Wednesday, July 14, 2004

suffering for CalTrans' sins

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eat ice cream in my underwear.

Comments:
INKandMETAL

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

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



MonkeyDude

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

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

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


Sunday, July 11, 2004

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

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

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

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

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


Comments:

Rebecca:

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


ouch.

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



MonkeyDude

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

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



Marisa

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

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

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



Kevy

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

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


INKandMETAL

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

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




Saturday, July 10, 2004

sunrise

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

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

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

Thursday, July 08, 2004

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

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

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

ugh.

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

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

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

It's hard being me.

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


Comments:

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

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

Tuesday, July 06, 2004

Home. Let's do it again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monday, July 05, 2004

Monday: Hell and back

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

Sunday: Seattle

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

Saturday: Seattle

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

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

Saturday, July 03, 2004

Friday: Portland to Seattle

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

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

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

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

Thursday: Weed, CA to Portland, OR

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


Comments:
B.

hehehe you lubed your chain.

Traveling alone rules!

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


Wednesday: Brisbane to Weed

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

Monday, June 28, 2004

My ass hurts just thinking about it

<>Tentative plan. No reservations made yet. (I really ought to get my shit together)

Wednesday: leave work by 6. (I’ll tell everyone I’m leaving at 5:30, and hope to be out by 6)
Ride 4.5 hours to Weed, CA. Check in, say, around 11:30?

Thursday: Up and out of Weed by 8am
Weed, CA to Roseburg, OR: 3hours. Arrive, say, 11:30
Roseburg to Reedsport: 2hours. Arrive, say, 2.
Lunch? Stop to cry and wish I actually had time to enjoy the scenery?
Reedsport to Newport: 2 hours. Arrive around 5.
Newport to Portland: 3 hours, supposedly, but that’s through Salem, on 5, through rush hour. I’ll guess 4 hours, which gets me in around 9.
So much for enjoying and hanging out in Portland! That makes Thursday’s trip a little over 12 hours, with time included for whatever small things come up (no long stops allowed!)

That’s what I get for wanting to make the sidetrip out to the coast. But it’s supposed to be so darn purty, I just can’t resist.

Oh, man, and I can’t lanesplit. On the other hand, if they’re in cruisers, how easily can they catch a lanesplitting motorcyclist? Hmmm…

Friday: out of Portland whenever, up to Seattle (not too far), prolly take the scenic route unless I’ve lost all my riding joy (very possible)

Hang out in Seattle for a few days. I have people in Seattle. I just want to find more tiki bars.

Monday morning very very early, get on the bike and go into sleep-riding mode. It’s a lot of hours down 5 to get to home. 13 hours optimistically, plus stops, holiday traffic, blah blah blah. Ugh.

I know:
No speeding in Oregon.
No lanesplitting.
Apparently, there’s no restriction on earphones in OR or WA. I’m getting more memory to load my RIO tonight.
I think the Oregon gas pump law actually was altered to exclude motorcyclists in the past year or so.

any words of wisdom? Sugestions? Do YOU know where the pirate restaraunt is? Or some tiki bars?


Comments:
INKandMETAL

Does this entry come with a free pair of glasses?

Posted by INKandMETAL on Tuesday, June 29, 2004 at 2:40 PM
<>

My ass hurts just thinking about it

<>Tentative plan. No reservations made yet. (I really ought to get my shit together)

Wednesday: leave work by 6. (I’ll tell everyone I’m leaving at 5:30, and hope to be out by 6)
Ride 4.5 hours to Weed, CA. Check in, say, around 11:30?

Thursday: Up and out of Weed by 8am
Weed, CA to Roseburg, OR: 3hours. Arrive, say, 11:30
Roseburg to Reedsport: 2hours. Arrive, say, 2.
Lunch? Stop to cry and wish I actually had time to enjoy the scenery?
Reedsport to Newport: 2 hours. Arrive around 5.
Newport to Portland: 3 hours, supposedly, but that’s through Salem, on 5, through rush hour. I’ll guess 4 hours, which gets me in around 9.
So much for enjoying and hanging out in Portland! That makes Thursday’s trip a little over 12 hours, with time included for whatever small things come up (no long stops allowed!)

That’s what I get for wanting to make the sidetrip out to the coast. But it’s supposed to be so darn purty, I just can’t resist.

Oh, man, and I can’t lanesplit. On the other hand, if they’re in cruisers, how easily can they catch a lanesplitting motorcyclist? Hmmm…

Friday: out of Portland whenever, up to Seattle (not too far), prolly take the scenic route unless I’ve lost all my riding joy (very possible)

Hang out in Seattle for a few days. I have people in Seattle. I just want to find more tiki bars.

Monday morning very very early, get on the bike and go into sleep-riding mode. It’s a lot of hours down 5 to get to home. 13 hours optimistically, plus stops, holiday traffic, blah blah blah. Ugh.

I know:
No speeding in Oregon.
No lanesplitting.
Apparently, there’s no restriction on earphones in OR or WA. I’m getting more memory to load my RIO tonight.
I think the Oregon gas pump law actually was altered to exclude motorcyclists in the past year or so.

any words of wisdom? Sugestions? Do YOU know where the pirate restaraunt is? Or some tiki bars?


Comments:
INKandMETAL

Does this entry come with a free pair of glasses?

Posted by INKandMETAL on Tuesday, June 29, 2004 at 2:40 PM
<>

Monday, June 21, 2004

San Francisco Motorcycle Club 100th

<>What a weekend. SFMC turned 100 years old and celebrated all weekend. I was there four days in a row, and now I need to recover.
Thursday night’s meeting was pretty cool. Two things: 1.) a bunch of people came from out of town, as far as New York to celebrate. 2.) they had table service during the meeting. One of my biggest problems has always been not having a beer to get me through the hour long discussions of stupid shit.
Friday they hosted the scooter club’s beer tasting party. Which I almost skipped. Fortunately, I got bored and decided to go. Beer “tasting” is just another word for getting totally fucked up. I went for the darkest they had, and I went for a lot of it. It was tasty. I had told Lionel my theory about not being able to get really drunk and hungover from beer. That you would get full before you got drunk. Apparently, he took this as a challenge. I have no clue how much I drank because after the first couple of beers, my cup never got empty.
Hilarity ensued.
I think we left at like 3 or 4 in the morning, but I don’t actually know.
Saturday I had every intention of going to the morning boxing class at my gym, then heading to the street party by 12ish. Unfortunately, I had a good bit of a hangover working, and couldn’t manage to get out of bed for that. It was a struggle, but I got to the fair around 1:30. And was hungover late into the day. It looked like we were all hungover pretty well into the day, so that was nice. A bit of community suffering is a good thing. The street fair was fun, mostly just to see people. Left to work the eighties club, and came back the next morning for the ride. NOT hungover. yay!
Ride was cool (even though I never got my fender fluff), our group got lost a bunch, but that was OK, since we weren’t in a rush, and caught some extra views. I’d never been to the Marin Headlands before, so that was a treat. Back into the city to the clubhouse and I finally got the pizza I’d been dreaming about since Thursday. Niles and I started a new motorcycle club on the spot, which is so cool I can’t even mention it here. We all made a racket with the rubber duckies left from one of the games, and scattered in the late afternoon, very very tired.

Some of the guys in the club were working their asses off all weekend, and in the weeks leading up to the event. It was a great party, the collection of bikers down from New York, Washington, and a bunch of other places was awesome. If you ride, and especially if you’re local, you should be kicking yourself for missing this… The SFMC has a wonderful collection of biker history in their clubhouse. They have open meetings on Thursday nights, and you should really stop by and check it out, if for no other reason than to peruse the walls of photos spanning the history of the country’s second oldest motorcycle cub. (PS, there’s also a "fountain!")

Friday, June 18, 2004

motorcycle stuff this weekend

<>In case anyone hasn't heard about this yet, the SF Motorcycle Club is turning 100 this year, and throwing several celebratory events this weekend for motorcyclists:

http://www.sf-mc.org/onehundredyears.html

I'll be at the street fair sometime after 11:30 or so, and I definetely plan to make the ride (don't know when)

If you want to join me, let me know...

-Rebecca

pssst, I still need fender fluff for the ride :P


Oh, and also, I'm working Saturday night at New Wave City. It will be at 550 Barneveld, which is a really nice space. If you like 80's, let me know if you want to go...

Thursday, June 17, 2004

A Public Service Announcement About Jeans (My eyes! They burn!)

<>I realize that low rise jeans are in fashion. However, please note the following important guidelines:
1.) There’s low rise, and there’s ass-crack low rise. If you aren’t Kate Moss, you should probably opt for the low-ish, not the 4” rise. And if your underwear is hanging out, at least make it something worth seeing. No one wants to see your laundry-day granny panties.
1a.) Sidenote; A thong hanging out a bit is excusable. A thong pulled up high so that 5-6” are exposed, along with the witty text on the front, worn as accessory= very BAD!!!! Why!?!?!?! WHY did you do this to me?!?!?!? I can’t wipe that one out of my memory.

2.) It turns out that pants come in different sizes now. Which means, if the jeans are too tight, it’s actually possible to get a size bigger. If you are a size 10, buy a fucking 10. Don’t think that buying an 8 will make you look skinnier. You’re just horrifying everyone around you with that shelf of fat that hangs out over the squeeze point. (I’ve seen this on fat and skinny people alike, get with it people) Trust me, you will look way better in a size too big, than a size too small.

3.) About those new washes on denim these days: I’m all for it. Yay, creative, different. We’re all a bunch of snowflakes. However, there’s no reason for your jeans to make it look like you just sat in something. All that weird coloration on the ass? Ummmm, no.


Friday, June 11, 2004

Travel news! (change of dates)

<>Update:
Change of dates: to be flexible for a work training thingy that just came up, I'm pushing my trip back a week. So I'll leave 6/30 after work or 7/1 early in the morning, spend 7/2 in Portland, and proceed to Seattle 7/3. Leave Seattle at o'dark:thirty on 7/5 to be back in the City that evening.


Woot!
I got the time, I got the bike, I'm hitting the road.
I'll be riding up to Seattle for a little weekend trip.
Leaving either: after work on the 24th, or 25th in the morning.
Thinking I'll stay in Portland Friday to see what I can. (I hear there's a PIRATE restaraunt!)
Shoot up to Seattle Saturday am, hang out for a few days, return either: in one shot on Tuesday, or in two legs, leaving Monday and taking a scenic route, and another night in a hotel. I gotta be at work on Wednesday. (bastards!)

Suggestions? I don't know Portland, I'd love to know about must-see-and-do's along the way, and Seattle things I may have missed.

yay!!!!
gimmee gimmee travel goodness!


Comments:

Matthew

Yee-haw!
Made it back safely we hope?

Posted by Matthew on Tuesday, June 15, 2004 at 12:16 PM


Thursday, June 10, 2004

Apparently,


goingdown
I am Ash, from the "Evil Dead" trilogy.
I'm the guy with the...chainsaw.


Which Random Cult Movie Character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla


Comments:


B.

YaY!!

ASH!!

Posted by B. on Tuesday, June 15, 2004 at 8:03 PM

Finally, the French do something useful

<>http://www.cnn.com/2004/WORLD/europe/06/10/france.suvs/index.html


Comments:

B.

Yai!! Screw over-sized cages.

Secondly, the French have done lotsa good things. Get offa the French!!

Posted by B. on Tuesday, June 15, 2004 at 8:04 PM

Thursday, June 03, 2004

New York blows

Back from New York, tired, glad to be home.
New York is a pit of "coolness" which I don't care for.
More specifically, Midtown, sucks.
Last time I was there, I spent some time in the Villages, which was fairly nice.

This time I spent the entire time in Midtown:
stayed at the way-to-trendy Hudson hotel. A nice place, but it's full of hipster trash people and scene. I felt weird every time I walked through the lobby. Gauging by the last trip for work, I had figured I'd have no time to do anything but work, but I was wrong. Monday night we worked, then had dinner with just the Merchandising team, dinner was good, I came home and watched a documentary about Andre the Giant.
Wednesday after the meeting, four of us went to dinner in SoHo. It takes forever to get across town in that fucking traffic. I was scared just to be in the cab in Midtown, I can only imagine riding a motorcycle. Actually, for once, I don't even want to have my motorcycle. After dinner, returned to the Hudson and found myself with time to kill and nothing to do. And in Midtown, walked around for quite some time never finding a bar I could stand. Everything is so goddam cool and trendy there. All I want is a dive bar! Or a pub where the lights are dim so you can't see the stains on the walls. Everything is clean and everyone is wearing designer shoes and ties. Suck, big suck. I love to travel alone, and here, I felt lonely. I fucking hate New York. (at least the business trip area of it)

Finally found a "pub" where the bartender was actually Irish. After an hour of wlkaing, this was clearly the closest I was going to get to an actual pub. After a pint, went back to the Hudson and watched a documentary on Jeffrey Dahmer. Then started in on a documentary about Ed Gein. Fucking great. What a glamourous, happy life I have....
Sweet Dreams, woke up and wandered a bit before joining up with coworkers for the cab to the airport.

Next time I need to find some sort of dirty punk-rock escort service, someone to call up and just take me to someplace that doesn't reek of designer perfume, where I don't have to eavesdrop on conversations about people's pilates, botox, prada shoes, high-dollar vodkas, and low-carb beers. Let's just all get drunk, fight, and fuck. Fucking hipster trash.

Next time, I'll plan to get the fuck out of Midtown, maybe go back to the dive bar I found last time, with no taps, and a bathroom that I think was the inspiration for "The Worst Bathroom in Scotland." People were friendly there at least, and the jukebox was good. And nobody asked what brand of water you wanted.

Monday, May 24, 2004

Sheetiron 300, 2004, incredibly long version

Here it is, in all the long-winded detail. I'll try to post a shorter version later for those of you who are bored with my long story. (I'm looking at you, John)





There are times when you know that you are just a little bit cooler than everyone else. Coming in from completing the Sheetiron is one of those times, shared with the rest of the survivors. Hugs, shit-talking, grins a mile wide, and we’re all off in the trucks to return to mundane life. Next year, do it again!

Last year, the Sheetiron did me. This year, I think I did the Sheetiron.

Friday I leave work and find that my bike has loaded itself into Charles’ truck. Yay! Good start. We work our way up to Stonyford, stopping at a Fresh Choice somewhere for dinner, where we swipe an “All Done” card which is supposed to tell the busboy whether you're just making another trip to the salad bar. Charles tells me that he’s going to stick that on me and take a picture when I fall. Hmmm…

We speed into Stonyford and sign in. I want to find James to camp next to and arrange plans for leaving in the morning, but it’s dark and there are 400 people here, it seems hopeless. On a hunch, we drive to where they camped last year, and there they are, with the rest of the SFMC guys. James is drunk. People from the nearby camp are yelling at them and they are yelling back. There are fireworks from another camp, and Charles and I get lost coming back from the porta-potties, which are only like 100 yards away.
We chat with various people for a while and then crash out in the back of the truck. In the morning, James is sticking has face in the window and tapping. Zoiks, it’s time! Jump up, fuss around, get everything settled, and still find that we are waiting on the boys, who had all of yesterday to get their shit sorted out. That’s OK, I’m in a great mood, and don’t really care. We all get our shit together and the five of us leave: James, Jason, Dean (James’ friend who I didn’t know before), Charles, and me. First order of business: get lost. I see James pass the road we took last year and then pull over to be confused. And there is a GOAT FARM across the street. I am thrilled. There are probably over a hundred goats, and they are just the cutest thing. The baby goats are like puppies, head butting each other and batting each other around and climbing up the trees… Oh, everyone is going, I must leave. Back to the intersection, Jason and James take off to check something and I warn Dean to stay in front of me, I am a danger to myself and others. Terrible dirt rider. Stay Away.

It’s a tricky thing, this kind of a ride. Everyone flies by you, and I think they assume a certain level of competency, but the truth is, if they get near me, I may toss at any moment and take us both out. I have NO control over my motorcycle in the dirt. But there’s no way to warn them. So is it better to leave early and have all these guys flying over you or ramming you when you crash? Or is it better to leave a little later and not have as much traffic, but get caught and yelled at by the sweepers all day? We leave early. Last year, we were being swept all day Sunday and it sucked. It’s also nice to get in earlier, and at least if there are people behind you, there’s a chance someone may stop to help if you get into trouble.

So it’s decided that the Hard Split for Saturday morning is really more like Moderate, and so we will go that way. Down the road a little ways and then off into the single track trail. Where I bail almost immediately. Within a few yards of the trail turn-off, there was a little puddle, a big puddle really, but not in comparison for what passed as puddles last year. So it’s down into the puddle, then up the bank on the other side, and then I crash. That’s great. So far, I seem to have had good luck in never dropping my bike IN a creek or major puddle, but several times on just the other side. To me, that’s good enough luck. Fishing bikes out of water and thick sludge is NO FUN. Charles helps me and we keep going. Was that a sign? The Saturday morning split gets pretty gnarly, for me. Mostly single track, people crashing everywhere. And with 400 riders, this seems like chaos and confusion, and a lot of waiting. One guy crashes, everyone waits, he gets out of the way, next guy goes in and crashes, repeat. Very funny. Some spots were worse than others, of course. Some spots, you crash, and the other riders just barrel through. At one point, I am standing stuck in a rut on a narrow track, right behind my old 350 which is stuck, and people are just riding by, actually knocking bars as they proceed. It’s all I can do to keep from dropping it back into the rut.

Later Charles told me a funny story, that on that hard section, some guy told him “she should really take the easy split.” And then promptly proceeded to crash himself, right in front of Charles.

I think I crashed 5 times Saturday morning. Once just outside of the first puddle, once trying to come up a challenging little uphill, left hander where a bunch of people were crashing (thanks to the guys that helped me get up and out of that!). Then in a little rut where I came upon my old 350 and old boyfriend. (didn’t fully crash, but sortof) Once just at the top of a hill which seemed really damn big. I got to the top, which I felt great about, but then fell (I don’t remember why) and had to wait for Charles to help because I was afraid of touching the bike and sending it sliding backward the entire way.

The last crash did me, though. I’m coming up a hill, which I can see is in two sections. My idea is to get to the middle section, and then worry about the upper section. I watch Charles get up to the middle. His front wheel is over the bump, and I think “good.” But it is not good. He had stopped when he saw James had crashed on the second part, and for some reason had not made it to the middle point entirely. Now he is sliding backwards and I am coming up on him. See what happens when you assume? I stop the DRZ, and hope he can stop his bike, but no luck. It is thick wet loose soil, we both slide down under the bikes. It’s a motorcycle sandwich! I am at the bottom, with the DRZ on top of me. Charles is on top of the DRZ, and the XR650 is on top of him. We aren’t pleased, but it IS funny. Except he is stuck, and gasoline is spewing out of my tank onto my inner thigh. I don’t like that. He gets unstuck and off, the bikes come up, during this time somehow Eric has gotten the 350 up to the middle point and parked it RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE. Dammit. (Of course it is not unreasonable, he has stopped where he could to help someone, but holy shit, my leg hurts.) Charles has headed down to a clearing to futz with the XR and get it all together again. I want to get up to that middle point to take care of this wonderful chemical burn I’m getting on my leg. I wait, motion angrily to move the damn DR350 out of the way. It’s a big enough spot he could have put it to the side behind the tree. But he is helping James so I fume for a while, and finally go for it. Maybe I’ll just crash into the 350. Fuck it. I narrowly miss it, but fall anyway (make that SIX crashes). To be fair, I expected to crash when I did that. Don’t care, rip into my tailpack and empty out almost all of my water supply onto my leg to try to stop what is now a really painful burn. Eric and James have had success, and James retreats back down to the same middle point. Charles manages to come up on the XR and get up both sections.

James is unhappy about the hill. He wants a bailout, and I’m game. I’ve had enough of this to earn a break of easy splits for at least a little while, and my leg REALLY fucking hurts. And if James can’t make that hill, there’s a good chance I can’t either. Sometimes you have to know when to turn back and call it a day on a certain trail. (It turns out we made a good decision, apparently that trail got WAY worse.) Eric says turning back is “tempting,” which surprises me. He shoots up the hill anyway, and James and I wait for the next crash on the hill to stop incoming traffic enough that we can double back. Honking our horns the whole way to hopefully avoid a head-on.

We head out to a fire road and try to figure out where we are, and how do we get back to a route-point where we can get back on the rollchart, on an easier split. Eric rolls up and has bailed on that trail as well. Sunscreen on my burn starts to help, and I tell James I will follow him whatever direction he chooses. I trust James implicitly, and there’s no way I’m getting separated. I’m hoping that Charles has hooked up with Jason, since Charles has no rollchart, and hoping that Jason could convince him that I would have definitely stuck with James who will take care of me. I suppose we’ll catch up at the Pillsbury lunch stop, or worst case, at Fort Bragg.

We find our way to a rollchart rest point and a bunch of other riders. Eric takes off and we acquire Wayne on his GS1150, Steffan on his Tiger (!), and Benny on his DR650. And we go off on a bunch of fairly boring fire roads, stopping here and there, catch up with a bunch of people at the rollchart-reload point, and then set off again. More fire roads. The one fun part is a creek crossing, which I look at with much trepidation. Last year, I got stuck in the creek (different creek) for several minutes while trying to un-wedge my bike from a log and rock it had gotten into. I did not fall, but was very worried. This time, I watch a few riders, James goes through, and then wades out to help in case of disaster. I take the right, stay on the gas. Bike plows through the first half no problem, ahh, not so bad? Nope, towards the other side, the weight of the water is bearing on my bike, front end is tossing around, the creek dips down at the approach to the steep bank. I open it up more. “Stay on the gas, or fall on your ass!” If I go down, I want it to be on the bank, not in the water. I make it out, and do not crash at all. Bystanders cheer for me. I am ecstatic. Yay!

Meet up with the guys again who decide on taking a cutoff to avoid miles and miles of dusty fire roads, by taking a paved road into Willits, and then Fort Bragg. I’m not thrilled about this, but follow along anyway to keep with James. Highway 20 into Fort Bragg is wonderful except for some insanely long RV’s. We get to Fort Bragg by like 5. Early, Very early. Go get our photo-pins and luggage and check in to the Super 8. James goes to get a sandwich with me and then we chat in the parking lot for a while and shower and wait. Hoping that Charles and Jason will show up together any minute. Dinner is at 7 at some restaurant, and James has offered to give me a ride so I can drink. I start with the beer and finally Charles calls me.
“What hotel are you at?”
“Super 8. I told you that before. Where are you?”
He’s down the street and forgot what hotel, be there in a minute. Walks in a few minutes later, sweaty, tired looking.
“Did you get your photo pin?” I am holding mine up.
“My bike is toast. I found you a boyfriend. My bike is toast.”
Charles has NOT been riding happily along with Jason all day. His bike blew up shortly after the point where I last saw him, and he then pushed the thing for like 30 miles up and down the hills to get it back to Stonyford. He loaded it into the truck and drove to Fort Bragg to find me. Poor boo!

He is stressed and tired, and I convince him to stay the night instead of leaving directly for home. We go to dinner with the SFMC guys and it turns out there’s an hour wait for the table for 18 of us. This place is very busy. So we have drinks and talk some shit, and when they finally have our table ready, five of us decide to leave anyway and go somewhere else. Somewhere cheaper, with more appealing food. We go to a place which seats us immediately at a table set for like 20, which had been set up for a banquet that never happened. Ha! The food was cheaper and the drinks better, and we had the place pretty much to ourselves. Those suckers at the first restaurant! Talked more shit, and Charles’ mood improved greatly. I was working on my second margarita after two beers. Life was good, I was not thinking too much about the Sunday morning “tank trap” section….
Back to the hotel, crash out … I’m out like a light.



James and Jason had taken to calling the Sunday morning section the “tank trapper.” It’s just a few miles, but last year we spent several hours there. If the ride Sunday is 150 miles and 12 hours, let’s describe it as, this first 10 miles takes up about 4 of those hours. Last year I crashed there four times, and had my bike taken up a hill partway by a guy I met in a ditch, and ridden through a HUGE puddle by the ex. Which is to say, I could have crashed a lot more. I crashed, I cried, I freaked out, I kept going. I came back again for more!

Several times Saturday they were talking shit with Wayne (BMW) about “wait till we get to the Tank Trapper!” I finally told them this wasn’t helping me any, couldn’t we call it something nice like “The Cakewalk?” We settled on “Lollipop Hill” or “Shirley Temple Knoll,” although the latter turned into a disturbing comment about Shirley Temple, child-prostitute. No one seemed to know what to say to that. “how about them dodgers?”

So, Sunday morning, get up, get ready, and again wait on the boys. Charles takes off in the truck, and we finally get going around 7:30 or so. I have dread. Lots of it. I didn’t have any breakfast except a couple of caffeine pills. I am READY. We ride a few miles of pavement, very very nice, and then get to the turnoff. I remember it all very clearly from the previous year. We will turnoff, there will be a 4 foot vertical deeply rutted out, single track “hill” (nearly straight up and down) which absolutely terrified me last year. James and Jason got me up it last time, mostly by James physically holding the bike when I got halfway and freaked out several times. Then, I remember, we will get to about ten miles of severely rutted mud-clay road. The tires will be filled up and slick within the first half-mile and the ruts will be up to my knees. There will be puddles two feet deep, wide as the road, and twenty feet across. There will be people crashing everywhere, the sound of crashing, yelling, stalling, and chaos. I will cry and panic, but with any luck, I will come out the other side with a bike that still is sufficiently operable, all of my limbs bruised but intact, and a feeling of accomplishment and survival, which will be one of my best memories of the year.

All of this I remember, and look forward to with dread and a touch of excitement.

So, back to the turnoff. I pause, some guys are going around to the left a different way. We wait to see if they come back. Nope, but we will follow the chart anyway (sometimes people know something you don’t know about why the route is BAD). To the left, the vertical hill is still visible, but now the trail goes around it. Looking at it now, it does not look like a thing someone would have thought of as trail. Ruts on the bottom section perpendicular to the trail for a little bit, but nothing major. Up the road a ways and there are just ruts about half a foot deep the whole way, I am waiting, but I can see this is very different from last year. I rode and waited for the Terror, but it never came. I don’t even think I ever lost traction badly. We come to a clearing that I remember well. I pull up next to James.
“That was it! This is where we all pulled over last year.” James is leaving out an important detail.
“You mean the LAST time I crashed, when I went over the bars?” We had to pull over there and cry and breathe for a while last year. Everyone had pulled over to stop and rest/vista, and I came up and crashed fairly spectacularly right in front of everyone. Very funny.
“Yup. That was it. That was the Tank Trap.”
“I guess it really is Lollipop Hill.”
Dean shrugs and doesn’t see what all our complaining was about. He was not on the ride last year. I tell him I’m not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

And we’re off again, it is very dusty, and the route is mostly a slightly worn fire road;, bumpy, with thick dust and gravel portions, but nothing scary like last time. I lose traction a few times and decide that I can plow through this shit with my front wheel at full lock to the side, as long as I keep on the gas. I still have no clue how this thing works, but keep going. I do know that when all seems bad, gas it. I learned that well enough last year, and it’s the one thing I do tend to stick with. Does nothing to help with cornering, which I suck at, but it does get me though the two river crossings and a bunch of other oh-shits.

More gravel roads, then the lunch stop, then into Mendocino National Forest. This has to be the most beautiful stretch of “road” I’ve ever ridden, but I can’t look too much or I may die. Get to the summit. Last year, the main route was closed for snow, this year it is open. And it’s fucking gorgeous. There’s snow all around, and trees, and it’s just stunning. We pull over to a place where a bunch of guys are riding and taking pictures in the snow, spinning the back tire and shooting snow out behind them for the camera. Too much fun! Down the road some more, and make the final decision of route. Thankfully, we all decide to avoid the Elevator Shaft, which I have already decided I don’t even want to LOOK at, based on the stories I’ve heard.

Out some more fire roads, and finally turnoff onto this little tiny road, which apparently, cars can go on, but I really don’t see how. It’s tiny, with big sharp chunky rocks, and cliff on one side. Neat road, challenging, but not omigod, crash ever-other turn hard. And very pretty when we get to the top and ride along the crest for quite a ways. Jason rides into a ditch and we pick him up. There are cows on the side of the road. Very fun road/trail. Part of it was just a bit more than single track. I have no idea what a car would do. Down at the bottom, there’s a bonus river crossing which is not on the rollchart. I look at it, watch a few riders, and don’t panic this time. Make it through easily and get cheers. People on dirtbikes are so goddam friendly! Few more miles, and we come back to the paved road to Stonyford.

Charles has left, so now I’m ready to ride my DRZ home (about 3 hours). I go to check-in, and I have won a raffle prize based on my rider number. It is the biggest thing on the table- a huge pack of shop towels (like 8 rolls, I think) Uhhhh, how the hell am I supposed to carry that home? James does not think I should ride home, and asks one of his club-mates to give me a ride to Oakland. A few minutes with the guys for hugs, pictures and throwing water on our faces. (we have all inhaled SO much dust!) Load the bike into Chuck’s truck and away we go. Get to Oakland and discover I have somehow left a bunch of my riding gear behind. Dumbass! I don’t know how, because I remember running over to the truck with it in my hands. Shrug. Borrow enough to get home, and arrive at my place around 10:00. Much better than last year. Sit in the bathtub with a cocktail and then, finally, “All Done.” Where’s my Fresh Choice card? Sadly, I think it’s ended up on Charles’ bike instead of me.



Comments:

Charles:
Rebecca is my heroine. She rode like a trooper, conquering all obstacles. I can only hope she realizes how amazing she is, and starts living la vida.

Yes, my bike exploded XR bits everywhere, but before that, it ran so fine. I jumped doubles, and hit singletrack at roadgoing speeds.

Shop says the Thing will be ready by June 4. I want more dirt. And more Rebecca.

OMG, you LEFT your riding gear? Where? did someone get it? You trucked home? Wonderful.

You are my heroine. I stand and salute in your general direction.
Posted by Charles on Monday, May 24, 2004 at 3:24 PM

Friday, May 21, 2004

of mud and friendship

Today I have to go back into the City at lunch to pick up a few things, and then at 5:30, I’m rushing out to load up the bike and ride (in the truck) north to Nowhere, for an adventure. If nothing else, I get to spend time with some of my favorite people on the planet.
Last year on the Sheetiron, the boyfriend was being a pain and decided he wanted to split on Sunday, to do the hard splits, I frantically did everything in my power to make sure that we “ran into” James and Jason at breakfast, so I could have someone to ride with. I knew they would not let me down, and they sure took care of me, cheerfully.

This seems pretty descriptive of my experience: the boys come and go and there’s always a bit of distance between us, but my friends are like gold to me, they rely on me and I rely on them. It seems like these days I rely on others more than I used to. Is this because I’m growing up and learning interdependency? Is it because of my motorcycles, and a whole world of mechanical knowledge that only comes in small bits?

Is it just because I’m a shit dirt rider?

Generally, I’m really good at knowing who is in on this with me. Who’s sharing these core values with me and my friends. Who will be there, who will treat me the way I would treat my friends.

But lately I’ve been blindsided twice by Badness, in the guise of a good friend.

First off, I’m completely disgusted by these people. I know I’m not the only one who has high standards for how a friend treats a friend. But in each case, these weren’t even particularly high standards, just the damn basics here!
You disgust me, go back to the rock you crawled out from, go align yourself with other small men. Do not bother the people who would treat you as a true friend.

Secondly, is my compass failing? I have always been a stellar judge of character. I don’t open up to people easily, and when I do, it’s generally been after I know they are with me on this. And I’m almost never wrong, Except, lately, twice… What the hell is wrong with me? Now I’m worried.

If my compass never works again, if I can no longer trust my judgment, I have enough in the friends I have now. They’re my heroes, and they’d pick me up a million times and make me carry myself through hell and high water. (or mud, as it may be)

And to those other two I say:
You are the smallest man I have met in a very very long time. Your selfishness and cowardice disgust me. I can’t tell whether you recognize this about yourself or not. I don’t care. Everyone else will recognize soon enough how very pathetic you are.

I, however, am through, and I’m off to play in a mud puddle with my pals.

Thursday, May 20, 2004

bendy straws

It's nice to know that no matter what kind of complicated badness you may come upon in life, good friends and bendy straws can pretty much make it all better.

Wednesday, May 19, 2004

The first step is admitting you have a problem

OK, I admit it, the SV chain is sad. I need a new chain and sprockets, and rear tire.

Damn bikes are so expensive.
Too much to do, too much to buy.

Monday, May 10, 2004

let's just have nothing but weekends from now on, mmmmmkay?

What I think of this past weekend:
1.) Noon sounds like a late start for a ride unless you’ve been out drinking all night at the Cat Club the night before.
2.) 4pm sounds like a late start for a ride unless you’ve been working on that hangover all morning in the company of a great friend.
3.) I was mistaken. It is indeed possible to answer the phone and talk while riding. I’m not cool enough to do this, but I have seen it now.
4.) I thought I was having fun, my friend thought perhaps I was outriding my abilities, just maybe. He was not sure. We had brie, and this made it ok. I take riding tips from SOME people, and indeed picked some up here. But I did not stink, and my friend was more complimentary than worried.
5.) If you don’t recognize the phone number, answer with caution, and prepare to be annoyed.
---5a. If I didn’t give someone my phone number, you shouldn’t have either, you fucking prick.
6.) Parties with “cool” people are way less fun than parties with not-so-cool people.
7.) There are times when the lack of a loaded weapon is a very very good thing.
8.) Beer is good through a straw. Better still if you order it with two straws and share.
9.) A couple of bottles of wine and the next sunrise, and I still can’t sleep in past 12.
10.) Don’t put your contacts in eyedrop solution overnight. It BURNS!
11.) 5pm seems late to start a ride, and it actually is. Start earlier next time. A short ride, but lots of fun.

Spent the weekend in the world of a friend that I love dearly; I only hope that the company will help with the hell and heartbreak. It fucking sucks to see people you love getting stomped on.

Next weekend I will be occupied with getting shit together for the Sheetiron. Need to order parts and get all tires and wheels mounted in the right combinations. Then it's off to injure myself.

Friday, May 07, 2004

travel and drink

Work News:
Work has been hell, it will continue to be hell for quite a while I think. I hate working late. When there’s no end in sight. I’m starting to feel like no matter what, it is always more, and then at the last minute the boss-man just comes in and has a brain fart and changes everything, so it all needs to be redone at the last minute anyway. To me, this means, don’t do anything the first three times he asks. Wait until the very last minute, for his last version, and THEN do it.

OK, maybe not.
Work News, part 2: I will be going to Vegas for MAGIC in August.
Work News, Part 3: If I can get China to do what I want in time, I will also go to New York in the beginning of June. I haven’t decided yet whether that’s even something I want. Should I push China? Or not?

My news: I’m going to go get my drink on tonight. Is that even news? Anyone want to join me in beating up my liver?
I have to stay out late because I've been threatened that if I show up to ride before noon tomorrow I will be shot. Patience has never been one of my virtues. Please help save my life-- get me loaded!

Thursday, May 06, 2004

I promise this has nothing to do with motorcycles

Goddamit I am still at work.
Fucking suck.

Somebody please find me that sugar daddy.
This "work" thing is total bunk.

Monday, May 03, 2004

drinking, motorcycles, and ice cream... a perfect weekend

That was one of the best weekends ever.
Motorcycles, and drinking, and talking lots of shit. And ice cream.
Friday night: sushi, sake, omigod yummy. Then Cassidy’s, which smelled bad. Boo.
Saturday morning I had peanut butter-chocolate chip pancakes, then went to Motojava for a while. Motojava rocks! Joe was selling some guy his first bike and full outfit of gear. It was pretty cool to see someone get all their excitement on and get properly started with the right equipment. Joe is too cool. Paul rode my SV and said it was faster than his.
Then Charles and I went for a quickish ride through some East Bay hills, which was 19 kinds of fun, followed by coffee and then a little downtime to play GTA- Vice City and re-energize for more drinking.
Got to Don Ramon’s and had delicious cheese enchiladas and margaritas, then traipsed over to Zeitgeist where Charles tried to get the bartender to spit in our drinks. Then hiked back to Cat Club where we drank screwdrivers, and I decided we should go get ice cream at the liquor store across the street. It was perfect, and then we headed to Rawhide for more screwdrivers. And the guy that wanted to know where the dungeon was… at an EIGHTIES club!?? Back to the Cat Club where we proceeded to work ourselves into a roaring drunk, plied hot chicks with hard liquor, and I got more action than I’ve had in several weeks.

Oddly, I woke up –not-hungover. So Charles and I went for a little ride through the Santa Cruz hills and played a bit with our new bikes. I made a very conscious effort to ride the SV like a sportbike, at least from what I remember about all that technique shit. “It is not a dirtbike,” I kept saying, “lean INTO the turn.” I made Charles ride behind me some so he could tell me what I was doing wrong. He lied and told me I was fast, and that I had scraped pegs. Zoiks! So I am trying to learn how to not scrape. And I already knew this was coming, for the dirtbike anyway, because my DRZ tires were getting wear to about 3/8” from the corner, which makes me a danger to myself and not just others anymore. So, boo, and I have to learn to move my ass off the seat. And lean in the direction I am turning. Which sounds like what you’re supposed to do, except, that’s not what I do when I ride the DRZ.

And before you can tell me I’m doing it wrong you have to catch up to me.

Charles is one of those who can catch up to me (and pass me), so I’m willing to hear what he has to say. Even if I do have a sneaking suspicion it’s only because he wants to look at my butt wiggle around on the bike in front of him. Practice, I need practice…

Anway, and back to San Jose, where Charles picked up his brand-new vintage british bike, the Bullet (so this is fine vintage british engineering, with the quality craftsmanship that can only be found in India). It took a bit of doing, but he got it started and we went to dinner, where he bet me $100 my bike would be knocked over by a minivan I parked next to. It was not knocked over. On the way home we got passed by an Indian guy in a gold mustang who kept staring at the Bullet. I pulled up next to Charles and remarked “Some guys buy bikes to attract girls. You bought a bike that gets you checked out by Indian engineer guys. What exactly does that say about you?”

He claims chicks dig it too.

Home again, crashed out immediately, still tired.


Comments:

Charles: she made out with TWO people! TWO! It was hot.

and she is learning to ride the snot out of the wee Ess Veee!

I owe her money, but she owes me money too. We'll work it out.

it was a fun time Rebecca said she'd be a lesbina for me, or something, it did not make much sense, but I'll do anything she wants so it's all good.
Posted by Charles on Monday, May 03, 2004 at 5:28 PM


John Foley : This story was too boring to read...did you seduce any teenage boys in it? That's all I care about these days.

Posted by John Foley (ape) on Wednesday, May 05, 2004 at 8:25 AM



Rebecca: And yet you keep reading them!
Bring me some teenage boys, and I'll give you a good story.
Posted by Rebecca on Wednesday, May 05, 2004 at 8:29 AM

Wednesday, April 28, 2004

John's latest survey

Because I really ought to be working, and because nobody cares:

001) What time did you start this?:10:28 AM
002) Name?: Rebecca (that's all you get)
003) Date of birth?: 8/16/77. The day Elvis died.
004) Sex?: yes please
005) Height?: 5'6”? I think?
006) Eye color?: Hazel
007) Weight?: 145 lbs.
008) Location?: San Francisco, CA
009) Where were you born?: Fountain Valley, CA
012) Do you have crush on someone?: not really
013) Do you have a bf/gf?: no
015) How long have you been together? 26 years
016) What are you wearing right now?:work clothes. Boring.
017) Would you have sex before marriage?: I might.
018) Have you ever had a crush on any of your teachers? no
019) Are you a virgin?: uh, riiiiight. Of course!
020) Do you smoke? No
021) Do you drink?: Heavily
022) Are you ghetto?: I don’t know, I don’t think so?
023) Are you a player?: who WROTE this crap?
024) What are your favorite colors?: black and red
025) What is your favorite animal?: goats
026) Do you have any birthmarks?: yes
027) Have you ever gotten your ass kicked?: only by a dirt road
028) Who are your best friends?: charles, followed by several people who pale in comparison
029) Have you ever beat someone up?: no.
031) Have you ever been slapped?: No
032) Do you get online a lot?: yes
033) Are you shy or outgoing?: shy at first, then I don't shut up (I’m with John on that)
034) Do you shower?: once a month, need it or not? (what kind of question is that, anyway?)
035) Do you hate school?: I wish I could be in school forever. Working is lame.
036) Do you have a social life?: yes, it’s just not always on.
037) How easily do you trust people?: not very easily. Everyone gets a little bit to start, and we work from there. But truly trusting someone, very rare.
038) Have you ever lied to your best friends?: No
039) Do you have a secret people would be surprised knowing? Apparently.
040) Would you ever sky dive?: probably. Would I ever pay to skydive? Hell no!
041) Do you like to dance?: yep
068) Have you ever been out of state?: yes.
069) Do you like to travel?: yes, it’s one of my favorite things
071) Have you ever been suspended from school?: no, but I did get detention for cutting school once.
071) Do you want to get out of your hometown? Yes, but I already am.
072) Are you spoiled?: in some ways. Not overwhelmingly though.
073) Are you a brat?: sometimes.
074) Have you ever been dumped?: uh, yeah, several times. It rocks!
076) What's your favorite drink?: the one in front of me. I like fruity ones with lots of stuff on the glass, that you could put your eye out with. Tiki drinks are the best.
077) Do you like Snapple?: no
078) Do you drink a lot of water?: on a good day.
079) What toothpaste do you use?: Tom’s of Maine
080) Do you have a cell phone or pager?: yes
081) Do you have a curfew?: no.
082) Who do you look up to? My parents. My grandparents. Those kids that ride dirt way faster and better than me. Damn 8 year olds.
083) Are you a role model?: I can’t imagine to whom. My mom’s dog seems to like me.
085) What name brand do you wear the most?: Marsee, motorcycle gear of choice right now. Regular clothes? I don’t really do the name brand thing. Maybe my own stuff.
086) What kind of jewelry do you wear?: silver.
087) What do you have pierced?: body parts.
088) What do you want pierced?: boys.
089) Do you like taking pictures?: no. I always forget.
090) Do you like getting your picture taken?: sometimes.
091) Do you have a tan?: hell no! I don’t like tans anyway, and I think it’s fucking stupid to go get cancer on purpose.
092) Do you get annoyed easily?: Oh, yes. I have a terrible temper.
093) Have you ever started a rumor?: I can’t thin of any, except that one about Mike dumping me twice. But that was based on true things, just said a different way. That’s ok, right?
094) Do you have your own phone/phone line?: yes, two of them, and a work phone line, and three or four email addresses… ugh
095) Do you have your own pool?: yes, it’s called a bathtub
096) Do you have any siblings?: yes, two, both older, one brother, one sister.
097) Do you prefer boxers or briefs?: boxers
098) Have you ever been played? I think so. If that means what I think it does.
099) Have you ever played someone?: No, if that means what I thin it does. ENGLISH!
100) Do you get along with your parents?: Oh yes, it’s all very strange. They’re wonderful people. You would love them too.
102) How do you vent your anger?: Very poorly. Ride faster, throw things, bitch and moan loudly.
103) Have you ever run away?: I run away all the time. But I always come back.
104) Have you ever been fired from a job?: no
105) Do you even have a job?: Yes. It’s boring, busy, but uninteresting.
106) Do you daydream a lot?: all the time. Meetings are great until someone wants me to answer a question… what were you talking about?
107) Do you have a lot of ex's?: What’s “a lot?” and what exactly are “ex’es?”
108) Do you run your mouth?: Once I’m talking, there’s no stopping me.
109) What do you want a tattoo of?: Phoenix. (not the city, but that would be funny)
110) What do you have a tattoo of?: shhhh
111) What are your favorite flowers?: I have no clue.
112) What does your ex bf/gf look like?: which one? The most recent: rather cute, with crooked teeth, and kind of cut (climber). There, more detail than anyone really wanted.
113) What does your most recent crush look like?: I don’t really have one. Actually, I saw a guy on a dirtbike a few weeks back I thought was cute, but as I went home I realized he looked a lot like the ex. Scary.
114) Have you ever been bitched out?: yeah, of course.
115) When was the last time you bitched someone out? hmmm... I chased a cager down a couple of months ago to yell at him for making a left run in front of me. I had narrowly missed him.
116) Are you rude?: I’m direct. I will ask the question that is impolite, and I will get to the point quickly. I will also tell you exactly what I think. That’s often rude.
117) What was the last compliment you received?: “you’re a good rider.” From the ex. I’m not counting all the random “hey cutie, you’re hot, come be my friend” things I get on this site, as they are ridiculous and meaningless.
118) Do you like getting dirty?: yes. Dirt is good.
119) Is your bellybutton an innie or outie?: innie
120) Are you flexible?: The trainer said I was. I used to do ballet, when I was very young.
121) What is your heritage?: about half Irish, ¼ german, and a bunch of other mostly-European stuff.
123) What does your hair look like right now?: Long, dark brown with red tips (about 6-8 inches.
124) Could you ever be a vegetarian?: I’d consider it.
125) When was your last real heartbreak?: Recently. But not over romantic entanglements. I get more upset over friends.
126) Describe your looks? Pale. Really fucking pale. Otherwise average. But not average in a Midwest, size 22 wearing size 12 low-rise jeans kind of way. (apparently, this is the actual average American. Shudder.)
127) If you had to completely dye your hair it'd be what color: Bright red. Except I have a very corporate job and like to have the flexibility to run in all circles, so maybe I’d go for a “natural” color.
128) Would you ever date someone younger than you?: he;; yeah! But we don’t really call that “dating”
129) Would you ever date someone older than you?: yes, usually. Always, really.
130) When was the last time you were drunk?: I got a bit tipsy last night. Really drunk? Prolly that Friday night at the cat club when I ran into Rob a few weeks ago.
131) When was the last time you went on a date?: define date? I go on date-like non-dates a lot. Stunt dates. Sunday night, and the Tuesday before that. A real date, for, like romantic purposes? Ummmm, I guess a couple of years ago when I met Eric.
132) Would you rather give or receive oral sex?: give.
133) Have you ever given?: gee, I dunno.
134) Have you ever received?: Let’s not be stupid here.
135) Have you ever had an eating disorder?: No. But sometimes I get really drunk and then hungry and drop my food.
136) Do you have one now?: no.
137) How many rings until you answer the phone?: as soon as I can get to it and shut the fucker up.
138) Have you ever been skinny dipping?: Yes
140) Do you look more like your mother or father?: mother? I guess. The facial hair…
141) Do you cry a lot?: I don’t know if it’s a lot, but I am not afraid to cry. I always cry at the movies.
142) Do you ever cry to get your way?: no. I wish I could do that.
143) If you had to amputate one limb, what would it be?: I’m guessing you mean one of the four, and no pansy answers like a finger or toe? Right foot. Don’t need my rear brake that much anyway.
144) What phrase do you use most on the phone?: “what? I get terrible reception in the house!”
145) Are you the romantic type?: sadly, in many ways, yes. But not immediately.
146) Have you ever been chased by cops?: not chased, well, they always say they’ve been following you for miles, but that’s just something they say.
147) What do you like most about your body?: It works. So far. Oh, in a shallow sort of way? Um, I have good eyes.
148) What do you like least about your body?: Unfortunately those eyes are technically blind, so I have to wear contacts. What a fucking pain! Also, I am missing my gallbladder. And I’m fat. I wish I was stronger. I can’t pick up my goddam motorcycle.
150) When was the last time you threw up?: Drinking with Charles. Omigod, yes, the puking.
151) In the opposite sex, do you prefer blondes or brunettes?: dark hair good.
152) What do the shoes you last wore look like?: sidi sympatex road boots. Smelliest boots in the universe. Made of Lorica, waterproof, black, with Velcro closure.
153) Do you ever wear shirts to show your belly?: yeah. Not recently.
154) What about cleavage?: hey, I’m trashy like that. It’s no secret.
155) Is your best friend a virgin?: I hope so.
156) Have you ever fucked someone up?: what does that mean, exactly? I’ve convinced many people to drink way more than they should have. Or is this an emotional thing? Yes, sort of, once, but the responsibility was very much shared between the two of us, and the fucking reciprocated.
157) Have you ever been fucked up?: Yes.
158) What color are your underwear right now?: black
160) What size shoe do you wear?: 9
161) What jewelry are you wearing now?: two rings (one puzzle, one claddaugh), and some piercings
162) What is your screen name on AIM: no way.
163) Would you pick a wedgie in public?: uhhh, no. Not my own, anyway!
164) How are you feeling right now?: ok, I have lots of work and don’t want to do any of it. Very excited about the weekend.
165) When was the last time you were at a party?: I can’t even remember.
166) Have you ever given a lap dance?: uhhhh, no.
167) What do you sleep in?: my Murphy bed. Nothing.
168) Has there ever been a rumor spread about you?: Yes, people used to talk about me quite a lot, which is funny, since I;m really a terribly uninteresting person. Women seem to feel threatened by me, and make stories to make up for it. Shrug.
169) What is one of your bad qualities?: Judgemental and stubborn.
170) What is one of your good qualities?: Optimistic, loyal, actually caring underneath all the bullshit.
171) Would you marry for money?: I’d say no.
173) Have you been in Love? Maybe. I am completely in love with my bikes.
174) Are you more of a mama or daddy's child?: yes. I love them both.
175) When was the last time you cried in school?: I haven’t been in school for several years
176) Do you wear Chucks?: I don’t know what that is. I don’t think so.
177) For two million dollars, would you pose for Playboy?: I probably would, but I would make them sign a release of liability for all the cancelled subscriptions which would result.
178) What time are you finishing this?: 11:25

Sunday, April 25, 2004

millehagen

Today I got to ride the mille, finally.
We left very late, like around 4:00 out of SF. Got to the hills, took a short ride, including a bit of switch-off with me on the mille. It's a big thing, I barely get my feet down comfortably. But once it's in motion feels very good. Definitely fun, definitely more power than I would want or need for the street. The tank's too goddam big, or I'm just too small, I don't know which. But all in all, a fairly comfortable ride for a sportbike, and seems like a pretty forgiving engine. Steering dampener was a bit foreign to me. Turn, dammit! OK, stop turning! Then, GO! ok, ENOUGH "go!"

Nice bike, but I'd still rather have a DRZ.

I'm tired of being short.

Several beers.
sleep now.

Friday, April 23, 2004

boring motorcycle stories

So John has complained about my “boring motorcycle stories.”
And just for him, I wanted to write something really emo, because I know he loves that shit.

And I thought all week about how to tell the story of why I was so down recently, and that someone I felt was a good friend had treated me like fucking dirt, and how that really freaked me out. How I hadn’t been treated like dirt in ten years, and how it did a number on my head, only because I thought this person was a good friend, a stand-up guy, someone who might be on the same page as me, in terms of how you treat friends.

I imagined making this journal entry terribly emo, just for John. It would be a magnificent piece of self-actualization, followed perhaps by a sense of closure or maybe even an apology. My life would be exponentially better for getting this off my chest, and opening up to the people around me.

But after a few days of trying to figure out how that should go, I’ve given up. Sorry, John, but it’s true all I really care about is motorcycles. And drinking.

I’ve been out at the bar every night this week, and what fun I’ve been having... Sometimes I think I'm getting old and boring; I'm glad I got to hang out and bench race over pints all week. Every night I get a little faster, the mud pit gets deeper, my crashes a little more spectacular. No one seems to tire of the "no, you got schooled by a GIRL on a 400" punchline.
Last night I met up with some people for that Thursday night ride thing, which was not much of a ride. Boo. Squids, blech.

Tonight there’s a possible trip over Mt. Hamilton in the dark, which sounds just incredible. I love Mt. Hamilton, and I’ve always been a little intrigued by the idea of a night ride to the observatory. I hear there will be no moon, so it should be very dark, very still. Maybe I’ll pick up the other bike at the end.

Saturday and Sunday, I’m toying with heading North. I have a freeway bike now. I really want to go to Portland one of these days, and Seattle.

My chiro says I should wait a few weeks, and see if I need to come back at all. I'm hoping for "no," and closing all that up in the next couple of weeks. I want to start getting in the dirt again. I also really need the money to pay off the medical bills. crap.


Now seeking other two-wheeled fruitcakes who think riding several hours for the perfect cup of coffee or slice of pie is a perfectly reasonable idea. You're out there somewhere...

Saturday, April 17, 2004

It's been a blur

This week's been busy, and not real heavy on sleep.

Highlights included:
Monday Night Ride, we actually RODE, and I got to take my new baby in to the twisties for the first time. And it was pitch dark, which I really enjoy. Good stuff, though I will miss MNR this week.

Tuesday. What the hell happened to Tuesday? I do not know. If you know, and have pictures, please advise.

I'm pretty sure Wednesday's highlight was the dumbass cop trying to chat Sara and me up at the bar. Sadly, I think he thought he was getting somewhere. But, the best part is that he said he used to be a bike cop, which made Sara and I both perk up, and lean in closer, suddenly interested... "really? That’s so cool" he looks a little proud, "what kind of bike?... Wait, you mean a BICYCLE?... Oh, nevermind..." and just completely lost any interest, now the both of us are snickering to each other and looking all over the bar for something better to do, than waste time with a fucking bicycle cop. "I thought he meant a REAL bike" We were both a little drunk, and if you think I'm an asshole sober, well, you should see me drunk. He seemed a little deflated, but maybe just a little.

Thursday rocked. I went for a bit of a ride in the East Bay with my SV. I fucking stunk up the ride with my slowness... Hey, now I can ride with boys without bruising their delicate egos! I'm pretty sure the DRZ smashed more than one. But now, with the SV, I am so goddam slow. Some idiot tries to explain to me at the bar that he's good at everything except for corners. "I'm really good at the straights though. Yeah, really good! But corners, I don't know, man" Holy crap. I couldn't believe he said that. What I couldn't believe, even more, was that it was the third time of him telling me that before I told him how stupid that was. I was trying so hard to be nice. But, seriously. You're a dumbass. I mean, I could have said the same and it would have been true. I can't corner the new bike for shit. But that's because I suck, and I wouldn't go around saying I was good at going fast in a straight line. Sir, I'm embarrassed for you, since you apparently have no clue.

Went down to see some friends and show off the new baby. I LOVE my new bike.

Friday I saw Kill Bill 2. Woot, it was fun, good times. And, we had crepes first. I LOVE crepes.

Today, I went on a ride with some guys I'd never ridden with before over Mt. Hamilton. I saw Charles on the freeway in his truck; he called later to tell me I was riding too fast for conditions. (It was raining in San Jose) But I was late! I had to go swap bikes to get the DRZ! I quickly and quietly swapped bikes so I could sneak out without rousing my parents, who I did not have time for. My dad has attached a heat shield to my DRZ for the saddlebags! It doesn't look like ass! Rockin! I really do have the best parents ever. Anyway, grab the DRZ. What happened to the throttle? Oh. Right, it's not the SV anymore. Um, and where are my brakes... Ok... I can get used to this, right? Take the first corner... HELL yeah, I can get used to this! Met up with the guys, two ducs and a gixxer, and we headed up Mt. Hamilton at a very civil pace. More civil than I'm used to, really. But that's good since it's wet and I don't know these guys. All good riders, we actually stuck together, which I'm not really used to. It seems like most rides separate with space in between, but we all stuck together. Hmmm, interesting... I tried to follow the lines of the guys in front of me for a bit. Right, this is how we learn; it's all coming back to me.

I did not blow the turn, you know, THAT turn. I was waiting for it, I knew it was waiting for me. I did not blow it. Woot!
That new cop was at the top, pulled us aside and gave us the same line and lecture we all got last time we were up there, except that this time I know for a fact, we had not been going fast, had not crossed any double yellows, and had not passed any bicyclists in any remotely bad way. He's full of shit. Also, he said there hadn't been any fatalities this year, and admitted that we had not crossed the double yellow. But we were still going way too fast for that road, he said. Huh, clock me, prove it, and show me the speed limit, fucker. He's full of shit, is what this boils down to, and hates motorcyclists.

Life is good, I have my leetle dirtbike back, I'm going to see what must be a horrible studio apartment on Monday after work. There's stuff going on this week and I can't remember what it is... but I do have next weekend free. Anyone want to ride to LA? This time I won't be on the dirtbike, so it's a good idea this time!

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

Shiny Blue Happy Pill

Today I'm in such a goddam great mood... I cannot focus on work at all... there is a shiny blue thing in the parking lot that is calling to me; it's all I can think about.

Last night went on a great night ride throught the Santa Cruz hills. I'm scared of my new bike, a bit, and taking it slow, but it's wonderful. And I love riding in the hills in the dark, it's so beautiful. It was a good, mellow way to start riding twisties with the new bike, without the pressure of daytime squid traffic and my own push to go fast.

All the shit that's had me down over the past couple of months has been completely eclipsed by the SV. Just now, everything's right in the world.