned on me that most people do not hear ANYTHING when there's no sound. Hmm.

I did some research on tinnitus, and learned that people who suffer from it, suffer because they're freaked out there's this ringing in their ears, and they start to obsess about it a bit. I know I did, briefly.

Most of the time, there's enough background noise that I don't notice it. I sleep with a fan on, and usually just don't ever think about the high-pitched ringing inside my head.

With the earplugs in at a quiet stoplight, though, I hear "eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee." Annoying, and kind of spooky. It's a horror-flick sound.

Luckily, I have a cure: outrageous Ronnie James Dio impressions. Not only does it keep me sane, but the looks from other drivers (you can't do Dio at a stoplight without looking vaguely skyward and "clutching the mystical orb" here and there) are priceless.

Canelli's Pizzeria - Official Review!

I've decided to change up the format of my reviews, because I think the old way was kind of clunky and stupid. Of course, the rating is still 1 - 5 Crying Luckies, where 5 is good, and 1 is bad.

Anyway, Lady Luck and I wanted to check out the Schnepf Farms Christmas Spectacular light display. We want to organize a Christmas Lights tour for some of our desert-bound riding chums, and I thought the Christmas Spectacular would be a good end to the ride. That wound up being a complete waste of time, alas. Not only did I not have sufficient cash, but they just wanted too darn much money for the privilege of driving through and looking at their lights.

Since going to the farm involved riding out to East Nowhere, Arizona, I thought it would be good to sample a local pizza. Here's the place we found:

Canelli's Pizzeria & Restaurant
23670 S Power Rd # 102
Queen Creek, AZ 85242

(480) 840-3131

Canelli's is, like everything in Arizona, in a strip mall. They've done the best they can with their decorating. Their staff is wonderful, and the service was top-notch.

But enough about that crap, what about the pizza? We got the "Monster," which is pepperoni, sausage, green peppers and mushrooms (we asked them to hold the onions). This was one of the best pizzas I've had here in Arizona. The toppings were great, the crust was good, and best of all their sauce was good and they put plenty of it on the pie. Hooray!

The pizza was so good, in fact, that the boring ass ride to get there is actually worth it. The ride, no matter which way you go, involves many, many miles of straight roads packed with angry stoplights determined to ruin your good time. Don't let them bother you, because the pizza is really that good.

This morning I had the leftovers, cold, for breakfast. Truly, this is a pizza worthy of kings, because it was still as good if not better than the night before. In fact, I tried to talk Lady Luck into riding out that way again in order to get more pizza today. After all, it's only a quick 60 mile round trip.

She didn't go for the idea.

Anyway, when you're in the area, you must try this pie. Easily 5 Crying Luckies, which I believe is a first for my reviews.

Car Alarm Dominoes

Car alarms are right up there next to excessively loud exhaust and SUVs on my list of things that should just go away. I have a hard time believing they actually deter thieves or vandals, since no one pays attention due to all the false alarms.

Recently, I've been amused to learn that my bike - which has the stock, factory exhaust - apparently sounds like a car being broken into. This is the only conclusion I can come to about why every time I start my bike, a nearby alarm start whooping, honking and bleating.

I'd like to say again that my bike, though much louder than a Vespa, has the stock, street-legal, reasonable decibel-level exhaust system. It's possible to stand next to the speed four while it's running and have a conversation at a normal speaking level.

At first it bothered me when the car alarm next to me went off. After all, I'm a shady looking guy wearing black leather. It's almost a given that I'm up to no good.

After the fifth time or so, though, I've started to be highly amused by the cacophonous avalanche of tripped alarms every time I hit the go button on my bike.

Last night, I was particularly delighted to hear no less than 5 car alarms go off. You see, my bike set off the car next to me, which in turn set off the car next to it, which then set off a car across the way, which set off another car nearby, et cetera, until I had my very own disco light show going in the parking ramp. All the noise from the other alarms set off the first car again, which started the whole cycle over again.

I laughed so hard I couldn't get on my bike. Had someone walked by, they might have thought I really was up to no good.

So, how many alarms have you set off by merely running your motorcycle?

Free Your Mind And Your Back Wheel Will Follow

A rear-wheel skid in traffic is one of the more interesting experiences a rider can have. When the rear wheel stops rolling and starts sliding, the rider is still mostly in control of the bike. So long as the front wheel is turning, the bike can be steered and otherwise directionally influenced.

Note that I said "mostly" in control of the bike. Once the back tire locks up, one is pretty much required to come to a complete stop before releasing that back brake.

Here's why: when the rear wheel locks, it tends to drift to one side or another. Since the front wheel is rolling, the rider can still point the bike in a particular direction and reasonably expect to go that way. A motorcycle is an in-line sort of vehicle, however. Both wheels, with a few exceptions (yay for flat-track racing!), travel in roughly the same line when rolling.

Now, if the front wheel is rolling in one direction and the rear wheel is locked, all is well so long as the rider keeps his/her head. If, however, the rear wheel starts rolling again, the two wheels are going to align themselves correctly. Depending on speed and how much the rear wheel drifted, this realignment can be violent and lead to pain, embarassment and ugly new scratches on the bike. By "pain," I mean "broken collarbones from the high-side crash you just experienced", and by "ugly new scratches" I mean "wad of metal that used to be your pretty motorcycle." Just so we're clear.

At lower speeds or with less driftage, the realignment may just cause a moment of consternation followed by a joyous call of "Wahoo!" and a return to playing in traffic.

Yesterday on my way to work, as I tried to do something I saw in a movie once*, powerful braking was required when I tried to merge into traffic. My line of travel as I braked took me through the slip-strip (that greasy patch of car-leavin's in the middle of every lane), and my back wheel locked up as it went through the strip.

I let up on the back brake (stupid habits from stupid cars with their stupid sliding in stupid snow) and the bike did indeed realign itself. It took me a second to realize what had happened, and I did indeed yell "Wahoo!" as I continued merrily on down the road. I'm guessing the reason I got away with it was my low speed when I let off the back brake.

Anyway, I survived another ride to work, and resolved to pay better attention to my rear-brake habits. I think this weekend I'm going to find a parking lot and practice up on my emergency braking again.



*Not really. I haven't tried to do anything I saw in a movie once since that time I climbed a... uh, nevermind.

Gas Trap

I hope you'll excuse me for a brief descent into base humor (just in case you didn't notice all of it over here.).

One of my other great epicurean loves is mexican food. Done well, I'll eat it every day that I'm not eating pizza.

In the past, the beans in mexican food used to cause me considerable gastrointestinal distress, of varying intensity. For some unknown reason as I've gotten older this problem has mostly gone away, so I enjoy refried beans once again.

Last night, Lady Luck made tacos for dinner. We didn't have any refried beans, so she whipped up sort of a refried bean/hummus crossover that was to die for.

It was so good, I brought it for lunch today. Unfortunately, not too long after I ate, my gut started rumbling. I spent a very uncomfortable afternoon at my desk.

You might think that I got relief on my ride home. After all, I've got open air, noisy exhaust, and a full face helmet for extra protection.

You would be wrong. If there's one thing that bikes are good at, it's keeping a surly biker from farting. I thought I figured out a good solution though: lean the bike over, lift a cheek and poot on down the road. And, pragmatically speaking, it does work.

Then it dawned on me: everyone behind me saw me, and knew exactly what I was doing. I'm sure none of them knew quite what to make of my shaking shoulders as I laughed hysterically at my realization.

Tomorrow, I'll have something more dignified for you.

Plans for the month

Well, I think we can all agree that I spent the last month seizing the day(s). Now I'm into another new month, and a new exciting project is therefore required.

To fill my gaping project void, I'm going to spend the month fixing up the VX so that it's legal and safe to ride on the street again. Here's a list of what the old girl needs:

Valve adjustment
Balance carbs
Clean carbs (?)
Oil change
Thermostat check/replace (Currently, the radiator fan doesn't come on)
Remove weird metal hunk from exhaust (there's a chunk blocking the exhaut)
New rear tire
Adjust clutch (slips occasionally)

I expect by January I'll have 2 sweet running bikes.

The Gentlemanly Hun

Mr. Combatscoot recently posted about his frustration with meeting riders he doesn't know in traffic. It seems that they just don't behave around him at all.

I haven't had this happen to me to the same extent, perhaps because I'm on a motorcycle, while he rides a scooter. However, I have certainly encountered my share of rude moto-conduct from other unknown riders.

Today, however, I have to tell you about my delightful brush with courtesy. This morning I was enjoying my usual frogger-like merge onto the freeway and over to the HOV lane, and was frustrated by the large number (four, one for each lane) of people who actually sped up so I couldn't get in front of them. Damn snow birds.

I finally got over to the "fast" lane, and I was waiting for my opportunity to hit the hyperjet and enjoy the glorious freedom (relative) of the HOV lane. Keeping one eye on my mirrors and the other on the Lincoln Super-Mega-Beast-Ugly-Fuggin-Waste-Oughta-Be-Burned-Truckster in front of me, I noticed something odd in my mirror. A sportbike.

A sportbike, in and of itself, isn't that weird, but one where the rider is WAVING ME IN is. What a guy! I got into the HOV lane, enjoyed my 3 second burst of acceleration, and then settled into cruise position.

The gentleman riding behind me stayed at a safe, but not stand-offish distance. I was hoping we'd exit at the same place so I could give him mad props and high fives for not being a dink, but he disappeared to exit several miles before my own exit. Oh well.

So, gentlemanly sportbiker dude, where ever you are, you rock.

The Gentlemanly Hun - the triple post correction

Hey, I see I've got a lot of BARF guests for this post. Hi folks, welcome. The post you want to read is here. By some amazing compu-clusterf*ckery, I managed to make this post 3 times.