Fast on a Motorcycle

"Some people will tell you that slow is good - and it may be, on some days - but I am here to tell you that fast is better." - Hunter S. Thompson

(Times are approximate)

Second Zero - Thought becomes action, and you open the throttle.

Second One - The front wheel lifts and you instinctively lean forward to keep it down. The motor howls.

Second Two - You shift up. Your butt pushes hard into the seat. You grab more throttle. The world begins to sparkle a bit.

Second Three - You want to cry "Wahoo!" but your tongue is locked against the roof of your mouth. You shift up.

Second Four - The bike comes alive - you and the machine are one. Thoughts become action and movement. You shift up.

Second Five - The speedometer indicates that your forward velocity is in excess of the speed limit. If you were smart, you'd stop accelerating and just shift up the last two gears and cruise at a reasonable and legal speed.

You aren't smart. You shift up, and urge the motor on, faster, faster!

Second Ten - You shift into top gear. Your field of vision becomes a narrow tunnel with blurry edges. Your world is the howling motor, the roaring wind, and distant objects flying by seconds after you spot them.

Second 15 - God gives you his phone number and tells you to call when you're in the neighborhood. You are a madman hugging a comet.*

Second 20 - The bike won't go any faster. You've gone from rider to physics demonstration.


Fast on a bike is different from fast in any other vehicle. Sure, cars go fast, but a fast car is a crude assault, a heavy hammer bashing its way through the air, desperately clutching for traction through turns. On a motorcycle, physics work for the pilot, instead of against him/her. Compare leaning gracefully into curves with getting thrown around inside a car going through the same curves. There's a reason auto racers wear five-point harnesses. A twisty section of road leaves a rider exhilarated, and a driver bruised and battered.

At a certain speed, bikes come alive. The piece of machinery below the rider suddenly becomes intensely responsive, but still entirely controllable.

Any rider can tell you how thrilling it is to feel the combination of forces at work when carving through a turn. Going fast in a straight line has it's pleasures, but going fast through a curve is a joy unto itself.

Note that fast doesn't always equal reckless or illegal. 30 miles per hour can be plenty fast and perfectly legal. 190 miles per hour, in the proper environment, can be responsible or even cautious. With care, fast is always fun.

Regardless of whether the motorcycle is travelling at 15 mph or 150 mph, there is little in life that gives the same visceral rush as a fast bike.

Well, that wraps up this post. Ride hard, Ride safe.




*This is not my own clever turn of phrase. Unfortunately, I don't know who to attribute it to.

Another useless post

Ok, so this isn't pizza OR motorcycle related. Even remotely.

All the same, Dr. Steel is my new hero. I hope he comes to Arizona soon. Otherwise, I expect a long ride to see him in concert will be in order.

Hey, I worked a motorcycle bit in! See, it wasn't so bad.

Pizza Stones Are For Wimps and Commies.

Any self-respecting home pizza chef is currently saving his or her pennies to be able to get a home-sized wood fire oven.

Yes, I am accepting donations if you'd like to help me get one for my house.

The Merry Road-Pranksters

Sometimes, it only takes a few words or a simple gesture from a stranger (or a friend) to change your entire mood on a given day.

Once, when I was going to school back in the frozen North, I slipped on the icy stairs on my way out of a building and landed five feet lower on the sidewalk below. I was, amazingly, uninjured but most sincerely enraged.

I stood up and began brushing myself off, muttering about the damn school's damn lack of a damn budget to salt the damn sidewalks. A woman who was walking by (and saw me fall), paused and told me "It hurts less when you laugh," then walked on.

Six words defused the entire situation, and I did laugh.

This morning, as I merged on to the freeway, I got stuck in a bad place, and had several cars zoom by me on my right, then brake hard and pull in front of me. I finally got into the next lane, and wanted to get the rest of the way to the HOV lane (which is where I play "Leather-clad Rocketeer" most mornings). Some dude in an SUV decided that he REALLY needed to not let me in, and accelerated so I couldn't get over.

So, I kept my turn signal on, and kept an eye on him. Most times, people realize I'm only passing through their lane on my way to the HOV lane, so they back off. This guy, however, didn't get it. Every time I looked back to change lanes, he'd speed up so there was no way I could get over.

I got a little frustrated.

I checked my mirrors, and noticed that no one was close behind me, so I flashed my brake lights a few times and slowed down until SUV-Dingus was past me. I zipped behind him and got into the far left lane, then accelerated again. I was going to give him a bird-flipping the likes of which have never been seen!

In the half second between his bumper and driver-side window, I reconsidered.

When I got up there, he was looking at me, and I looked right back at him. I gave him a cheery wave ("So long!"), then moved to the HOV lane and grabbed a good handful of throttle. 3 seconds later, I was doing 70 mph and in a remarkably good mood.

I have no idea what his reaction was, but I know that I went from being somewhat ticked off to totally relaxed in a split second. My hope is that an unexpected gesture shocked him out of his little SUV-commuter-funk, if only for a couple minutes.

I've heard that zen masters will walk behind their meditating students, and smack them upside the head occasionally, in the hope of shocking them into enlightenment. We've all experienced a shocking moment where, at least for a couple seconds, we live entirely in the moment and the world becomes vibrant in a whole new way.

I think that a few jolly pranksters, surprising people stuck in gridlocked traffic with an unexpected gesture of kindness, could get the boulders moving around again in the heads of a lot of corporatized, consumer drones. We've all seen the person going the other way in bumper to bumper traffic, staring out the window of their car waiting for life to happen again. Why not give them a wave, or an exaggerated wink? Make them laugh! Keep some large note cards handy with funny pictures, or a saccharine sweet message to flash at them. I guarantee that the funny biker will make their day.

Yesterday I saw a recently married couple on the sidewalk near where I live (there's a reception hall nearby). I beeped twice and waved at them and they, of course, cheerily waved back. I probably gave them another story for their wedding book (did any bikers wave at YOU when you got married?).

Have you noticed how kids will stare with unabashed curiosity at you when you're on a bike? I think a lot of grown-ups probably feel the same way, only they're too polite/afraid to stare. At the same time, bikers tend to worry about looking cool.

The thing is, when we're on our bikes, we're on stage. We can do almost anything and - so long as it doesn't endanger anyone - we're automatically cool. So take advantage of it, and see if you can't make some one's day.

It's worth a shot.

Fear vs. Control

Thursday night I took an "Introduction to Handguns" course at a local shooting range. I'm not interested in guns for self-defence, nor am I a hunter. That leaves recreational shooting. I like making little holes in paper targets, and in the future might enjoy getting rid of old fruits, vegetables and beer cans in a noisy and enjoyably challenging way. That's the extent of my desire to use guns.

Friday night, Lady Luck asked me why I like shooting, and why I'm interested in it. I told her that it's a fun challenge, like bowling or darts, with the added bonus of lots of noise and a power rush to boot (I don't mind admitting it). Also, should the world ever be overtaken by cruel, robotic, brain-eating - yet strangely delicious - deer, well, I'd rather know how to safely use a gun and never need to than need to and not know how.

She thinks I'm nuts and, once again, she's entirely right.

I've been thinking about the question a lot over the last few days, though. Why do I enjoy shooting? What makes it attractive to me? Why not just go bowling? Bowling is challenging and noisy. Lots of people despise guns, and would never touch one even in a closely regulated environment (which is entirely OK, by the way).

For me, I think the thrill is being in control while enjoying a "dangerous" activity.

I put dangerous is quotes because while guns are certainly dangerous machines capable of horrendous destruction, they're only dangerous when handled by a person in an inattentive, unsafe, uneducated, or illegal and immoral manner. As the gun instructor said, "Casual = Casualty." Shooting requires a tremendous amount of responsibility, care and discipline.

Does this seem familiar somehow?

A hobby of mine is blacksmithing. Blacksmithing is dangerous. A blacksmith forges steel at around 1500 degrees Fahrenheit, give or take a few hundred degrees. That's hot enough to vaporise your skin should you touch it. Let me repeat that: The steel is hot enough to vaporise your skin. Should you stick your hand in the forge, well, let's hope it was your least favorite hand because it's not coming back.

When forging, a smith is intimately aware of the heat coming from the piece and the forge. A smith also needs to be aware that ANY piece of metal in the shop could be hot enough to cause third degree burns. A piece of metal does not have to look hot to be hot.

Then there are the other tools a blacksmith uses; for example, drill presses and grinders. These tools may look innocuous, but are in fact extremely dangerous. A wheel grinder is the most dangerous tool in any shop. It can grab a work piece and hurl it at you hard enough to fracture your skull. An abrasive wheel could shatter, throwing shrapnel in every direction. Either tool could grab your clothing or hair and keep twisting until bad and messy things happen to you.

However, a mindful and responsible blacksmith can safely use these tools all day, without fear, to create just about anything out of metal without ever injuring himself/herself or anyone else.

The important difference between a cheerful, productive blacksmith and that melty puddle over there that used to be some one's cousin is knowing how to safely control dangerous instruments. The blacksmith doesn't fear his/her tools, only respects them and works with attentive care.

Now, I'm certainly not going to say that shooting is a creative activity like blacksmithing. However you want to spin it, guns are implements of destruction. However, in both situations the key to getting home safely with all ten fingers (and the rest of you) afterwards is knowledge and control.

I think every motorcyclist who is serious about the sport understands that our hobby and passion is dangerous. Again, what separates us from a pile of leather-clad hamburger is knowledge and control.

A motorcycle is, after all, only a machine with a front wheel to control direction and a rear wheel that provides thrust. It can't do anything without a person controlling it.

The person in control of that bike has to accept complete responsibility for whatever happens to it and him/her, as well as anyone in the vicinity. If our intrepid rider accepts this responsibility, learns how to operate the motorcycle safely and stays in control while riding it, then he/she has nothing to fear from the motorcycle.

Being in control and safely enjoying a "dangerous" activity is what makes motorcycling a thrill. We get rider training, hone our skills, wear protective gear and always remain alert and mindful while riding so that we can enjoy an exhilarating sport, instead of staying home or "safe" in the confines of a planet-destroying SUV (whose drivers, incidentally, frequently need to accept some control and responsibility. That's a whole different rant, though.).

By accepting and taking control, we can enjoy dangerous activities instead of fearing them. Even fear needs to be controlled, otherwise it's the most dangerous thing that has ever been.

Oh Yeah, The Great Outdoors

The number one question I get asked about commuting (and riding in general) is some variation of: "Don't you get cold?" During the summer, I get asked if I get hot. I always get asked what I do when it rains.

Yes, I get cold / hot / wet / dry / itchy / bored / excited / scared / thrilled / angry / amused. Depending on how long the ride is, I can enjoy all of those conditions between stops for gas. It's pretty neat what happens outside of our voluntary containment in hermetically sealed boxes (some of which roll around and help us carry our coffee-like beverages).

Recently I got caught in the rain on my way home from work. Thankfully it wasn't terribly cold out, and I got home soggy but safe and happy. It was one of the best rides I've ever had. To be honest, I like getting rained on.

Similarly, riding in the cold is uncomfortable, but exhilarating. It only takes a few minutes to get used to the cold (granted, those few minutes are torture. I hate being cold.) and, provided your clothing choices were appropriate, being outdoors is always better than looking out a window.

I've found being outside is far preferable to sitting inside in a climate-controlled room. "Constant" might be reassuring and "safe", but it's also dreadfully boring. The boredom makes it nigh-impossible for me to stay awake in a car (or classroom, or cubicle, or...) for any length of time.

Rain is real. Wind is real. Cold is real. Heat is real.

Room temperature? Not real.

Riding, for all its discomfort and occasional danger, is real. Riding distills everything great, and terrible, about life into a heady and addictive elixir. The difference between riding a motorcycle and travelling by car is like the difference between eating a fresh apple and sitting down to a bowl of canned peas.

So sure, some mornings my fingers hurt from the cold, but I wouldn't trade the ride for a lifetime of cozy fingers and coffee-drinks.

Weird Thoughts From My Commute

This morning I passed a construction site (another frickin' strip mall, just what we need...) and noticed three manlifts driving in a line. Almost seemed like a formation, to be honest.

I wondered: When two manlifts pass each other, do the operators wave? Do operators of American-made manlifts snub those operating machines made in other countries?

Furthermore, do they have arguments and rants about what makes a REAL manlift?

What is Best in Life?

We're all familiar with Conan's timeless response to the question, "What is Best in Life?"

For most of us, though, "seeing our enemies driven before us" has been replaced by, "seeing our enemies driving before us." And really, I think there are things better than brutally conquering one's enemies.

Motorcycles, for example.

And so, I present my list of responses to the question above.

• 30 MPH in a 15 MPH curve
• Hitting the power band
• 140 MPH and fuel economy
• Scraping Footpegs
• Sitting quietly at the top of a mountain, moments before riding back down
• Peak torque
• 1/8 inch Chicken Strips
• Waving
• Motojabber
• The first slice of pizza at the end of a ride

Cut Your Pizza with Style!

I think that Frankie Flood and I would be good friends. Or bitter, bitter enemies.

http://www.art.uiuc.edu/grads/mfa_04/flood.html

Cooking with Motorcycles?

This morning I marvelled at the temperature gauge on the Triumph. Even in the cold this bike gets crazy hot. It gets up over 212 degrees Farenheit, which as we all know is the temperature water boils at (generally speaking).

That's hot.

I'm aware that there is a cookbook out there with tips on how to cook on a car's engine. For those who think playing tiddlywinks is excitement enough, that might be fine. But for those of us with serious thrill issues, a picnic is just another lukewarm sandwich if there isn't a trace of adrenaline still coursing through our veins.

On cold days, why not use the motor's heat to brew coffee on the ride to work?

I've noticed that Lady Luck's Vespa produces a lot of heat in the area under the seat. I wonder if it could be used as a crock pot. After all, after a three hour ramble, a pot roast would taste mighty fine.

These are the kinds of things I think about at stoplights.

Moto-Hulk

When I ride I'm pretty mellow about other drivers. Alert, certainly, but otherwise indifferent. I know people are going to do dumb things. I know that I'm invisible to 99.53% of the drivers on the road. When I have a near miss I think, "phew!" and not, "you jerk!"

Except when someone's natural stupidity is combined with aggression. When a driver pushes past me mere inches away and then cuts me off, I get angry. When someone in a cage decides that I should share my lane space so they can get to the red light a little faster, I get angry.

In fact, I start to feel a need to accompany these people to where ever it is they're going, and lucidly explain to them how their aggressive tactics come across not only as impatient assholery, but as bullying. Their reckless driving is understood, by me, as a threat. I won't let such a thing stand.

I'm sure they'd understand when I then caved their heads in with a wrench.

No, I'm not actually going to assault the asshats I encounter. It would be a losing battle; there's always another jerk out there swilling a coffee-like-beverage and text-messaging something important like "OmG LoLErZ!" when they should be, ya know, driving.

It sure would be nice to knock the venti half-caf mochaccino out some cell-phone yapping moron's hand and lay some knowledge on them now and then, though.

365 Down

Three hundred and sixty five days. Roughly one hundred and eighty two (and one half) of the past three hundred sixty five days were insane. The rest were either completely crazy, entirely exhilarating, or mildly boring.

It's been interesting, to say the least. Of the resolutions I made about this time last year, the only one I really nailed was "Get a new job." I went a bit overboard and got three.

As for the others, I've had varying degrees of success. At least I made some progress on all of them.

I like the tradition of New Year's resolutions. Personally, I don't resolve to do things I don't actually want to accomplish. I used to come up with huge lists of resolutions, and forget about or just give up on all of them. They were fun lists (I love making lists), but not really honest goals.

I can resolve to make a change at any time. I could make my resolutions at any time during the year and I frequently do. Things change, after all. The New Year, though, provides a nice, solid start date.

For this year, I have a very short list of resolutions.

1. Take action. I fret instead of act. Dale Carnegie said. "Inaction breeds doubt and fear. Action breeds confidence and courage." Dale Carnegie was a smart guy.

2. Set deadlines for myself. I hate to admit it, but I'm not really much of a self-starter. Every now and then I work up some motivation and get some stuff done, but for the most part I have a lot of "some day" plans. Screw that.

One of the tricks about setting deadlines for myself, though, is a personal deadline is pretty easy to blow off. Luckily, I've learned a few tricks (hooray for National Novel Writing Month). First off, brag to everyone about the amazing thing you're going to accomplish by [x] date. Next up, make bets with people who think you can't do it (after a certain point you'll have to find new people who are sick of losing to you). If those don't work, find something you really DON'T want to do and set things up so you have to do it if you fail. For example, give a trusted chum an envelope with $50 in it, addressed to a foundation/group/association that you really, REALLY don't like. If you miss your deadline, the envelope gets mailed. If you make it, you get the envelope back and can do whatever you want with it (for example, donating to your favorite charity, or buying some trick new gadget for your bike).

Sneaky, huh?

Anyway, two little resolutions ought to be easy to keep track of, and they're changes I really want to make.



Of course, I also intend to spend a hell of a lot of time riding, and finding new and hopefully delicious pizzas.