The real reason Lady Luck and I are going to Minnesota this week, apart from visiting family and friends, is to see some weather. I hear there's plenty of rain, thunder, gloom and general Minnesota-style weather to go around.
I can't wait. The promise of nasty weather and causing a ruckus with my midwestern biker brethren is going to keep me awake all night.
Anyway, I don't know if I'm going to be able to post at all in the coming week, but I'll be back.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Hooligan Rising
Yesterday I got my glorious 36 miles of riding for the week. It was, as you would expect, a lot of fun.
After a lot of cage-driving and car-pooling with minimal motorcycle-riding to keep me sane, getting back on the Triumph with it's outrageously good handling and gobs of power is a bit intoxicating.
Ok, I'll be honest, it's a lot intoxicating. Especially when the motor gets up around 11,000 RPM, the intake roars and the exhaust howls. I'm only human.
So when I see that the road I'm on is a bit congested, I tend to think "fast u-turn and alternate route" before I even think "I don't want to sit in that mess."
In fact, it's tempting to plant a foot and spin the bike around in a big, smokey burnout. The cost of tires, however, prevents such behavior (concerns about the legality are much lower on my list of deterrents).
I was also tempted to do a bit of sidewalk-riding and urban off-roading, Gary-style, but the Triumph doesn't take kindly to unpaved surfaces and curb-hopping. It was probably one of the few times I thought afterwards "Not having a KLR probably kept me out of trouble today."
All the same, I rode past an empty lot wishing I could just cut across it and pop out on the road on the other side, leaving a trail of fire and wreckage behind me.
Luckily for me, my mild-mannered alter-ego usually keeps my moto-Visigoth urges in check. Usually.
After a lot of cage-driving and car-pooling with minimal motorcycle-riding to keep me sane, getting back on the Triumph with it's outrageously good handling and gobs of power is a bit intoxicating.
Ok, I'll be honest, it's a lot intoxicating. Especially when the motor gets up around 11,000 RPM, the intake roars and the exhaust howls. I'm only human.
So when I see that the road I'm on is a bit congested, I tend to think "fast u-turn and alternate route" before I even think "I don't want to sit in that mess."
In fact, it's tempting to plant a foot and spin the bike around in a big, smokey burnout. The cost of tires, however, prevents such behavior (concerns about the legality are much lower on my list of deterrents).
I was also tempted to do a bit of sidewalk-riding and urban off-roading, Gary-style, but the Triumph doesn't take kindly to unpaved surfaces and curb-hopping. It was probably one of the few times I thought afterwards "Not having a KLR probably kept me out of trouble today."
All the same, I rode past an empty lot wishing I could just cut across it and pop out on the road on the other side, leaving a trail of fire and wreckage behind me.
Luckily for me, my mild-mannered alter-ego usually keeps my moto-Visigoth urges in check. Usually.
Monday, August 20, 2007
30 days - 140 miles
In the last 30 days, I've had to fill my gas tank once.
Car pooling is good for the environment, my moto-budget, and keeping Lady Luck from going insane in traffic... but very bad for my mental health. It's not that I mind riding in the car so much (after all, Lady Luck is good company, even when I'm tired and in a rotten mood), it's that I'm not on two wheels.
You might ask, "Lucky, why don't you go out riding after work or on the weekends?"
A fair question. There are three reasons.
1. I haven't had time this month.
2. It's freaking hot out.
3. Really, it's just ridiculously, stupidly hot outside, 24 hours a day right now.
We have reached the special time of year where I just sweat all the time, and once I get hot I can't cool off. Cold shower? Doesn't work. Swimming? The community pool is bath-water temperature right now. Sitting in front of a fan? Just a good way to dehydrate.
So, sorry I haven't been posting much lately. I haven't had any good moto-adventures to talk about. As soon as I have one, I'll let you know!
Car pooling is good for the environment, my moto-budget, and keeping Lady Luck from going insane in traffic... but very bad for my mental health. It's not that I mind riding in the car so much (after all, Lady Luck is good company, even when I'm tired and in a rotten mood), it's that I'm not on two wheels.
You might ask, "Lucky, why don't you go out riding after work or on the weekends?"
A fair question. There are three reasons.
1. I haven't had time this month.
2. It's freaking hot out.
3. Really, it's just ridiculously, stupidly hot outside, 24 hours a day right now.
We have reached the special time of year where I just sweat all the time, and once I get hot I can't cool off. Cold shower? Doesn't work. Swimming? The community pool is bath-water temperature right now. Sitting in front of a fan? Just a good way to dehydrate.
So, sorry I haven't been posting much lately. I haven't had any good moto-adventures to talk about. As soon as I have one, I'll let you know!
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Back To School
School is back in session here in Phoenix, and somehow that means that every jackass in the state needs to be out on the road again. During the summer, we get a respite from the slow-moving hordes of zombie sheep in SUVs, but once school resumes the dead rise again to clog the roadways in their Hummers and Expeditions.
Slow traffic, as you know, is a lot scarier and more dangerous than fast-moving traffic. The mocha-swilling vegetables start getting irate when traffic is slow. I'd rather stare down an angry elephant than face a half-awake, grouchy moron stuck in traffic in his/her Escalade. The elephant, after all, is predictable. And kind of cute.
Cages piloted by the walking dead, on the other hand, are entirely random and malicious. After two months of easy sailing, it's time for us sickle bums to sharpen up the reflexes and start paying extra close attention to traffic.
Stay safe out there, and don't let the zombies bite you.
Slow traffic, as you know, is a lot scarier and more dangerous than fast-moving traffic. The mocha-swilling vegetables start getting irate when traffic is slow. I'd rather stare down an angry elephant than face a half-awake, grouchy moron stuck in traffic in his/her Escalade. The elephant, after all, is predictable. And kind of cute.
Cages piloted by the walking dead, on the other hand, are entirely random and malicious. After two months of easy sailing, it's time for us sickle bums to sharpen up the reflexes and start paying extra close attention to traffic.
Stay safe out there, and don't let the zombies bite you.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
SoCal, sans Bike
Lady Luck and I are headed to San Diego tomorrow, this time to visit Penguin Man and celebrate his birthday.
I don't think there are going to be many opportunities to ditch everyone and carve up the delightful SoCal roads, so I'm leaving the Triumph at home.
Sadly, that means I'll have ridden less than 40 miles this week. If it weren't for the promise of sandy beaches, the possibility of seeing The Wrong Trousers, the certainty of seeing Stranger (I had the distinct pleasure of going out riding with the drummer a while back), and getting to go to the Yard House for Penguin Man's birthday party, I'd be one grumpy biker.
But, really, I'm pretty exciting about spending hours upon hours at the beach doing nothing.
I don't think there are going to be many opportunities to ditch everyone and carve up the delightful SoCal roads, so I'm leaving the Triumph at home.
Sadly, that means I'll have ridden less than 40 miles this week. If it weren't for the promise of sandy beaches, the possibility of seeing The Wrong Trousers, the certainty of seeing Stranger (I had the distinct pleasure of going out riding with the drummer a while back), and getting to go to the Yard House for Penguin Man's birthday party, I'd be one grumpy biker.
But, really, I'm pretty exciting about spending hours upon hours at the beach doing nothing.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Scary Biker? Me?
Our good friend Penguin-Man is currently in the U.S., back from New Zealand for a visit. He came to visit us here in the post-apocalyptic wastes, and as such we tried to show him a Mad-Maxian good time.
Saturday night we took him to our favorite, almost-local bar for a tipple. I've noticed a large number of Triumph motorcycle t-shirt wearing folks (a couple of whom actually ride!) at this particular bar, so I feel right at home. Plus the place is dark and has wood-panelling. If they'd get rid of the two itty-bitty TV sets altogether, I'd say it was a proof-of-concept for the Lucky Cave.
Anyway, we managed to score a booth in the darkest and most remote corner of the bar. Said booth happened to be right next to the pool table (it's a small place). Eventually it was time to get more drinks, so Penguin-Man and I made the long trek to the bar while Lady Luck and another friend of ours, the Lizard Queen, stayed in the booth.
While we were at the bar acquiring fresh beverages, some dude plopped down next to Lady Luck in our booth. Lady Luck informed our friendly new companion that her husband (hey, that's me!) was sitting there. His reply?
"Is he bigger than me?"
Lady Luck informed him that, indeed, I was bigger than him. Apparently he wasn't too concerned about it, because he just stayed there.
Penguin Man preceded me with a couple of beverages, and I saw our new tablemate look him over once, decide he was no threat (to his credit, he'd never seen Penguin Man in a state of high piss-off) and stay put.
So then I got to the table and set down the drinks I was carrying.
I haven't seen someone get out of a booth and relocate so quickly ever. He was yelling something about "sorry..." but I couldn't really make it out, because he was talking too fast. I settled in to the booth and thanked him for keeping my seat warm.
Apparently, I'm more intimidating than I thought. Must be my new hair-do.
Saturday night we took him to our favorite, almost-local bar for a tipple. I've noticed a large number of Triumph motorcycle t-shirt wearing folks (a couple of whom actually ride!) at this particular bar, so I feel right at home. Plus the place is dark and has wood-panelling. If they'd get rid of the two itty-bitty TV sets altogether, I'd say it was a proof-of-concept for the Lucky Cave.
Anyway, we managed to score a booth in the darkest and most remote corner of the bar. Said booth happened to be right next to the pool table (it's a small place). Eventually it was time to get more drinks, so Penguin-Man and I made the long trek to the bar while Lady Luck and another friend of ours, the Lizard Queen, stayed in the booth.
While we were at the bar acquiring fresh beverages, some dude plopped down next to Lady Luck in our booth. Lady Luck informed our friendly new companion that her husband (hey, that's me!) was sitting there. His reply?
"Is he bigger than me?"
Lady Luck informed him that, indeed, I was bigger than him. Apparently he wasn't too concerned about it, because he just stayed there.
Penguin Man preceded me with a couple of beverages, and I saw our new tablemate look him over once, decide he was no threat (to his credit, he'd never seen Penguin Man in a state of high piss-off) and stay put.
So then I got to the table and set down the drinks I was carrying.
I haven't seen someone get out of a booth and relocate so quickly ever. He was yelling something about "sorry..." but I couldn't really make it out, because he was talking too fast. I settled in to the booth and thanked him for keeping my seat warm.
Apparently, I'm more intimidating than I thought. Must be my new hair-do.
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