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
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
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.
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...
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!
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.
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.
Monday, April 12, 2004
SV Goodness! And Easter Morning Ride
Wahoo!!!!!!!
I have SV650 goodness!
With much much help from my hero, I brought home a very nicely used SV650 last night!
Weekend was very good, Saturday I went all day without much needed coffee so that I could go to bed early. After a couple of days of trying to see Bay Area SV’s that were seeming very elusive, I went and gave a little test ride to a Superhawk. I’ve been eying these bikes, but put off by the size (1000cc’s just doesn’t sound like me at all) and the gas tank (100 miles, no more.) But rode it anyway, and very much enjoyed the feel and sound of it. Hmmmm… I considered it. Of course I was terrified because I’ve been riding a 400cc dirtbike for the past year. The Superhawk was a reminder, “so THAT’s what happens when you roll on the throttle! Holy crap!” And “How do you turn these things again?”
Then went to bed very early because I was to have a very long day Sunday. But the guy in Rocklin (just outside of Roseville, which is just outside of Sacramento) called back and still had the SV I saw in Cycle Trader. So I arranged to see it in the morning, making my day infinitely more complicated. Here we go!
Sunday I got up at 2 to do the Easter Morning Ride, which I’ve always skipped. Never Again! I will not skip it anymore, what a great time! Fucking great, I don’t know what to say. A couple hundred motorcycles running through San Francisco pre-dawn, running up an unfamiliar (to me) hill in the dark with nothing but a sea of tail-lights twisting up the road in front of you through the fog, arriving to a crowd of motorcyclists you can’t really see, exchanging smiles, coffee, donuts, and something I’m still not sure what it was (“drink this!” “what is it?” “I don’t know just drink it!” “uh, ok”)… To watch the sun rise on Mt. Tam. Brilliant, and the hot boys on dirtbikes didn’t hurt much either, once the sun had come up. Hello Sailor! Damn, but I could not stay to chat them up, I was due in San Jose. Back down the hill, played a bit with one of them, as much as I dared on the sopping wet and unfamiliar road, and sped like a madman to San Jose (this is relative to my engine size. A sportbike guy would not think 90 for an hour was speeding, but, he would also cry when I took him down Tunitas. It’s all perspective.) to meet my hero who took me to meet my new motorcycle two and a half hours away.
The bike is in very good condition, low miles (by my standards anyway) and just really pretty. OK, so I wanted red. Everyone knows red bikes are faster. Oh well, I am not that patient, and I think it was a pretty good deal. Little test ride, it’s a fun bike! And very punchy, compared to the DRZ. I could be mistaken, but I get the feeling it wants to wheelie.
So then we part ways, and my hero takes my dirtbike back to San Jose, and I take the new bike to my grandmother’s house for Easter dinner. This is gold rush country, the roads are swell, but there are a lot of people touring around visiting family. No fun, but I am trying to be conservative anyway. I have no license plate, and don’t want hassle. Wow, I can just pass people now, whenever I feel like it! That’s a feeling I haven’t had in a while. Dinner is great, family is great, and I take off to lanesplit almost the entire way home. This bike is tight and crisp, the way a bike ought to be. The EX felt sloppy. The DRZ is just a different animal. (a really fucking great animal!) This feels like other sportbikes I’ve been on, and sounds nifty too. Not loud, not even growly, just real. It’s actually quiet but it has that “whirr” which I can’t describe to non-riders. So nevermind, I’m happy, I’m scared, it’s way punchy and won’t forgive nearly as many sloppy habits as my DRZ. I have to be much more careful, and I’m riding it very conservatively. Downshifting is not smooth.
But I’m ready to ride all over the place now.
Who wants to go to LA? Portland? Seattle?
C’mon, I’ve got a travel bar!
I have SV650 goodness!
With much much help from my hero, I brought home a very nicely used SV650 last night!
Weekend was very good, Saturday I went all day without much needed coffee so that I could go to bed early. After a couple of days of trying to see Bay Area SV’s that were seeming very elusive, I went and gave a little test ride to a Superhawk. I’ve been eying these bikes, but put off by the size (1000cc’s just doesn’t sound like me at all) and the gas tank (100 miles, no more.) But rode it anyway, and very much enjoyed the feel and sound of it. Hmmmm… I considered it. Of course I was terrified because I’ve been riding a 400cc dirtbike for the past year. The Superhawk was a reminder, “so THAT’s what happens when you roll on the throttle! Holy crap!” And “How do you turn these things again?”
Then went to bed very early because I was to have a very long day Sunday. But the guy in Rocklin (just outside of Roseville, which is just outside of Sacramento) called back and still had the SV I saw in Cycle Trader. So I arranged to see it in the morning, making my day infinitely more complicated. Here we go!
Sunday I got up at 2 to do the Easter Morning Ride, which I’ve always skipped. Never Again! I will not skip it anymore, what a great time! Fucking great, I don’t know what to say. A couple hundred motorcycles running through San Francisco pre-dawn, running up an unfamiliar (to me) hill in the dark with nothing but a sea of tail-lights twisting up the road in front of you through the fog, arriving to a crowd of motorcyclists you can’t really see, exchanging smiles, coffee, donuts, and something I’m still not sure what it was (“drink this!” “what is it?” “I don’t know just drink it!” “uh, ok”)… To watch the sun rise on Mt. Tam. Brilliant, and the hot boys on dirtbikes didn’t hurt much either, once the sun had come up. Hello Sailor! Damn, but I could not stay to chat them up, I was due in San Jose. Back down the hill, played a bit with one of them, as much as I dared on the sopping wet and unfamiliar road, and sped like a madman to San Jose (this is relative to my engine size. A sportbike guy would not think 90 for an hour was speeding, but, he would also cry when I took him down Tunitas. It’s all perspective.) to meet my hero who took me to meet my new motorcycle two and a half hours away.
The bike is in very good condition, low miles (by my standards anyway) and just really pretty. OK, so I wanted red. Everyone knows red bikes are faster. Oh well, I am not that patient, and I think it was a pretty good deal. Little test ride, it’s a fun bike! And very punchy, compared to the DRZ. I could be mistaken, but I get the feeling it wants to wheelie.
So then we part ways, and my hero takes my dirtbike back to San Jose, and I take the new bike to my grandmother’s house for Easter dinner. This is gold rush country, the roads are swell, but there are a lot of people touring around visiting family. No fun, but I am trying to be conservative anyway. I have no license plate, and don’t want hassle. Wow, I can just pass people now, whenever I feel like it! That’s a feeling I haven’t had in a while. Dinner is great, family is great, and I take off to lanesplit almost the entire way home. This bike is tight and crisp, the way a bike ought to be. The EX felt sloppy. The DRZ is just a different animal. (a really fucking great animal!) This feels like other sportbikes I’ve been on, and sounds nifty too. Not loud, not even growly, just real. It’s actually quiet but it has that “whirr” which I can’t describe to non-riders. So nevermind, I’m happy, I’m scared, it’s way punchy and won’t forgive nearly as many sloppy habits as my DRZ. I have to be much more careful, and I’m riding it very conservatively. Downshifting is not smooth.
But I’m ready to ride all over the place now.
Who wants to go to LA? Portland? Seattle?
C’mon, I’ve got a travel bar!
Friday, April 09, 2004
Thursday night riding, and more complaining on my part
Yesterday I got myself all worked up over this bike I wanted to buy. I try not to want things too much, but once I actually decide, this, I want THIS, I am incredibly impatient. So I had it all rolling around in my head, I could smell this bike and feel it between my legs, I had envisioned bringing it home, stopping by the SFMC to show it to the Limey, who’d gotten excited with me about each of my bikes, one by one, as they each rolled into my life.
Boo, hiss, I did not get to buy the damn thing. It was all I could think about all day. I got giddy, then deflated, then sad, then antsy as the excitement had gotten me all worked up with no where to go…
And went on a ride which a friend of mine is trying to start up in the East Bay. I’ve been trying to find roads in the East Bay, so this seemed like a good idea. Also, there are people I like to see no matter what. So, Thursday Night Ride, how does this compare to Monday Night Ride?
Well, Monday night riders don’t scare me as much. I know most of these people, and most are competent riders. We all seem to agree on a certain level of safety, not riding above your head, etc.
Thursday night ride was a surprisingly big group. And there were a few really bad riders. I scare easily, so I was terrified of riding with these people. Two stood out quite a bit, including the fat guy on the FZ who I followed for a while, looking for a corner where he WASN’T going all over, so I could pass him. I did, and I think he was watching me, because later I saw him trying to take corners like I do. Don’t do it! “This is not for you!” I’m 140 pounds on a dirtbike, you are like 275 on a little old sportbike. I got, like, MAD suspension for DAYS, yo. You have… A sad little thing that wants you OFF of it. Do NOT get on top of the bike and push it down under you. He also dropped his bike while we were all standing around waiting. It was hilarious. I have no idea how such a big man could drop such a small bike. I mean, you would think he’d have had to pull it out of his ass first.
Stood around at the wall while somebody decided where we were going. I am the only girl. That’s normal and wouldn’t merit mention, except that I think it explains the comment some guy made while we were standing there. Fast guy on an XR comes railing around the corner past us and gets me all excited. Could I get my helmet on and catch up to him? Nah. I am not even on my bike.
Some guy standing next to me says “Those bikes will make ANYONE fast.” As far as I can tell he doesn’t even have a bike.
“What, an XR?”
“Just, any dual sport. It’s like a dirt bike. Ride one for a few months, it will make anyone fast.”
“Huh. That’s a good idea. I think I’ll TRY that.” (put key in [my dual-sport] bike and start to put helmet on) “It’s kind of a girls bike, don’t you think?”
I don’t even understand why some people open their mouths.
At any rate, the police followed us. In Santa Cruz hills, I know which roads to take to avoid this; there are so many options. But apparently there are only like three roads in the East Bay. So the ride became an exercise in, well, boring-ness, and we decided to turn back. Someone is out of gas. We have gone, like TEN MILES, and this numbnut is whining about gas. Who shows up to a ride with 10 miles of gas? None of this is doing anything to combat my view of SF/East Bay sportbikers as a bunch of posing idiots. “Hey baby, I ride motorcycles” is about what I think these bikes are for, to some of these guys. I’ve had this feeling about SF bikers in general for a while. My friend Zeke flatly admits to it regularly and tells me I’m one of the few real motorcyclists. He says he’s just an image-biker, but I know that’s not true. I’ve ridden with him, and he’s tons of fun to ride with. But, yeah, there seem to be a lot of those guys around here. (and girls, whoa, don’t even get me started on some of these girls! Wait, no, I must, but it’s another journal entry, for sure.)
Anyway, after stopping for gas (grumble grumble) we headed back in to town to convene at some bar, where I ran into a friend who has not been riding his DRZ. I chastised him and poked at him for a while before heading into the City to stop by the SFMC, where I had a pizza delivered and complained loudly about the lack of Guinness.
Everywhere I went, plans were discussed for Easter Morning. We’ll see.
OH! and I saw goats! That almost redeems the crappy East Bay roads.
Boo, hiss, I did not get to buy the damn thing. It was all I could think about all day. I got giddy, then deflated, then sad, then antsy as the excitement had gotten me all worked up with no where to go…
And went on a ride which a friend of mine is trying to start up in the East Bay. I’ve been trying to find roads in the East Bay, so this seemed like a good idea. Also, there are people I like to see no matter what. So, Thursday Night Ride, how does this compare to Monday Night Ride?
Well, Monday night riders don’t scare me as much. I know most of these people, and most are competent riders. We all seem to agree on a certain level of safety, not riding above your head, etc.
Thursday night ride was a surprisingly big group. And there were a few really bad riders. I scare easily, so I was terrified of riding with these people. Two stood out quite a bit, including the fat guy on the FZ who I followed for a while, looking for a corner where he WASN’T going all over, so I could pass him. I did, and I think he was watching me, because later I saw him trying to take corners like I do. Don’t do it! “This is not for you!” I’m 140 pounds on a dirtbike, you are like 275 on a little old sportbike. I got, like, MAD suspension for DAYS, yo. You have… A sad little thing that wants you OFF of it. Do NOT get on top of the bike and push it down under you. He also dropped his bike while we were all standing around waiting. It was hilarious. I have no idea how such a big man could drop such a small bike. I mean, you would think he’d have had to pull it out of his ass first.
Stood around at the wall while somebody decided where we were going. I am the only girl. That’s normal and wouldn’t merit mention, except that I think it explains the comment some guy made while we were standing there. Fast guy on an XR comes railing around the corner past us and gets me all excited. Could I get my helmet on and catch up to him? Nah. I am not even on my bike.
Some guy standing next to me says “Those bikes will make ANYONE fast.” As far as I can tell he doesn’t even have a bike.
“What, an XR?”
“Just, any dual sport. It’s like a dirt bike. Ride one for a few months, it will make anyone fast.”
“Huh. That’s a good idea. I think I’ll TRY that.” (put key in [my dual-sport] bike and start to put helmet on) “It’s kind of a girls bike, don’t you think?”
I don’t even understand why some people open their mouths.
At any rate, the police followed us. In Santa Cruz hills, I know which roads to take to avoid this; there are so many options. But apparently there are only like three roads in the East Bay. So the ride became an exercise in, well, boring-ness, and we decided to turn back. Someone is out of gas. We have gone, like TEN MILES, and this numbnut is whining about gas. Who shows up to a ride with 10 miles of gas? None of this is doing anything to combat my view of SF/East Bay sportbikers as a bunch of posing idiots. “Hey baby, I ride motorcycles” is about what I think these bikes are for, to some of these guys. I’ve had this feeling about SF bikers in general for a while. My friend Zeke flatly admits to it regularly and tells me I’m one of the few real motorcyclists. He says he’s just an image-biker, but I know that’s not true. I’ve ridden with him, and he’s tons of fun to ride with. But, yeah, there seem to be a lot of those guys around here. (and girls, whoa, don’t even get me started on some of these girls! Wait, no, I must, but it’s another journal entry, for sure.)
Anyway, after stopping for gas (grumble grumble) we headed back in to town to convene at some bar, where I ran into a friend who has not been riding his DRZ. I chastised him and poked at him for a while before heading into the City to stop by the SFMC, where I had a pizza delivered and complained loudly about the lack of Guinness.
Everywhere I went, plans were discussed for Easter Morning. We’ll see.
OH! and I saw goats! That almost redeems the crappy East Bay roads.
Sunday, April 04, 2004
Stunt-Dating
So anyone who actually knows me, knows that I don’t really date. As I like to say, "dating and me are un-mixy things." (stolen and paraphrased, yes)
Charles may remember when I gave it up, like two or three years ago, and maybe he even remembers the string of boys that made the reason. (bank-robbing, DUI’s, and bad grammar were all involved.) It's actually more complicated (and less reactionary) than that, but it just SOUNDS better this way. Anyway, and yeah I made an exception for Eric. But, he was so nice, and, DREAMY. (but incredibly well-behaved/boring, oh, well.)
Last summer I was having breakfast with a friend of mine, for his birthday, a friend who had on many occasions attempted to convince me to go out with him, and he says to me, something like, "I don’t think I’ve ever met this boyfriend, I think you made him up so I would stop hitting on you." I assured him that was not the case, and then realized that it was sheer genius, and kind of wished it was true.
99% my friends are guys, and ALL of the close ones are. Which gives us the perfect setup for the stunt-date. Slightly different from the safe-date, which is essentially the gay guy you bring to weddings and such.
The stunt-date, just like any stunt double, is the stand-in for the stuff that might be risky or difficult otherwise. It allows you to do all the things you want with none of the bullshit. I’ve played stunt-date to friends who recently went through breakups and needed a jealous ex, and those who needed to be left alone by stalker-types. Recently spent the better part of a weekend with a stunt-date whose actual girlfriend is very very far away. (I went home in the evenings, thank you. I’m always a true gentleman.) Don’t have time or energy for a girlfriend? Don’t want the nagging and curfues? Want to still go out and get numbers? Get a stunt-date.
It’s a lot easier for me to deal with, and doesn’t traumatize friendships. (maybe some day I’ll make an entry about my theory on why you should not have sex or "get involved" with people you actually like or care about. I’ve been explaining that to bewildered people for years.)
However, for the record, that same friend, that thought I made Eric up, has, as of this morning, cancelled his second big stunt-date with me. Last year, he broke up with the girl and wanted someone to make her jealous at some concert. Dinner and a ride and all that shit, just come with me so I don’t feel terrible seeing her… and then cancelled a couple days before. And now, same thing, dinner, some concert, all that, and a couple of days before, cancelled. This time he admitted to me that it seemed a bad idea because "on some level, I am attracted to you, and might try something stupid." In this case, I’m a little relieved because I didn’t want to go, and had other stuff I wanted to do that night.
However, I’m not really sure how I should feel about being dumped by someone I wouldn’t actually go out with in the first place.
More time for me!
And today I rode, in the East Bay, finally found a tour guide, made some miles… the roads there are just not as interesting. I can see the sportbike appeal. I kept up ok until the road opened up, and I made the mistake of hesitating, and then it was all over. Once you roll, off, it’s ten minutes to get back up to speed! See you guys on the other side!
But I did see a goat. And that made it all better. And watched my friend do stupid shit on his bike, terribly amusing.
Charles may remember when I gave it up, like two or three years ago, and maybe he even remembers the string of boys that made the reason. (bank-robbing, DUI’s, and bad grammar were all involved.) It's actually more complicated (and less reactionary) than that, but it just SOUNDS better this way. Anyway, and yeah I made an exception for Eric. But, he was so nice, and, DREAMY. (but incredibly well-behaved/boring, oh, well.)
Last summer I was having breakfast with a friend of mine, for his birthday, a friend who had on many occasions attempted to convince me to go out with him, and he says to me, something like, "I don’t think I’ve ever met this boyfriend, I think you made him up so I would stop hitting on you." I assured him that was not the case, and then realized that it was sheer genius, and kind of wished it was true.
99% my friends are guys, and ALL of the close ones are. Which gives us the perfect setup for the stunt-date. Slightly different from the safe-date, which is essentially the gay guy you bring to weddings and such.
The stunt-date, just like any stunt double, is the stand-in for the stuff that might be risky or difficult otherwise. It allows you to do all the things you want with none of the bullshit. I’ve played stunt-date to friends who recently went through breakups and needed a jealous ex, and those who needed to be left alone by stalker-types. Recently spent the better part of a weekend with a stunt-date whose actual girlfriend is very very far away. (I went home in the evenings, thank you. I’m always a true gentleman.) Don’t have time or energy for a girlfriend? Don’t want the nagging and curfues? Want to still go out and get numbers? Get a stunt-date.
It’s a lot easier for me to deal with, and doesn’t traumatize friendships. (maybe some day I’ll make an entry about my theory on why you should not have sex or "get involved" with people you actually like or care about. I’ve been explaining that to bewildered people for years.)
However, for the record, that same friend, that thought I made Eric up, has, as of this morning, cancelled his second big stunt-date with me. Last year, he broke up with the girl and wanted someone to make her jealous at some concert. Dinner and a ride and all that shit, just come with me so I don’t feel terrible seeing her… and then cancelled a couple days before. And now, same thing, dinner, some concert, all that, and a couple of days before, cancelled. This time he admitted to me that it seemed a bad idea because "on some level, I am attracted to you, and might try something stupid." In this case, I’m a little relieved because I didn’t want to go, and had other stuff I wanted to do that night.
However, I’m not really sure how I should feel about being dumped by someone I wouldn’t actually go out with in the first place.
More time for me!
And today I rode, in the East Bay, finally found a tour guide, made some miles… the roads there are just not as interesting. I can see the sportbike appeal. I kept up ok until the road opened up, and I made the mistake of hesitating, and then it was all over. Once you roll, off, it’s ten minutes to get back up to speed! See you guys on the other side!
But I did see a goat. And that made it all better. And watched my friend do stupid shit on his bike, terribly amusing.
Saturday, April 03, 2004
20K! 20K!
Today I rolled 20K on my DRZ! woot.
This bike rocks. I can't imagine anything better. It's great in the city, fast in the hills (please don't insult my motorcycle, or I will embarrass the hell out of you, literbike-boys.), perfect for the dirt stuff (at least what I'm doing)... and so goddam cute. Yes, I love my motorcycle more than I love you.
Oh I love this motorcycle. I can't say that enough.
Today went riding with some friends. I had to do some speeding to get there in time, but managed to pull up just as the others arrived. We headed out quickly to one of my favorite roads. The Man on the Monster behaved badly and was roundly chastized. He deserved it, but he blamed the bike, "it makes me do evil things!" We got passed by some Fast Guys on Empire. Damn.
Changed oil, made a big mess because a rocket scientist decided to put caulking in the garage floor. One, two, three, we each took turns accidentally stepping in it and tracking it around the garage. Lemmings. This was good for many laughs.
Tomorrow I'm going riding. I didn't plan to go riding today, so it, uhhh, didn't count? Joiners, call me. Blah blah blah. Won't leave too early since I'm working tonight and we lose an hour to daylight savings anyway.
Is there someone out there who can crack my back? I don't know what the chiro did, but it don't feel right.
This bike rocks. I can't imagine anything better. It's great in the city, fast in the hills (please don't insult my motorcycle, or I will embarrass the hell out of you, literbike-boys.), perfect for the dirt stuff (at least what I'm doing)... and so goddam cute. Yes, I love my motorcycle more than I love you.
Oh I love this motorcycle. I can't say that enough.
Today went riding with some friends. I had to do some speeding to get there in time, but managed to pull up just as the others arrived. We headed out quickly to one of my favorite roads. The Man on the Monster behaved badly and was roundly chastized. He deserved it, but he blamed the bike, "it makes me do evil things!" We got passed by some Fast Guys on Empire. Damn.
Changed oil, made a big mess because a rocket scientist decided to put caulking in the garage floor. One, two, three, we each took turns accidentally stepping in it and tracking it around the garage. Lemmings. This was good for many laughs.
Tomorrow I'm going riding. I didn't plan to go riding today, so it, uhhh, didn't count? Joiners, call me. Blah blah blah. Won't leave too early since I'm working tonight and we lose an hour to daylight savings anyway.
Is there someone out there who can crack my back? I don't know what the chiro did, but it don't feel right.
Friday, April 02, 2004
Number 11
Got my registration confirmation for the Sheetiron on Wednesday. I am so goddam excited! Charles had me all worked up with stories about it being full. I am Number 11! That's how quickly I jumped on it. And I signed three other people up with me. I'm curious whether they got lower numbers, which would put my check as the 8th one recieved. I'm a big dork. I can't even ride dirt.
Also have my hotel room. I was all over that, within the same day. I am SET! All other details are negotiable. I may camp or hotel Friday night, I may ride or get a ride, I may have a roommate or not. I don't give a damn, I have covered MY ASS. You're all a bunch of flakes anyway.(That's not directed at anyone in particular) That is, those of you that aren't out-and-out assholes. (That is.)
And the chiro is going. Well, I'm gonna be cutting it really close to get this finished before the sheetiron, like by a few days, I will let her know I'm on a schedule next time. I'm also still looking for my SV. Not sure when I can get Charles to drive out of state to look at these things. I can't barely get him to come to SF for tiki drinks.
And I have a bug in my ass to do the Easter Morning Ride. Which I have skipped every year because I have family-- that I actually like to spend time with. This year they're convening in a town 2.5 hours away, instead of San Jose, and yet, THIS is the first year I'm tempted to do it. Which would mean, besides the usual stupidity of getting up to ride before the crack of dawn. (not so stupid, really), I would have to ride 3 hours to the start point, and 3 hours back. On a dirtbike. New heights of stupid shit, on my part. Anyway, I'm fairly sure someone will talk me out of it. Or maybe someone will join me? Heh. Yeah, right.
Also have my hotel room. I was all over that, within the same day. I am SET! All other details are negotiable. I may camp or hotel Friday night, I may ride or get a ride, I may have a roommate or not. I don't give a damn, I have covered MY ASS. You're all a bunch of flakes anyway.(That's not directed at anyone in particular) That is, those of you that aren't out-and-out assholes. (That is.)
And the chiro is going. Well, I'm gonna be cutting it really close to get this finished before the sheetiron, like by a few days, I will let her know I'm on a schedule next time. I'm also still looking for my SV. Not sure when I can get Charles to drive out of state to look at these things. I can't barely get him to come to SF for tiki drinks.
And I have a bug in my ass to do the Easter Morning Ride. Which I have skipped every year because I have family-- that I actually like to spend time with. This year they're convening in a town 2.5 hours away, instead of San Jose, and yet, THIS is the first year I'm tempted to do it. Which would mean, besides the usual stupidity of getting up to ride before the crack of dawn. (not so stupid, really), I would have to ride 3 hours to the start point, and 3 hours back. On a dirtbike. New heights of stupid shit, on my part. Anyway, I'm fairly sure someone will talk me out of it. Or maybe someone will join me? Heh. Yeah, right.
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
Looking for my future ex-girlfriend
Out late last night. I am damned sleepy right now.
But, what’s news here? I’m ready and looking for my next bike.
Basically, I kept the EX around for passengers (yes, I actually enjoy passengers, just not in the hills) and long trips. Plus, it was way better on the freeway than the poor little DRZ.
So that’s what I’m replacing. I am pretty convinced the SV650 is what I want. I’d also consider an F4 (not “i”), and I have some curiousity about BMW’s. I don’t know a lot about BMW’s, so that’s a really uninformed idea. Maybe I’ll go test ride the current 650GS this Saturday to see how I like it.
So, SV650. Prefer Street to Sport (SV650S), but either would be fine.
Of course, everyone knows red bikes are faster, but the blue is awful purty too. And then my bikes would match.
Trouble is, people in this area seem to think that they should sell their used bikes for near-new prices. NOT going to happen, at least with me. I’ve had nothing but bad luck with used bikes, and there’s no way I’m going to buy used just to save $1000 or less.
I don’t give a damn how much aftermarket frou-frou you heaped on there. It was a budget bike to start, and that’s what I want. Stock is good. Suspension is the only upgrade I’m willing to pay for.
I want to pay $3K. I want it to work, I don’t want a project. I’m hoping to stay away from salvage.
People in the Bay Area are probably laughing at me right now, because we’re all seeing these bikes for $5K used. I saw a salvage one in Cycle Trader yesterday for nearly $4K. Hmmm, and the MSRP is? Dumbasses.
But, I am convinced, it can be done. I’ll travel to get it as needed. I’ve been looking for an excuse to fly back to Austin, or Seattle. And riding back would be the icing on the cake.
So, please keep eyes and ears open. This is all I will talking or thinking about until it is settled.
OH, and I have a deadline. I want it by the first week of May. Because of the Sheetiron, and my worries about hammering on what is my only way to get to work, in the hardcore dirt riding. Although this morning a friend offered me a bike to borrow in that case. So maybe I can be more patient on the SV thing.
Not likely, patience has never been one of my many virtues.
But, what’s news here? I’m ready and looking for my next bike.
Basically, I kept the EX around for passengers (yes, I actually enjoy passengers, just not in the hills) and long trips. Plus, it was way better on the freeway than the poor little DRZ.
So that’s what I’m replacing. I am pretty convinced the SV650 is what I want. I’d also consider an F4 (not “i”), and I have some curiousity about BMW’s. I don’t know a lot about BMW’s, so that’s a really uninformed idea. Maybe I’ll go test ride the current 650GS this Saturday to see how I like it.
So, SV650. Prefer Street to Sport (SV650S), but either would be fine.
Of course, everyone knows red bikes are faster, but the blue is awful purty too. And then my bikes would match.
Trouble is, people in this area seem to think that they should sell their used bikes for near-new prices. NOT going to happen, at least with me. I’ve had nothing but bad luck with used bikes, and there’s no way I’m going to buy used just to save $1000 or less.
I don’t give a damn how much aftermarket frou-frou you heaped on there. It was a budget bike to start, and that’s what I want. Stock is good. Suspension is the only upgrade I’m willing to pay for.
I want to pay $3K. I want it to work, I don’t want a project. I’m hoping to stay away from salvage.
People in the Bay Area are probably laughing at me right now, because we’re all seeing these bikes for $5K used. I saw a salvage one in Cycle Trader yesterday for nearly $4K. Hmmm, and the MSRP is? Dumbasses.
But, I am convinced, it can be done. I’ll travel to get it as needed. I’ve been looking for an excuse to fly back to Austin, or Seattle. And riding back would be the icing on the cake.
So, please keep eyes and ears open. This is all I will talking or thinking about until it is settled.
OH, and I have a deadline. I want it by the first week of May. Because of the Sheetiron, and my worries about hammering on what is my only way to get to work, in the hardcore dirt riding. Although this morning a friend offered me a bike to borrow in that case. So maybe I can be more patient on the SV thing.
Not likely, patience has never been one of my many virtues.
Sunday, March 28, 2004
faster than you and twice the man
I thought today was going to be a snotty twisty road day. I thought I'd be riding with beemer guys, but I ended up with a flock of Ducs and a Mille. Go figure.
News flash of the day:!:!: People are flakey! Omigod! Who'd've thunk it?
The short version:
The highlight of my day was Mr. Hardcore telling me I throw my bike into corners like a man. I told him, I AM a man, and he said he'd always had his suspicions.
'nuff said.
(hmm, does this mean I throw the bike like IT was a man, or I throw the bike like I am a man? I guess I should have clarified that.)
News flash of the day:!:!: People are flakey! Omigod! Who'd've thunk it?
The short version:
The highlight of my day was Mr. Hardcore telling me I throw my bike into corners like a man. I told him, I AM a man, and he said he'd always had his suspicions.
'nuff said.
(hmm, does this mean I throw the bike like IT was a man, or I throw the bike like I am a man? I guess I should have clarified that.)
Saturday, March 27, 2004
Ride, rinse, repeat. Always repeat.
Wahoo!
Today rocks.
I got up at 7 and managed to get myself into the gym. For the first time since being helped off of my motorcycle by the minivan in January. This is great. I've been feeling crap about this, and wanting to get in again.
Then home, then out to meet people at Alice's for riding.
Got onto 35, the road was wet. This is a good sign, less traffic this way. Yay! Into the parking lot, got my coffee and waited. Two tasty underage boys on dirtbikes (ok, so they're all tasty until the helmets come off...), followed by an older guy on a vespa (dad?) provided a little entertainment until the rest of the ride arrived.
After a little lolligagging, we were all together and ready to go. Tunitas was roundly dismissed by people who had harleys and passengers. After much discussion, I get bored and plug-in. I can't hear what is decided, I will follow. And we all take off, beemer guys and me up front, sportbikes and Texans in the back (As it should be!).
84 to Alpine to Pescadero. I love this road! Red beemer in front of me is making a good pace, what fun!
White beemer behind me, is, well, frequently visible in my mirror...
Pescadero to what I think may be Cloverdale, past a pathetic little bicycle race. These fuckers have a little ramp to start on. Can't even pedal to get started?!? ("Get a motor!") And it ended, I don't know, maybe a mile or so down the road. Weird.
Turn left at 1, then left on Swanton (I think?). White beemer has picked up the pace, Now they are both in front of me. Then left on 1, into Davenport for lunch. To realize that the sportbikes and texans have all cheated and skipped Swanton. Hmmm...
After lunch, 1 to Bonny Dune (another of my favorites). Passenger has moved to red beemer, so I get to watch Charles be a squid on his harley. Wave him past to watch him ride it race style up the twisties, and also with the hopes that I can encourage a wheelie. Fortunately, he is easily influenced to do bad things. Yay! Harley wheelies!
Bonny Dune to Empire Grade (I think), then down Jamison. Going downhill has always been one of my greatest weaknesses. I suck. But not so bad today that anyone passes me, or has to pick my bike up.
Fly down 9, past one, two, THREE cops. Turn off at 35, on my way home. Some asshole on a crap sportbike gets all pissy at me near the end when I pass him, starts riding my ass in the straighter parts. Listen, dumbass, the fucking CARS were tailgating you through the corners. Your skills are not strong enough to carry the weight of the chip on your shoulder.
And home again, getting shit done. I've been sick all week, and everything's piled up.
I'm riding tomorrow, details not ready yet...
Today rocks.
I got up at 7 and managed to get myself into the gym. For the first time since being helped off of my motorcycle by the minivan in January. This is great. I've been feeling crap about this, and wanting to get in again.
Then home, then out to meet people at Alice's for riding.
Got onto 35, the road was wet. This is a good sign, less traffic this way. Yay! Into the parking lot, got my coffee and waited. Two tasty underage boys on dirtbikes (ok, so they're all tasty until the helmets come off...), followed by an older guy on a vespa (dad?) provided a little entertainment until the rest of the ride arrived.
After a little lolligagging, we were all together and ready to go. Tunitas was roundly dismissed by people who had harleys and passengers. After much discussion, I get bored and plug-in. I can't hear what is decided, I will follow. And we all take off, beemer guys and me up front, sportbikes and Texans in the back (As it should be!).
84 to Alpine to Pescadero. I love this road! Red beemer in front of me is making a good pace, what fun!
White beemer behind me, is, well, frequently visible in my mirror...
Pescadero to what I think may be Cloverdale, past a pathetic little bicycle race. These fuckers have a little ramp to start on. Can't even pedal to get started?!? ("Get a motor!") And it ended, I don't know, maybe a mile or so down the road. Weird.
Turn left at 1, then left on Swanton (I think?). White beemer has picked up the pace, Now they are both in front of me. Then left on 1, into Davenport for lunch. To realize that the sportbikes and texans have all cheated and skipped Swanton. Hmmm...
After lunch, 1 to Bonny Dune (another of my favorites). Passenger has moved to red beemer, so I get to watch Charles be a squid on his harley. Wave him past to watch him ride it race style up the twisties, and also with the hopes that I can encourage a wheelie. Fortunately, he is easily influenced to do bad things. Yay! Harley wheelies!
Bonny Dune to Empire Grade (I think), then down Jamison. Going downhill has always been one of my greatest weaknesses. I suck. But not so bad today that anyone passes me, or has to pick my bike up.
Fly down 9, past one, two, THREE cops. Turn off at 35, on my way home. Some asshole on a crap sportbike gets all pissy at me near the end when I pass him, starts riding my ass in the straighter parts. Listen, dumbass, the fucking CARS were tailgating you through the corners. Your skills are not strong enough to carry the weight of the chip on your shoulder.
And home again, getting shit done. I've been sick all week, and everything's piled up.
I'm riding tomorrow, details not ready yet...
Friday, March 26, 2004
dirty thoughts
I’ve been sick all week, and have not accomplished a goddam thing.
Nyquil makes me have the most incredibly bizarre dreams.
Got all excited last weekend that, after two months since the accident, I’d be getting back to the gym. Finally. And not a moment too soon. But I think my weekend caught up with me, and I woke up Monday with a cold. And proceeded to sleep nearly every hour I was not at work (or shopping for work, which is worse.)
Last night I went over to see some motorcycle folks, and ran into some other Sheetiron victims (and victims to be). (Sheetiron being a 300 mile dual sport ride, and act of attrition)
So last year, I fell off of my bike twice Sunday morning, came around a corner to a nice big hill, crashed heroically, and came upon this guy standing in the ditch. I had never met him before. He offered to take my nice brand new DRZ up the hill a ways. “It does not get any better. This hill is a killer.” (you can see a picture of this exact spot in my profile pictures, which, I know, are fucked up right now for some reason. It’s the one that says “action!” and it’s there because Eric ALSO crashed there. It was a popular spot. That’s a picture of his bike. My ex-bike, with my ex-boyfriend. Both have been replaced with something better, and less-maintainance) It says a lot about how much this particular section had broken me, and a lot about the sort of friendship that forms with complete strangers in the face of the Big Evil Dirt Ride. I handed off my baby to a complete stranger, keys and everything. “Make it go away.”
Standing in that spot for a while, I was surrounded by chaos. It seemed, anyway. Somewhere up off the trail, and behind us, I could hear some guy having trouble, needing help. I couldn’t help. I could hear engines rev, rev, rev, then die. Followed by laughter, or yelling, or both. That’s the sound of the crash you can’t see. I stood there for a while, watched several people fly by, and a few more crash, before Eric came by and ate shit in the same spot I’d gone down in. Served him right, he hadn’t crashed yet all weekend. I think he was beginning to get smug. Yes, I’m aware that I make a terrible girlfriend. We stopped for a photo op and jumped out of the way of some more riders/crashers. James stopped to help a lot of people through this particular section.
Hiked back up to the DRZ, I’m not sure whether I was relieved to see it or not. Back on, then back off again almost immediately, coming down a hill, knowing I was completely out of control. Wee! Face first, plowed into the road (and by "road," I mean something a goat would not hazard) under the bike somehow, in front of where a bunch of people had stopped. If your gonna do it, at least have an audience! I’d come to accept the only way to approach this section was “how far can I get in between falling off?”
Then I realized that this guy who fished my bike out of the hill for me was riding an 1150GS! Holy crap, and I thought I had trouble! Turned out he was a friend, or acquaintance, at least, of some friends I was riding with. We ended up all riding together the rest of the day. I’m a shitty dirt rider, on a good little dirtbike. I know why my bike kept tossing me. It was embarrassed to be seen with me. “Get off of me! I’ll do it myself!” But these guys on the big bikes, are fucking nuts! And I love that. It’s so perverse. I really appreciate people who do something just because it’s not supposed to be. Because it’s fucked up, and stupid, and just because they can (or die trying!). The concept of a BMW is that it can go anywhere and do anything, and I rarely meet people who really test that.
So for the past year, whenever I run into this guy, I bug him about repeating the Sheetiron. He’s some kind of hero in my mind. He recoils every time. I can see him wince at the memory, “no way, no way, on that bike, never again. Maybe if I had a small dirtbike.” But, see, that’s missing the point.
Last night, he admitted that he wanted to do it again, and even on the beemer. Woot. Also spoke with a guy who’s gonna do it on a Tiger. It was hard to find knobbies for it, he told me. (no shit, they'd prolly never had to sell a set before!)
So, yeah, I’m sure I’ll be pissing and crying the whole time, but these guys, they are hardcore! That’s what it’s all about.
You’re all insane. And I love it.
Nyquil makes me have the most incredibly bizarre dreams.
Got all excited last weekend that, after two months since the accident, I’d be getting back to the gym. Finally. And not a moment too soon. But I think my weekend caught up with me, and I woke up Monday with a cold. And proceeded to sleep nearly every hour I was not at work (or shopping for work, which is worse.)
Last night I went over to see some motorcycle folks, and ran into some other Sheetiron victims (and victims to be). (Sheetiron being a 300 mile dual sport ride, and act of attrition)
So last year, I fell off of my bike twice Sunday morning, came around a corner to a nice big hill, crashed heroically, and came upon this guy standing in the ditch. I had never met him before. He offered to take my nice brand new DRZ up the hill a ways. “It does not get any better. This hill is a killer.” (you can see a picture of this exact spot in my profile pictures, which, I know, are fucked up right now for some reason. It’s the one that says “action!” and it’s there because Eric ALSO crashed there. It was a popular spot. That’s a picture of his bike. My ex-bike, with my ex-boyfriend. Both have been replaced with something better, and less-maintainance) It says a lot about how much this particular section had broken me, and a lot about the sort of friendship that forms with complete strangers in the face of the Big Evil Dirt Ride. I handed off my baby to a complete stranger, keys and everything. “Make it go away.”
Standing in that spot for a while, I was surrounded by chaos. It seemed, anyway. Somewhere up off the trail, and behind us, I could hear some guy having trouble, needing help. I couldn’t help. I could hear engines rev, rev, rev, then die. Followed by laughter, or yelling, or both. That’s the sound of the crash you can’t see. I stood there for a while, watched several people fly by, and a few more crash, before Eric came by and ate shit in the same spot I’d gone down in. Served him right, he hadn’t crashed yet all weekend. I think he was beginning to get smug. Yes, I’m aware that I make a terrible girlfriend. We stopped for a photo op and jumped out of the way of some more riders/crashers. James stopped to help a lot of people through this particular section.
Hiked back up to the DRZ, I’m not sure whether I was relieved to see it or not. Back on, then back off again almost immediately, coming down a hill, knowing I was completely out of control. Wee! Face first, plowed into the road (and by "road," I mean something a goat would not hazard) under the bike somehow, in front of where a bunch of people had stopped. If your gonna do it, at least have an audience! I’d come to accept the only way to approach this section was “how far can I get in between falling off?”
Then I realized that this guy who fished my bike out of the hill for me was riding an 1150GS! Holy crap, and I thought I had trouble! Turned out he was a friend, or acquaintance, at least, of some friends I was riding with. We ended up all riding together the rest of the day. I’m a shitty dirt rider, on a good little dirtbike. I know why my bike kept tossing me. It was embarrassed to be seen with me. “Get off of me! I’ll do it myself!” But these guys on the big bikes, are fucking nuts! And I love that. It’s so perverse. I really appreciate people who do something just because it’s not supposed to be. Because it’s fucked up, and stupid, and just because they can (or die trying!). The concept of a BMW is that it can go anywhere and do anything, and I rarely meet people who really test that.
So for the past year, whenever I run into this guy, I bug him about repeating the Sheetiron. He’s some kind of hero in my mind. He recoils every time. I can see him wince at the memory, “no way, no way, on that bike, never again. Maybe if I had a small dirtbike.” But, see, that’s missing the point.
Last night, he admitted that he wanted to do it again, and even on the beemer. Woot. Also spoke with a guy who’s gonna do it on a Tiger. It was hard to find knobbies for it, he told me. (no shit, they'd prolly never had to sell a set before!)
So, yeah, I’m sure I’ll be pissing and crying the whole time, but these guys, they are hardcore! That’s what it’s all about.
You’re all insane. And I love it.
Monday, March 22, 2004
recovering from the weekend
Holy crap, what just happened? It was a good weekend, but, tiring. I need another day to sleep.
Friday night I ran into someone who disappeared a few months back. It was terribly exciting. I’m ready to collect on that ride you promised, in SEPTEMBER!
Saturday morning I recuperated from Friday night (I believe there may have been some alcohol involved), and went to a meeting. Huh, maybe I will go to Burning Man again. I just don’t know. Last year was weird, Eric and I broke up the night before I left, and the ride in was almost as fun as the time spent there. Since I was only there for like four days, and with the stuff going on in my life, I had issues with some of the people in the camp. Which is to say, the camp gets really big, and there are a lot of assholes in it. I was displeased, and spent very little time there. First off, I don’t recognize a lot of these people. This wouldn’t bother me so much if so many of them weren’t such fucking assholes. My sister came by to drop off some of my stuff, (after checking with one of my very pleasant camp-mates that we both actually know) and was given a shitload of attitude by someone I still don’t even know. A few days later, I was very rudely told I had to leave by another person who looked a little familiar, but I also didn’t know. It’s one thing to not know, and ask nicely, but save the fucking attitude. Seriously. Maybe I’m turning into a hippie, I just don’t see the need to be a bitch to people just because you’re so omigod cool for being at Thunderdome.
Funnier still is that this chick was syrupy sweet to me when someone else intervened and said that I was ok. The loose translation of this in my mind is something like “I’m nice to people only if I can tell that they are ‘cool,’ or there is a REASON to be nice to them.” Fuck that noise.
Do I KNOW you?
No, I don’t know you, and I don’t have the time or motivation to try to. I’m jetting off to a friendlier place. I disappeared for days at a time (as per usual) into a very happy camp with a friend and a bunch of traveling Euro student types. Very nice people. And spent some time at the airport.
Anyway, the point of this digression was going to be, Saturday’s meeting was really pleasant, with a small group of people I actually like, and reminded me that I should get into this thing again.
Saturday night I went to the Fetish Ball. I went with a friend, and, upon arriving at his flat, discovered that by coincidence, we were dressed all matched. We could not have matched more had we planned it. I'm not sure whether to think it was cool or incredibly dorky. Vodka helped. Between Fetish Ball and after party, I got home at nearly 6am.
Then managed to drag myself out of bed to go riding on Sunday. Late, yes, but I did get to ride. More amazing was the fact that I was able to get the same friend to drag his ass out of bed for a ride. It was great fun, he is a good rider, we had fun, we went fast, we giggled. Route: 35 to Alice’s for “breakfast” at like 3:30, since we were both having not-quite-hangovers. 84 to Alpine to Pescadero to Stage to La Honda to Applejacks. Stopped to talk with some old racer types, then 84 to 35 and home. A short ride, but fun, lots of fun.
As I pulled up to my block to park, a friend pulled up next to me. So we stayed up and ate and chatted. Now I am tired, very tired from my weekend.
But I woke up this morning with what I think is the beginning of a cold. Crap.
Friday night I ran into someone who disappeared a few months back. It was terribly exciting. I’m ready to collect on that ride you promised, in SEPTEMBER!
Saturday morning I recuperated from Friday night (I believe there may have been some alcohol involved), and went to a meeting. Huh, maybe I will go to Burning Man again. I just don’t know. Last year was weird, Eric and I broke up the night before I left, and the ride in was almost as fun as the time spent there. Since I was only there for like four days, and with the stuff going on in my life, I had issues with some of the people in the camp. Which is to say, the camp gets really big, and there are a lot of assholes in it. I was displeased, and spent very little time there. First off, I don’t recognize a lot of these people. This wouldn’t bother me so much if so many of them weren’t such fucking assholes. My sister came by to drop off some of my stuff, (after checking with one of my very pleasant camp-mates that we both actually know) and was given a shitload of attitude by someone I still don’t even know. A few days later, I was very rudely told I had to leave by another person who looked a little familiar, but I also didn’t know. It’s one thing to not know, and ask nicely, but save the fucking attitude. Seriously. Maybe I’m turning into a hippie, I just don’t see the need to be a bitch to people just because you’re so omigod cool for being at Thunderdome.
Funnier still is that this chick was syrupy sweet to me when someone else intervened and said that I was ok. The loose translation of this in my mind is something like “I’m nice to people only if I can tell that they are ‘cool,’ or there is a REASON to be nice to them.” Fuck that noise.
Do I KNOW you?
No, I don’t know you, and I don’t have the time or motivation to try to. I’m jetting off to a friendlier place. I disappeared for days at a time (as per usual) into a very happy camp with a friend and a bunch of traveling Euro student types. Very nice people. And spent some time at the airport.
Anyway, the point of this digression was going to be, Saturday’s meeting was really pleasant, with a small group of people I actually like, and reminded me that I should get into this thing again.
Saturday night I went to the Fetish Ball. I went with a friend, and, upon arriving at his flat, discovered that by coincidence, we were dressed all matched. We could not have matched more had we planned it. I'm not sure whether to think it was cool or incredibly dorky. Vodka helped. Between Fetish Ball and after party, I got home at nearly 6am.
Then managed to drag myself out of bed to go riding on Sunday. Late, yes, but I did get to ride. More amazing was the fact that I was able to get the same friend to drag his ass out of bed for a ride. It was great fun, he is a good rider, we had fun, we went fast, we giggled. Route: 35 to Alice’s for “breakfast” at like 3:30, since we were both having not-quite-hangovers. 84 to Alpine to Pescadero to Stage to La Honda to Applejacks. Stopped to talk with some old racer types, then 84 to 35 and home. A short ride, but fun, lots of fun.
As I pulled up to my block to park, a friend pulled up next to me. So we stayed up and ate and chatted. Now I am tired, very tired from my weekend.
But I woke up this morning with what I think is the beginning of a cold. Crap.
Sunday, March 21, 2004
fucking sun
is coming up, and I'm just now getting home to go to bed. Boo.
can we slip in a few extra hours of night-time so's I can get enough sleep to get up and ride?
pretty please?
Fetish Ball was cool, after-party was cool, I just need more sleep-hours.
can we slip in a few extra hours of night-time so's I can get enough sleep to get up and ride?
pretty please?
Fetish Ball was cool, after-party was cool, I just need more sleep-hours.
Saturday, March 20, 2004
drunk
Wahoo!
It's 3 am, I am drunk, closed the club....
So godamm glad I made it out tonight, found someone who says they want to go on these weekend motorcycle trips I keep talking about, saw Kevy, and, most importantly, ran into a character I'd been missing since he went AWOL last Fall. I'll be so happy to have you back in my life. All is forgiven. Let's ride.
woot.
It's 3 am, I am drunk, closed the club....
So godamm glad I made it out tonight, found someone who says they want to go on these weekend motorcycle trips I keep talking about, saw Kevy, and, most importantly, ran into a character I'd been missing since he went AWOL last Fall. I'll be so happy to have you back in my life. All is forgiven. Let's ride.
woot.
Sunday, March 14, 2004
East Bay is Pig Latin for
get the fuck out of my way, you pokey-ass motherfucker!
Tried riding in East Bay again today. Jesus, god, there are so many cars out there! 25 mph behind a car most of the day. There's a secret no one wants to tell me. I KNOW there has to be some better riding over there, but I'm not going back until someone can show me. Spending the day looking at the backs of cars makes me cranky and sleepy. Well, mostly cranky becuse I stopped for coffee twice.
And shit, these people can't drive. Before I got a half-mile out of town, I'd almost hit a motorcyclist (who didn't seem to understand the four-way stop concept) and a van making a U turn on Claremont, who waited until I pulled up very close to her to make her move. Yeah, nice, stopped about two feet from T-boning her. Which pretty much set the tone for my riding the rest of the day.
Highlights were a brief bit of go-fast on Redwood, a tiny bit of scenic-ness on Pinehurst, and running into two friends in town, not on bikes, which is to say, as riding goes, it pretty much sucked.
It's all about the South Bay. I know where there are roads: every damn place you look there's another turn-off with a secret and a view. 15 means 15 and 45 means 80. This I understand.
Tried riding in East Bay again today. Jesus, god, there are so many cars out there! 25 mph behind a car most of the day. There's a secret no one wants to tell me. I KNOW there has to be some better riding over there, but I'm not going back until someone can show me. Spending the day looking at the backs of cars makes me cranky and sleepy. Well, mostly cranky becuse I stopped for coffee twice.
And shit, these people can't drive. Before I got a half-mile out of town, I'd almost hit a motorcyclist (who didn't seem to understand the four-way stop concept) and a van making a U turn on Claremont, who waited until I pulled up very close to her to make her move. Yeah, nice, stopped about two feet from T-boning her. Which pretty much set the tone for my riding the rest of the day.
Highlights were a brief bit of go-fast on Redwood, a tiny bit of scenic-ness on Pinehurst, and running into two friends in town, not on bikes, which is to say, as riding goes, it pretty much sucked.
It's all about the South Bay. I know where there are roads: every damn place you look there's another turn-off with a secret and a view. 15 means 15 and 45 means 80. This I understand.
Saturday, March 13, 2004
I CRUSH you....uh, I think?
Which Colossal Death Robot Are You?
Check it out, you're an ABC Warrior!
In bars frequented by colossal death robots, you're always the quiet guy at the back who no-one ever bothers. And for good reason. You've fought in several nuclear wars, could beat the sun in a staring match, and have a chin larger than many articles of furniture. Morals are not a concept you understand, but strangely enough, nobody ever questions your judgement. Usually because they're dead. Even Judge Dredd wets himself when you turn up. Grrrr.
Declare human life to be an abomination with the following merry image:
Which Colossal Death Robot Are You?
Check it out, you're an ABC Warrior!
In bars frequented by colossal death robots, you're always the quiet guy at the back who no-one ever bothers. And for good reason. You've fought in several nuclear wars, could beat the sun in a staring match, and have a chin larger than many articles of furniture. Morals are not a concept you understand, but strangely enough, nobody ever questions your judgement. Usually because they're dead. Even Judge Dredd wets himself when you turn up. Grrrr.
Declare human life to be an abomination with the following merry image:
Which Colossal Death Robot Are You?
things that go "bang!"
Wahoo!
I got up at omigod in the morning to jet down to SJ to play with guns today. And it was great fun. Two friends with way too many guns, and three of us with none. I really don't know a damn thing about what was fired, except that one was a nifty WWI rifle that nearly knocked me over when I fired it, one was a very dramatic (smokey) black powder thingy, and one of them burnt me when it went bang. (don't hold it so close, duh!)
The range deal was sort of a pain, all these rules, and fiteen minutes firing period, and stand behind the line, etc., etc., but all very fun.
"make those bullets disappear!"
and then mom called and we had to go home. boo.
Motorcycles, guns, good friends, a ride in the pimpin-est van ever, a visit to the parents' compound, and I have had a very very good day.
I'm working on dyeing my hair, which I haven't done in quite a while, and now I remember what I used to keep boys around for. Damnation. I hope it does not stay pink.
On the way home I got an inspiration, and now I need to make a pattern.
I got up at omigod in the morning to jet down to SJ to play with guns today. And it was great fun. Two friends with way too many guns, and three of us with none. I really don't know a damn thing about what was fired, except that one was a nifty WWI rifle that nearly knocked me over when I fired it, one was a very dramatic (smokey) black powder thingy, and one of them burnt me when it went bang. (don't hold it so close, duh!)
The range deal was sort of a pain, all these rules, and fiteen minutes firing period, and stand behind the line, etc., etc., but all very fun.
"make those bullets disappear!"
and then mom called and we had to go home. boo.
Motorcycles, guns, good friends, a ride in the pimpin-est van ever, a visit to the parents' compound, and I have had a very very good day.
I'm working on dyeing my hair, which I haven't done in quite a while, and now I remember what I used to keep boys around for. Damnation. I hope it does not stay pink.
On the way home I got an inspiration, and now I need to make a pattern.
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