No, Your Cars Can Not Hold Hands.

There is always a slowbie in the HOV lane. Usually it's a Prius. Sometimes it's a truck pulling a trailer. And other times, it's a full-size, dented, red Chevy pickup with no reason for going that slow.

Slowbies are a little annoying, sometimes, but I generally don't mind them too much. After all, I've got passing power in abundance. It's simple enough to wait for enough space to open up and scoot by them.

Sometimes, though, you get a slowbie and some kind of insecure dolt that insists on driving right next to the slowbie. Today, the insecure dolt was in a compact black pickup. This dark pickup spent a good while hiding out in my blind spot as I rode to work before working up the courage to actually pass me.

I moved into the next lane to the right in order to get out from behind the slowbie, since the black pickup was now moving at a good speed.

Except then the black pickup's driver decided passing was too scary and slowed down to keep pace right next to the red truck. So the slow, red pickup sped up - presumably to get some space. I moved back into the HOV lane and accelerated a bit since the red pickup was now hauling ass, relative to the black pickup.

It was still pretty slow.

The driver of the black pickup apparently decided it shouldn't be that easy for me to scoot by and resume an appropriate cruising speed. So, he sped up and stayed right next to the red pickup again.

Annoying. These two pickups created a traffic dam, restricting the two left lanes to 55 MPH. No one in Phoenix drives at 55 MPH unless they're in a school zone. Happily for me, the middle lane was wide open, so I zipped out from behind the trucks, passed them, and zipped back over to the HOV lane.

See, this is why CB radios need to come back. If they'd had CB radios in their trucks, these two could have flirted for the whole drive without restricting traffic. They could have arranged to meet for donuts and truck-snuggling, leaving the rest of us free to flow past their budding pick-em-up romance.

Also, if we did end up caught behind them, we'd be able to politely ask them to get the hell out of the way, since some of us have jobs to get to.

These problems all come back to a lack of communication...

Wrench Space

It would be really great to set up a communal garage dedicated to working on motorcycles. The pooled resources could buy tools the average shade-tree mechanic can't justify, and everyone could learn a bit from each other.

A Tip for the Weekend

Peanut butter and bacon sandwiches are much, MUCH better than they sound.


That is all.

Indian Motorcycles For Sale Again - How'd I miss it?

Once upon a time, I was going to get an Indian Chief. Then Indian Motorcycles went out of business, so I didn't.

This seems to have worked out pretty well for me. I got a Triumph, and have been just as happy as can be with it.

I've been watching the developments with the new Indian company for the last several years. Really, I'd been hoping for an American motorcycle company to come along and compete with HD. Maybe stir up some innovation.

So imagine my surprise the other day when I went past the local HD shop (the same shop that convinced me NOT to buy a Harley), and saw a sign proclaiming they were also an Indian dealership.

What the Hell?

I'll be interested to see how this works out for them.

Also, I'm rather disappointed there is only one "Chief" model with the swoopy fenders. Without the flair, they're just another V-twin billet barge.

Also also, $30,000+???

Scooterists and Restauranteurs

Last night Lady Luck and I rode over to Liberty Market for dinner. I took the ET4 instead of the Triumph.

Liberty Market is Joe Johnston's latest venture. His other two restaurants, Joe's Real BBQ and Joe's Farm Grill (which I reviewed back here).

You can't go wrong at any of these restaurants. Seriously.

Best of all, Joe himself is a scooter fanatic. I got to meet him last night after we caught him admiring our Vespas. Joe owns a P200, and his wife has an ET4.

So what I'm trying to say is: if you're in the area, give Joe your money. Don't waste it on some other crappy restaurant.

Deflated

Getting to and from my office generally sucks. Between construction and the interesting layout of one-way roads in Phoenix, I have yet to find the "optimal" route to my workplace once I've gotten off the freeway (I've got the freeway part down, though, as I mentioned the other day).

The route home sucks extra, because there's really only one open and useable road to get out of the area. From this road, I can either go well out of my way to avoid three gnarly intersections, or suck it up and dive into the fray.

Most days I choose the mosh pit.

Usually, I give the other drivers the benefit of the doubt for this hellish half-mile, because it truly is screwed up and most everyone does the best they can to deal with the weird merges and keep traffic moving.

The other day though, some entitled prick in a 300-series BMW sped up to keep me from getting over as traffic merged down to one lane. He saw me, there was plenty of room for me, he just didn't want me in front of him, I guess.

So, anyway, I get in behind this tool and roll merrily along to my left turn. Traffic was crawling, and I got into the wide-open left turn lane with, shall we say, excessive enthusiasm. I zipped past the BMW and muttered something eloquent like, "Ha ha, dickweed."

Then the stoplight turned red and I had to stop and wait instead of turning left and hauling ass towards victory and glory.

It was kind of an anti-climax.

Well, That Hasn't Happened Before

The other night I left the Triumph up on the rear-wheel stand* after oiling the chain. It's a habit. I use a waxy lubricant that doesn't let go of the chain for ANYTHING - so long as I let it set up before riding. Since the oil has to set, and I don't like little puddles of chain lubricant all over my garage floor, I usually just leave it on the stand overnight with some cardboard underneath to catch any drips.

The next morning, I pull the cardboard out, lower the bike, and it's off to the races.

Except this time around, the stand slid apparently slid forward during the night so the rear wheel was in the way, preventing me from lowering the bike.

This is not the kind of problem I like to deal with at 6:15 in the morning.

I managed to manhandle the bike forward enough to lower the wheel, but I was covered in grease and dirt for the rest of the day.

Good times!


*I've got this one, if you want to know

A New Acronym: HRDB

This weekend I went out on a long ride and encountered an HRDB - Harley Riding Douchebag.

At a gas station in Wickenburg, AZ, I parked next to the HRDB and turned to say howdy. Before I could even open my mouth he asked, in a sarcastic tone, "How do you ride that thing?"

I replied with the only honest answer - "Hard and Fast." I was tempted to add, "the same way I ride your old lady," but he looked like the kind of guy who would push my bike over and run away once I had my back turned. Besides, his old lady was right there.

Anyway, I went about my business in the gas station, and came back out to get rolling again. I attempted to make some more conversation with the guy, but it was pretty pointless.

As I was getting my helmet back on, a minivan pulled up and an attractive woman in shorts got out of the back. Once he was done panting and grunting at her, he actually turned around to his lady companion and said "Did you see that?"

Well, all that assholery must have gotten him charged up for more riding, so he hopped on his hawg and fired it up.

And by fired it up, I mean, started and revved the motor WAY up, so his stupid-loud pipes made everybody's ears hurt.

Especially the poor bastards inside the gas station, since his exhaust was pointed straight in the open door.

Harley Riding Douchebag.

I know there are non-douchebag Harley riders. I know there are douchebags without Harleys. But somehow, the combination of the two becomes extra offensive.

Hence, HRDB.

New Triumph Bonneville is Out

So Triumph has released their new Bonneville, updated for a "70's Retro" look.

All I can say is - Cast Wheels.

Really?

OK, sure, they're awfully convenient all around (no lacing, no truing, no inner tubes...), and it is likely I would prefer them for day to day motorcycle ownership, but they are severely lacking in style in my always humble opinion.

Actually, I suppose they do have a touch of style. Bad style.

I hate to rip on my most favoritest manufacturer of motorcycles but, seriously, it seems to me they're trying to look like 70's Japanese bikes. Which, amusingly enough, were trying to look like English bikes.

There's an absurd infinite loop going there and it's really messing with my sense of what is right and proper. It's like English bands mimicking American bands who then began to mimic the English bands who had mimicked the Americans...

Anyhow, have a look at how Triumph ruined the looks of the modern Bonnevilles here.

Secret Moto-Knowledge

We sickle-bums tend to become repositories of all sorts of arcane knowledge. If you want to know how to do whatever, find a biker. Actually, that would be a fun topic to cover in more depth sometime. But not today.

Today I'm going to talk about one specific bit of motorcyclist wisdom - knowing which lane to be in at a specific time.

Unlike your average cage driving, mouth breathing, cellphone yapping moron, motorcycle commuters pay attention to traffic conditions. Patterns become obvious. Pretty soon, the commute is a finely choreographed event.

Here's how it goes for me: Merge on the freeway and get into the left lane immediately. No more than one mile later, get into the middle lane and stay there until just before the HOV lane opens. The middle lane is always the fastest, but I can't figure out why.

Once I'm in the HOV lane I'm good for several miles until the freeway curves to the right (and starts going slightly up hill). This spot seems to be where I catch the slowbies in the HOV lane, so this is the place to get into the next lane to the right and roll on the gas when I'm feeling saucy. I have to get back into the HOV lane within a half mile, however, because traffic comes to a screeching halt just past the end of the next curve.

For the next couple miles I'm trapped in the HOV lane (with no breakdown lane as a safety buffer), so I slow down a bit since a 60+ mph speed difference is a little scary given the likeliness of a zombie driver pulling into the HOV lane at any moment. I've been cut off too many times in this area to be comfortable going fast.

After that it's an easy cruise to the exit, though I have to check my speed once because of the speed cameras. Here begins the only part of my commute that really changes frequently, due to the insanity of roadwork in Phoenix. I haven't taken the same route to work from the off ramp once in the last week.

So, here's my tip for with-it cagers: if you want the smoothest commute you can get, pay attention to the motorcycle commuters you see everyday. They know the roads really, really well.

Flying Chunks of Tire - Not Just For Breakfast Anymore!

I seriously don't know how some people can wear shorts on their motorcycle. I catch flying debris with my shins and knees all the time.

Such as this morning, when a little pickup truck a couple cars ahead of me had a blowout. High speed chunks of airborne tire really smart when they hit your shins. Happily, the big tire bits missed me. I only had to contend with a few small pieces.

What have you all caught while riding?

The Vespa Bites It's Thumb At You, Sir

I'm not one to let a little thing like a sore ankle keep me from riding in nice weather, so I took Lady Luck's Vespa to work today.

I've written many times about the mischief I get into on the Vespa. I don't know how Steve over at Scooter in the Sticks manages to stay mellow enough on his GTS to spot photo opportunities - I always zip past them with an ear-to-ear grin and one knee scraping on the ground. And that's when I'm feeling mellow.

Anyway, one of the things I really like about the Vespa is it's quick 0 - 40 time. It takes off from stoplights like unto a rocket.

And one of the things I really REALLY like is that it's 250cc thumper sounds like it's blowing a raspberry at all the dumb, slow cages left in its scootery dust.

Because the Vespa is sassy like that.

Limping Along

This weekend I got a little too enthusiastic with my exercise regimen, and I've been limping around for the last couple of days because my ankle is sore. It loosens up fairly quickly when I walk around, but it's rather painful when I first stand up after sitting a while.

I've mentioned before that my job involves sitting all day. So, on my few short trips here and there about the office, everyone asks if I had a mishap on the motorcycle because of the limp.

This happens every time appear the slightest bit infirm. Does this happen to you?

I'm going to take it as a compliment, since obviously everyone thinks I'm so tough the only thing that could injure me is a high-speed introduction to the ground.

I hate to disillusion anyone, so I've been trying to come up with a better story than "I ran in place a bit too long."