Water Falling From the Sky!

Last night on the commute home, Lady Luck and I got caught in a righteous downpour. I've been carpooling with her most days for the last several weeks.

Getting rained on while riding doesn't bother me, but dodging rain-crazed cagers does. We get three little drops of rain and people freak out and forget how to drive. I think they panic because there is WATER!

FALLING!!

FROM THE SKY!!!

FALLING!!! SKY!!!!

THE SKY IS FALLING!! AND IT'S ALL WET AND OOGY!!!

Of course, we did have an epic (relative to Arizona) rain storm last night. Many (most, really) roads flooded since the storm drains here don't usually deal with much rain. Flooding makes the roads fall apart, since a small pothole mixed with flowing water and SUVs quickly turns into a large pothole. Plus everything else in this state gets ruined whenever there's any weather because the whole place is made out of papier mache and chicken wire.

So between the hazardous road conditions and moronic drivers, I was ok with carpooling last night.

Good Taste is Universal

A very brief observation from this morning:

As I walked from the parking garage to my office, I was passed by a young, fashionably dressed dude in a silver, late-model convertible Corvette with the top down.

Blasting Dio on the stereo.


I smiled the rest of the way to the office.

Just Not Enough Time...

My brother Noodles came to Phoenix and visited for several days. I dropped him off at the airport this morning. It was a drag because we only got halfway through painting the town red. So now I'm going to have to paint the other half red by myself...

Anyway, the only moto-news I have is that going to the Department of Motor Vehicles to get a license plate replaced sucks. Especially for a second time. Of course, the GOOD thing about it is that I can once again ride without worrying about the long arm of the law tapping me on the shoulder.

It is curious that every time Noodles comes to visit, my motorcycles become un-streetworthy. Mom, knock it off.

Again??

After I parked the bike in my garage last night, I noticed my license plate was missing. Again.

I am annoyed.

Heat Advisory = A Good Time For All

Living in the desert, paying attention to the weather forecasts is usually just a way to pass time. I can predict the weather for the next 4 months, with 98% accuracy, in three words: "Sunny and Hot."

As such, I don't bother with checking the weather except when I'm curious about what the temperature is right this second. This is usually immediately prior to me giving someone elsewhere in the country a hard time about their wimpy summers.

So on Monday, I was unaware that there was a heat advisory for Phoenix. A heat advisory, for those of you in cooler climates, means that the temperature, humidity, wind, air pressure, etc. have conspired to make everyone regret stepping outside. It isn't "hot," or even "really hot," it's "this hardcore biker wishes he'd accepted a ride from a co-worker hot." And, yes, I did just post about how air-conditioning is for wusses. It's that hot.

Not long after I got on to the freeway Monday night, the heat kicking off the motor started to cook my lower legs. The handgrips were hot (and I have covered parking). The tops (and bottoms) of my feet were hot. Shoot, the piece of gum I was chewing was hot.

By the time I got to my garage (which was, by the way, very hot), all of my clothes were damp and stuck to me. I put my keys in my pocket, then pulled them right back out, because they burned my leg.

Sometimes, the charm of the desert wears a little thin. I know it can get even hotter here, and I'm not especially excited about riding on those days this summer.

Oh, Now I Get It.

More often than I care to admit, I'll see a new design/hear some new music/otherwise encounter something new to me and not like it one bit.

In fact, when I first heard the band Clutch, I really didn't like them. Now they're my favorite band. A similar thing happened with Type O Negative, though I'm still fairly selective about which songs of theirs I like...

Several years ago, this little company in New Orleans called Confederate started building motorcycles. One model in particular, the Wraith, struck me as astoundingly ugly. Just incredibly, hideously ugly. The kind of ugly that needs to be hid under a heavy blanket and locked up in the cellar, if you can dig it.

Except, very recently, someone pointed out that the bike has a very retro design - almost like a modern board track racer.

And now I totally dig it and think it's a pretty sweet-looking bike. I think it might look nice in the garage next to the Triumph.

Frank Zappa said (basically) that anything can be art when you put a frame around it. A lot of times, I need someone to point out the frame for me and then I get it. It makes me wonder how many other people are walking around, absolutely despising something because they don't see the frame. And it makes me wonder how many frames I've missed.

Sometimes, the beholder's eye just needs an explanation.

Pizza Dating Personality, or, The Media is Inventing New Dumb Things For Us To Worry About.

This is possibly the most stupid article I've read about pizza ever.

Shoot, I can do better than that.

If your date orders Plain Cheese:
This person is terrified of anything unknown. As such, they are probably terrified of you. Use this to your advantage as you swindle them out of dinner, drinks at a martini lounge, and several cds. Do not continue dating this person unless you dream of a pre-packaged Disney wedding with Frank Sinatra karaoke at the reception. Probably leaves crappy or no tips for the wait staff. Deathly afraid of motorcycles, and probably outright hostile to anyone who rides one.

Alternately, your date could have heartburn.

Compatible with: Extremely boring people who never do anything unexpected.


If your date orders half pineapple & black olive, half green olive and jalapeno:
This person is a Ninja Turtle. You are guaranteed an adventurous time with this person as you battle unlikely villains and encounter other strange vigilantes. Your date knows the difference between drains and sewer lines, and prefers to travel underground.

Compatible with: Anthropomorphic rats, buxom female news anchors, other Ninja Turtles


If your date orders sausage and mushrooms:
Your date is a serial killer. Run away, but try not to hurt your date's feelings, you could send them off on a mass-murdering rampage.

Compatible with: scary old ladies, tough and streetwise detectives.


If your date orders Canadian Bacon and Pineapple:
Your date is mildly adventurous. You might get him/her on the back of your bike. This person is probably a lot of fun. Of course, it's also possible that your date is a reformed Cheese pizza fan, in which case you'll have to drag this person into adventures. However, at least a reforming Cheese pizza person will go along with some of your ideas.

Compatible with: Ninja turtles, Mellow motorcycle riders


If your date orders Pepperoni and Jalapeno, and adds crushed red pepper:
Your date is awesome, and will probably be dragging his/her knee behind you on his/her own bike. Guaranteed fun, but prone to showing up unannounced and talking you into going on a four hour ride to the next state over right now.

Compatible with: Anyone with serious thrill issues.

Wrenching Already?

No, not on the bikes. For a change.

The battery in our 4-wheeled conveyance chose tonight to gasp and die. Damn cars. Anyway, Lady Luck had school tonight, so she took the scooter. That left me with a non-running car, and a motorcycle ill-equipped to carry a car batter. If I'd had the scooter, it would have been no problem: bungee the battery to the luggage rack and away we go.

I wound up borrowing a friend's car. Weak, yes, but I didn't care to put the battery in a backpack and ride over to Sears.

Anyway, the battery was still under warranty, so I exchanged it, got home and put the new one in. Woo hoo.

As I was tightening the bolts on the battery contacts, I marvelled at how repairs and vehicular expenses seem to come in waves. The Vespa needed a new rear tire a couple weeks ago, the Triumph needed everything it needed, plus the tabs are about to expire (just got the note from the MVD), and now the car needs love too.

Good thing our cats are pretty self-reliant (knock on wood).

Better, Stronger, Faster. Or, at least in my garage for a change.

I just picked up the Speed Four from the shop. After a month or so of scooting about on the Vespa, 98 horsepower is mighty interesting.

Mighty interesting.

Funny how, after weeks of no Triumph, the ride from shop to home just isn't far enough.

Anyways, you'll have to excuse me for tonight. I've got to locate a workshop manual for my bike so this doesn't happen again...

Get Used To It, Already

Hot out, isn't it? It's been up over 110 degrees here in Phoenix for the last couple of weeks.

I frequently hear people complaining about the heat (or the cold, or the rain....), and I have to admit that I complain about the weather on occasion as well.

But I know something they don't: the weather doesn't really get to me so much any more. I still get uncomfortable in high heat, but if there's even a slight breeze it doesn't phase me too much. Similarly, in the cold I just dress warmer and try to get on with what I'm doing.

Because I'm outside riding for a good hour and a half (at least) every day, the heat or cold just feels like fresh air to me. I mean, I still feel it, but it just doesn't bother me as much as it did in my pre-moto-commuting days. I'm used to the real weather.

Meanwhile, the unfortunates who run from climate-controlled building to climate-controlled automobile (barely hanging on to their coffee-like beverage all the while) are not used to changes in temperature. When a person spends all his/her time surrounded by conditioned 75 degree air, any change is going to be mighty uncomfortable.

Cages are addictive. Originally, we found or made shelter to protect us from nasty weather and dangerous critters. Then we started to spend more and more time feeling safe in our shelters instead of outside. We figured out ways to keep our brains occupied without having to leave the house. One gets used to "constant", and pretty soon one needs "constant."

Remember when we were kids and would play outside all year? Every now and then we'd go in for some Kool-Aid or hot chocolate, but otherwise we were out there and weather barely fazed us.

Slowly we got used to the concept of being inside all the time. Then we started to "need" the constant comfort of room temperature. We've gone soft!

Yesterday I passed another armor-clad biker on the sidewalk as I left work. I smiled and asked "Staying cool?"

"Always," he replied.

We all need to be reminded that there is no bad weather, only bad clothing (and bad attitudes). Find a friend who looks pasty and content in their cage and drag them outside to play for a few hours this weekend. If it's really hot, have a water fight. It's ok, you're never too old.

Life doesn't happen indoors. Get out and ride.

Happy 4th of July!

Everybody have a fun and reasonably safe day!

Hey, why not go ride your American-made motorcycle and celebrate afterwards by cracking open a good, old-fashioned American macro-brew? It's ok! Just don't reverse the order of those two activities.

The Buddha Told Me to Maintain My Own Bike

It's official, I can't afford the Triumph. At least, not if I'm not going to do the maintenance myself.

In the last year I spent close to $2,000 bringing my delightful motorcycle to the shop for it's routine maintenances. That's a little more than a quarter of the cost of the bike! If I'd known I was going to spend that much on the bike, I would have just gotten the damn Ducati.

As was pointed out to me, if I'm going to keep the Triumph I'm going to have to start doing my own maintenance. Chains, Tires, Valve Checks, they're just too expensive to pay some other guy to do the work for me. If I'd spent that $2000 on tools and the bits and pieces I need to do the work, I think I'd be ahead (and actually coming out ahead with the fuel cost savings). Even after the really expensive tools.

So, can I do it? Probably. I'm not a complete moron when it comes to technical stuff (righty tighty, lefty loosey. What else is there to know, really?). Will I do it? I guess so.

As I zipped home on the Vespa today, I thought about the Buddhist concept of attachment. Essentially, attachment leads to suffering. I am attached to the Triumph, I admit. When Lady Luck suggested I sell it to get a KLR650 (cheap and easy to maintain!), my mind recoiled in horror. I sputtered. I objected. I rationalized. I suggested that I keep the bike "for special," like shoes for church, and get an easy-to-work-on beater to really rack the miles up on.

In other words, I really don't like the idea of getting rid of the Triumph. And it is a great bike. I have a grin on my face every time I get off the darn thing.

Still puttering along on the Vespa, I wondered if I should get rid of the Triumph because I'm attached to it. It would be sort of a moral lesson/exercise: the bike does not own me, I own the bike.

Let me tell you, it's a tough call. I mean, I really probably can do the work. And I'll probably end up doing a better job than the shop, since I'm not trying to make a profit. Also I recently learned that doing my own work on the bike won't void the warranty, so long as I keep documentation of what I've done.

But if I do start doing the work in order to keep the bike, does that make me desperate to keep the bike? Should I get rid of it just because I want to keep it?

A Small Step for Mankind, but a Giant Leap for Me

Brothah Crazy Rob visited me earlier this week, and while he was here he helped me get the radiator off the VX800, as well as the loathsome rounded bolt.

He also tried (really, REALLY tried) to pinstripe the Vespa for us, but it was just too darn hot and the paint wouldn't flow. We learned that denatured alcohol does not work well as a paint thinner for One Shot. It does, however, do a very good job of making pinstriping brushes fall apart (insert "The More You Know" jingle here).

Today I spent the better part of the morning and early afternoon in the garage working on the VX. I got 4 of the 8 valves (the front cylinder) adjusted. Yay me.

The rear cylinder was frustrating and the garage was too damn hot, so I decided to call it a day. It seems I'll have to take the front carb off in order to get at the valves on the rear cylinder, and I figured that it'll be best to tackle that when I'm cool and less grouchy.

Incidentally, I noticed that the manual specifies that the REAR cylinder valves be adjusted first, then the front. Ummm, does that actually matter?