SV Goodness! And Easter Morning Ride

Wahoo!!!!!!!
I have SV650 goodness!
With much much help from my hero, I brought home a very nicely used SV650 last night!

Weekend was very good, Saturday I went all day without much needed coffee so that I could go to bed early. After a couple of days of trying to see Bay Area SV’s that were seeming very elusive, I went and gave a little test ride to a Superhawk. I’ve been eying these bikes, but put off by the size (1000cc’s just doesn’t sound like me at all) and the gas tank (100 miles, no more.) But rode it anyway, and very much enjoyed the feel and sound of it. Hmmmm… I considered it. Of course I was terrified because I’ve been riding a 400cc dirtbike for the past year. The Superhawk was a reminder, “so THAT’s what happens when you roll on the throttle! Holy crap!” And “How do you turn these things again?”

Then went to bed very early because I was to have a very long day Sunday. But the guy in Rocklin (just outside of Roseville, which is just outside of Sacramento) called back and still had the SV I saw in Cycle Trader. So I arranged to see it in the morning, making my day infinitely more complicated. Here we go!

Sunday I got up at 2 to do the Easter Morning Ride, which I’ve always skipped. Never Again! I will not skip it anymore, what a great time! Fucking great, I don’t know what to say. A couple hundred motorcycles running through San Francisco pre-dawn, running up an unfamiliar (to me) hill in the dark with nothing but a sea of tail-lights twisting up the road in front of you through the fog, arriving to a crowd of motorcyclists you can’t really see, exchanging smiles, coffee, donuts, and something I’m still not sure what it was (“drink this!” “what is it?” “I don’t know just drink it!” “uh, ok”)… To watch the sun rise on Mt. Tam. Brilliant, and the hot boys on dirtbikes didn’t hurt much either, once the sun had come up. Hello Sailor! Damn, but I could not stay to chat them up, I was due in San Jose. Back down the hill, played a bit with one of them, as much as I dared on the sopping wet and unfamiliar road, and sped like a madman to San Jose (this is relative to my engine size. A sportbike guy would not think 90 for an hour was speeding, but, he would also cry when I took him down Tunitas. It’s all perspective.) to meet my hero who took me to meet my new motorcycle two and a half hours away.

The bike is in very good condition, low miles (by my standards anyway) and just really pretty. OK, so I wanted red. Everyone knows red bikes are faster. Oh well, I am not that patient, and I think it was a pretty good deal. Little test ride, it’s a fun bike! And very punchy, compared to the DRZ. I could be mistaken, but I get the feeling it wants to wheelie.
So then we part ways, and my hero takes my dirtbike back to San Jose, and I take the new bike to my grandmother’s house for Easter dinner. This is gold rush country, the roads are swell, but there are a lot of people touring around visiting family. No fun, but I am trying to be conservative anyway. I have no license plate, and don’t want hassle. Wow, I can just pass people now, whenever I feel like it! That’s a feeling I haven’t had in a while. Dinner is great, family is great, and I take off to lanesplit almost the entire way home. This bike is tight and crisp, the way a bike ought to be. The EX felt sloppy. The DRZ is just a different animal. (a really fucking great animal!) This feels like other sportbikes I’ve been on, and sounds nifty too. Not loud, not even growly, just real. It’s actually quiet but it has that “whirr” which I can’t describe to non-riders. So nevermind, I’m happy, I’m scared, it’s way punchy and won’t forgive nearly as many sloppy habits as my DRZ. I have to be much more careful, and I’m riding it very conservatively. Downshifting is not smooth.

But I’m ready to ride all over the place now.
Who wants to go to LA? Portland? Seattle?
C’mon, I’ve got a travel bar!

Thursday night riding, and more complaining on my part

Yesterday I got myself all worked up over this bike I wanted to buy. I try not to want things too much, but once I actually decide, this, I want THIS, I am incredibly impatient. So I had it all rolling around in my head, I could smell this bike and feel it between my legs, I had envisioned bringing it home, stopping by the SFMC to show it to the Limey, who’d gotten excited with me about each of my bikes, one by one, as they each rolled into my life.

Boo, hiss, I did not get to buy the damn thing. It was all I could think about all day. I got giddy, then deflated, then sad, then antsy as the excitement had gotten me all worked up with no where to go…

And went on a ride which a friend of mine is trying to start up in the East Bay. I’ve been trying to find roads in the East Bay, so this seemed like a good idea. Also, there are people I like to see no matter what. So, Thursday Night Ride, how does this compare to Monday Night Ride?

Well, Monday night riders don’t scare me as much. I know most of these people, and most are competent riders. We all seem to agree on a certain level of safety, not riding above your head, etc.

Thursday night ride was a surprisingly big group. And there were a few really bad riders. I scare easily, so I was terrified of riding with these people. Two stood out quite a bit, including the fat guy on the FZ who I followed for a while, looking for a corner where he WASN’T going all over, so I could pass him. I did, and I think he was watching me, because later I saw him trying to take corners like I do. Don’t do it! “This is not for you!” I’m 140 pounds on a dirtbike, you are like 275 on a little old sportbike. I got, like, MAD suspension for DAYS, yo. You have… A sad little thing that wants you OFF of it. Do NOT get on top of the bike and push it down under you. He also dropped his bike while we were all standing around waiting. It was hilarious. I have no idea how such a big man could drop such a small bike. I mean, you would think he’d have had to pull it out of his ass first.

Stood around at the wall while somebody decided where we were going. I am the only girl. That’s normal and wouldn’t merit mention, except that I think it explains the comment some guy made while we were standing there. Fast guy on an XR comes railing around the corner past us and gets me all excited. Could I get my helmet on and catch up to him? Nah. I am not even on my bike.
Some guy standing next to me says “Those bikes will make ANYONE fast.” As far as I can tell he doesn’t even have a bike.
“What, an XR?”
“Just, any dual sport. It’s like a dirt bike. Ride one for a few months, it will make anyone fast.”
“Huh. That’s a good idea. I think I’ll TRY that.” (put key in [my dual-sport] bike and start to put helmet on) “It’s kind of a girls bike, don’t you think?”

I don’t even understand why some people open their mouths.

At any rate, the police followed us. In Santa Cruz hills, I know which roads to take to avoid this; there are so many options. But apparently there are only like three roads in the East Bay. So the ride became an exercise in, well, boring-ness, and we decided to turn back. Someone is out of gas. We have gone, like TEN MILES, and this numbnut is whining about gas. Who shows up to a ride with 10 miles of gas? None of this is doing anything to combat my view of SF/East Bay sportbikers as a bunch of posing idiots. “Hey baby, I ride motorcycles” is about what I think these bikes are for, to some of these guys. I’ve had this feeling about SF bikers in general for a while. My friend Zeke flatly admits to it regularly and tells me I’m one of the few real motorcyclists. He says he’s just an image-biker, but I know that’s not true. I’ve ridden with him, and he’s tons of fun to ride with. But, yeah, there seem to be a lot of those guys around here. (and girls, whoa, don’t even get me started on some of these girls! Wait, no, I must, but it’s another journal entry, for sure.)

Anyway, after stopping for gas (grumble grumble) we headed back in to town to convene at some bar, where I ran into a friend who has not been riding his DRZ. I chastised him and poked at him for a while before heading into the City to stop by the SFMC, where I had a pizza delivered and complained loudly about the lack of Guinness.

Everywhere I went, plans were discussed for Easter Morning. We’ll see.


OH! and I saw goats! That almost redeems the crappy East Bay roads.

Stunt-Dating

So anyone who actually knows me, knows that I don’t really date. As I like to say, "dating and me are un-mixy things." (stolen and paraphrased, yes)

Charles may remember when I gave it up, like two or three years ago, and maybe he even remembers the string of boys that made the reason. (bank-robbing, DUI’s, and bad grammar were all involved.) It's actually more complicated (and less reactionary) than that, but it just SOUNDS better this way. Anyway, and yeah I made an exception for Eric. But, he was so nice, and, DREAMY. (but incredibly well-behaved/boring, oh, well.)

Last summer I was having breakfast with a friend of mine, for his birthday, a friend who had on many occasions attempted to convince me to go out with him, and he says to me, something like, "I don’t think I’ve ever met this boyfriend, I think you made him up so I would stop hitting on you." I assured him that was not the case, and then realized that it was sheer genius, and kind of wished it was true.
99% my friends are guys, and ALL of the close ones are. Which gives us the perfect setup for the stunt-date. Slightly different from the safe-date, which is essentially the gay guy you bring to weddings and such.

The stunt-date, just like any stunt double, is the stand-in for the stuff that might be risky or difficult otherwise. It allows you to do all the things you want with none of the bullshit. I’ve played stunt-date to friends who recently went through breakups and needed a jealous ex, and those who needed to be left alone by stalker-types. Recently spent the better part of a weekend with a stunt-date whose actual girlfriend is very very far away. (I went home in the evenings, thank you. I’m always a true gentleman.) Don’t have time or energy for a girlfriend? Don’t want the nagging and curfues? Want to still go out and get numbers? Get a stunt-date.

It’s a lot easier for me to deal with, and doesn’t traumatize friendships. (maybe some day I’ll make an entry about my theory on why you should not have sex or "get involved" with people you actually like or care about. I’ve been explaining that to bewildered people for years.)

However, for the record, that same friend, that thought I made Eric up, has, as of this morning, cancelled his second big stunt-date with me. Last year, he broke up with the girl and wanted someone to make her jealous at some concert. Dinner and a ride and all that shit, just come with me so I don’t feel terrible seeing her… and then cancelled a couple days before. And now, same thing, dinner, some concert, all that, and a couple of days before, cancelled. This time he admitted to me that it seemed a bad idea because "on some level, I am attracted to you, and might try something stupid." In this case, I’m a little relieved because I didn’t want to go, and had other stuff I wanted to do that night.

However, I’m not really sure how I should feel about being dumped by someone I wouldn’t actually go out with in the first place.


More time for me!
And today I rode, in the East Bay, finally found a tour guide, made some miles… the roads there are just not as interesting. I can see the sportbike appeal. I kept up ok until the road opened up, and I made the mistake of hesitating, and then it was all over. Once you roll, off, it’s ten minutes to get back up to speed! See you guys on the other side!
But I did see a goat. And that made it all better. And watched my friend do stupid shit on his bike, terribly amusing.

20K! 20K!

Today I rolled 20K on my DRZ! woot.
This bike rocks. I can't imagine anything better. It's great in the city, fast in the hills (please don't insult my motorcycle, or I will embarrass the hell out of you, literbike-boys.), perfect for the dirt stuff (at least what I'm doing)... and so goddam cute. Yes, I love my motorcycle more than I love you.
Oh I love this motorcycle. I can't say that enough.

Today went riding with some friends. I had to do some speeding to get there in time, but managed to pull up just as the others arrived. We headed out quickly to one of my favorite roads. The Man on the Monster behaved badly and was roundly chastized. He deserved it, but he blamed the bike, "it makes me do evil things!" We got passed by some Fast Guys on Empire. Damn.
Changed oil, made a big mess because a rocket scientist decided to put caulking in the garage floor. One, two, three, we each took turns accidentally stepping in it and tracking it around the garage. Lemmings. This was good for many laughs.

Tomorrow I'm going riding. I didn't plan to go riding today, so it, uhhh, didn't count? Joiners, call me. Blah blah blah. Won't leave too early since I'm working tonight and we lose an hour to daylight savings anyway.

Is there someone out there who can crack my back? I don't know what the chiro did, but it don't feel right.

Number 11

Got my registration confirmation for the Sheetiron on Wednesday. I am so goddam excited! Charles had me all worked up with stories about it being full. I am Number 11! That's how quickly I jumped on it. And I signed three other people up with me. I'm curious whether they got lower numbers, which would put my check as the 8th one recieved. I'm a big dork. I can't even ride dirt.

Also have my hotel room. I was all over that, within the same day. I am SET! All other details are negotiable. I may camp or hotel Friday night, I may ride or get a ride, I may have a roommate or not. I don't give a damn, I have covered MY ASS. You're all a bunch of flakes anyway.(That's not directed at anyone in particular) That is, those of you that aren't out-and-out assholes. (That is.)

And the chiro is going. Well, I'm gonna be cutting it really close to get this finished before the sheetiron, like by a few days, I will let her know I'm on a schedule next time. I'm also still looking for my SV. Not sure when I can get Charles to drive out of state to look at these things. I can't barely get him to come to SF for tiki drinks.

And I have a bug in my ass to do the Easter Morning Ride. Which I have skipped every year because I have family-- that I actually like to spend time with. This year they're convening in a town 2.5 hours away, instead of San Jose, and yet, THIS is the first year I'm tempted to do it. Which would mean, besides the usual stupidity of getting up to ride before the crack of dawn. (not so stupid, really), I would have to ride 3 hours to the start point, and 3 hours back. On a dirtbike. New heights of stupid shit, on my part. Anyway, I'm fairly sure someone will talk me out of it. Or maybe someone will join me? Heh. Yeah, right.

Looking for my future ex-girlfriend

Out late last night. I am damned sleepy right now.
But, what’s news here? I’m ready and looking for my next bike.

Basically, I kept the EX around for passengers (yes, I actually enjoy passengers, just not in the hills) and long trips. Plus, it was way better on the freeway than the poor little DRZ.

So that’s what I’m replacing. I am pretty convinced the SV650 is what I want. I’d also consider an F4 (not “i”), and I have some curiousity about BMW’s. I don’t know a lot about BMW’s, so that’s a really uninformed idea. Maybe I’ll go test ride the current 650GS this Saturday to see how I like it.

So, SV650. Prefer Street to Sport (SV650S), but either would be fine.
Of course, everyone knows red bikes are faster, but the blue is awful purty too. And then my bikes would match.

Trouble is, people in this area seem to think that they should sell their used bikes for near-new prices. NOT going to happen, at least with me. I’ve had nothing but bad luck with used bikes, and there’s no way I’m going to buy used just to save $1000 or less.

I don’t give a damn how much aftermarket frou-frou you heaped on there. It was a budget bike to start, and that’s what I want. Stock is good. Suspension is the only upgrade I’m willing to pay for.

I want to pay $3K. I want it to work, I don’t want a project. I’m hoping to stay away from salvage.
People in the Bay Area are probably laughing at me right now, because we’re all seeing these bikes for $5K used. I saw a salvage one in Cycle Trader yesterday for nearly $4K. Hmmm, and the MSRP is? Dumbasses.

But, I am convinced, it can be done. I’ll travel to get it as needed. I’ve been looking for an excuse to fly back to Austin, or Seattle. And riding back would be the icing on the cake.

So, please keep eyes and ears open. This is all I will talking or thinking about until it is settled.

OH, and I have a deadline. I want it by the first week of May. Because of the Sheetiron, and my worries about hammering on what is my only way to get to work, in the hardcore dirt riding. Although this morning a friend offered me a bike to borrow in that case. So maybe I can be more patient on the SV thing.

Not likely, patience has never been one of my many virtues.

faster than you and twice the man

I thought today was going to be a snotty twisty road day. I thought I'd be riding with beemer guys, but I ended up with a flock of Ducs and a Mille. Go figure.
News flash of the day:!:!: People are flakey! Omigod! Who'd've thunk it?

The short version:
The highlight of my day was Mr. Hardcore telling me I throw my bike into corners like a man. I told him, I AM a man, and he said he'd always had his suspicions.

'nuff said.





(hmm, does this mean I throw the bike like IT was a man, or I throw the bike like I am a man? I guess I should have clarified that.)

Ride, rinse, repeat. Always repeat.

Wahoo!
Today rocks.
I got up at 7 and managed to get myself into the gym. For the first time since being helped off of my motorcycle by the minivan in January. This is great. I've been feeling crap about this, and wanting to get in again.

Then home, then out to meet people at Alice's for riding.
Got onto 35, the road was wet. This is a good sign, less traffic this way. Yay! Into the parking lot, got my coffee and waited. Two tasty underage boys on dirtbikes (ok, so they're all tasty until the helmets come off...), followed by an older guy on a vespa (dad?) provided a little entertainment until the rest of the ride arrived.
After a little lolligagging, we were all together and ready to go. Tunitas was roundly dismissed by people who had harleys and passengers. After much discussion, I get bored and plug-in. I can't hear what is decided, I will follow. And we all take off, beemer guys and me up front, sportbikes and Texans in the back (As it should be!).
84 to Alpine to Pescadero. I love this road! Red beemer in front of me is making a good pace, what fun!
White beemer behind me, is, well, frequently visible in my mirror...
Pescadero to what I think may be Cloverdale, past a pathetic little bicycle race. These fuckers have a little ramp to start on. Can't even pedal to get started?!? ("Get a motor!") And it ended, I don't know, maybe a mile or so down the road. Weird.
Turn left at 1, then left on Swanton (I think?). White beemer has picked up the pace, Now they are both in front of me. Then left on 1, into Davenport for lunch. To realize that the sportbikes and texans have all cheated and skipped Swanton. Hmmm...
After lunch, 1 to Bonny Dune (another of my favorites). Passenger has moved to red beemer, so I get to watch Charles be a squid on his harley. Wave him past to watch him ride it race style up the twisties, and also with the hopes that I can encourage a wheelie. Fortunately, he is easily influenced to do bad things. Yay! Harley wheelies!
Bonny Dune to Empire Grade (I think), then down Jamison. Going downhill has always been one of my greatest weaknesses. I suck. But not so bad today that anyone passes me, or has to pick my bike up.
Fly down 9, past one, two, THREE cops. Turn off at 35, on my way home. Some asshole on a crap sportbike gets all pissy at me near the end when I pass him, starts riding my ass in the straighter parts. Listen, dumbass, the fucking CARS were tailgating you through the corners. Your skills are not strong enough to carry the weight of the chip on your shoulder.

And home again, getting shit done. I've been sick all week, and everything's piled up.

I'm riding tomorrow, details not ready yet...

dirty thoughts

I’ve been sick all week, and have not accomplished a goddam thing.
Nyquil makes me have the most incredibly bizarre dreams.

Got all excited last weekend that, after two months since the accident, I’d be getting back to the gym. Finally. And not a moment too soon. But I think my weekend caught up with me, and I woke up Monday with a cold. And proceeded to sleep nearly every hour I was not at work (or shopping for work, which is worse.)

Last night I went over to see some motorcycle folks, and ran into some other Sheetiron victims (and victims to be). (Sheetiron being a 300 mile dual sport ride, and act of attrition)

So last year, I fell off of my bike twice Sunday morning, came around a corner to a nice big hill, crashed heroically, and came upon this guy standing in the ditch. I had never met him before. He offered to take my nice brand new DRZ up the hill a ways. “It does not get any better. This hill is a killer.” (you can see a picture of this exact spot in my profile pictures, which, I know, are fucked up right now for some reason. It’s the one that says “action!” and it’s there because Eric ALSO crashed there. It was a popular spot. That’s a picture of his bike. My ex-bike, with my ex-boyfriend. Both have been replaced with something better, and less-maintainance) It says a lot about how much this particular section had broken me, and a lot about the sort of friendship that forms with complete strangers in the face of the Big Evil Dirt Ride. I handed off my baby to a complete stranger, keys and everything. “Make it go away.”

Standing in that spot for a while, I was surrounded by chaos. It seemed, anyway. Somewhere up off the trail, and behind us, I could hear some guy having trouble, needing help. I couldn’t help. I could hear engines rev, rev, rev, then die. Followed by laughter, or yelling, or both. That’s the sound of the crash you can’t see. I stood there for a while, watched several people fly by, and a few more crash, before Eric came by and ate shit in the same spot I’d gone down in. Served him right, he hadn’t crashed yet all weekend. I think he was beginning to get smug. Yes, I’m aware that I make a terrible girlfriend. We stopped for a photo op and jumped out of the way of some more riders/crashers. James stopped to help a lot of people through this particular section.

Hiked back up to the DRZ, I’m not sure whether I was relieved to see it or not. Back on, then back off again almost immediately, coming down a hill, knowing I was completely out of control. Wee! Face first, plowed into the road (and by "road," I mean something a goat would not hazard) under the bike somehow, in front of where a bunch of people had stopped. If your gonna do it, at least have an audience! I’d come to accept the only way to approach this section was “how far can I get in between falling off?”

Then I realized that this guy who fished my bike out of the hill for me was riding an 1150GS! Holy crap, and I thought I had trouble! Turned out he was a friend, or acquaintance, at least, of some friends I was riding with. We ended up all riding together the rest of the day. I’m a shitty dirt rider, on a good little dirtbike. I know why my bike kept tossing me. It was embarrassed to be seen with me. “Get off of me! I’ll do it myself!” But these guys on the big bikes, are fucking nuts! And I love that. It’s so perverse. I really appreciate people who do something just because it’s not supposed to be. Because it’s fucked up, and stupid, and just because they can (or die trying!). The concept of a BMW is that it can go anywhere and do anything, and I rarely meet people who really test that.

So for the past year, whenever I run into this guy, I bug him about repeating the Sheetiron. He’s some kind of hero in my mind. He recoils every time. I can see him wince at the memory, “no way, no way, on that bike, never again. Maybe if I had a small dirtbike.” But, see, that’s missing the point.

Last night, he admitted that he wanted to do it again, and even on the beemer. Woot. Also spoke with a guy who’s gonna do it on a Tiger. It was hard to find knobbies for it, he told me. (no shit, they'd prolly never had to sell a set before!)

So, yeah, I’m sure I’ll be pissing and crying the whole time, but these guys, they are hardcore! That’s what it’s all about.
You’re all insane. And I love it.

recovering from the weekend

Holy crap, what just happened? It was a good weekend, but, tiring. I need another day to sleep.
Friday night I ran into someone who disappeared a few months back. It was terribly exciting. I’m ready to collect on that ride you promised, in SEPTEMBER!

Saturday morning I recuperated from Friday night (I believe there may have been some alcohol involved), and went to a meeting. Huh, maybe I will go to Burning Man again. I just don’t know. Last year was weird, Eric and I broke up the night before I left, and the ride in was almost as fun as the time spent there. Since I was only there for like four days, and with the stuff going on in my life, I had issues with some of the people in the camp. Which is to say, the camp gets really big, and there are a lot of assholes in it. I was displeased, and spent very little time there. First off, I don’t recognize a lot of these people. This wouldn’t bother me so much if so many of them weren’t such fucking assholes. My sister came by to drop off some of my stuff, (after checking with one of my very pleasant camp-mates that we both actually know) and was given a shitload of attitude by someone I still don’t even know. A few days later, I was very rudely told I had to leave by another person who looked a little familiar, but I also didn’t know. It’s one thing to not know, and ask nicely, but save the fucking attitude. Seriously. Maybe I’m turning into a hippie, I just don’t see the need to be a bitch to people just because you’re so omigod cool for being at Thunderdome.
Funnier still is that this chick was syrupy sweet to me when someone else intervened and said that I was ok. The loose translation of this in my mind is something like “I’m nice to people only if I can tell that they are ‘cool,’ or there is a REASON to be nice to them.” Fuck that noise.
Do I KNOW you?
No, I don’t know you, and I don’t have the time or motivation to try to. I’m jetting off to a friendlier place. I disappeared for days at a time (as per usual) into a very happy camp with a friend and a bunch of traveling Euro student types. Very nice people. And spent some time at the airport.

Anyway, the point of this digression was going to be, Saturday’s meeting was really pleasant, with a small group of people I actually like, and reminded me that I should get into this thing again.

Saturday night I went to the Fetish Ball. I went with a friend, and, upon arriving at his flat, discovered that by coincidence, we were dressed all matched. We could not have matched more had we planned it. I'm not sure whether to think it was cool or incredibly dorky. Vodka helped. Between Fetish Ball and after party, I got home at nearly 6am.

Then managed to drag myself out of bed to go riding on Sunday. Late, yes, but I did get to ride. More amazing was the fact that I was able to get the same friend to drag his ass out of bed for a ride. It was great fun, he is a good rider, we had fun, we went fast, we giggled. Route: 35 to Alice’s for “breakfast” at like 3:30, since we were both having not-quite-hangovers. 84 to Alpine to Pescadero to Stage to La Honda to Applejacks. Stopped to talk with some old racer types, then 84 to 35 and home. A short ride, but fun, lots of fun.

As I pulled up to my block to park, a friend pulled up next to me. So we stayed up and ate and chatted. Now I am tired, very tired from my weekend.

But I woke up this morning with what I think is the beginning of a cold. Crap.

fucking sun

is coming up, and I'm just now getting home to go to bed. Boo.
can we slip in a few extra hours of night-time so's I can get enough sleep to get up and ride?
pretty please?

Fetish Ball was cool, after-party was cool, I just need more sleep-hours.

drunk

Wahoo!
It's 3 am, I am drunk, closed the club....
So godamm glad I made it out tonight, found someone who says they want to go on these weekend motorcycle trips I keep talking about, saw Kevy, and, most importantly, ran into a character I'd been missing since he went AWOL last Fall. I'll be so happy to have you back in my life. All is forgiven. Let's ride.

woot.

East Bay is Pig Latin for

get the fuck out of my way, you pokey-ass motherfucker!

Tried riding in East Bay again today. Jesus, god, there are so many cars out there! 25 mph behind a car most of the day. There's a secret no one wants to tell me. I KNOW there has to be some better riding over there, but I'm not going back until someone can show me. Spending the day looking at the backs of cars makes me cranky and sleepy. Well, mostly cranky becuse I stopped for coffee twice.
And shit, these people can't drive. Before I got a half-mile out of town, I'd almost hit a motorcyclist (who didn't seem to understand the four-way stop concept) and a van making a U turn on Claremont, who waited until I pulled up very close to her to make her move. Yeah, nice, stopped about two feet from T-boning her. Which pretty much set the tone for my riding the rest of the day.

Highlights were a brief bit of go-fast on Redwood, a tiny bit of scenic-ness on Pinehurst, and running into two friends in town, not on bikes, which is to say, as riding goes, it pretty much sucked.

It's all about the South Bay. I know where there are roads: every damn place you look there's another turn-off with a secret and a view. 15 means 15 and 45 means 80. This I understand.

I CRUSH you....uh, I think?

Which Colossal Death Robot Are You?

Check it out, you're an ABC Warrior!

In bars frequented by colossal death robots, you're always the quiet guy at the back who no-one ever bothers. And for good reason. You've fought in several nuclear wars, could beat the sun in a staring match, and have a chin larger than many articles of furniture. Morals are not a concept you understand, but strangely enough, nobody ever questions your judgement. Usually because they're dead. Even Judge Dredd wets himself when you turn up. Grrrr.

Declare human life to be an abomination with the following merry image:



Which Colossal Death Robot Are You?

things that go "bang!"

Wahoo!
I got up at omigod in the morning to jet down to SJ to play with guns today. And it was great fun. Two friends with way too many guns, and three of us with none. I really don't know a damn thing about what was fired, except that one was a nifty WWI rifle that nearly knocked me over when I fired it, one was a very dramatic (smokey) black powder thingy, and one of them burnt me when it went bang. (don't hold it so close, duh!)

The range deal was sort of a pain, all these rules, and fiteen minutes firing period, and stand behind the line, etc., etc., but all very fun.

"make those bullets disappear!"

and then mom called and we had to go home. boo.

Motorcycles, guns, good friends, a ride in the pimpin-est van ever, a visit to the parents' compound, and I have had a very very good day.

I'm working on dyeing my hair, which I haven't done in quite a while, and now I remember what I used to keep boys around for. Damnation. I hope it does not stay pink.

On the way home I got an inspiration, and now I need to make a pattern.

We're back on!

OK, I think I'm done being depressed.
Nothing cheers a girl up like spending a couple of hours and wads of cash on frivolous new underwear.
And cleaning up the loose ends on sad things in your life doesn't hurt either.

Did both of those things today.
And I will make myself get over my downswing starting at 9:30 tonight. I should be giggling as usual by 10:00, and possibly making trouble by 11:00. I am on a tight schedule.


My mother once told me you have to make your own happiness, and I'm a strong believer in this.

I also think if there is no trouble, you must make some.
If life is too safe, pick up a brand new and very dangerous hobby.
Find new ways to take risks and put yourself in harm's way.
Live your life?
Take a bite out of it. It's fucking tasty.



"No hurt survives for long without our help, she said & then she kissed me & sent me out to play again for the rest of my life."(- Brian Andreas)

I am John's searing chest pain

OK, so I really want to be smug and laugh about Ashcroft’s health. But as much as I want him “disappeared,” I cannot make light of his current situation.
I had a gallstone. It fucking hurts. I have never in my life experienced anything so painful. It’s incredible how medical issues and searing pain can bring your life into an instant, narrow focus.

But, you know, I had a really big gallstone. Ashcroft made several small ones. And, I mean, if you’re gonna do something, do it once, do it right. So I made mine real big, about the size of one of those big shooter marbles. The first attack was in January. I was 19. Emergency rooms, doctors, etc. blew me off, said it was in my head, essentially. “Panic attacks,” while sometimes an actual condition, is also a nice, clinical sounding way of saying “we don’t want to deal with you.” Nevermind my symptoms were completely unrelated to anxiety disorders. Nevermind I pointed this out to them. Nevermind they lied on my charts at Saint Francis hospital.

Later it was pointed out to me that no one could tell how much pain I was in. I was too calm.

The pain was only second to the not-knowing. That was the real torture. Once they’d taken me seriously, and made a plan of action, I was relieved. Terrified of the surgery, but relieved of all the mystery.

The surgery got fucked up, because the surgeon also did not take me seriously enough. A 45 minute surgery ended up taking 2.5 hours. Again, because he did not think I was as bad off as I was. I tried to tell him, but I guess it did not show.

Coming up from anesthesia is a moment in my life I will never forget. I don’t understand it, but the sheer terror and panic I experienced in that split second stays with me and still scares the crap out of me. I remember gasping for air, desperately clawing back up to life. That’s just the beginning. Anesthesia stays in your system for months, and that’s on top of the healing problems. I was constantly tired, and incredibly depressed. I was scared to eat, and cried a lot. I had mentally disowned my left hand when they put the I.V. in, and refused to use it. I made a life in a reclining chair at my parents’ house for a week or two. I found four holes in my stomach and ripped stitches out of three of them on accident. The fourth, I had to struggle to keep them in. I hated my new scars, then became very attached to one of them. Unfortunately, that’s the one that faded the most. I wanted to turn them into more scars, tattoos, and branding, piercing, something to mark the experience.

It turns out I have a high tolerance for pain. Prior to all of this, I’d never had any injuries to speak of, never a broken bone, no stitches, no sprains. And I’d always assumed I’d have a low threshold for pain.
But when it hurt, no one could tell how much. The first several doctors didn’t think the pain was great enough for it to be an actual for-real medical problem. In the end, my mother had to tell me to over-act the pain, so they’d take it seriously. And that’s how I finally got their attention. Even now, it’s hard to tell when I’m really in pain. When it comes to doctors, I remind myself to over-act. Do not absorb the pain, toss it back up in tears… I don’t like admitting I’m hurt, and sometimes I can’t even tell myself.

So, Ashcroft? Yeah, I 'm sorry, man. That shit hurts. Bad.
I only hope they don't steal your stones like they stole mine. Fuckers.

tail lights

Sunday was a ride day. After staying out too late Saturday night, I somehow managed to drag my self out of bed in time to meet friends in Woodside for a ride. This is a good thing. Charles looked happy to see me, despite my lack of the usual perkiness. I was happily surprised to see the fastest rider I know had shown up, and got to follow her through the hills a bit. Which is ALWAYS fun. I know, the first thing when I ride with her, is get her tail light out of sight. Joanne’s tail light is like the sirens luring the sailors out to sea. And mostly, I know better. But there was a while on Tunitas Creek Road when I kept seeing her tail light ahead. I’m thinking “Either I am over-riding my abilities, or Joanne is TOYING with me!” That’s funny, she doesn’t LOOK evil…

Sometimes, it's the quiet ones you have to watch out for.

It was really fun to ride with people who are challenging to me. I've spent the past few weeks either riding alone, or in front. Also good things, but it's good to get the challenge sometimes too. Shit, and I was starting to think I knew how to ride!

On Stage Road, noticed something really cool that I somehow have completely missed in all the times I‘ve ridden it. I need to slow down more often. Maybe it’s time for another sportbike. (hah!)

Oh, and apparently I was talking in my sleep last night. Supposedly something about making pants while doing the Sheetiron, but that may have been bullshit. My sister told me a few years ago that I talk in my sleep, and I cannot prove this, but I've been told by a few people that it's the case. I'm really really curious as to what I say though...

controlled burn

So, my apologies to those who've been trying to deal with me lately. These aren't good days.
And, you know, I'm pretty goddam happy, like 99.99% of the time, so I just have to cycle through this every once in a while. So, my apologies.

Did not ride today. I know I cannot ride fast enough to outrun my shadow, the fucker just keeps following me everywhere. I know damn well that I spend days at a time riding to avoid things I don't want to face.

So today I stayed in and made a skirt. Which is to say, I am trying to create again.

Recently came across someone who used to push me, hard, and I worked quite a lot when we were going out. When I rested, he bitched at me. It seemed like a pain at the time, but I miss that. We both created, a lot. I need to get that back. For the past several years I've been in severe avoidance of all the personal and creative. Finding him just smacked me in the face with "what the fuck have you been doing?!?! Why are you hiding??!?" Easy, I've been plastering my demons into the walls and covering them with clutter.

So now I need to burn it all down and start over.

I knew this was coming when I got on the bike to ride to Black Rock last year. I didn't know how long it would take me to get here, but I have to burn everything down every so often. When Eric and I broke up, I felt like I'd woken up from a really long sleep, everything was brighter, louder, more intense than it had been in a long time. It was incredible, but I let it fade, and now I can't feel a fucking thing.

I need someone to hit me so hard, I cannot sleep through it anymore.
And I'm damn well aware that person has to be me.

And, to be fair, this is just one of the things on my mind these days getting me all mixed up.
So, right now, I apologize for the interruption in the regular, happy-as-a-pig-in-shit Rebecca. She'll be back on shortly. And rolling in it, but hopefully in a new dress.

notes from my subconscious

So this morning I went to another chiro appointment. Did I mention this is totally not fun at all?
Anyway, I went into the room and there was a note written in very neat handrwiting on the little notepad on the desk, which read,

"I am ready for my torture now Mistress."

WTF?
I mean, it was fitting, cuz this shit hurts, but, uhhhh, I didn't know it was that kind of place.

It's better, just not knowing the context, and forever wondering.

Light it up

You are a PHOENIX in your soul and your
wings make a statement. Huge and born of flame,
they burn with light and power and rebirth.
Ashes fall from your wingtips. You are an
amazingly strong person. You survive, even
flourish in adversity and hardship. A firm
believer in the phrase, 'Whatever doesn't kill
you only makes you stronger,' you rarely fear
failure. You know that any mistake you make
will teach you more about yourself and allow
you to 'rise from the ashes' as a still greater
being. Because of this, you rarely make the
same mistake twice, and are not among the most
forgiving people. You're extremely powerful and
wise, and are capable of fierce pride, passion,
and anger. Perhaps you're this way because you
were forced to survive a rough childhood. Or
maybe you just have a strong grasp on reality
and know that life is tough and the world is
cruel, and it takes strength and independence
to survive it. And independence is your
strongest point - you may care for others, and
even depend on them...but when it comes right
down to it, the only one you need is yourself.
Thus you trust your own intuition, and rely on
a mind almost as brilliant as the fire of your
wings to guide you.You are eternal and because
you have a strong sense of who and what you
are, no one can control your heart or mind, or
even really influence your thinking. A symbol
of rebirth and renewal, you tend to be a very
spiritual person with a serious mind - never
acting immature and harboring a superior
disgust of those who do. Likewise, humanity's
stupidity and tendency to want others to solve
their problems for them frustrates you
endlessly. Though you can be stubborn,
outspoken, and haughty, I admire you greatly.


*~*~*Claim Your Wings - Pics and Long Answers*~*~*
brought to you by Quizilla

putting a price on love

Wahoo!
The insurance company has just called and made me a new offer for the EX. An offer I am very fond of. (really, I didn't call for two weeks because I didn't want to deal with it, and lost the phone number. It wasn't like I was playing hardball or something.)

So, you know, you were my first, and I loved you, and we had so many good times together, and and and...

But nothing says "I love you" like cold hard cash. Well, ok, porn. Normally I say "nothing says I love you like porn." But that would not do in this case. Perhaps had I thought of it, I should have stuffed your gas tank with porn before they took you away. Next time.

This takes a lot of the pressure off, and hopefully, with two more chiro visits, I'll be in the clear and ready to close all this up by the end of the month. Then, THEN I will be looking for a cheap SV. Possibly an F4. We'll see.

a weekend at home

When I first started riding motorcycles, I really didn't have anyone to go riding with. I had one friend for motorcycle-help, etc., and other than that I was on my own. I quickly discovered that he could not be bothered to go for rides like I wanted, and also that he was terrifyingly overconfident and underskilled mechanically.
I think we went for a ride once in the hills, and never again. Too busy, his bike crapped out, whatever. I rode alone for probably the first year or so. Head into the hills as early as possible Saturday and Sunday, most every weekend. Before that, I used to be quite a lush, drinking all my friends under the table all the time, staying out late, closing all the clubs... The motorcycle changed that. A night out meant I could not get up at sunrise to beat the traffic. A night of paying for drinks in a club cost the same as a pair of brake pads.
Nothing else could ever have competed with my drinking habit. But, motorcycles, THIS I was willing to sacrifice for.
By the way, you can ride by yourself forever and ever and not improve much at all. I really started to improve much later when I hooked up with other riders, starting with Monday Night Ride. That's another story.
Anyway, I'd get up as close to sunrise as I could convince myself and hit the road. South, always, since I know the Santa Cruz hills somewhat from camping as a kid, and my sister lives there in Boulder Creek. I pulled over for bikes and cars alike, and kept going. I knew that if I caught up to someone, they had no business being on the road. I'd run cafe to cafe, up the hill, down into the Valley, back over into Santa Cruz, stopping here and there. And then come home when it got dark. Still alone. Rinse, and Repeat.

Eventually, I found my people. A smack talking Texan and lovable Irishman, various other unseemly characters. Rides happened, shit was talked, smiles were made.

This weekend seemed like a return to the normal. The past year was interrupted with various things, the new job, the best friend with cancer, the boyfriend who never wanted to do a goddam thing. Work settled down, chemo worked, I lost the deadweight.

Friday I did NOT go to the tiki bar with the aforementioned dearest and now cancer-free friend. We did NOT order drinks by color, then adjourn to the Crowbar for some Motley Crue and Barry White. We did, however, on Saturday, get dirt tires mounted on my wheels for later, change my front brake pads and then spirit ourselves off into the hills to find trouble. One of my very favorite roads is Old Santa Cruz, just across from Bear Creek at HWY17. But it was dirty and wet. Charles is out of practice and also tire tread, and waves me forward. A nice stoppie stunt at the stop sign for Summit road (not mine) and then we take off down the road straight ahead. No one I asked knew where this road went, and I'd gotten curious a few weeks back. But that day, with the big sportbikes in tow, I'd left it for another day, and I'm glad I did. It was as close to dirt riding as I can get right now; what a mess of a road. I liked it, and it spat us out on 17 just past the safety corridor. Into Santa Cruz for ice cream, and then a quick jaunt down 9 onto Bear Creek and back into the valley. It was a short ride.
The evening was spent with lots of food, and Guinness, and good friends. And a really bad/good movie. Perfect, and we did this instead of the Mardi Gras party because we wanted to get up without hangovers, so that we could ride Sunday.

Sunday was perfect as a day can get. Well, except a perfect day would have fewer cops. (boo, but then, I managed to get home without a ticket so I should not complain) On the bike by 9:30 or so, and off and home around 5:30. THAT's how it should be! Friends did a short ride in the morning, up Mt Hamilton, where we got a stern talking to by the cop (which I'm still sure was not meant for us, but for the crappy sportbikers who were making their way up around the same time. They sucked!) Then to the Junction, where the rest turned around to go home to take care of other things. I headed off into the East Bay.

The East Bay is a giant black hole, which I cannot enter without getting lost. Mines was perfect, except I got my socks wet flying through puddles at speed. Into Oakland for lunch. I've been promised many rides to show me around the roads in Oakland, but most flake out. I've been up there once or twice, but know nothing. Fucking flaky people! Today I finally decided, like all other things, best to do it yourself.
So I looked for an in to the hills for a while, finally found a familiar road and switched back to Claremont, and away we go! Up and down there for a while, too many 25 mph cagers here! Circled back to the wall to try to find a DRZ I had encountered, surely he will have a better road in mind? Luck! I chatted with a nice greyhair on a DRZ, very very nice, and asked where Redwood was. Someone told me it was twisty, and dirty, I explained. I want to go THERE! They gave me directions and warned me that it was dirty, and away I went. Redwood is a beautiful road, but it is not super twisty, and really really not dirty. I liked it quite a lot though, and I think I actually rode it once before. In to some god-forsaken suburb for gas and then back into Redwood, up and down Skyline a bit, then back to SF. Came across the DRZ guy on my way back, he was excited to see that I'd found my way.

And home again, with not a damn (practical) thing accomplished for the weekend. And it feels great. I am tired, and sore, and, uhh, satiated. A day on the bike is a day at home.
But, now as ever, I ride alone. Still yet to find someone to keep up with me. I don't mean that in a speed way; the friends I rode with this morning WALKED away from me on Hamilton, as I'd expected.
But, is there someone to spend the days with, someone who will ride as much as I do, taking the unknown roads, trying get lost, running away from our shadows?
Shit, I don't even want to find someone to fall in love with; I just want to find someone who's in love with their bike, the way that I'm in love with my bike.


sighs and such...

Things on the brain today

1.) Good news: I went to the chiro on Wednesday. She has two good things to say:
a.) She will probably only have to see me a few times. This is good because I was afraid this would drag out. If I can settle quickly, I can get back in the dirt where I belong. (or, more specifically, where I don’t belong, but would like to, through lots of practice, before the Sheetiron.)
b.) I can go back to the gym. I haven’t been since the accident, and it was making me feel angry and also icky. She gave me limitations, but I can GO, which is a start. Yay.
c.) Also, and not related, I have a very noisy set of joints. “Do you know where that pop came from?” she asks, several times. I have no clue. All over the place?

2.) Flakey people, very irritating. I'll leave it at that.

3.) My motorcycle is the best thing ever. And when I replace the other bike, what will I think of the new one? The EX was my first love, but it sat a lot while I played with my new bike. Now, that’s fine, but how can I buy something that I love less than what I already have? It seems backwards, downgrading like that. Shouldn't you be totally in love with the newest one? Is this what it's like to have an arranged marriage when you already have a lover that you actually like?

4.) A big, hairy travel bug has crawled into my ass. I feel funny. This happens from time to time. Today’s list includes Atlanta, Austin, Chicago, New Orleans, Philadelphia, Seattle. On that list, Atlanta, New Orleans, and Philly are the three I have never visited before, so I should probably start there. Anyone? Ideas? More importantly, anyone know if I can rent a bike in one of those towns? (Not a harley) LA and Vegas are separate issues, as those are ride-trips. I will probably run to LA when I get a replacement street-y bike, and Nevada, well, I could take it or leave it.

5.) Saturday is supposed to be sunny, as of today’s most recent forecast. I will spend the weekend either hungover, or riding. Hopefully not both, because that’s a really terrible feeling. Saturday and Sunday, who wants to ride? Don’t all jump at once. I am STILL waiting for the East Bay roads tour that was promised me like 6 months ago. Holding my breath never hurt so much.

ride, please

Phew! Yesterday's fiasco is SOLVED! And no one got their legs broken. That's a good thing. Once again saved by my hero, whom I could not live without (and see what happens when I try? See?)

Went riding last Sunday on wet roads, and it was really good. Roads were essentially empty. I'm antsy to get out there again. Anyone want to ride this weekend? Saturday and/or Sunday? Anyone?

Last Sunday's route, chosen for big bikes, was: 92 to 35 to Alice's to pose and do chain stuff. 84 to Pescadero to Stage to 84 to 35 to Four Corners. stopped to fix bodywork. (just because your friends jump off a bridge does not mean you should follow.) 35 back to 92 and home, it was a shortish ride, wet and getting cold.

I know no one wants to read my routes, but I want to record them somewhere, and this seems like a good enough place.

The first step is admitting you're a fucking failure

Alright, I'm coming to terms with the fact that I'm dropping my class. Too much to do, not enough going on at class. It would be a great class if I still had my shitheap to work on, but as is, I'm just wasting my time waiting for shiny matching harley parts to come in.
Except, I just remembered I needed a brake pad change, and meant to do that before dropping. Shit. Charles, clear a space in your garage and a few hours to see me!

So I'm dropping my class.
And I'm starting back up on some sewing.... I think. Well, I've just unfolded some patterns, starting small, making the messes I used to live in.
I have a lot of anxieties about sewing. One, I hate the fucking mess and all the space and time it takes. Two, the longer I let my skills sit, the more they atrophy. I used to be good at this, really good. Now it makes me freak.
I want everything to be perfect, I KNOW I can do it... perfectly, but what the hell is wrong with me now?
You used to know how to do this!
What the hell is wrong with you!??!?!
I suck.
That's the loop in my head.

There, now I've admitted it. But I know the only way to do this is to practice, and stop ditching projects mid-way when I become unhappy or bored with them.

Please don't feed me until I actually finish a project. If you see me out of the house, send me home with a note pinned to my chest. If you see me wearing the same goddam thing again, poke me in the eye and take away my candy. Tell me you don't want to see me again until I've made the perfect pair of pants and a matching straightjacket.
C'mon, make me cry.
It's the only way I'll ever learn.

Why I did not respond to your “add as friend” request: (Myspace)

First of all, it’s because I DON’T KNOW YOU. Can’t you fucking people read?
However, if that seems incomprehensible to you, please consider the following reasons why I won’t even write you back:

-You have over 100 friends. It’s clear to me that you don’t know even 10% of them. Or, they are all silicone calendar girl types.

-YoU tYpE lIkE tHiS, or u spell like dis, cuz yer so kewl. If numbers appear in words, you are a moron. Go back to school. Get some help.

-Egregious facial hair.

-Your profile picture is of your car. I hate cars. I hate materialism. This is both.

-You’ve got a million comments from these friends that you don’t know. 90% of them are about how sexy you are, and from people you’ve never met. Back and forth banter from members of the opposite sex fighting over who gets to sleep with you? You are a giant loser. If you could get them to fight over you in real life, you wouldn’t be posting it here.

-You made some retarded come-on, or sexual comment.

-You think I would look good on the back of your bike. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same of you. I’m looking for just the right fender fluff.

-You have a bunch of anti-jew crap in your profile (for real, I got one of these) Fuck you. That is all.

-I’ll overlook the Harley, but I will NOT overlook the chaps.

-You write “poetry.”

-Your profile has a bunch of HTML. My attention span did not allow me to wait for your shit to come up.

-You refer to women/girls/chicks/whatever, as "ladies." ick.

-The non-word "LOL" appears in your profile, even once. Or, it appears more than twice in any friends' comments.

-You introduce yourself as being in an "open relationship." That's your business, and I really don't care, or judge you for it. But if you bring it up, I'm going to assume you're after something, and I'm completely uninterested in getting involved in that shit. Despite doing my best to not be judgemental, I'm going to find you creepy, and a little sad.



And a bunch of other stuff I can’t even think of.
I’ll be updating this as they come up.

I am so smart!

One more and I would have had a hangover.

Why am I here? (Myspace)

So I got some passive aggressive asshole writing me a bunch of obnoxious mail last week (he contacted me), the clincher of which, was, something to the effect of “I think it’s kind of stupid that you’re here trying to hook up with people, yet you write all these angry things about how you don’t want to meet people.”

I think I understand a fundamental problem here, and maybe why I get so many stupid “ADD” and “Hi, you’re hot” messages from strangers. Somehow people assume that because you are using this site, you are here trying to meet them.

Here’s a news flash:
I am not here to meet you.
I am not here looking for a piece of ass.
I’m not here to pretend I have lots of friends.

There are a lot of good uses for this thing, and here are some of the things I’m using myspace for, or have used it for:

1.) Keeping in touch with people I actually already know. And updates on what they are doing and, like, events. Novel, I know.
2.) Spamming my friends list about things I want to do.
3.) Writing really uninteresting journals about the routes I rode over the weekend.
4.) Keeping up with what’s pissing Kevy off today. No, I’m not being facetious.
5.) Randomly finding a long lost ex I’d been wondering about. This rocks. Hi James! Oh, shit, sorry, uhh, didn’t mean to use your real name. Not that the name narrows it down. (If you know me, you’ll get that joke. If you don’t know me, why are you reading this?)
6.) OK, so to be fair, I have made one new friend on this thing, who I hope to be friends with for a while. But that’s a fluke, ya hear? Plus, there was drinking involved.
7.) Worshipping Charles on a daily basis.
8.) Entertainment. Browsing a few of the real losers on the site, and it makes me feel so much better about myself.
9.) Ogling underage straight edge boys without having to hear them talk. THIS is the wonder of modern technology. (this would go under “looking for a piece of ass,” except that I’m not actually interested in contacting. It’s more like looking in the window at the pet store. "Look at the cute little puppy! I'm so glad I don't have to shovel it's shit.")

A weekend with my sweetheart

What a fucking awesome weekend! I had a three-day, and had tried to convince people that it would be a good idea to ride to LA with me and my dirtbike. Nobody bit. Boo.

Plan B involves lots of time on my motorcycle. I miss riding, and have not done enough of it lately.
Friday night the bike crapped out just before I got home. I think it’s a cry for help. She wants attention. Ever have a girlfriend that got pissy just before Valentines Day? “me me me,” is all I heard. Girls want you to buy them diamonds? Bikes want you to buy them wheels. Just as expensive. Just for good measure and to show her who’s who, I dropped her in front of Pancho Villa. First time I’ve dropped the DRZ on the street. Who cares, it’s a dirtbike! But somewhat embarrassing. I dropped it in front of someone who I’d never really been riding with, and now I’m convinced he thinks I’m a big goober. That’s OK, it’s probably true. Bike comes back up again, and I’m all smiles within minutes.

And Saturday, well the weather was perfect. Despite my best intentions of getting things done, I rode to the Santa Cruz hills to run away from my shadow for a while. Chose turns randomly, not knowing where I was going. It’s getting harder for me to get lost up there anymore. I know I took 35 in to Alice’s, then back out to Tunitas, all the way to 1. Then left on Stage, left on Pescadero, right on 84, right on 35, 9 to Santa Cruz. Well, I think that’s what I did. I need to buy a map one of these days. All fucking nice roads. Tunitas is stunning. This is one of my favorites, but I’ve been reminded that I HATED it when I rode the EX (no suspension).

And what to do for Valentine’s Day? Well, first off, I’m neither for or against this holiday. I’ve only had an SO once that I can think of, that was around for VD, and we were on the rocks anyhow. It’s not a big deal to me, but I’m not bitter about it either. There are a few things going on that I’d like to do. There are a couple of people in my life I might be interested in doing these things with. But, wait, one of my dearest friends has just broken up with his long time girl, and is sounding real bitter. So I escort him to an HA party. I think this is hilarious, and there’s an open bar. But I can’t drink too much, or I will start using my outside voice when I see mullets. Normally this is not a problem, and I don’t give a damn. But, I’m not stupid. I’m not bothered by HA in general, but I would not want to be pissing them off either. We leave before I get stupid and ride around for a while, stopping at Cat Club to see friends. Good times. I love riding bitch when I’m drunk.

Sunday morning, up early for another ride. I start off with a chip on my shoulder because it’s been implied that I have to ride with the girls. Generally speaking: I don’t ride with girls. Now, the FASTEST rider I know is a woman, but, generally, no. To be fair, even when I ride with her, I don’t ride with her, we just leave from the same point and meet at the destination. I think she runs a few backroads, stops to get her nails done, and still gets there fifteen minutes before me. Anyway, the day was perfect. A rain forecast and possibly the fact that a lot of guys are still off doing their valentine’s day duties, and the road was very clear. Very few bikes or cars. But the road was dry until the afternoon. Route: 35, stopped to pose at Alice’s for a while, continued 35 to Page Mill, down and then back up Page Mill, left at 35, right at 9, into Boulder Creek for breakfast, which was so-so. Back out 9 to Bear Creek, crossed 17 to Old Santa Cruz (my favorite) to Summit, then up 17 to Santa Cruz to pose at Perg’s for a while. Back over 9 to 35 to get home. By the time we hit 35, it was wet and foggy. Got home, I was tired. Pasta, Guinness, and a really really bad zombie flick, and I’m passing out.

Monday, ran some errands, puttered around with friends, got one step closer to the master plan. And ate crepes. Mmmmm, crepes.

a long winded entry about Sunday's ride

Sunday morning got a late start for riding. What the hell is wrong with me these days?
Cruised on over to 92, followed a VFR until I got stuck with a car, passed a few people, then railed down 35 to Alice’s The parking lot was full, like, four bikes deep. Which seemed odd, since I’d seen only one bike on the way in. Must have been posing day, not riding day. Not a single familiar face.

DIGRESSION: I hate getting checked out at alice’s, I don’t need some guy coming over and waving his dick around talking to me about what I should do with my bike. I don’t know or care what kind of horsepower I’m making. I don’t need to be told what tires I “should” be running, and I don’t need you to tell me that some of the guys are putting street wheels on these things now and racing them. Omigod, fucking news flash!
Can I get wheels to match my lipstick? Is all I want to know. And will smaller wheels make my penis look bigger.
I’m not impressed by the fact that you know what a flat-slide carb is, unless you have one in your hand and you are about to install it for me and then wash my bike while I hit on your best friend. Don’t forget to bring me a beer when you’re done.
My next helmet sticker: My MOM could race AFM, you moron.


So, I stopped, added electric vest and hoodie from my tailpack and took off just as my spidey sense started to tell me the guy in the grey leathers was starting to approach and gather his “wits.”
And tried to catch a motard guy who had taken off a few minutes earlier, southbound on 35. Did not catch him, but I did catch a van doing 25 and a guy backing up a Volvo in my lane (facing me, oddly) WTF? Boo. Pulled into four corners, Doc was there, must have been clinic day, but Jack was not there. Boo again. The goat trail at the other end of 35 is calling to me, but I need gas. Down 9, played with a Jag, we both stopped for gas at the bottom, and I headed back up. Left on 35, this is the section I rarely take. Big honkin sweepers for a ways, and then, very suddenly turns into a one lane twisty thing. Really twisty, one lane, lots of blind corners, no shoulder to speak of. I’m doing 15-20, sometimes less, and I feel like I ought to slow down. The view is spectacular. I wish there was a side of road to pull over on. But a few oncoming cars remind me, this is not a place to be inattentive. At the end, I go left because I’ve always gone right there, and want to find out where left goes. Lo and behold, it takes me to Summit, another twisty thing, which, if I remember correctly will take me over to old san jose/santa cruz road, or whatever it’s called. That’s the road I woke up thinking about. It was calling to me. One of my favorites, and I can never remember it’s name.
Except I got distracted by Zayante road, which is another good dirtbike road. Pulled over at a creek down Zayante to sit and listen to the water. Incredible.

Zayante dropped me onto Graham Hill, so I pointed myself into Santa Cruz for coffee, ran into a few people, went to Saturn with Keith, and then rolled down 17 as the sun set. And to think I was tempted to stay in bed all day. Again, what the hell is wrong with me these days?

blindly following Mr. B.

Congratulations!! You're a shot of some good old
hard liquor!


What Drink Are You?
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I saw that coming, duh.



But this, this scares me:

Lion King!


What movie Do you Belong in?(many different outcomes!)
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OK, this is really cheesy:

Aphrodite/Eros


?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
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Random thoughts on picking up boys

Last night I sent someone over with the worst pickup line in the world, no, really, it wasn’t even a pickup line. It was a joke. A kindof insulting one, really. He bit, she bit, very funny, and it reminded me of how I met my most recent ex.

I saw him at the DNA (KMFDM show, a couple years ago?). Pretty cute, helmet in hand, clean. But what I notice is his smile. Nice to see someone smiling, especially in a goth/industrial scene. But, I’m hanging out with a friend of mine, and had recently sworn off dating motorcyclists. Mostly, I’d given up on the idea of dating, but, specifically: guys on bikes, bad. There’s another journal entry there, somewhere, later.

But I got bored, tipsy, and my friend stepped out for a cigarette. I see helmet-boy and think to myself that for fun I’m going to hit on him with a really shitty line. “So, what do you ride?”
Now this has got to be the stupidest fucking line in the world. Really, it just oozes cheesy. But, it worked.
He’s got a mille. We talk, etc, this surprises me and turns into a year and then some relationship.
Later I would remind him that he fell for the absolute worst pickup line in the world. He didn’t remember. He did remember talking about dirtbikes that night, and later he would whine “when we met, you told me you had a dirtbike, I thought you were a tomboy,” to which I would reply, “You told me you had an aprilia. I thought you were rich.” This was a very funny joke to me, but I think he never got over the fact that I am not a tomboy.

However, I think the pinnacle of my pick-up as dare/art/just-so-I-can-say-I-did-it was the motorcycle messenger guy I picked up in the gutter. I walked out of the apartment one day to go to the corner store and there was a guy laying under his bike in the red zone out front, fussing. I asked him if he needed tools or help, to which he responded “are you a motorcycle mechanic?” “sometimes.” Whatever it was, got fixed, I started to leave, and he jumped up and gave me his number. I had just returned from Burning Man, and my swollen sense of the absurd was telling me, “it would awesome to be able to say you picked this guy up, in the GUTTER.” This was around that same time that I had decided dating/picking up was really more entertainment than a means to an end. Long story short, had I been actually looking to date someone, I should have left that one in the gutter. Shits and giggles? Oh, yes, this guy was a winner, and the subject of many good laughs down the road. And these days, laughs are about all I want out of a good pick-up scene.

motorcycles and "safety"

One of my coworkers looked very surprised, when, about two hours after getting hit by a car, I said, I was not giving up motorcycling.

People seem to assume that once we have a fall or two, we'll come around and see the truth: "motorycles are dangerous!" "gee, what was I thinking?" Like it was a phase we went through.

I AM NOT AFRAID OF MOTORYCLES. I AM, HOWEVER, TERRIFIED OF CARS.

The whole design af car "safety" these days is gearing toward treating driving like playing bumper cars. Safety now means, to most drivers, that their car will smash whatever they bump into, and make little air cushions to soften the blow. That is not "safety." That is "minimizing damage." To YOURSELF. By the way, in all aspects of life, I find it an honorable personality trait when a person looks out for those smaller than themselves. Cagers, do not seem to value this trait. Watch the next mention of "safety features" in an SUV commercial. Seriously, WTF? I truly think that cars should be engineered to be more dangerous to their own passengers. Some of the consequences needs to be shifted back to those who want to shirk their responsibility.

Safety features are turn signals, good visibility (minimizing blindspots), mirrors, good lighting, etc... Then you've got good driving skills, awareness, head checks, understanding of basic laws and physics. THOSE are the things we ought to talk about when we talk safety. And, by the way, I have all of those things on a motorcycle.

The doctor I saw yesterday apparently used to ride, had two bad accidents, and gave it up. He urged me to consider giving it up. He tells me that he came to the realization that even through someone else's fault, he could lose the ability to do the things he wanted to do. (In his case, yoga, meditating, dancing, running) And that I should consider that I might lose the ability to do the things I love to do.

I smiled and thanked him and went on my way.

Cold dead hands. That's when I'll give it up.

There's quality of life here. Almost every good memory I think of in the past few years involves motorcycles. My goals for the next year? All involve motorcycles. 99% of my close friends are motorcyclists. People ask me about my job? I tell them, "I go to work, they give me money, I turn it into motorcycles."

I have no idea what life would have turned out like without motorcycles. Maybe I'd be a cager, beating up on those smaller than myself. Sitting in traffic, veins popping out of my head (patience has never been a strong point for me).

I am not afraid of motorcycles. My motorcycles have never hurt me. It's the fucking cagers that hurt me.

earth, sky, earth, sky, earth, sky, no ambulance

I got hit by a car this morning (thursday morning).
Bike: toast. R.I.P. Regardless of how I felt about that bike, it broke my heart to see her spewing fluids and rolled away, knowing she'll never run for me again.
Me: walking. Getting stiffer by the moment. Taking Friday off, going to doctor.

wanted to post in more detail earlier, but myspace was down all day, again... grrr.
Maybe tomorrow. Call my cell, I'm feeling sorry for myself. I need rides, and ice cream.

I need a helper monkey chauffer.


aaaa, I should sleep well tonight.

Voodoo IRS Dirtbike Magic

I've been telling myself all week I was gonna get out to a club tonight, git my drink on, actually dress like a girl again, raise hell, stay out late, wahoo! remember those days? shit... but now that I've come in from Zeitgeist, I seem to have lost my steam, and since my W2's shown up, I may stay in and do my taxes. how... responsible.
I fear I am getting really fucking old.

Maybe I can balance out the responsible-ness of it by getting REALLY ripped, and THEN doing my taxes?
Maybe it's time to bring out the tiki bar in a shaker I got for my birthday. A little flamingo could go a long way.

I'm crossing my fingers and praying that my W2's roll up into new dirtbike wheels...

torque, and my growing impatience

Just got back from the South Bay. No sleep in sight, too much coffee. How much wine does it take to counteract two cups of coffee and two shots of espresso? And an apple crisp?

Met up with MNR for a ride to movie night--- Torque.
This movie would have just been a rental, had it not been for the chance to see it Mystery Science Theater-style with about fifteen other motorcyclists. (and some random goth chick, but you can't have everything) Mayhem before the movie led to popcorn and rootbeer everywhere, a boot in the face, and a broken armrest. I thought Texans would have better manners than that? Isn't there some sort of "southern gentleman" clause in your contract?

Highlights of this movie include:
harleys that actually run
a goth chick with a drooling problem who likes to rub herself against the walls of men's restrooms
quick release exhaust cans for melee weapons
bikini bike wash (I really need to find one. My bike is filthy)
Sportbikes that turn into dirtbikes whenever they get near dirt. (This is my DREAM bike.)
the most realistic thing in the whole movie- a thong shot
the line "what is it about driving cars that makes you all such assholes?"
People having sex with their helmets ON. I've always thought guys look better with their gear on. I see a bike go by, it's sexy. But if same guy comes back and takes his helmet off... disappointment 90% of the time. Don't make me reach for the paper bag.


after the movie, most of us went to Denny's for PIE. mmmmm, PIE...


As a complete side note, I've noticed that I've become increasingly impatient with people over the past few months. With a few exceptions, I'm less and less willing to wait for people or chase them down. I know this is California, and I keep hearing that in California, everyone is flaky. But, I am a native Californian (yes, there are a few of us floating around), and I am not flaky.

But I'm tired of waiting. So if you're not suited up and ready to go, you'd better know a shortcut, or you'd better be quick enough to catch the fuck up. Or maybe you didn't really want to ride after all.
(I'm not really just talking about riding, just everything in general.)

Figure your shit out. And THEN call me, or don't. But I'm leaving, either way.

rampage failed!

Did something very silly yesterday, Charles came to the city and we went and got a Playstation 2 and Vice City. Spent the day kicking hookers in the crotch and beating up cops to take their patrol cars. Also wheelied and crashed a lot of motorcycles and did a couple of drive-bys. Omigod, it could be months before I emerge from my apartment for anything other than work.
By the early evening, we had finished a bottle of wine and headed out to a tiki bar in North Beach. Where I requested "something that will poke me in the eye when I drink it." Although we ordered the same drink, charles did not get an umbrella. I'm still a little bitter about that. Two fruity drinks and much shit-talking later, the bar had become crowded and we headed to Crowbar. And drank midori sours, blech.

just had breakfast with some of the vampires. And though there are many things I "should" be doing, I think I'm gonna spend the rest of the day crashing cars and stealing motorycles and beating up drunks...

gonna git mahself edumacated

Every time I get one of those City College catalogues in the mail I think it would be really cool to take a class. Sometimes I pick classes I'm interested in, once I even got so far as to go through the admissions online process.

Well, this time I've actually signed up, and starting tomorrow, those of you who have been wondering where the hell am I will have 6 more hours a week of wondering what the hell ever happened to me (Tuesday and Thursday nights). Plus homework, and I have no idea what that might entail.

When i registered, it seemed so far away, but it's crept up on me.

It was nice knowing you all. See you in May.

nine

Just in from work tonight.
Spent the day on the bike. I'd forgotten how nice a ride in bad weather could be. Very foggy on 9 today. Yes, the road was sopping wet, yes, my bike slipped on wet tar snakes in the corners. Sometimes the visibility was only a hundred feet or less, but, man, I love Highway 9 in the fog. It's so beautiful. Everything looks so new and mysterious and magical, some sort of secret world that most people don't get out to see. (stay home, stay in bed, and watch TV!) I could see the water evaporating from the pavement as I rode through sunny patches. Stopped on the side to look out over a valley of fog, with an odd tree or top of a hill floating in the clouds. Roads were mostly empty. "not motorcycling weather."



Got my ass in gear around 11:00, late for me, but, I was out drinking last night.
Shot down south, with the intention of taking skyline into the hills, but ick, nothing but fog. I've done skyline in thick fog enough times, it doesn't get any better until 84, and that's on a good day.
Went into Mountain View. Best coffee in the Bay Area, that I know of (any suggestions?), tried to decide whether I'd gamble on the fog clearing on the other side of the hill. I gambled, it worked out well. The fog didn't really clear until past the Big Basin turn off, but the ride was great anyway. Ran into Keith at perg's, drank more caffeine, went to eat hippie food, came back through the hills, more coffee, up to the city to go to work.
Now I'm just trying to counteract the mass amounts of caffeine I've had over the course of the day with a really large glass of wine. need... sleep...

my day without myspace

It hurt a little at first, but then I got used to it.
Wow, I can be so productive when I'm not being hypnotized by that glowing, throbbing "online now" thingy.

Had beer, in a BAR, picked up some of the mess in my house, read mail, "studied my investments" (OK, I read my 401K statement for once.), sat through several articles on sewing, had some more vivid fantasies about my new wheels (that don't exist yet).
Did dishes and tried to come up with a plan to get my vacuum cleaner out of the closet.

And ate cheese.


I really need to get out more.

Tonight, my goal is to generate a hangover. Wish me luck!

one of those silly surveys

1. What did you do in 2003 that you'd never done before?
Rode my motorcycle through a creek. (I sucked, but it was fun.)
Went on a Poker Run with a bunch of Harleys (big suck.)
Went to a climbing gym. (big suck.)
Yoga. (meh.)

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I don't believe in New Year's resolutions.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
No.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
Yes.

5. What countries did you visit?
None.

6. What would you like to have in 2004 that you lacked in 2003?
Travel.
And wheelies.

7. What date from 2003 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
I don't remember dates, but I'll never forget crossing into Nevada on a dirt road.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Finishing the Sheetiron.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Not finishing sewing projects.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Lost my voice for about a week.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
A new gas tank.

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?
My aunt Carol, in her illness and death.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?
My own, at times.
George Bush's, at all times.

14. Where did most of your money go?
Rent?
Followed by my motorcycle.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
My motorcycle, the Sheetiron, the ride to Burning Man, Grand Theft Auto, being single again.

16. What songs/bands will always remind you of 2003?
Jimmy Luxury, and that eminem song.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you happier or sadder?
Happier. I have a less abusive boss.

ii. thinner or fatter?
Fatter.

iii. richer or poorer?
Richer. Since I paid off one of my credit cards.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Riding, sewing, seeing friends and family.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Watching TV and looking at the internet.

20. How will you be spending Christmas?
Visiting family, drinking.

22. Did you fall in love in 2003?
Only with my motorcycle.

23. How many one night stands?
None, strictly speaking.

24. What were your favourite TV programs?
The Simpsons, and a documentary I saw about the Tom Ammiano write-in campaign.

26. What was the best book you read?
Choke.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Jimmy Luxury

28. What did you want and get?
I'm not at liberty to discuss that.

29. What did you want and not get?
Wheels! But I will get them, soon...

30. What was your favourite film(s) of this year?
The Magdelene Sisters. I didn't see that many movies though. But that one was pretty damn good.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
Went drinking with my sister and her husband at various places on Haight Street. Turned 26.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Paying off more debts.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2003?
Corporate boring, interspersed with vinyl and latex moments.

34. What kept you sane?
My motorcycle and Charles.

35. Which celebrity/public figure(s) did you fancy the most?
Rob Zombie.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?
All of them. Pretty much everything that's come out of the Bush Administration and the associated loss of civil rights and privacy, the invasion, the lies, ummm, yeah. Everything. But what bugs me the most is the idea that so many people swallow it, and that it will probably be re-elected.

37. Who did you miss?
Someone I knew briefly who was creative and full of life and loved me, but I had to push out of my life at the time.

38. Who was the best new person you met?
I haven't met any new people this year who play important roles in my life. But I did re-meet Mia, who has generously overlooked my earlier nastiness, and is an incredibly sweet girl.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2003.
Get on the gas, or fall on your ass.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
"motor oil, and gasoline. ride."

Baby's First Wheelie

Went to Hollister Hills on Sunday with a dirt riding class thingy. After the first two drills, I cut class to go play in a nearby area with a big bump. I couldn't deal with how crowded the little circle was with the other riders, and since I figured at least half of them were as bad at dirt riding as I am, it seemed pretty damned perilous to be so close to them.

Ah, but nearby, there was a area with a bunch of wide trails (kind of flat and open) and a big bump. Jack tells me we're going to pop my wheelie cherry. Good luck! People always tell me they can teach me to wheelie, but no luck. (sometimes I think people vastly overestimate my coordination and riding abilities) After a few times of riding back and forth to show me how, Jack stood on the side and gave me points and cheers. Back and forth over this little hill, and I finally made little wheelies! Tiny, really, like an inch or two, but it's something. I think I even got a couple that were a healthy foot or so.

Chicks dig me now.

Now if only I can get it up a little farther, and on the street, I can totally pick up on stupid coffee shop boys! Awesome!

Things I learned by cutting class:
I'm almost as cool as normal people, who can all apparently wheelie.
When I brake hard I hear a clanking noise.
And it's fun to lock up the rear. When it's intentional.
And also, I crash good. woot.

Begin obligatory New Year's reflection:

So last night I was working at New Wave City for New year's Eve. This works out well, I have no interest in New Wave Music, and I have no real interest in New Year's Eve. Generally speaking, I don't really care for the drinking-holidays: St. Patrick's Day, New Year's Eve, etc. This is when all the amateur drinkers come out and yell "woooooHoooo!!!!" while they stumble down the street and then puke on each other. They're like Christmas and Easter Catholics. While the rest of us are drinking regularly, finely honing our drinking skills, they just show up for the holidays and annoy. Besides, there's so much pressure to have "fun" on NYE, you wouldn't believe the stress some of the people had last night trying to get everything right.

I mean to enjoy every day. There are no scheduled good days.

This year, I travelled very little, but did some really incredible things. On my dirtbike. The things that stood out were the Sheetiron 300 Dual Sport ride and my ride out to the Nevada Desert on my dirtbike. Both were incredible experiences. I'm surrounding myself with images of these trips and posting them in profiles not because I'm some great dirt rider. Actually, I'm a really stinky dirt rider, and I'm terrified of the dirt. But these are images of the person I want to be. And I'm looking for the people who will help me become this person, by helping with their experience, or just joining for the journey.


Oh, and there was a bunch of other stuff over the year: I went to New York for work, and Seattle with my family. I've been working at a new job since last January. New York was fun, I got to spend two and a half extra days there by myself, just walking around. Seattle is one of my favorite towns. I really wish money and vacation time allowed for more travel there.

Burning Man was a shortened trip this year. I have little vacation time at the new job, and I'm hoping to horde enough for a trip to Ireland in the next year or so. I rode the dirtbike to Nevada this time, and took a different route (not the slab of 80) which was led by another charles on a BMW. The CA section up to Orosville is just the same as the long straight freeways connecting the rest of the state, but once we passed Orosville, we quickly reached an incredibly perfect twisty highway. Perfect pavement, greenery, rivers, waterfalls, little bridges, and tunnels cut from the rock... it was absolutely stunning. Reminded me of all the family trips around California from when I was little. Living here all of my life, I largely forget how beautiful this state really is. We stopped for lunch in Susanville, and dropped over to a 60 mile dirt road which led us to about 10 miles north of Gerlach. With Charles out of my sight ahead of me, there was NOTHING and NO ONE to be seen for miles along this bumpy dirt road. This is also where I learned that my new street tires (gripsters) did not like to be taken above 60mph in the dirt. They reacted violently several times. I did not fall off, but got a good scare. When we arrived at the gas station with the rest of the burners, I was bouncing off the walls with delight and grinning wildly. What a great ride! Oh, yeah, Burning Man was cool too.

Earlier in the year, my aunt passed away from cystic fibrosis and ovarian cancer. It's been a bittersweet year. About fifteen years ago, she taught us what cancer really meant, and has touched thousands of lives in the time since. This year she taught us how to die. No one could have done it better. Carol had nothing in this life worth noting: no money, crappy job, crappy car, and people treated her poorly in restaraunts because she didn't look like much. But the world is just a little smaller now that she has gone. A master of the poison pen letter as well as self-sacrifice, she's my patron saint of being a royal pain in the ass when the world needs to be changed, and of being simple, loving, and open at the same time. I hope to find a little of her strength and wonder. We blew bubbles at her funeral.

Before Mr. Bush invaded Iraq, I got the immense pleasure of marching in San Francisco with a couple hundred thousand other people in San Francisco, next to my grandfather and mother. It felt really good. Although it looks like another year of bad behavior from our governments, I was and am still touched by the millions of people who come together all over the globe. Threat levels, extra security, and a rollback of civil rights will not stop terrorism. The only answer is to try to understand the hatred, and address the underlying issues. I think the people of the world mostly understand this, but we need to teach our governments. If I have a new years resolution, it will be to make a gesture to make the world a better place, once a week, attend a meeting, write a letter, plant a seed...

Peace and joy in the new year and every day...

christmas, sewing, road trip?

I've been out for several days, and not caught up with messages from anyone yet. Apologies.

Christmas was pretty flurking great for me this year. The best gifts? Two clean bills of health for two very dear cancer patients.

Made gifts for my brother and sister this year. I haven't wanted to sew for a couple of years, and may MAY start again. Maybe. I'll take baby steps on simple projects. Some people may remember that once I was very good this. a few of those people may know that for the past year or two or maybe three, I've been completely disinterested in sewing. We'll see if I can start to pick up where I left off. At least until the sun comes back out again.

Ahh, and I also got saddlebags for my bike. Road trip, anyone? I've got to figure out how to mount them on the DRZ without melting them on the tailpipe... hmmm? I really want to ride out to Portland or LA for a weekend this winter/spring. Or, uhhh, pretty much anywhere. And now I can carry a bar in one of my bags.

Should I even have to say this?

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The Season (sappy, personal, be forewarned)

It's a little known fact that I love Christmas music. I love Christmas everything. This has always been my favorite time of year. Oh, sure, the weather sucks for motorcycles, but I love the crispness of the air, and walking around downtown SF in the rain is just wonderful (washes away the smell of stale urine very nicely).

Went to San Jose to eat rice with some friends last night. My very dear friend is finishing up chemo right now, and telling us that Christmas is ruined. He can't return to Texas as he'd hoped for the holiday. And there will be no presents, he says, I am too goddam tired, it sucks, Christmas is ruined.

But I'm pretty sure the rice he made last night and the company we shared and the fact that he is still here to share it with us is the best present I'll get this year. I'm also hoping he'll take me up on my invitation for he and his fiance to come up north to be with my family for Christmas.

My grandparents built a huge house up north which they generally designed around the idea of "how can we best accomodate large gatherings of people?" The kitchen is big, and designed with a counter to gather around, sine we all end up in there anyway, but it opens up into the huge living room because none of us can stand to miss out on putting our two cents into each of the thousands of conversations happening at once. There are several extra bedrooms despite their retired couple status, as there is always a visitor or 30 coming through. "Stop in Jackson to see my family," my brother and I both tell our friends. "You can stay at my grandma's house. In the morning, she'll make you the best waffles you've ever had." My grandmother is the best person I've ever met, and she made the finest collection of people you could hope to meet. Christmas and Thanksgiving are the times I get the gift of family renewed, and every year, we are joined by "extended family," guests and friends of family. My grandfather, who loves numbers and trivia, takes joy in counting at every gathering... "30 people! 50 people!" I can hear his thoughts... What luck! What joy! Good company is really the best thing on the planet. And the numbers, there is magic in the numbers...

For Thanksgiving, we all talked about what we were thankful for. I said I was thankful for my family and friends, and just as important, the people that took care of my family and friends when I could not. In particular for me this year, this meant the nurses that have taken care of my loved ones in their need and pain. Cancer has been an ongoing theme; it doesn't surprise me anymore, but that doesn't make it less painful. My aunt would remind me that it's not a death sentence. (Ironic that she's the one who finally succumbed to it, then.)

For Christmas, I hope that my friends and family know their presence in my life is all the gift I could want. Some people have entertained me, brought me soup when I was sick, taught me, inspired me, put up with me, chaufferred me, fixed my bike, cheered me up, gotten to know me, and, a few even loved me. We've given each other a few adventures. In the end, I really don't know what my gift is to anyone else. I think it's hard to see that about yourself sometimes. But in the spirit of the season, the gift I'd really like to give to my friends: I'm hoping that I can can make you see yourself the way that I see you: tall, strong, loving, comforting, growing, and inspiring

Bad Rides, Dirt, Tires, and Don't I Have a Sportbike Around Here Somewhere?

OK, so I think I'm gonna break down and get dirt tires put on next weekend.
Yesterday I went to join up on a ride leaving from Oakland. After over an hour of riding, we'd spent about half of the time on the freeway, and a few minutes going v-e-r-y slowly around a bit of twisty, and a bunch of time in suburban traffic. It stunk so much I turned around, split off, and came home. I understand that the guys on big sportbikes have a lot more to lose from a loss of traction than I do, but it still frustrated me. "We can't stop riding for a little bit of winter weather!"

Two years ago when it snowed on Skyline and Mt. Hamilton, I rode up Hamilton with several friends. It was supposed to be dirt bikes on the street ride, but my DR woudn't start (as per usual). I took the EX ratbike. There was ice in every corner, and my already crappy EX500 made it up and down the hill, sliding (not in a cool, rear wheel slide kind of way, either) through all the icy corners. I went really slowly, and I nearly slid into a truck in one corner, but there was nothing really to be done for it but hope and pray. I made it. It was very cool.
It was a terrible idea, but one of the rides I'm most proud of. There were two other girls on sportbikes in the group when we started, but they turned around when they saw the conditions. (they were sensible, in other words.)

So! Into the dirt for the winter!
Several people have been proposing dirt rides to me for the past two months and I've been turning it down on account of the Gripsters. No more!

Who's in? C'mon, haven't you always wanted to see me cry?

I may even pick up the EX for street riding for now, since I'd like those knobbies to last until May, when I get my next set.

Moto Java

OK, so in one year, I've left 15,000 wonderful miles on my brand new leetle dirtbike.

I know, it's supposed to be a waste, but around 12,000 miles, I went and bought the extended warranty. Before you tell me that's a waste, try to think of how many miles I will have when that four year warranty runs up... 60,000! On a 400cc dirtbike!

So, today I took it to Joe at MotoJava to get the valves checked, to keep it in warranty. Left it with him around 7:00pm, and felt a little teary eyed as I left to take the bus home.

They have JUST called me, at 9:00, to tell me they are done, and I can have it back!

Joe is the best! (and Paul, who I don't know very well, but is the other guy at MotoJava.)

I can not say enough good things about Joe and MotoJava. Very cool shop, very nice people, and they always take care of me.

Anyone looking for a used bike (this is a great place for newbies), sound advice, and honest, fair treatment, please do yourself the favor of checking these guys out.

No, they don't pay me. I just feel like good work ought to go noticed. http://www.motojava.com/

bike show

November 8th
Went to the bike show today. Hardly got rained on, but while I was there, it was pissing rain. Good timing I guess. Sat on a bunch of fun bikes, and a couple of stinkers. (will have a link to pictures of me on a Honda Rebel soon.---Nevermind! That link is gone now...)


I've been unbelievably sick all week, missed three days of work, had no voice whatsoever Monday through Friday. Only whispering. Somebody brought me soup Wednesday and I felt like a dog left in the house alone while the owners are out of town for the weekend. People! Wagged my tail, jumped up and licked him in the eye. But my bark was still gone. Anyway, much appreciated.

I've started to get my voice back after about a week of whispering only. But chatting with friends today did not help. Back into hiding!

Isn't this terribly exciting? Well, I've been cooped up in the house by myself all week, what do you expect?

sick fuck

So I thought I just had a little cold, y'know, like minor. But I keep getting worse and worse, lost my voice, starting Saturday, little more on Sunday, and today and yesterday I can't talk AT ALL. Whisper, yes, but talk, no. I learned how to order a pizza off of the internet yesterday because I had no energy to leave the house and no voice to make the call. I know, pizza's not really sick food, but I couldn't figure out how to order soup off of the internet. Baby steps, like.

As of yesterday I started feeling like shit and a few hours ago my throat started hurting. The last time my throat felt like that, I thought it was minor, walked into the doctor's office, and wound up in the back of an ambulance with the paramedic explaining to me how to do Jello shots. "jagermeister, that's ok, but you gotta try this..." I didn't have the heart to tell him I wouldn't try it since Jello's not on my vegetarian diet.

I was admitted to the hospital then and spent the night. It's been a couple of years since I've been admitted to any hospital, so i've been thinking it must coming on that time. But let's get it over with now, before the insurance copay goes up to $250 December 1st, OK?

And after I get over this thing, I think I need to go get a flu shot. I am desperately afeared of needles, will someone come with me and hold my hand?