don't think someone else is going to fix this for you

<>OK, so this graphic is a bit on the cheeseball side. But in all seriousness, here's something I think is incredibly important. My grandfather was once a rabid Republican, but in the past ten or so years, he's veered away from that. Now he's told me that he feels this is the darkest period in American history, certainly that he remembers, and that he can even think of historically. He really looks scared.

Both parties suck, (I happen to think one sucks less than the other. And right now, that's very important to me.) and they both think that there's a dollar amount on each vote. Some voters are worth investing in, others are not. If you're reading this, you're probably in the "don't waste the campaign dollars" category. They're counting on your apathy to let them run the country for their own purposes.

So, for the sake of my grandfather, please do your goddam job. Go. Vote. It's not so hard, and you get a little sticker when you turn in your ballot.
And, who DOESN'T like a sticker?

To all potential myspace voters: A friend of mine likes to say, 'If you don't vote, then you don't have the right to complain.' And the way things have been lately, you may not have the right to complain if you don't vote. *** Apathy is the death of democracy. *** Click here to register to vote. (It only takes a minute.)

Comments:

John Foley (ape)

You people all need to move to Russia.

Posted by John Foley on Thursday, September 16, 2004 at 8:38 AM



Charles:

http://www.whitehouse.org/initiatives/posters/hot-karl.asp

please backtrack to their home page, for many inspirational messages.

register to and vote.

or stfu

Posted by Charles on Thursday, September 16, 2004 at 8:39 AM

only YOU can prevent office fires!

<>Beautiful. My office smells like smoke.
Last year we all had to evacuate the building (and the entire four or five blocks) because their "controlled burn," wasn't.
Hah hah!
Not so funny to the people who live here.


My eyes/contacts are bothering me, so I know I'm not imagining the smoke in the air right now...

excitement?

chain goodness

<>I finally got a new chain on my DRZ. yay! it is wonderful and doesn't make all that noise. I also suspect it won't need adjustment every three miles like the old one did. I did a really good job on that old chain. It was stretched so damn much, we had to cut a link out to keep it from jumping off and doing a dance numbr on the freeway.

And had a generally wonderful weekend. Again. What did I do to deserve all this?

I finally saw the buffalo in Golden Gate Park. All these years I've lived here and never gone to see them... and, uhhh, it was a little anti-climactic. Those are some seriously ugly and lazy creatures. And the double fence means it's hard to poke, prod, or otherwise pester them.

Some macaroon took the perfectly divey-bar by my house and turned it into a hip-hop-lounge sort of place. Which I wouldn't even care about, except it was nightclub-loud with some crappy DJ mixing disco and hip-hop, or whatever the fuck they call it these days. ***NEWS FLASH: Disco sucks! It might have been sort of funny and ironic the first time someone mixed it into modern "music," but now it's just sucking and making you look like a dumbass with bad taste.*** I preferred the dirty dive bar incarnation greatly. Plus there was no liquor in my drink. Boo. Now where should I go to drink in the neighborhood?

I have not seen charles in so long, I think I am going to cry.

Ha Hah! So Funny!

<>So this morning on the way to work, my shift lever fell off. I noticed this as I had come to a stop between two cars at a light. Fortunately, my bike doesn't too much mind starting up in 2nd, so I was able to go when the light turned and pull off in the middle of the next block.

Pushed a block to park her at the Chevron, then hiked up the block where it fell off. Found it in the crosswalk (must have fallen off immediately after I'd shifted up from that light.) Watched a few cars run it over, and retrieved it. Cleaned a bunch of crud off of it (Thank you Redwood City Honda for ignoring my warantee-covered oil leak. Fuckers) and found a truck full of cheery Irish guys with tools. (Thank you "Sparky's Electric!")

Stuck it on and tightened it a bit with the wrong tools, will check again when I get home tonight.

I know, I need to wash the dirtbike and tighten bolts.
Also, my chain is so loose, I fear I may run over it. Heh.

And I never once lost my spoon!

So every year just before Burning Man, I always think “this is the last time.” And then every year, when I come back, I’m so thrilled, can’t wait to get back next year… Then when it approaches, I’m tired of it again.
This year, I really think it may be the last time. At least for a while. I don’t know for sure that the event and the art were less than in the past. I do know that my involvement, inspiration, and motivation have dwindled, and my interaction was so minimal that I’m not sure I could justify another trip next year.
Which isn’t to say I didn’t have a good time. I had a REALLY good time.

Left Wednesday after work, tossed a little bag onto the bike, met the boy (yes, there’s a BOY), and we headed up to beautiful downtown Oroville for the night, at a five-star Days Inn, or something like it. Intention was to get a few hours north for the night, and save the daylight and rushing so we could enjoy the scenic ride out and still get in to BRC in time to gather our crap and set up in the daylight.
Watched Martha Stewart brainwashing freaky little kids on the TV and learned how to make a Barbie cake. Conked out and got up late (hello? Days Inn alarm clocks are not to be trusted) Packed up and then tore everything apart looking for my bike key. (I brought a spare, but still) Gave up and then found it under my back tire. Is this a bad sign?
Breakfast was iffy, but we quickly found our way up to highway 70 Feather River Canyon, which is one of the purtiest roads I’ve ever ridden. After finally losing the cop, we enjoyed tiny spurts of fun in between trucks and unresponsive traffic switches for the bridge work. Seriously, I LOVE this road. I’d love to come back to the area for a camping weekend or somesuch. Maybe rent an Airstream at “Jackass Flats?”

Into Susanville for lunch and then went looking for our dirt road. Which was, uhhh, completely unmarked, so we passed it. Doubled back and guessed on which turn-off it was, and with some luck, I was right. Smoke Creek Desert road, or whatever it’s called, is a dirt/gravel road across the desert from 395 to about 10 miles north of Gerlach. Very little traffic, really pretty and un-developed. Gravel and some rocky bits tossed my bike around a little, but I definitely was doing better than I did last year on the same road. The XR behind me was handicapped by street tires, so I got to have the delusion that I was doing well, comparatively. Noticed a cave on the left side of the road, and meant to come back to it on the return trip for exploration.
Got to Gerlach and it was still NOT hot. At all. At the gas station, one of the Perimeter workers asked if we were going in to BRC now. “It’s really bad in there,” he told us. Um? Really bad, like what? Like it’s wall to wall hippies? There’s no running water? It’s hot? It’s cold? You fucking dumbass, it’s a goddam desert! “Bad what?” “It’s a total whiteout,” he says. I stopped myself from saying “OH, shit, I guess I’ll just go home then.” “It’s OK, I’m on a dirtbike,” has become my answer to any of this brand of stupidity (It’s raining/dusty/hot/cold/muddy/there’s traffic/there’s no parking/what-the-fuck-ever). “Well, you have to go in through the gate!” he gets all exciteable. No shit, dumbass, but now that you mention it, I COULD go in through the side if they’re all as dumb as you.
Into the city, to the airport, found my sister and parked our crap at Thunderdome. Started trekking around to get our shit to camp. (why must my sister camp on the other side of the world?) I was drinking by the end of my second trip to schlep stuff, and the tent was up before sundown. Happy happy.

And then a bunch of stuff in between. I think every time at Burning Man, at least for me, it’s a little different. Some years I’ve spent a lot of time working at thunderdome. Some times it’s all about the art and the city, some years it’s been about the people I meet and get to know. This year my focus was very narrow and very nearby. I was downright reclusive with this incredible boy, and carry a bit of guilt and a lot of joy from that. We traipsed around suffering through intense blisters and had a damn fine time. Drank a bit, gave bad advice and ate my sister’s food. There was some really cool art, and a lot that didn’t capture me at all. It was a good time, but I’m not sure it was a patently “Burning Man” experience.

I’m writing this so I’ll remember: Fuck the Temple Burn. In the past few years this has been one of the high points for me. I’ve never gone out to watch the Man burn, preferring to stay at camp away from the crowds of yahoos and tweakers. The temple has always been a more quiet, reflective burn. This year it was so very different, I nearly followed Kevy’s lead and walked out. I stayed, but the bitterness won’t go away. The crowd of people gathered was just an extension of the yahoos; there was yelling and bitching, complaining, selfish fuckups and some dumbass with laser pointers. I never heard such angry hippies! “fuck you,” “fat bitch,” and an assortment of other insults and pathetic empty threats were tossed around the group while we sat. They yelled over the singing and complained about every goddam thing around them. I won’t return for that. I’m so sorry for David Best and his team. Every time I see his/their work, I’m in awe, but the crowds that have gathered are not worthy. The burn itself was beautiful, as was the temple in its finished state, but the rest of the experience was really disgusting.

Monday morning plan was to leave ASAP to get our asses onto that dirt road for the long trip home. Note to self: do NOT use angle iron to stake a tent. Left much later than we wished, and only after fucking with my bike when it wouldn’t start. So we took 80 instead, and in order to avoid my falling asleep while riding, we rode like jackasses most of the way. Weeeeeeee! Got home in good time, tired, dirty, and, at least for me, a little euphoric.

Comments:

Charles:

glad u like the boi

sorry BM was just that, a BM

Posted by Charles on Saturday, September 11, 2004 at 3:16 PM

John Foley (ape)

heehee BM.

Posted by John Foley on Sunday, September 12, 2004 at 11:07 AM

What happened was,

<>Past few weeks have flown by. Work is omigod busy. I’ll be flying out to Vegas for work this Saturday for the Magic show, which I’ve never been to, but there’s a LOT of work to be done. The past month has been very stressful getting ready for the show. As ready as possible. I know we aren’t going to have it all together.
It sounds like fun, sure, to go to Vegas, but it’s for work, and most of the time will be steaming samples and dealing with incredibly stressed out boss-types in the sweltering heat. Then, so maybe I get a couple of hours to myself in the evening, to spend, um, in Vegas, by myself. Yawn. Good stuff? We’re staying at the Bellagio. Fancy! For a cheapskate like me. Bad stuff? Leave Saturday morning, return Monday early afternoon. Hello? Where the heck did my WEEKEND go?!?!?!? Ugh. Then it’s Wednesday night straight out of work, heading out to Burning Man. I mean, that’s great and all, but I haven’t had any time to prepare. Um. I need to do a few things first. But there’s no time.

But the past few weeks have been GOOD. I’ve seen 90percent of my most favoritest people in the world. Had the best birthday I’ve had in years (totally beat the crappy Chinese food year) and got to see my grandma last weekend. She’s pretty much my favorite person ever. Went for an incredible weekend camping trip to Big Sur, with a refreshing lack of planning and crap-worrying, and just a little bit of “hey, where’s that dirt road go?” exploring. And, AND, with fancy schmancy BLUE DRINKS. We were the swankiest drunks in the campsite. Nevermind we had no lantern, campfire, or, um, breakfast (raccoons do the darndest things!) It was perfect.

The finger has closed up, no longer bleeding, oozing, or turning weird colors. I lost motion in it, and now trying to get it back, but I don’t know whether it’s going to be permanent or not. Doctor prescribed physical therapy, and if I can’t get better motion by the time I get back from Black Rock, I’ll take him up on it. But it does seem to be getting better, so it may not be necessary. I complain about it a lot less now, which seems a good indicator. And I’m able to do things finally which I’d been avoiding for the past month or so since the accident. But it’s still really sore, and the scar is still designing itself. The bike is seeing progress, but slowly. I’m still on my original schedule: heal the finger, buy new gloves, and THEN fix the bike. I got new gloves last week.

And, yeah, I’ll admit it, I’m AWOL partially because I, uhhh, met someone. And then chased him down until he thought he was chasing me. (or is it the other way around? hmmm) So shoot me. It happens sometimes.

Comments:

John Foley (ape)

Pfft. Can't be that important, since you both still claim to be single.

Posted by John Foley on Thursday, August 26, 2004 at 10:50 PM

Golden Delicious

Did'ja ask him if he's the Devil? Even if you're sure he isn't, ya still gotta ask, ya know. Them types is a sneaky sort, they is.

Posted by Golden Delicious on Friday, August 27, 2004 at 9:09 PM

Hard Up

<>I REALLY REALLY need to go for a ride.
It was bad enough that I was constantly daydreaming about riding.
Last night, I actually dreamt about Tunitas Creek Road. Like, omigod, I REALLY need to be there. Oh! Zayante! Pescadero! And Old Santa Cruz! God, I’m so sad.
I don't know how much longer I can wait. The finger isn’t healed, but maybe it’s “good enough.” I'll just take a bunch of advil first.

I’m thinking soon, very soon, a bit of mellow riding through the fun stuff. Anyone? I’ll be slow; for some of you, it’s your one chance to keep up... (Is that sarcasm or an actual delusion of grandeur?)

prescription barkbusters

<>So at Charles’ behest, I went to the doctor this morning, and, much as I’d expected, he didn’t have a lot to say. “keep it clean” He did tell me not to use Neosporin, but admitted that everyone would have a different opinion about that. He put this ridiculous aluminum and foam splint on it, which I of course had to remove to get on the bike, but may be handy later. I’m wearing it right now and it makes typing a bitch. He then referred me to a hand specialist, because my doctor’s that kind of guy. He’s always waaaaaaay overcautious. Generally, this amounts to lots of free blood work, since anything in the whole world can be a symptom of diabetes. But today, I won a trip to a reconstructive hand specialist. Just to make sure. Uhhhh, sure, whatever, do I have time for this? I think my hand is fine, and he admitted that he did too.
Fortunately, he seemed a little distracted and did not ask how I’d managed to scrape myself. I hate lying, and probably would have fessed up to the stupid accident. It’s embarrassing, for one thing, since I still can’t believe I got bitten by a stupid pothole. What kind of newbie-biker crap is that? I’m running something like 75K now, how the hell did that happen? Plus, I do not need to hear any more lectures about the dangers of motorcycling. Seriously, I would have been more injured had I hit that pothole on a bicycle.
In fact, all I can think about is riding. I’m JONESING so bad for a day, or three, on the bike, in the twisties, in the dirt, I don’t fucking care WHERE. It’s uncomfortable to ride right now, and I’ll admit I’ve lost a little of my riding joy. So I don’t ride for fun, but sitting at home is killing me. I can’t do anything. What did I do before motorcycles? I used to sew. Shit, that takes two hands. Every little thing is a pain in the ass now, and I just pine for my bike and a nice little road trip. I guess what I’m really missing is the feeling of wanting and being freely able to go out and ride. All. Day. Which I suppose I COULD do, since I’m able to ride to work and all, but, something’s not right.

Good news: I’m finally going to get the DRZ tires and wheels sorted this weekend, and that can only make riding better. I’m working on Saturday (someone’s got to pay for shiney new SV parts) and seeing my favorite people on Sunday. Life is good. Right?

I’ve settled pretty much on the idea that the SV needs Pro-tapers and *BARKBUSTERS*. That’s right, if it can’t be my beautiful shiney clean baby, it can be an angry little machine. Grrrrr. No, they don’t serve any purpose. I’m a girl, I don’t have to make sense. Now, does anybody know how I can best accomplish this? There seem to be a million diferent models on the Pro-Tapers website...

Comments:

INKandMETAL

My bike has one black wheel and one red one. Scratches just add character. Be proud.

power to the people.

Posted by Ink and Metal on Friday, July 23, 2004 at 3:09 PM

Charles:

i need rim locks, we gotta switch sets of rims,

OH, wait, there are rim locks on BOTH sets of rims.

oh well

:P

Posted by Charles on Saturday, July 24, 2004 at 6:58 PM

My mother, the NINJA

<>So far, for this pothole, I've gotten an offer of shower assistance, an offer for porn collaboration, two visits from James, a card from SFMC, all kinds of advice about how to treat the wound (most of it violently conflicting), half of Rob's attention for an hour, a set of Held gloves (borrowed, as long as I want them), and an evening with a cute boy.

I'm finally in less pain. (not ready to give up complaining, though!)

Actually started looking at ebay for parts. I need to take photos of the damage this weekend so I can actually have a clear picture of what exactly I need. (It’s nothing like what Kevy did to her bike. I’m not nearly that cool.)

Anyone have an idea of what's needed to convert to ProTaper bars on the SV? I think it will take a few changes... but I don't know what.


But tonight I’m going home to hang out with my mom and sister all weekend. My mom is going to flip out (yes Charles, like a NINJA!) when she sees this scrape and me gimping around not being able to use my hand. Not sure whether I should say something to my parents before we leave (and cause a ruckus) or wait until we’ve left town and she notices it on her own. Maybe I should act surprised at it when she sees it… “holy shit! How’d THAT get there?!?!” “Why’s my bike all fucked up? Mom, were you riding my bike again? I knew I shouldn’t have left it at your house!”


Also,

PARENTAL

ADVISORY

REBECCA CONTAINS EXPLICIT LYRICS

Username:

From Go-Quiz.com



Comments:


Charles: i'm home. go see a doctor. we will fix the bike.Posted by Charles on Monday, July 19, 2004 at 7:01 AM



B.

I hope it's my advice that you took on the treatment of that finger.

Posted by B. on Wednesday, July 28, 2004 at 7:12 AM

suffering for CalTrans' sins

<>So it’s been three days and the finger still hurts like a motherfucker. I don’t really think it’s getting any better. I fully expected it to take a very long time to heal, but I’d figured the searing pain part would subside in a day or two, and I thought the swelling would go down. Wrong, wrong.

Last night was a new low, and I took a nap after my friend called to say he’d be by later. Of course he didn’t show up at all, what are friends for? I woke up after midnight crying. I don’t think I’ve ever woken up crying before. I don’t know what I was dreaming about. But I’d left my contacts in.
I wish Charles wasn’t overseas; he would take care of me. He would find a way to make sure I didn’t feel so shitty right now.

So the swelling doesn’t seem to be getting any better, so I found my wire cutters and destroyed my ring. Damn, I liked that ring. I hope this helps.

So far only one other person has seen it (besides the guy who picked me up off of the side of the road) and he said it looked like it was doing well. But may have been lying to make me feel better.
People in the office keep laughing at me. I look funny, walking around the office holding my hand over my head. I keep threatening to punch them with my one good hand if they don’t knock it off.

I’m spending the weekend with my mom, and I’d been hoping that the finger would start to improve before I had to let her know. I don’t like to make my parents worry. But I’m not sure that’s going to happen. I haven’t gone to the doctor because it’s a wild pain in the ass. It would take half a day just to have someone else tell me it’s ugly, keep it clean, elevated, ice it… and then I have to pay someone for that privilege? If I do have to see a doctor, I’m going to tell them I fell off of a bicycle. Bicycles are dangerous! I want to hear that stupid doctor tell me maybe I ought to consider giving up bicycling.

What sucks? Nevermind that I’m in constant pain, it’s really the inconveniences that suck. I can’t do things like dishes and laundry very well. Nevermind lifting weights, that’s not happening for a long time. Showering with one hand. Trying to open those fucking childproof containers. Grocery shopping. Trying to untangle the blankets. Work has slowed down to a snail’s pace, and just in time for the boss to load a bunch of work on me. The absolute worst thing is putting my glove on to get on the bike. (Need to borrow a larger pair of riding gloves from someone!)

I haven’t even begun to think about the bike or gear yet. I need to replace a bunch of crap but I’m waiting for the finger to stop hurting. Then I’ll send these gloves back to Alpinestars and tell them what I think of their crap. Tell Joe I tested those frame sliders, they worked pretty well (should have gotten “tank sliders” too though. :( Dammit) Go back to my pothole and pee on it. Collect some blood and send it to CALTRANS, along with the before and after pictures (thanks, motherfuckers). Find the dirtbike bars I always thought would be cute on the SV anyway, and figure out what conversions need to be made. (barkbusters! Yay!)

Eat ice cream in my underwear.

Comments:
INKandMETAL

I'm not trying to get on you about the doctor thing. If you'd like a larger pair of gloves I'd be willing to ship you mine. I'd drive them over but I don't trust my car for a trip that long. They're the older (cooler) style Alpinestars SP3, you probably saw them when we rode. I'm pretty sure they're size large and just a little warn in. The thumb is starting to wear through a bit where the nail is, and they have a bit of road rash. Other than that though they're still good gloves. I'm going to upgrade to the fancy kevlar covered ones, I hear they make you faster...
Just let me know if you'd like 'em and I'll get them in the mail to you

Posted by Ink and Metal on Wednesday, July 14, 2004 at 11:54 AM

MonkeyDude

Let me know if you need any help showering... :-o

Serioulsy, if u need anything, drop me an email or something...

Posted by MonkeyDude on Wednesday, July 14, 2004 at 3:42 PM

I always say, it's not really yours until you've crashed it. :(

<>What the fuck.
I can't really wrap my head around what just happened. But I do know it REALLY REALLY sucks.
Went to the South Bay to do the oil change and clean up the SV. It served me so well touring up to Seattle and all; I thought I’d be nice and take care of it. Changed oil, replaced the bent shift rod, cleaned and lubed chain, I EVEN POLISHED THE FUCKING THING!!!!!
Came out to leave, and "man, that is such a purty bike!" I do that a lot.

Now it’s taken several steps toward being a little street rat. I can’t have anything nice. But THIS I don’t understand.

Coffee in Mountain View, then up Page Mill and over 35. I’m not going too fast, just a more scenic route home. 92 is totally backed up, stop and go. At the bottom of the hill there is a stoplight, where you can go straight or make a left turn. I always go straight, then hop on 280 with the big round onramp. But I thought you could also turn left and go that way. For shits, I decided to check it out. BAD IDEA. It’s all luck, what puts you in the wrong place? A stupid sense of finding out where that road goes…
Wait at the light, there’s a guy on a sport touring bike pulled up just behind me, I’d passed him earlier, a nice responsible rider. I get a green arrow, make the turn, straighten up, and I’ll be on my way. Hey look, a little pothole thingy in the pavement.
A little pothole that makes my bars shake violently. I thought, "the bike is tossing, but it will come out fine" Then, "I’m fucking crashing!" I can’t believe it. I don’t understand it. It wasn’t a giant pothole, I wasn’t moving all that fast, and I was going in a straight line.
I fall hard on my left hand and slide a ways; the bike falls on its left and slides even farther. I watch it slide away throwing dollar signs out behind it. Then I see the guy on the sport tourer coming up and braking and swerving, maybe a little too much, and thinking he's going to hit me. This made me feel guilty and I was very relieved he didn’t. I get up, and I’m really pissed. This makes no sense to me, and the bike, the bike was pristine. Not anymore.
I walk toward the bike and all I can think about is how it’s gonna be all fucked up, and it was so nice just a few hours ago. And all my good riding gear is trashed, which I just bought a few months ago, and all because of this fucking pothole.
The guy had pulled over and I was at the SV same time he was. He wants to know if I’m ok, I just want the bike up. We get it up and out and I start feeling sick, and I know my finger’s fucked, but not sure how badly.
A lady in a car stopped to help, but I sent her away, since there wasn’t much to do. I started calling James immediately to try to get help, since everyone else is in Europe, but was too out of it to remember that James was at Thunderhill racing… An ambulance was suggested, but unnecessary. I felt sick for a while and sat on the side of the road to gather my wits after sending the other biker on his way.
I told the guy I wouldn’t try to ride it away. My finger, I wasn’t sure if it was badly damaged. The SV handlebar has bent to an extreme angle, and left a funny scar on the tank (I’m not laughing yet. I loved my pretty blue bike) The mirror and stalk have broken off, there’s road rash on stuff, and the end of the shift lever is nowhere to be found (the only part I wasn’t able to recover.) The passenger peg is now very stubbornly stuck in the up position, as is the real footpeg.
I have a tow service. Do I tow it home? And leave it at a shop? $$$! And then how do I get myself to work? That’s a crappy option. Tow it to San Jose? What an operation, and then I have to tell my parents. The whole tow truck return to San Jose would be very dramatic looking, and more than they need. I always like to wait a few days to tell them, so I’m already OK, and they don’t have to panic.
I was starting to think that my finger WASN’T broken. Does the bike run? Why yes! Can I shift it, well, not really. The lever is missing the foot part at the end. I figured I’d try riding it to the end of the street to see, and decided that I could actually do it. My finger had become movable again, and the guy had given me his one sad little Band-Aid to put on it. Helpful? Mostly in spirit, but it was nice to keep the nastiest roadrashed bit out of contact with my gloves.
Got my sad little SV down to San Jose, riding with my hand up in the air the whole way to try to keep swelling down. Got to the house, and fortunately the parents were at church. I figured I had 40 minutes to get out before they came in and I had to do some explaining. I pushed the SV as close as possible to the wall so they won’t see the roadrash. They MAY notice the lack of mirror, and then look, but I’m hoping for the best. Anyway, I’ll tell them in a couple of days…
Called a friend for paramedic advice, mostly because, well, I’ve just crashed and want to hear a friendly voice. Also any tips on what’s the right way to clean this up. No luck, so I ran hot water, scratched away some of the dirt, doused it with bactine, took some ibuprofen, and put a gauze bandage deal over it. I’m missing a bunch of skin. I think it will take a while to heal, but be ok? I hope.
Couple glasses of water to calm down, and out the door. With any luck, they won’t be home or see me leaving.
Damn, I still haven’t been able to get my street tires on the DRZ, and so much for preserving these knobbies. The extra wheel set concept sounds good, but for me it doesn’t really work. Fuckit. And I’m on the road, heading home, hand in the air. This is really hard to do on the freeway for and hour. It’s like those people who accidentally leave their blinker on but I’m using a hand signal and left IT on. All the bikers coming back from Laguna Seca think I’m waving at them. Whatever. I’m fussy and sad. I just lost $1000 to a fucking pothole.

What MUST be replaced:
My riding gear. Fuck, this is the worst part. That really costs a lot, and it was mostly new.
The handlebars.
The shit lever.
The mirror
Then the really ought to replaces:
Footpegs and brackets,
Frame slider? Maybe
Need to see Joe about fork straightness once I’ve replaced the handlebar.
The tank is a new shape, with a cross-hatched scar from the bar end. The tail and signals and holeshot flyscreen have roadrash.
Fucking goddam piece of shit pothole.
I still don’t understand this. I’ve ridden over millions of potholes. I don’t get it. I know my dirtbike would not have lost its temper for a pothole. Fucking streetbikes.

Comments:

Rebecca:

hah!
Make that "shift lever."
"must replace... shift lever"
freudian slip


ouch.

Posted by Rebecca on Monday, July 12, 2004 at 10:55 AM



MonkeyDude

Hey, sweetie. I hope you're healing up ok. Horrible to find you on here this way... but hopefully you're doing alright. You might want to try and get that ring off your finger, if you haven't already. It could really do damage to your finger by leaving it on... you can get it cut off at a jewlers and they can repair the cut fairly easily, if I remember correctly. The rest of the stuff is just that, "stuff," and it can be replaced... glad to hear you're ok for the most part.

Posted by MonkeyDude on Tuesday, July 13, 2004 at 5:15 PM



Marisa

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
CRAP!
I'm so sorry!!

:(:(:(
Let me know if there's anything I can do.

Posted by Marisa on Tuesday, July 13, 2004 at 5:15 PM



Kevy

Welcome to the Crashed SV Club darlin'. I'm sorry! I can honestly say I feel your pain. It always seems totally fine till the last second before you eat pavement. Then you sit up going "What the fuck just happened?!?!?!"
It wasn't your fault.
It was the universe cocking the Fuck-with-me-gun.
At least that's what I tell myself.
I'm going to have a rather large bill myself to get my bike back.
You wanna team up and do some porn together? That'll make us $3k quick!
;)

Posted by Kevy on Tuesday, July 13, 2004 at 7:59 PM

INKandMETAL

Pot holes, rocks, they all fuck your shit up. I wrote down the parts you need, if I come across any in my search for straight wheels I'll shoot you a link or pick it up for you. Take care of that chunck of meatloaf on your finger

Posted by Ink and Metal on Wednesday, July 14, 2004 at 11:41 AM

sunrise

woot, 5:20 and I'm just getting in.

It's like I'm a kid again! I keep thinking I'm getting old.

uhhhh, hopping into bed, then hopefully do some riding this weekend... call if interested, but not before 11!

how did one so young and beautiful turn out so dirty and... used?

<>boo.
Something's up with my SV clutch. I've been in denial about it for a month or so.

Bike's only got like 14000 miles on it, so what the hell is that?

ugh.

or, yay! Now I get to learn how to rebuild a clutch!
Guess it's time to shell out for the shop manual first.

Anyway it needs to be cleaned up (damn big bugs between here and Seattle) and oil changed and a few other bits. It wasn't too long ago she was shiney and perfect. What happened to us?

But the dirtbike is still set for dirt. Got wheels and tires, but everything's in the wrong place. What's a girl to do?

It's hard being me.

Some people need live-in butlers. I need a shadow-mechanic.


Comments:

Rebecca: I got some drunk boys to poke at the bike last night. It seems to feel better. hmmmmm...

Posted by Rebecca on Friday, July 09, 2004 at 9:50 AM

Home. Let's do it again.

<>So yesterday I got up at the crack of dawn (actually, I didn't: the sun gets up too damned early. But I was on the bike by 6 am) to ride from Seattle all the way to San Francisco. Not quite Iron Butt, but close enough I probably just should have thrown in a few hundred extra miles to get the pin, or plate frame, or whatever.

A lot of people told me not to do the trip in one day. Several people told me I "couldn't" which is probably why I "did." And now I've done it and can say: never again. That sucked.

I made quick work of Washington. Washington is beautiful, and I got on a cop's radar just once (that I know of, but I'm pretty sure that if I didn't see one, I would have gotten pulled over). He was sitting in the median with his hair-dryer pointed at me, and I grabbed a bunch of brake. Somehow I got away with it.
I love all the rivers and bridges up here.

Into Portland after french toast, with the best intentions of sticking to the speed limit all the way through to at least Medford. Yeah, right! I'm an incorrigible speeder, and my speedo creeps toward 80. Another cop on the median outside of Eugene, he points at me too but I've just slowed down from one of my marathon speeding/passing sessions.
Red lights flash behind me on the other side of Eugene, and I see I'm done. Boo. But I pull over and he keeps going. Yay! I win!
That's a sign. That I should speed more, right?

Stopped once in Oregon for gas. I am getting the best gas mileage ever, I can only assume because the traffic is so smooth. People in Oregon and Washington know how to drive! Pass on the left, move to the right. As I get closer to California though, the traffic gets worse and worse. It's not that there are more cars, it's just that more of them are "hanging out" in the left lane. Where they DON'T belong. There needs to be a law against trucks passing on uphills. Omigod. I am so good, I am NOT lanesplitting at all.

It gets really damn hot and I peel off all the extra layers. It's not enough; I am near California. Up a nice little mountain, and "welcome to California" Aha! And now I start speeding for real. Down the twisty mountainside, weaving in and out of the cars. (just because you bought a car that looked fast in the ad doesn't mean it should reside in the "fast lane")
There's a cop at the bottom, but again, he has just missed my REAL speeding. heh. Two more cops within 50 or so miles. Fuckers. But somehow I am getting away with it.

It's fucking hot in California and there are too many cars. All sitting in the left lane. Now I'm weaving, and my gas mileage has dropped dramatically. There's a huge backup in the pass by Shasta, which I fortunately am able to lanesplit. Fuck those other states, there's no way I'd give up lanesplitting.
Somehow I missed the 505 and ended up going all the way out to Excremento. Whatever, I was home by 10, in time for the Simpsons. Most importantly, there was a Guinness left in the refrigerator. Yay!

So that was the first long trip by myself, first long trip on the SV. Here's what I learned:
- I LOVE Seattle. I already knew that. But I'll never live somewhere that I can't lanesplit.
- The scenic route through Oregon was nice, especially the Dunes. But the rest of the coast up there- never again. Too many flurking RV's. And that was on a Thursday morning!
- Bring extra keys for everything that takes a key.
- Things I can’t do without: electric vest, MP3 player (with earplug speakers)
- That windscreen is cute and all, but it’s never going on a long trip with me again. I’ll leave it on for around town, but I’d rather ride naked than have that fucking thing blow ALL the air directly at my head all day. I found that if I popped my head around the side, or leaned up and back, the wind noise it created dropped a lot. Kept wanting to take it off but couldn’t figure out how to get it home without breaking it.
- The “long way” scenic route is often quicker since there’s less traffic, and more speeding.
- Seattle to San Francisco needs to be two days: For one thing, it’s scenic if you do it right, and it blows if you do it wrong. Also, a ride that long and boring is just a recipe for speeding tickets. I have no idea how I made it home with my license intact, but I shouldn’t push my luck.
- I MUST go ride the Washington forests again. Mt. Rainier was beautiful, and I just got a little taste.
- I should have planned more of what I wanted to do in Portland and Seattle before I got there.
- I have a new favorite bar. It is very far away. Boo.
- I want more road tripping.

Monday: Hell and back

<>No, I'm too tired to spew the vitriol this deserves. I'll try again tomorrow.

Sunday: Seattle

<>Ben and I went to Capitol Hill, where I bought furry boots and we visited a "museum of oddities" which I'm still not sure what to think of. Some sort of paranormal nuts... umm.
Ate chocolate cake, then drove around for a scenic tour and CUPCAKES. I LOVE CUPCAKES.
Talked to my brother about the ring he has in his possession and his plans of what and when... mostly at my mother's behest. For the first time, he has a girlfriend I really like.
Went to a 4th of july fireworks watching party at his friend's house, which was tolerable, but, well, boring? The view was stunning. I really love Seattle. I'm pretty sure I'd move there if it weren't for one very important thing: no lanesplitting! I think I'm always going to live in California, if for no other reason than, why the hell should I sit and wait with all those losers in their cars?

Saturday: Seattle

<>So, uhhhh,
Saturday I just hung out with my brother and his girlfriend. He just bought a house, they have a nice quiet habit of a life.
At my demand, we looked up tiki bars and I pushed them to take me out of the house. We went over to some street for walking/shopping/whatever.
One of the bars that came up on our websearch was there, not a tiki bar, properly, but looked cool. It wasn't open, but I couldn't bear not to drink there, so we went to the pub nearby to drink until the bar opened.
So, coming back once the place was open, and this bar absolutely rocked! It's absolutely my favorite bar, and I don't get to bgo back! At least not for a while. The bartender was lots of fun, and let me order drinks by color, all of which came out very tasty. He let us borrow the rubber ducky to keep us company and had a drink with us. He even wrote up my bar tab as the colors of the drinks... PERFECT. The PERFECT bar. Despite no umbrellas.
We stayed there for several drinks and then went to another neighborhood to an actual tiki bar, which totally sucked because they didn't bring me an umbrella in my drink. The other customers had umbrelllas, so I became terribly bitter. Ben requested umbrellas, which they brought, but I still think that bar sucked.
Also, who the hell brings their baby to a tiki bar?

This journal entry is not very interesting. I'm fucking tired.

Friday: Portland to Seattle

Slept in a bit Friday morning. Wednesday and Thursday were planned in advance. I knew the route before I left on wednesday, and had times all worked out.

My plan was fairly detailed, up until Portland. Now I'm just winging it. I have half a thought to zig zag up to Astoria, then over to Mount St. Helen's, then out to Olympia "on the way' to Seattle. I'm feeling surprisingly comfortable and not tired of riding. But decided on a simpler scenic route to get me into Seatte at a reasonable hour. ther are BARS in Seattle. TIKI BARS, even.

Cruised around Portland for a while looking around for anything interesting, wasn't too excited, but I did stop at a cafe for breakfast since there was a crowd and a Hawk parked out front. (which, I totally behaved and didn't tell they guy it was a girl's bike) Got onto I-5 North into Washington and rode up carefully observing the way-too low speed limit. In Washington, even I-5 is pretty. People drive way better in Oregon and Washington than they do in California. I felt a little guilty about a few slightly aggressive passes I made that day, which wouldn't have been notable in California.
Turned off at 12 to go East into the forest. And on 12, passed by possibly the most breathtaking Vista Point I've ever seen. Wow. Very very pretty. Again with the RV's, but I'm getting good at passing them now. Mt. St. Helen's is to my right, and the lake, and on the left is a national forest. Turned off at 123 to enter Mt. Rainer National Park. Stopped to take a photo of my bike at the gate, and entered the park. Really really pretty. Part of this road (Cayuse Pass) is closed in the winter, and of course that's a good sign. Up at the top the road get twisty, and there's snow on the sides. I wanted to double back and ride it again, but was a little worried about gas availability. Little waterfalls peek out from the hill next to the road and the views on the side are breathtaking. I'd like to come back here soon and run the other passes in the park.
This takes me to 410 and again, I haven't really studied the map. I know this points generally to Seattle, but I don't know how, nevermind I don't actually know where my brother lives. Again, the good sense of direction kicked in and I found my way to Capitol Hill pretty easily and parked with some other bikes. And sat for coffee. Called my brother, and arranged to meet down the street for drinks.

The ride was fucking great. To do it again, I would get a better map, to find the real backroads, and skip some of the crappy RV stuff. I fucking hate RV's. What is it about Americans that makes them want to get the biggest of everything? Are we getting away from it all but bringing it all with us? What's the fucking point? It's so obnoxious to all other travellers, and it defeats the point of travelling, to bring your own home and insulation from the world around you. The more of your own home you bring, the less of the new areas you experience.
Get a fucking clue, and pull the fuck over while you're at it.

Thursday: Weed, CA to Portland, OR

<>I was on the bike by 7am. I had this idea that my day as planned would take like 10 hours, plus time for any trouble that might come up.
Blasted into Oregon, pulled over somewhere for gas, dreading the Oregon-gas attendant wierdness. The girl bounded over and I was like "do you have to punp the gas?" she said no, she'd prefer not to touch it, but she had to hand the thing to me and push the button. Still annoying, but whatever. Apparently, they're supposed to give you a dribble rag too. What am I, some kind of fucking moron who can't pour gas without spraying it everywhere?
Pulled off of I-5 in Sutherlin, took 138 to 38 to get to the coast. These two roads are fairly scenic, riverbanks on the side, nicely paved, light traffic. And now that I'm off of I-5, I'm railing along at respectably unpublishable speeds. If it weren't for all of the RV's and logging trucks, all of the roads I took Thursday would have been nice. At approximately double the speed limit. Ahem.
Got to the coast at Reedsport. Stopped to lube my chain and read a little sign about the Dunes. And then North along 101. I thought this would be a nice ride. And it would have been, if there weren't so many goddam tourists and trucks. Ugh. Well, I'm glad I did it, but I'll never go back. The first hour or two of 101 was really goddam pretty though. This, I could see doing again, maybe cut out around Florence. The Dunes National Park area is really stunning, there are little lakes or lagoons or whatever on the side of the road, and then the dunes poke out every so often. Apparently, a good portion of the park is open to OHV, so I wished I had my DRZ for a little foray (into crashing. I have no clue how to ride sand. It's been explained to me, but, I'm a trainwreck) All the bridges and rivers/bays/whatever are really pretty. Stopped a few times for gas and met two other motorcyclists on a road trip from Santa Cruz.
Yes, everyone, I'm travelling alone. This seems to strike a lot of people as odd. But, seriously, I want to go. I hate herding cats. I am not putting my life on hold simply because I can't sucker people into doing stuff with me.
Stopped for food in Tillamook and gassed up. Then took 6 (Hello! Now I am REALLY speeding!) to 26 (boo, now I am not speeding.) into Portland. No, I had not planned or looked at a map. My plan was "go to Portland." but I managed to go directly to my hotel. Days Inn, meh.
I had refused Charles' friends company and hospitality based on the thought that I would be arriving late, like 9:30 or later, and exhausted. But I was in at 5:00! I couldn't believe it. I may have been speeding? Looked at a little map of Portland and suddenly wished I'd done some sort of research or planning of what to do once I got there. So I walked around looking and decided:
Portland is very pretty.
There's not a lot to it though.
I generally have a very good sense of direction. But Portland, for some reason I was constantly lost, and confused.
I wished I had a travel partner at that time. I guess I got bored.
Ate, had a cocktail, then I was omigod sleepy and dragged myself back to the hotel. On the way back I passed a club I thought maybe I'd come back to. Yeah, right, maybe in my younger days! Once in the hotel I flopped out. I don't even think it was 10:00.

Comments:
B.

hehehe you lubed your chain.

Traveling alone rules!

Posted by B. on Sunday, July 04, 2004 at 4:38 PM

Wednesday: Brisbane to Weed

<>Left work around 6:00, hauled up I-5.
Figured out a few things.
First, Stonyford isn't that far. We always get there so late because we stop for a real sit-down meal. Maybe next time we should skip that.
Travelling alone is fast. I have a real speeding problem. And I hate to stop. That's definitive of my personality in general anyway. But I-5 is so boring through most of California. Just as the road started to become pretty, the sun had gone down. I could see that the mountains and lake were probably very nice, when I got near Shasta, but I was on a mission. The moon was fullish, and looked fucking nice on the lake. But I was on my way. Pulled into Weed I think around 10:30. Parked behind another blue SV (newer, square frame-- sucker.) and slept very well. I could see my bike from my window, and the room was nice. Comfort Inn in Weed is an OK place.