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While at work today I witnessed a deer getting clobbered on US 34 just inside Warren County at the Knox Warren County line by a silver Ford Ranger traveling Eastbound as I was going Westbound.
I first thought I was looking at a piece of roadside trash maybe a card board box in the other lane being blown by the wind before I realized that what I was seeing was a deer sliding down the highway in front of the truck that had just hit it after it bolted out of the median. The truck was braking hard and pulling off on the shoulder. This was right at the Official Vehicles Only turn around so I took advantage of that and met up with the driver.
Short story shorter it was about 0900 in the morning and for some reason instead of being safely bedded down in a field or in timber somewhere as the Deer's Guide to Proper Deer Behavior recommends during daylight hours this deer was instead loitering in the median and chose just exactly the wrong time to bolt in front of a pickup who's driver while on his way to go fishing somewhere had seen it meandering in the median and was braking hard but hit it anyway.
After being knocked off it's feet and spinning down the highway the deer came to rest dazed and bleeding at the side of the road with a badly broken rear leg but an undying will to live and an obvious desire to get away even if it meant lurching back in the path of another car. After a couple of convulsive attempts to get up it was sadly put down with a couple of shots from an AR-15. Warren County Sheriff's Dept responded to handle the accident form and I was on my way pondering the lessons to be learned.
A fool learns by his own experience while a wise man learns from the experiences of others or something to that effect and there were some lessons there to be considered.
The late great Lawrence Grodsky who at the time of his death after striking a deer late one night in Texas was the leading recognized authority on safely riding a motorcycle year in and year out without an accident.
Shortly before his death he was quoted as saying something to the effect that humans and traffic were mostly predictable while deer were not and if he was going to meet his end on a motorcycle it was likely to be because of a deer. He was right.
In addition to incompetent riders doing themselves in running off the road in single vehicle accidents, deer are also a leading cause of death on a motorcycle and the most difficult hazard to manage while riding.
Deer turn up any time and any place.
One night years ago back when I occasionally could be found leaving a bar at bar closing time on a Saturday night in Galesburg, I was doing just that when I heard a clickety clack of little hooves outside of Cherry St at about 0200 AM. To my great surprise there went a doe galloping Northbound on Cherry St past a crowd of gaping patrons as they milled about in front of the establishments. It caught a green light at main and was last seen in the center of Cherry St crossing the Santa Fe tracks before passing out of sight around North St.
A guy in a pick up stopped, leaned out of the window and asked the assembled patrons ''Did you see what I just saw?''
''YES!'' came the chorus. Reassured he drove on.
Deer are un predictable and can appear any time and any place. They can bolt from behind a screening clump of vegetation in which case you have no options or time to react or they can be seen wandering about before they make their move in which case you the rider can manage things favorably to a great extent just by slowing down or even stopping.
My opinion based not just on my own experience but on the experience of others is that if you see a deer or a bunch of deer by the side of the road the best course of action is to slow down and let the deer do what ever they want to do at your slowest speed possible traffic and other factors permitting.
You may very well avoid it all by maintaining speed hoping to be past before the deer does something stupid but you also may very well have the deer do exactly the wrong thing at just the wrong time. If the unexpected happens and it suicidally bolts out in front of you or in to your side it's best to be going at about walking speed if a collision should occur.
Not that every deer strike is fatal; most are not but they can be and until hunters become more prevalent and efficient unfortunately deer will be a part of motorcycling with every deer motorcycle encounter best managed at a slow speed or no speed at all.
This afternoon as I moped around the house trying to shake some bug, feeling bad enough not to go to work but not so bad as to be bedridden all day, the rain on the windows and gray skies and reminded me of a trip I made a few years ago down to the Smokies while I still had my 98 Kawasaki Vulcan.
That whole trip at times was a bit of an ordeal with intermittent rain trading off with high winds that always seemed to be blowing across and shoving me around in my lane and always it seemed with traffic around. It got to the point where it took all my concentration just to stay in the lane and not wind up carving a trench in the sodden Earth along the highways
Consequently my sight seeing consisted of sneak peeks during rare straight stretches of highway where the chance of wandering off the side of a Kentucky road or over a Tennessee center line was somewhat reduced. That was the bike that taught me that a lot of cruisers don't like wind and are all over the road in a strong cross wind while other configurations such as my trusty Yamaha FJR Sport Touring Bike can hold a line in anything and make strong gusty cross winds a breeze.
I was in Kentucky homeward bound between Owensboro and Bowling Green on the William Natcher Parkway. I can't recall the name of the little town it was that I ducked in to looking for a small restaurant around 2PM to take a break from driving rain and more of those never ending high winds. An order of fries and leisurely endless cups of coffee seemed a better choice than rain wind and cold.
As I wheeled in the parking lot I noticed an immaculate bright yellow Honda Gold Wing that had made the same choice for it's rider. I pulled in beside it and put the kick stand down. I squished across the parking lot and through the door and as I paused for a second dripping and fumbling gloves and gear a voice called out ''Right over here pardner'' I had just been invited for lunch by a smiling gentleman wearing a cap containing the words USAF and RETIRED.
He and his better half occupied a booth by a window and behind them hung up to dry on a rack were two riding suits and helmets. After a short conversation they invited me to join them at the table next to them so after setting out my gear to dry out, or at least leave a puddle on the floor, I sat down and we made our acquaintance.
The waitress took our orders.
Paul and Julie were retired and loving it. He had been a full bird Col in the US Air Force with around 25 years mostly in the maintenance end of things and she a retired teacher who had made her career mostly in elementary public and private schools in Texas, California, Florida, Germany and I forget where else. After a short second career working a KFC fast food franchise in Knoxville Tennessee they had retired for good and had taken up residence in Bowling Green Kentucky.
Paul had been stationed in Thailand at Udorn during the Viet Nam War which was where he got in to motorcycles. ''I had a little red Yamaha that I rode everywhere,'' and after that ''I always had something'' which had ranged from a 73 Ducati 350 Scrambler at Ramstein AFB in Germany to a Yamaha VMAX while at Travis AFB in California. Julie too had ridden in the early years but as she put it ''These days I prefer to leave the riding to him.'' and was content to watch the scenery go by from the palatial rear seat of their Honda Gold Wing.
Their current ride was an 02 Honda Gold Wing in bright yellow.
''We wanted something that Julie would be comfortable and would haul all her stuff...'' which prompted a sideways glance askance from Julie ''...and still have enough power to be interesting for me.'' he finished with Julie's bony little elbow digging in his ribs.
After a pleasant conversation trading stories of life in the military, foreign driving habits, raising kids in strange lands and moving every few years to another duty assignment, having been filled to eye level with coffee we decided to take advantage of a break in the weather, hit the rest rooms and then get out on the road.
Gearing up we bid our good byes in the parking lot and at the traffic light went our separate ways trying to get somewhere before it got dark.
One thing about riding motorcycles that is a little different than steering a car is that as a rider you have to do a lot more things and do them right to ride safely day in and day out.
It is not recommended but one can steer a car with two fingers while yakking on a phone or wolf down a cheeseburger and fries while boring through traffic or even flip through sales invoices while driving from call to call.
Most of the time most people get away with it. Cars are somewhat forgiving although sooner or later those who engage in such feats of multi tasking in moving cages of steel and glass day in and day out usually get their accident but the lessons are often lost on both them and the driving public. Seldom will they admit their mistakes preferring to fib about the circumstances and blame the other driver. Mention the idea of practicing safe driving habits and they will look at you as if you are nuts.
Some riders will too if you mention motorcycle practice. Counter steering, U-turns, swerving, cornering, trail braking, just to mention a few arcane facets of riding a motorcycle, all involve perishable skills that get rusty after a winter of not riding. Months of neglect due to weather take their toll on all those eye hand co ordinations and rider judgment that is needed to safely ride. To do them right takes a little more competence and effort than what is needed for driving a car.
For us riders it really is worth while to go find a parking lot somewhere with no cars on it and take a little time to practice. I find I get rusty on U turns so I like every once and a while to just go practice nothing but U turns. That is one maneuver that a little practice can give dramatic improvement and a lot of confidence to one who takes the time to practice.
There are also cornering techniques that involve shifting wight and hanging off the bike that conserve traction in a curve. They are worth practicing as they give you an extra margin of safety should you happen to misjudge your speed and find yourself in a curve too fast for comfort or if you intended to take it fast in the first place they can help you do that as well. Doing a figure 8 pattern at 20-30 MPH just practicing the mechanics of the proper form can pay real dividends in real corners.
Then of course quick stops are probably most important. Living out in the country the last two miles before home I usually have the roads to my self so I usually do a quick slow down from 55 or so down to almost 0 and then again just before the drive way from 35 or 40 down to 0 trying to bring it down smoothly from speed to stop.
All this can be done in a parking lot. The more you practice the more you are likely to do it right when you really need to.
I wasn't too far from Raton, New Mexico, one afternoon headed home on US 64 after a trip to the Grand Canyon in a few years ago when I spied this buffalo cow lounging by the side of the road with a few antelope grazing not far away.
The tourist in me couldn't resist so I reined in the Yamaha FJR, made a U turn and stopped for some pictures by the side of the road. A good stout barbed wire fence was between us which I didn't mind a bit. Buffalo can be dangerous and they do in far more tourists out west but with far less publicity than do their fellow wild creatures the bears who get a far greater share of press and notoriety for what they do to unwary tourists.
Even though I was maybe a hundred feet away that was too close as far as she was concerned. She lurched to her feet and after giving me a haughty look stalked off towards the mountains. I turned my attention to the Antelope who were further away. They were about as cooperative as the buffalo was. I got a few pictures before they too wandered off and soon disappeared over a ridge.
After looking back the way I'd come and taking in a vista of far off blue mountains under a brilliant sky and incandescent clouds towering above us all I mounted up and was soon back at it rolling along on 2 wheels on US 64 in New Mexico amid some of the most beautiful scenery on Earth
It's very easy to become paranoid if one is a motorcycle rider. The slightest little miscalculation in traffic resulting in a collision with another vehicle or a fixed object can very well be serious if not fatal if one of those vehicles is a two wheeler. A four wheeled vehicle with it's virtual armored cage surrounds and protects the driver as long as speeds aren't too extreme. In such cases it is always the rider that comes out on the losing end while the driver of the cage almost always emerges without a scratch although somewhat bewildered and confused as in WHERE DID THAT MOTORCYCLE COME FROM?
A rear end collision among cars at a red light or one car pulling out in front of another at an intersection while illegal is usually just a topic of conversation at dinner time for both drivers involved and their families and a routine transaction for their insurance companies and the body shops that handle the business end of a wreck.
But if a motorcycle is involved it usually is a medical call. Sometimes the driver goes to jail when they are drunk as one did one Memorial Day not long ago after pulling out in front of a motorcycle. That was a small consolation to the rider who was life flighted to Peoria with a smashed face and broken leg. His black bandana was later picked up out of the road.
A little paranoia is healthy for riders.
That focuses attention and awareness and if acted upon by riding intelligently goes a long way in keeping out of trouble and out of the statistics columns. A vivid awareness of all the hazards out there that can bite the unwary and the complacent tends to keep the well adjusted rider attentive each time they don the gear and strap on their helmet preparatory to going out on a ride. They are far less likely to get hurt than one who just jumps on a bike and goes with little more thought than if they were driving a car.
So where do all the motorcycle injury and fatality statistics come from? Consider the following bad habits which place these riders at high risk each and every time they get on a motorcycle:
The rider who pulls up behind a vehicle stopped at a traffic signal and plants his front tire about a foot from the center of the bumper of the car in front of him and then stares intently at the light waiting for a change of color oblivious to all else. This rider has never considered what happens when the car, truck or motor home behind him fails to stop for what ever reason and clobbers him at high speed or even low speed pinning him or her against the vehicle in front of them. Rear end collisions at traffic signals happen all the time.
Putting your motorcycle one foot from the center of the bumper of the car in front of you leaves no room to escape a car coming up fast behind you assuming you are watching your mirrors and notice what is about to happen in the first place. Smart riders leave enough space between them and the car stopped in front of them in case they have to get out of the way quick. Really smart riders stack the deck even more in their favor by angling the bike slightly to either side to make it easier to get out of the way in a hurry and watching traffic behind intently.
Or consider the suave and debonair rider cruising up Henderson Street about one car length behind the car in front of him with his left hand on hip and elbow at a jaunty angle absolutely un prepared for any kind of sudden stop because the car or truck he is tail gating blocks his view of EVERY THING.
Smart Riders in traffic give vehicles in front of them lots and lots of room so they can do what ever they want in front of the rider without involving them in the accident. And the rider who has both hands on the controls ready to stop right now if need be has even more of an edge.
To compound these errors by not wearing any sort of protective gear at all is just asking for it. All too often they are obliged by an easily preventable accident with injuries sustained that would have been prevented or mitigated if they were wearing protective gear like a helmet, gloves and a leather jacket instead of just expensive sun glasses, T-shirt and a bandana.
Oh well. In the words of King Richard I, ''To each his own.''
These observations made today during a random 20 minute period on Henderson Street in Galesburg should not be construed as any reason to pass yet another law that tries unsuccessfully to legislate safety. Safety is a state of mind and an intelligent one at that and not a matter of law in a free society.
And remember, in this County about one out of ten of your fellow citizens including those in traffic around you have an outstanding warrant. So if you are relying on the law for protection....
I would have never heard of the Krol Zielonys had I not been sent to the Federal Building in down town Chicago to attend a Law Enforcement seminar put on by a bunch from Homeland Security last week. For two days we learned of the fundamental changes in store for American Law Enforcement with the new National Police Force due to be unveiled in 2014 and how it was going to fundamentally change policing in America for the better.
On the third day most of the seminar decided we'd had enough and walked out of the morning session when the speaker, some gal with a PhD from Yale Law School and an attitude started talking about how the definition of Freedom was going to change in order to keep up with the soon to be rapid evolution of the Constitution and the cleaning up of various awkward amendments by executive order.
Subsequently I found myself in Miller's Pub on Wabash sipping coffee upstairs with Walt an Irish Chicago copper from Ireland living his dream of being a Cop in America. Walt worked the Wentworth District and loved Harleys. We were talking bikes and somehow the conversation swung around to gangs.
"Dave" he said, "I gotta tell ya we have the strangest gang of them all up here; the Krol Zielonys. They are this gang of formidable old men and they ride motor scooters painted black but no one knows about them because they are very, very stealth like."
Walt paused to take a sip of coffee.
"The only way I got on to them was one night a few years ago when I was working third shift up in Rogers Park. It was a week night and quiet when I got a call to see a guy about his daughter on Lunt Ave. I went up to their apartment and found this guy and his teenaged daughter in the living room. It was just them.
It seems the kid was out late and walking home alone along the lake when a couple of gang bangers grabbed her over by the Loyola Park ball diamond. They were dragging her to some bushes with a hand over her mouth and a knife to her throat which she thought was The End when suddenly about 8 guys on black scooters appeared out of no where and began giving the gang bangers the once over with canes or clubs or something. She said while the rest of them put the thugs to flight one who had to be at least 80 pulled up beside her and said, "Get on kid, this is no place for you!" And just like that they were out of there.''
''She told me they were perfect gentlemen and dropped her off at home. One of them gave her an engraved card that said KROL ZIELONYS on one side and on the back SKUTER GANGU. They were all old enough to be her grand father.''
Walt continued.
"The kid was fine and the dad was grateful but wanted to know who the hell this Krol Zielonys was and I couldn't tell him. I didn't have a clue. I started asking around and finally caught up to one of them. He was sitting by the lake. At first he was suspicious but when I told him I knew about the kid at the ball diamond he loosened up and he told me all about them.
Turns out Krol Zielony in Polish translates roughly in to The Green Kings and are made up mostly of retired bankers and tailors predominantly of Jewish and Polish heritage in the Rogers Park and Evanston area with grown children long gone and wives happy for them to have something to do that keeps them occupied. And out of their hair.''
''They ride around at night through the alleys with lights out goofing off but mostly doing a kind of neighbor hood watch except instead of calling the police they handle things themselves. They all carry canes and use them like martial arts weapons. They like scooters instead of motorcycles because they can go any where, are real quiet and really not expensive. Anyway we leave them alone and they help us out from time to time and no one is any the wiser or even knows they are around.'' April fool.
It was a very bad moment.
I was planning to ride and had gone out early to the shed just to start my Yamaha FJR up and move her out of the gloom and into the fresh air for a good careful once over in daylight. Instead for the first time in 5 years my trusty FJR was not starting. The battery was good, the temps quite balmy in the mid 40s and the tank was full but she would not start.
I had hoped to meet Chicken and a few others a little past noon in Galesburg and ride to Monmouth in order to dine out at the world famous Monmouth Burger King but now all I could think about was how much money, time and effort it could cost me to get this thing fixed.
Not a hint of ignition as the battery turned the starter over and over. Nothing. I turned it off. What could it be? I had faithfully put in fuel stabilizer early on and had ridden it a month ago topping off in Woodhull. The only thing I could think was that I waited a week before adding more fuel stabilizer hoping for the road salt to get washed off the roads and in that time the bitter cold of the last few weeks and the *&^%$#! properties of 10% ethanol that I couldn't avoid must have done their thing. I wondered if I was going to get skunked for the month of March as far as getting a ride in.
Maybe all that cranking was enough to get fresh fuel with stabilizer in it down to the carbs and maybe just maybe after an hour or two it will work it's magic. That was my only glimmer of hope. And maybe I'll end up spending a lot of money to get the thing towed somewhere it can be worked on I thought to myself as I trudged back to the house in a foul mood.
About an hour later having resigned myself to at least doing something constructive and cleaning up around the place I was back in the shed engaged in that time honored rural tradition of deciding what valuable junk stays and what goes in the bed of the pickup and on to the dump.
With no real hope of anything good happening I reached over and switched on the ignition one more time and hit the ignition button. VROOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This can't be squandered. I left it running and dashed inside collecting gloves, boots, riding suit, new insurance card, new registration sticker and helmet from different locations all through the house. I hustled back to the FJR which was idling contentedly and I geared up. A quick check of air pressure in the tires by kicking them and deeming them fit, a quick check of vital engine fluids and lights and I was off down the drive and on to the roads on my first ride for the month of March.
A little later after rolling around through Woodhull, Oneida and Ontario I was feeling much better. It was a pleasant ride and now with the electrical system freshly charged, all engine fluids nice and hot and fully circulated I put the FJR back to bed. I draped a tarp over her promising I would be back and closed the doors in preparation for what Sunday's winter storm advisory might bring.
I don't know if my theory about fuel stabilizer and carbs was right but despite the snow falling and the winds howling outside with a ride under my belt things are much better.
There are predators on North American highways that we motorcycle riders must be mindful of. They lurk over hills, behind trees, bill boards and other places mostly out of sight waiting for prey. Unlike most other predators who feed on flesh and blood these feed on revenue consuming vast quantities of it extracted from unsuspecting operators of cars, trucks, motorcycles and the occasional garden tractor or motorized wheel chair.
Lost in their high speed reveries amid a world flashing by, the vehicle operator's first hint something is wrong is flashing colored lights in the rear view mirror and sometimes a strange mournful wail from the beast behind them. After a hurried stop, LEO (Law Enforcement Officer) appears at the window and the usual civil discourse follows where the reason for all this is casually explained by the ever polite LEO much to the motorist's surprise and chagrin. Then an exchange of documentation follows and the motorist is back on their way at a slower rate of speed but sometimes not instead being in the back of LEO's car going someplace else and owing the state lots of revenue.
Yes, revenue fuels governments and in small towns especially unwitting motorists are a primary source of revenue to insatiable Mayors, City Managers, Dictators, Aldermen, City Council members, Politburo members and the rare King or Queen and their court.
I had a close brush with a very crafty LEO one time in Kansas somewhere on US 50/400 between Lakin and Syracuse West of Garden City. It was a perfect day as I started down a gentle grade with a vast expanse of Kansas landscape before me and the road vanishing near the horizon about 20 miles away. I was minding my own business bothering no one at about 80 MPH.
For a reason God only knows why there is an invisible dip in the otherwise perfectly flat looking road miles away creating what in the LEO trade is known as a perfect fishing hole. As I came up on it totally unsuspecting a Kansas State Trooper in a gray Crown Vic was suddenly revealed at the bottom waiting patiently for revenue.
He had me dead to rights. Defiantly I never wavered one MPH and zoomed on past. He must have been waiting for bigger fish than me because he never stirred.
I'll bet he got someone doing over a hundred.
My Yamaha FJR supposedly will do about 143 MPH to 145 MPH depending on which moto journalist happens to be writing about it.
Speed limit signs in the US range from 15 MPH in almost Any-town USA to 85 MPH on Inter State 20 in West Texas to the un-posted ''prudent and reasonable'' in vast reaches of the American West especially Wyoming and Montana. There the motorist or rider is free to go as fast as they can unless they wreck at which point if they survive they might get a ticket for not being ''prudent or reasonable''.
But since I live in ''prudent and reasonable'' Illinois (HA!) with their 55 MPH on most of their poorly built and maintained roads (except for Rio Township) and where wide open spaces are hard to find and aircraft type speeds on a road can be high risk propositions, I've never had my bike up to the top end of it's speed range. I usually chicken out at about 120 MPH or so due to fears of high speed impacts with critters such as raccoons, rabbits, dogs, cats, possums, skunks or the occasional deer most of which I have struck or have had to take drastic action to avoid at posted speed limits at one time or another.
Some day I hope to see just how fast my Yamaha FJR will go but not on any of the local roads in Knox County. Too many times I've had to take evasive or preventive actions at legal speeds which often was not enough to avoid flattening a hapless creature. Luckily at low speeds the only casualties have been the animals.
I certainly don't feel the need to take such evasive actions at speeds where the laws of physics and centrifugal forces turn both wheels in to giant gyroscopes that don't want to change their axis for anything and means that traveling in anything other than a straight line requires lots of effort and too much time to effect a meaningful change in motorcycle vector at triple digit velocity if you have to for some reason.
Besides that I don't want to offend the Deputies of the Knox County Sheriff's Department or the Illinois State Police who's job it is to prevent us from riding like idiots.
Having said that the 1298cc in line four of the Yamaha FJR and the 5 gears that come with it all have a decided sweet spot at about 85-90 MPH in 5th gear. I tend to agree with the engineers who must have said ''who needs a 6th gear with an engine like this?''
I don't know how many times I've started the day in Kansas, Eastern Colorado or West Texas with a note to self along the lines of ''there is absolutely no reason to exceed the speed limit'' yet by late afternoon after miles and miles of wide empty roads I'll look down at the instrument panel expecting to see numbers near the speed limit and am shocked instead to see an indicated 85-95 MPH which on my bike is within an MPH or two of being accurate.
On one occasion in West Texas oddly enough in late afternoon I was doing 95 MPH and didn't didn't really care much while approaching some small town that consisted mostly of dilapidated trailers. It occurred to me it might be a good idea to slow down well before I hit the city limits so I dropped back down in to a legal range of speed. Less than two minutes later I rolled past a bored looking Sheriff's Deputy in a Crown Vic on the edge of town who no doubt would have made my acquaintance right quick had I not slowed down when I did. As it was I paraded on by exuding all the good motorist traffic law compliance karma I could muster.
He never even looked up.
There are times in motorcycling when you have to tell yourself that you are having fun and wouldn't be doing anything else like you really mean it. Most frequently I find those times while trying to make camp in a State Park somewhere usually dead tired after riding all day and trying to pitch a tent in the rain in the dark.
Few things are more unappealing than standing in heavy rain after a long day of riding and contemplating whether to pitch a tent, roll out a sleeping bag and crawl inside on a wet floor at a soggy campsite or instead saying the heck with it, checking the map, GPS or whatever and mounting back up and riding on strange roads at night in the rain to find a motel somewhere.
I usually elect to tough it out and remain in the rain. I have finally learned the hard way it's best to wait for a break in the rain before pitching the tent which makes for a much less wet interior. Sometimes a break never comes and one just has to pitch the thing knowing that it is not going to be pretty inside.
Some day I might learn too just to get a motel if there is the slightest chance of rain but then that would be likely viewed as cheating by the the other USMC, the United States Motorcycle Campers. They are hard corps. Despite all the negatives once I'm settled in for the night I usually find myself quite warm, comfortable and content with sleep not a problem even if it is still raining.
But not always.
Years ago in December I was in Zion National Park in Utah. I successfully set up camp well before the rains came and after a pleasant dinner I called it a day ahead of the rain and crawled in my tried and true alpine back packing tent. I have forgotten the manufacturer but it was a good design and a veteran of years of good service in all four seasons and in all kinds of severe weather and I was anticipating no problems.
As I lay there the rain began to fall which didn't bother me in the slightest since I fully expected to stay warm and dry as I always had. Imagine my dismay as I felt splashes of water on my face each time a rain drop hit the rain fly. A quick examination showed that since the last time I used the thing the waterproofing on the fabric had rotted away on both rain fly and tent leaving the remaining fabric with about the same water repelling qualities as cheese cloth.
A long sleepless night ensued sloshing around in a pool of water which turned the prime goose down in my fancy high dollar North Face sleeping bag in to the consistency of oat meal. When the cold gray dawn finally did arrive it was still raining. Had it not been for my wool sweater and my exotic Danish fish net long underwear, which doesn't seem to be made any longer, it would have been far more cold and miserable than it was. That was a short stay at Zion.
Some day I intend to be able to afford to take an extended motorcycle trip and avoid sleeping in the rain by camping out in Motels, Hotels and the odd Bed & Breakfast while dining by candle light in interesting restaurants all secured by the ultimate survival tool a plastic credit card. Until then I expect to have a few more nights making camp in the rain and really enjoying it.
''Loud pipes save lives.''
I've heard that a lot but don't quite buy that having always thought relying on other people's hearing in order to have them avoid smashing you was not a good survival strategy.
I always thought better survival strategies for riding a motorcycle were being at a speed you could stop at if a car pulled out in front of you; being in a position in the lane for better visibility and more time to react to someone pulling out in front of you as well as better separation from the car in front of you so you're not screened by someone you are tail gating if someone has decided they just have to zip across and don't know you are there.
I think all those are better than relying on someone hearing you especially if they have cell phones stuck in their ears or have blue hair and hearing aids as well as cell phones stuck in their ears. No, I don't trust other people's hearing at all when on a motorcycle.
I remember one time before I got back in to riding at Cherry St on Tompkins St in Galesburg getting ready to scoot on across in my car when I heard a motorcycle coming. I couldn't see him but I could hear him so I waited. Sure enough eventually along came a guy headed North on a really loud bike. I never saw him until he was right on top of me because he was positioned in the right hand portion of the lane and nicely screened by a number of parked cars in front of St. Marys Square. I let him go by before I scooted on across.
For a long time I took that as proof that loud pipes save lives. It wasn't until I got back in to riding and thought about the incident that I realized even though his loud pipes let me know he was there when I couldn't see him he would have been much better off and a lot more visible had he been in the left portion of the lane near the center line where I could see him a lot sooner.
Then had I been brain dead and pulled out in front of him anyway since he was in the left part of the lane at the reasonable speed he was going he likely would have had enough warning and time to stop before hitting me. It takes more time for a car to cross a full lane in order to get the motorcycle in the left portion of the lane than it does to lurch two or three feet to get the guy in the right portion of the lane the car may not be able to see due to parked cars.
People will look right at you and go ahead and pull on out in front of you but if you put yourself a lane or two away from them and watch them close you'll almost always have time to stop as long as you are doing a nice slow speed say 25-30 MPH. It beats going fast and hoping they all hear you and being surprised when they don't.
I forget just where it was in Kansas I found myself in a Harley Shop looking for a replacement for my poor man's cruise control also known as a thumb buster which is a little band of rubber with a small lever on it that wraps around and locks on the throttle allowing you to just rest your hand instead of gripping the throttle to maintain speed. It makes a big difference on a long ride. Mine had just broken earlier that morning and the long empty roads of Kansas would mean a tired wrist at the end of the day if I didn't find a replacement.
Not too many Harley Riders wear old gray weathered and battered Aerostich riding suits especially in the summer and as I wandered around the racks displaying new black Harley Davidson T-shirts, shiny new leather and lots of other glittering stuff looking for a replacement for my broken thumb buster I stuck out like a sore thumb.
I finally found what I was looking for and as I was buying two of them and having a pleasant conversation with the little sales girl working the register a salesman sauntered over and casually asked me what I was riding. ''2007 Yamaha FJR.'' I politely replied.
With a condescending sneer he delivered his tried and true sales pitch, ''Why don't you trade that thing in and let me put you on a real bike?'' It got real still there for a second as the cashier's jaw dropped just a tad and her hand with my credit card and receipt stopped in mid air.
Why indeed?
I resisted a real desire to choke him out right there on the floor but I politely answered his question and said that I liked what I had, thank you very much, as I took from the cashier who had quickly recovered her poise my credit card and receipt and before the conversation really went South got the heck out of there with my last purchase ever from that store.
As I left him in the rear view mirror I wondered how the dealership's sales numbers were for the month. I also came up with a set of requirements that need to be met the next time some salesman tries to get me on a real bike.
If he has a bike for sale that has a fuel tank with at least a six and a half gallon fuel capacity I might be interested. As a Long Rider who takes cross country trips thousands of miles long each year, I like having at least a 260 mile range between fuel stops especially out West where gas stations are sparse.
If he has a bike for sale that has an automatically adjustable wind screen that I don't have to stop and adjust with tools I just might be interested since rain, fog and changing wind directions make having a screen you can adjust on the fly a nice thing to have on those sort of days.
If he has a bike for sale that has lockable hard bags that with a turn of the key and flip of a lever allows me to remove both bags and carry them in to the motel room without unpacking them in the parking lot then having to re pack everything the next morning also in the parking lot, I might be interested.
If he has a bike for sale that offers a comfortable upright riding position with feet directly under me on pegs instead of splayed out in front and in addition to all the rest that sells at a price of around $14,000.00 we just might have a deal some day.
But until then I'm happy with what I have and would never presume to tell someone else they don't have a real bike.
I blame much of society's ills on golfers. Back in the dawn of time golf started out as a simple game where you whacked a ball with a club trying to get it in to a hole in as few whacks as possible. What could be simpler? For years Neanderthals were perfectly happy with their custom hand crafted flint headed club attached to a stick by a leather thong as they whacked away at golf balls and merrily chased them between feeding Mastodons on those primitive courses as they they laid the foundation for the modern game of golf.
Who knew that in the modern era golfers would have worked it out so that in order to be socially acceptable you need a battery of specialized clubs numbered one to nine including an odd looking one with a P on it just to whack a single golf ball where mastodons once roamed? I mean who uses just one club?
So what does this have to do with motorcycles?
Back in the day a motorcycle was a motorcycle and you rode it any where you wanted. No matter what brand you rode there was no one to tell you that if you wanted to ride to The Grand Canyon and back from anywhere in America your bike was totally inadequate. There was no one to stand there giving you a variety of reasons why your bike was no good and you needed something like a Sport Touring Bike with adjustable wind screen and specifically designed to ride to The Grand Canyon and back otherwise you were hopeless.
Back then you just got on the bike, whether it was a Harley, Indian, Triumph or what ever and just rode out to The Grand Canyon and back and never gave it a second thought. Nowadays if you read glossy motorcycle magazines with lots of pictures you find that is no longer the case. According to motorcycle journalists and editors who are far more accomplished riders than we are (just listen to them) it is necessary to have a whole stable of bikes in order to be true and accomplished motorcyclists.
They tell us we need a bike called a Cruiser for cruising down the boulevard on a Friday night with your girl friend perched on the back. We need another one called a Dirt Bike for riding in the dirt. Then if you live near mountains you need one called a Sport Bike for riding on twisty roads at triple digit speeds as they claim they do and if by chance you want to ride long distances like to The Grand Canyon and back you need a Sport Touring Bike to pull that one off.
All of this of course is a trap designed to separate us from our money. Most of us motorcycle riders recognize that one bike does just fine for 90 percent of the riding we ever want to do and while golfers may need to agonize over just what club is best to whack a golf ball with us riders just get on the bike and ride and let others worry about what is proper and what is not.
I never expected to be speaking with a past President of The Hells Angels Motorcycle Club this afternoon but after Mr. Martin let me know that Mr. Barger and his wife Zorana had some issues with my account of an incident involving my friend Hal and a bike he subsequently obtained from Mr. Barger I gave him and his wife Zorana a call.
Mr. Barger said that he never loaned his bike out to anyone who wrecked it; the Hells Angels don't recruit as candidate members former Police Officers no matter what kind of skill sets or US Government Security Clearances they have; Siesta Catering consisted of two mobile catering units owned by two Hells Angels on an individual basis and his opinion was that ''Hal'' was pulling my leg.
I do have to admit that due to the fact that Mr. Barger was in jail at the time In San Francisco being tried in Federal Court on RICO charges of Guilt by Association by the Feds who hoped to lock up any and all members of the Hells Angels on the basis of membership alone, it was highly unlikely that he was on that particular ride so putting Mr. Barger at the scene and in the deliberations was definitely an error on my part and I think the main objection of Mr. Barger.
So if Mr. Barger says he never loaned anyone a bike that crashed and was sold to the crasher, I'll take his word for it. It's quite possible that I mis remembered some of Hal's account of the incident and the circumstances surrounding his wrecking and acquisition of a bike allegedly once owned by Mr. Barger.
I never found Hal to be the leg pulling type and not being able to touch base with him about it and go over details has required me to rely on reaching back a few decades in to the murky mists of memory to write about an incident that based on personal experience and knowledge I think is mostly true while still taking in to account what Mr. Barger who is in a position to know has to say about the matter.
Mr Barger, Zorana and I agreed I would present what he had to say about the incident which hopefully has been done and after a short even cordial conversation, marred by learning a mutual acquaintance and fellow sky diver from Pope Valley CA had died in a plane crash 25 years ago, the conversation ended.
It's not every day you get to sit on a Harley Davidson Motorcycle recently owned by Sonny Barger President of the Hells Angels and the chance to purchase a bike with that kind of notoriety doesn't come along too often either. It was about 1980 and I didn't know that at the time. I was dirt poor and the asking price of $1,900.00 cash was more money than I had at the time so I wistfully stepped off Harley Sportster with the custom deep blue paint job that had been the property of Mr. Barger the president of the Hells Angels Motorcycle Club, Oakland Chapter.
Once upon a time after I got out of the Air Force I resided in Oakland California and had answered an ad in the paper for a job. I soon found myself working for a young entrepreneur about my age, who we will call Hal, who along with his wife and his father ran a few small businesses in the East Bay area consisting of a small Security Company that installed burglar alarms for the US Government, a janitorial service and an industrial steam cleaning operation specializing in cleaning restaurant equipment.
Shortly after I started I found myself teamed up with Hal on a regular basis doing the steam cleaning business late at night when the chefs, waitresses and diners had all departed and we could get at the grease caked grill hoods which are the number one source of fire in restaurants.
While quaffing a beer together after a job around mid night he confided in me that he was also in the Hells Angels as an up and coming candidate member being considered for full membership. Hal was a genial former Oakland Police Officer who despite being in a rather serious shoot out that ended well from a Police point of view had wrecked two squad cars in two weeks during his rookie probationary year and had been asked to seek employment elsewhere. With the help of his father they had started the restaurant steam cleaning business.
This brought him in to contact with Siesta Catering, a chain of restaurants in the East Bay owned by the Hells Angels to provide them legitimacy and cover for other activities. The Hells Angels liked both Hal's Police Experience and his Top Secret Security Clearance that our wise US Government had bestowed upon him so he could better install burglar alarms on US Government installations around the Bay Area without the inconvenience of having to supervise him. Yes our National Security has always been a shambles.
The Hells Angels wooed him long and hard and even let Hal borrow Sonny's Bike for the big annual ride in Northern California which resulted in yet another wreck for Hal this time on Sonny Barger's personal motorcycle as he crashed for no apparent reason. There was little damage to himself but the bike was another matter.
After serious discussion with Mr. Barger and his colleagues it was determined that it would be best if Hal purchased the bike from Mr. Barger which he did. Now at long last the bike was out of the shop looking brand new and Hal was looking to sell it hence my opportunity to sit for a short period of time in the saddle of a little bit of Americana.
Hal and I cordially parted ways a few months later and I learned afterward that he had come to his senses with assistance from his wife (who was the brains of the marriage) and they had politely told the Hells Angels thanks but no thanks and last I heard they were doing well.
I've often wondered what happened to that bike and wished I'd had $1,900.00 cash one Saturday afternoon in Oakland California.
You often don't have to go far on a motorcycle to find the unusual and the interesting especially if you like old airplanes and if that is the case the Galesburg Municipal Airport is certainly worth keeping an eye on. Over the years I have seen hundreds of Stearman Bi-Plane trainers, a couple of DC 3s and a restored and historical four engined USAF Lockheed Super Constellation which served as Air Force Two and flew Ike's VP around the world back in the 50s.
Sometimes a Twin Beech with Pratt & Whitney 450 HP radial engines turns up and can be found parked out in front of the hanger on an autumn morning. Back in October of 2009 while at work not long after that year's Stearman Fly In I had noticed what I thought was a twin engined Beech D-18 parked at Galesburg Municipal Airport.
Back in the late 70s and early 80s during the Golden Age of Skydiving when jumps cost about as much as lunch does today, DC-3s, Lockheed Lodestars and Twin Beech D-18s were the work horses of the legendary American drop zones such as Casa Grande in Arizona, Zephyr Hills and Deland in Florida and Perris Valley, Elsinore and Pope Valley in California. I had logged over a hundred jumps out of Twin Beeches at Z-Hills and Pope Valley alone and lo and behold one was right over there in front of me.
At the time I was busy and didn't have time to check it out but as it happened I was off the next day so I made it a point during an early morning ride to wheel on out there on my Yamaha FJR and inspect it a little closer and re connect with one of the great aircraft of all time.
Twin Beech D-18s hold memories for me connected to over an hours' worth of free fall time accumulated after even more hours of climbing to altitude in Arizona, Florida and California skies before bombing out the door on jump run with seven or eight other jumpers a couple of miles or so above the Earth.
There was still a little morning mist burning off and I was pretty sure no one would mind me wheeling right up to it on the Yamaha and no one did. I doffed the gear and and found myself looking at a heavily modified Beech D-18. I found out later that in aircraft technical jargon that only those who love old radial engine powered airplanes can understand it is designated a Beech, cn 912, AT-11, N214CR, 41-9486, 19486, ex N900AM. What that means is that it is a civilian Twin Beach D-18 modified as a military trainer and now known as a Twin Beach AT-11 and this one was number 214.
I wandered around recalling that the original Twin Beach had been one of the first if not the first to be of all metal construction. This one was modified with a bubble top observation canopy I suppose the better to see the stars to navigate by and restored to it's military markings with 214 as an aircraft number with tail number 19486. I peered into the cockpit and wondered just what kind of missions it flew and who flew them. I never found the owner and had to satisfy myself taking a few pictures and leaving before anyone wondered what that motorcycle was doing on the flight line.
I never was able to speak to the owner or anyone else who knew much about it but later while snooping on the internet I found this aircraft was a navigational/bombardier trainer used during WWII to allow young navigators and bombardiers to hone their critical skills for later combat missions over Europe, North Africa and the Pacific. It is named Freedom Flight America, Commemorating V-J Day.
So if you ever hear an unusually loud noise in the sky and look up and see a twin engined silver air craft flying over towards the airport especially in September close to the Stearman Fly In it just might be this AT-11 and worth a look.
And lo the rains came and washed away the salt off the roads and there was a happiness in the land among some at being able to ride their motorcycles in January without having to wash the bike off afterward in the freezing cold.
I don't know where that obscure scripture is recorded but it floated in my head as I rolled out of the barn and down the drive on my Yamaha FJR which just the day before had mostly been a wet solid sheet of slippery gray ice and not something I cared to walk on let alone ride a bike over. My air temp gauge on the FJR read 52 degrees and the warm winds had been blowing all night long so the ice was gone and it was dry gravel at Zero Dark Thrity. Rideable! So off to work on the Yamaha FJR early in the morning Friday on Jan 12 2013.
I knew that this would probably be the high for the day and that scattered showers turning to snow later tonight was the forecast but I figured I could easily get home before any thing got out of hand. Sure enough it was 49 by the time I got to work. Some people never learn and I'm one of them at least when it comes to weather.
Mid West weather is always changing and I know that and just because the forecast says it won't snow until midnight doesn't mean life before then is a bowl of cherries. Circumstances can conspire to change an expected easy ride home in scattered rain and temps above freezing to something else.
The first changing circumstance was having to work late. Nuts. Instead of getting off at my normal 2PM it was going to be at least 3PM. It turned out to be later than that. The second change in circumstance came from the bride who called and said HEY IT"S RAINING AND SLEETING OUT HERE AND THERE IS ICE ON THE DECK AND I'M COMING TO PICK YOU UP. BYE.
OK. I was suspicious but she was there and I wasn't. When the bride pulled up there was in fact ice caked on the grill and roof of the Nissan so we both congratulated ourselves on our good judgment and pointed the car North while deciding to sort out getting the bike home later and what's for dinner.
US 150 was dry as a bone all the way to 2800 North due to the normal heavy traffic and still steadily blowing winds. The bride was swearing it had been icy and the occasional car caked with ice confirmed that. 2800 North was wet but the air temp gauge on the dash said 36 degrees and it was obvious conditions were ice free. By the time we got almost home we both agreed it was totally rideable. For now.
We decided our part of Rio Township must have experienced a local weather anomaly in the form of a narrow band of freezing rain and ice which was now gone so back to Galesburg to get the bike and try again.
Naturally by now it is a race against falling temps and the clock and as I leave the city limits on US 150 in 34 degrees and bucking a cross wind I soon pass the old Kozy Inn as the air temp gauge is now down to 32. Then 31 and finally as I make the critical transition from still dry US 150 to still wet and maybe icy 2800 North it is 30 degrees and a long two miles from home. I'm nervous having gone down once on an icy road and neither I or the Yamaha liked it but the road is ice free, at least where I am riding and I make it home at 30 MPH with a ride in the books for January. I need to mend my ways.
Winter is for dreaming for us motorcyclists. Those of us who like to make long trips across country often use the long winter nights for plotting, scheming and dreaming up interesting ways to ride a motorcycle to places we've never been to but always wanted to go or even places we've been to but want to return. Like Oregon. I've been there twice.
The first occasion I passed through Oregon was long ago. I was on my way to Washington State from California at about 80 MPH in a car with someone else driving and we were in such a hurry we never got off I-5 except for gas. The second time was a lot more relaxed as I took the train from Chicago to Los Angeles for Thanksgiving one year but I never got off the train until I reached LA. So for practical purposes it's like I've never been there.
I've thought for a long time that riding my Yamaha FJR all the way to Oregon and getting my front tire wet in the Pacific Ocean would be a fine thing to do and it appears the summer of 2013 might be the year to do it. The question remains how to get out there? Take the super slabs, the Interstate 80s, 90s or 94s or take something else? Something else of course.
In all my plotting, scheming and dreaming I have always found the old US Highways to be intriguing and historical. In 1925 the old trans continental US Highways were as follows:
U.S. 2: Houlton, Maine, to Bonners Ferry, Idaho.
U.S. 10: Detroit, Michigan, to Seattle, Washington.
U.S. 20: Boston, Massachusetts, to Astoria, Oregon.
U.S. 30: Atlantic City, New Jersey, to Salt Lake City, Utah.
U.S. 40: Wilmington, Delaware, to San Francisco, California.
U.S. 50: Annapolis, Maryland, to Wadsworth, Nevada.
U.S. 60: Chicago, Illinois, to Los Angeles, California.
U.S. 70: Morehead City, North Carolina, to Holbrook, Arizona.
U.S. 80: Savannah, Georgia, to Laredo, Texas.
U.S. 90: Jacksonville, Florida, to Van Horn, Texas.
I keep coming back to US 20 which passes fairly close by up in Dubuque. It is the longest US highway in America at 3,365 miles long, starts out in Boston Massachusetts and ends today in Newport Oregon. It would be fun to ride it's entire length some day but for now picking it up around Dubuque looks to an interesting route to take passing through Wyoming, Idaho and on in to Eastern Oregon, Newport and the Pacific Ocean.
As a believer in the idea that one never takes the same road home, taking Highway 101 down the coast of Oregon and Northern California and then somewhere around Carson City Nevada picking up US 50 billed as the ''Loneliest Road in America'' and running it across Nevada through Fallon, Austin and Ely has a lot of merit too and I haven't even gotten out of Nevada.
My goodness. So many roads to choose from and so many dark nights still ahead to dream and scheme in. Who knows where it will lead to, but dreaming and scheming is one way to pass long winter nights when you can't ride much.
52 felt balmy at work but I had to go to Sears to buy a new compressor to replace the old compressor which had died so we could fill all our flat and under filled tires on the garden tractor, the garden wagon, the motorcycle, another wagon and the Ford F-150. By the time I got it home in the Nissan Rogue it was 49 degrees and falling, cloudy and getting dark soon.
My tires on the FJR were a little under pressure, thanks to putting off getting the new compressor and too lazy to wrestle with unfamiliar air hoses elsewhere, but it was going to take time to assemble the new compressor and a short half hour ride wasn't going to hurt any thing.
I geared on up and waddled to the barn and pre flighted the FJR. After rolling out of the ''Bat Cave'' where I kept the FJR deep in the recesses of the barn, I rolled out the drive on to 400E raised the windshield all the way and found I was fairly comfortable at 55-60 MPH. I was all bundled up in Falstaff Jacket and riding pants, silk scarf around my head and neck under the helmet and my Elk Skin Roper gloves were doing the job.
I didn't really have time to go anywhere before it got dark so I decided a little blast up 74 North to the exit at Lynn Center and then back would be a nice little circuit given the time and the falling temps. I picked up US 150 Northbound and headed for I-74 by way of State 17 just South of Alpha to Woodhull. Getting on the big road by quick acceleration on the ramp at Exit 32 is always fun and although there was a lot of traffic I slipped on in slowed down a little and let a gaggle of cars in the 80 MPH club pass me before I settled in well behind a silver Pontiac doing about 70 MPH or so with no one behind us.
At the Lynn Center exit I flipped around and headed back to the Woodhull Exit. As I motored along admiring the scenery of the Edwards River Valley a black Chrysler eased on by me with a bunch of high school girls in it. I know this because I heard a shriek the kind only High School girls make and looked over to see from the front seat a hand waving wildly and a face mostly obscured by long blond hair dancing violently in the wind. Hand and face promptly disappeared as the window rolled up. Maybe she liked my bike? I don't know. Not every day a pretty girl waves and shrieks at you.
The conversation turned to cell phones, signals and remote areas in Tennessee where you don't get bars, signals or any other indication the thing is working and locals in such areas who along with easy money like a bit of sport with strangers desperate for a cell phone signal.
My pal Barry who rides a nice Harley and is active in the local HOG Chapter (Harley Owner's Group) was telling us at breakfast this morning about a group HOG ride down to Tennessee not long ago and how in Ducktown not far from Turtletown in Polk County Tennessee locals have found a way to get a few dollars and a little amusement at the expense of strangers trying to make a call on their cell phone.
It seems that recently on a HOG ride someone in the group broke down outside of Ducktown not far from Turtletown in Polk County and desperately needed professional roadside assistance. Barry said they were so deep in the hills, hollers and all that there was no trace of a phone signal. Barry is one of those guys it is nice to have around when things go wrong being a competent take charge kind guy so he took upon himself to arrange a tow or repairs but not a signal was there to be had to make those arrangements.
After rolling on in to Ducktown he found a gas station but no pay phone. With a hint of banjo music eerily playing from somewhere he was advised by the old boy behind the counter to cross the road and stand just to the left of that pole over yonder and ''mebbe y'all get a signal.'' He did so but feeling unseen eyes upon him as he moved about just to the left of yonder pole circling about and still getting no signal he concluded he was being been had.
He crossed back to the service station and after negotiating a dollar a call for the use of the phone he tried futilely to reach professional road side assistance in the outer world. After several tries and several dollars the old boy behind the counter relented and said ''go ahead, you've paid enough dollars,'' Eventually the matter was resolved.
The moral of the story? Satellite phones and lots of batteries I guess.
There is a saying there are old pilots and bold pilots but no old bold pilots. Sooner or later being bold catches up to you which is OK in a lot of activities such as chess, bird watching or being a Bear Fan but not so much in others such as test piloting fighter jets, free climbing El Capitan or going to Lambeau Field in Green Bay to cheer the Bears.
As a motorcycle rider I am not at all interested in appearing anonymously as a statistic in some Federal Highway Safety report so I tend to take a conservative approach as much as possible. I wear the right gear including a helmet, don't ride like an idiot and try to take changing weather in to account.
That last one, weather, has been the most difficult for me to lose the bold approach in when deciding when to ride and when not to. As a rider you have to push the envelope a little bit no matter what otherwise you will wind up washing the bike far more frequently than riding, but I've found out the hard way that when weather changes it is best to give large moving masses of cold air and precipitation on broad fronts the benefit of the doubt.
Rain is doable but the riding style must be adjusted to eliminate sudden turns and stops as much as possible and it is smart to be a little more visible as in wearing something bright or reflective like a traffic vest and watching your back at all times. It goes without saying when the lightning bolts start booming then it is high time for a cup of coffee indoors somewhere.
Aside from snow and ice, fog is the big bugaboo with me. When the fog is dense I just don't ride and if caught out in it I'll hang out in truck stop, cafe or motel until it lifts. Too many people drive their steel cages at 70+ mph in thick fog as if they will never come up on anything they can't see. If I have to I'll wait for a four-wheeler to come along at a sensible speed and fall in behind them and watch their tail lights closely Until I get home.
Fog is much more enjoyable coffee mug in hand at home in the back yard listening to it drip off the pine trees.
I don't know why, but these afternoons when I look up from what ever I'm doing and see it's pitch black already when just a few weeks ago before the time change the sun was still shining I get impatient.
This time of year I realize it is a long, long time until Spring, we have yet to get through all the snow, ice, freezing rain, sub zero cold and howling winds that actually many of us Mid-westerners find fascinating but never the less make riding a motorcycle on a regular basis pretty much impossible sometimes for a long time.
A few years ago after one such winter I packed up, layered up, and in March 2010 busted out of the frozen tundras, well cornfields of the Midwest. I pointed the Yamaha FJR South with the immediate goal of riding directly to the Gulf of Mexico and walking on it's shores.
Somewhere in Louisiana I chucked the flight plan and started taking roads based on whether they were paved or not and if they were headed South. That made for some very interesting experiences and a nice ride which ended at The Gulf in a little collection of unincorporated streets with names like Tarpon and Heron roughly at the intersection of 27 and 82 in Louisiana in a place called Holly Beach.
At the end of Tarpon Ave I parked my bike at the edge of the deserted beach and walked to the surf line letting the wavelets wash over my dusty boots. That done I realized I had the entire place to myself. Not one single solitary other soul in sight. The beach, wind and sky were all mine and I enjoyed it immensely. After a while I turned back and rejoined my FJR sitting patiently at the end of the pavement.
As I mounted up and moved out I saw a realtor showing one of the many beach homes for sale to a prospective owner. As I toured the town I saw about half of it for sale with many homes brand new still with stickers on the windows. Half the town was for sale and the other half seemed deserted. Later up the road I found out Hurricanes Rita and Ike had demolished the area in 2005 and again in 2008.
I never checked prices down there but occasionally when I look out and see it looks like midnight and it is only 6 p.m. I wonder what it's like to live in winter on the Gulf of Mexico between hurricanes in a place called Holly Beach.
Here in the Midwest motorcycle riding tends to fall off in the fall and winter for the obvious reasons, cold weather, guaranteed rain on the weekends and much shorter daylight hours which mean that at dinner time in November it's about pitch black while way back in July you had time to dawdle over chicken wings and beer and still get home by nightfall.
Naturally around here when the snow and ice hit most normal people hang it up for the year, putting fuel stabilizer in the gas tank, a battery tender on the battery and maybe a tarp over it all to keep the dust off until spring. The cold dark winter nights are then spent perusing motorcycle magazines and the internet dreaming about the next must have farkle or maybe even a new motorcycle.
However there are a few who like to push the limits a bit and by smart use of good cold weather gear extend their riding time well in to the winter months having to give it up only when the ice on the roads make staying upright and out of oncoming traffic tough to do. I know. I tried riding on ice once and it didn't work out so well.
Regardless there are lots of days in the winter months that are ice free with clear clean pavement and as long as you can deal with the cold there is no reason not to ride.
There is even a very exclusive motorcycle club with none of the draw backs of most clubs such as dues, initiations, fundraisers and meetings that take up so much time and money and make membership such a chore.
Let me introduce you to the Rounders Motorcycle Club at http://www.yearroundriders.com/
This fine organization celebrates riding year round especially those who manage it in the winter. To be a True Rounder one has only to ride at least once each month of the year.
According to Dr. C. Norwood Fleener of the UCLA Phrenology Dept. and noted authority on motorcycle clubs the concept of riding year round is most likely the basis for the name Rounders which I never would have guessed in a million years.
According to their website the club was formed by four riders from the Upper Midwest who were inspired by a legendary elderly motorcyclist from somewhere on the East Coast who rode in sub zero temperatures as a way of fighting boredom in winter.
They put together the following organizational and informational chart:
100's+ Red Hot Rounder
90's Sweating Rounder
80's Half Baked Rounder
70's - R&R (Rounder Relaxing)
60's -Jr. Rounder (Just Riding)
50's - LOTF Rounder (Looking Over The Fence)
40's - FOTF Rounder (Fringe of the Fringe)
30's - Half Rounder
20's - TQ Rounder (Three Quarts)
0-20 - Rounder
Sub Zero - KHOF Rounder (Kook Hall of Fame)
This motorcycle club also does not care what brand your bike is or even if it is a scooter. All are welcome. With no dues or meetings it is my kind of club and according to their website there are a fair number of riders in the Northern climes who don't let weather get in the way of a good ride.
I think the warm weather just might be gone.
Last night down in Quincy I was sitting on my step son's back porch on State Street at midnight enjoying the cooling breeze as I capped a busy day by catching up on the news through the magic of the computer on some neighbor's wifi signal that didn't need a password. It could have been a night in July. Thanks neighbor who ever you are.
By 2 p.m. that cooling breeze of last night was a hard driving mass of low flying ragged clouds that kept us in rain all the way as we drove home to Rio. Holding the car on the road between big gusts of wind and sheets of rain I began to think about the ride in to work the next morning and what the weather would be after this front blew through.
Riding in cold temps is feasible up to a point which is different for everyone. A Honda Gold Wing or BMW 1600 with their full fairings, heated handlebars and seats and a rider who wears electric vest, gloves and full riding suit can ride all day in weather well below freezing while the rest of us would lurch from truck stop to cafe and life giving hot coffee.
A rider on a bike with no fairing, no windshield and nothing else besides a jacket, gloves and sun glasses in the way of cold weather gear is going to be pretty miserable on any ride of long duration where the temps get much below 60. That being said anyone can endure almost anything for a short ride of say half an hour or so. Within reason.
One of the secrets to riding in the cold is eliminating drafts especially around the head and neck. One trick of the aviators who flew their open cockpit bi-planes at altitudes where it got really cold a hundred years ago, was to wear a silk scarf wrapped around the neck and head under their leather aviator's helmet. It gave protection from cold and wind and kept the neck from chafing against the jacket collar.
It is just as effective today for motorcycle riders in cold weather. I could have bought a hunter's balaclava at Farm King which would have worked just as well but just to be cool like the aviators of long ago I bought a genuine aviator's silk scarf from Aerostich up in Duluth Minnesota who's motto is ''No Excuses'' for about $20.00.
See them at: www.aerostich.com/
Through trial and error I came up with a wrap that completely seals out the drafts around my full face helmet while being stylish. After all it is real silk.
Real men such as Manfred Albrecht Freiherr von Richthofen, also widely known as the Red Baron, Edward 'Captain Eddie' Rickenbacker America's top ace of WWI and others wore them on combat air patrols in the winter months over ''Fronce''. What was good enough for them back then is now good enough for me.
But I must confess there is a brief instant between the time I get the scarf just so and quickly pull the helmet over my head when it is still a ladies' scarf. But once the helmet is buckled in place it matters not whether one is on a combat air patrol in the skies over ''Fronce'' or a motorcycle ride in Knox County when it is cold.
In April of 2011, I got to visit Dubrovnik Croatia as part of a cruise ship tour on the previously mentioned Costa Fortuna. While wandering the streets and alleyways we came across this BMW Police Bike parked not far from the harbor. It appeared to be a 1200RT in full police package. There was no sign of the Officer anywhere so I didn't get a chance to try to chat around the language barrier about his bike or his job and what it's like to police in a city that was a war zone not long ago.
I've always had a lot of respect for motorcycle officers whether it be the USA, Europe, Japan or any other country and one of the more interesting U tube excursions can be made by typing in ''Japanese motorcycle police competition'' on U tube and see how the Japanese cops handle fast bikes, tight corners, U turns and other maneuvers I wouldn't even dream of attempting unless it was someone else's bike.
Motorcycle policing requires a lot of the Officer Rider. Often there are requirements to get somewhere quick and just because it is a police bike is no guarantee the public is going to pay any more attention than if it were a normal invisible civilian bike.
High speed chases in real life are high risk propositions to both the chaser and the chasee even in Galesburg where more than one chase has ended fatally. The risk escalates rapidly when one or the other vehicle is a motorcycle. For the Motorcycle Officer not to wind up in a wreck requires good judgement and better riding skills developed best at expensive training schools dedicated to Police Motorcycling.
The cost of such training is not usually found in a small department's budget especially in a part of the country where along about now ice and snow can be expected anytime and to last until spring.


text:
Governance & Operations
Council Structure
GSU is incorporated under Utah Law. It is administered by an elected, volunteer Board of Directors charged with policy making, strategic planning, goal setting, fund development and financial management. The Chair of the Board of Directors oversees the activities and the governance side of the council.
The Chief Executive Officer is hired by the Board of Directors to oversee the operations of the council. Volunteers and employed staff members, under the direction of the CEO, are responsible for working in partnership to deliver the Girl Scout program to girls and support services to adults.
View the Girl Scouts of Utah's Council Structure Chart here.
There are two sides to the process: Governance/Council Leadership (policy) and Operational Management (program). Those who create and dictate policy do not deliver program. Those who deliver the program do not sit on the Board of Directors nor set policy.
Governance | Operational Management (Program) |
(Policy} | (Program) |
Fulfill charter and legal obligations | Administer the Girl Scout Program |
Represent GSU's vision to the community | File government reports properly and on time |
Responsible for raised funds for the council | Direct the work of employed staff adn operational volunteers |
Ensure organization's long-term sustainability | Implement policies |
Make, review and change policies | Implement the stratigic plan |
Approve the council's assets | Plan and administer the annual budget |
Monitor management of the council | |
Hire and evaluate the CEO |
As you can see, there is a definite division of the two areas:
- The Board of Directors and the Board Development Committee provide governance
- Operational Management is provided by staff and volunteers not serving on either the Board of Directors or the Board Development Committee
Questions? For more information, please e-mail us at firstname.lastname@example.com

subset: commoncrawl


text:
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More Deals
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Best deals from Groupon, LivingSocial and more.


text:
Walmart Pledges Jobs to Veterans
By: Amanda Ashley
Updated: January 15, 2013
Veterans who have recently returned home are getting a promise from Walmart.
Walmart Stores said Tuesday that over the next five years it will hire every veteran who honorably left the military in the last year.
The company says more than 100-thousand people are expected to find work through the program, making it one of the largest hiring commitments for veterans on record.
The program is set to kick off on Memorial Day.


text:
Hey All
I have a 1950 Buick with a Dynaflow. The trans engages and runs well. The problem I have is that while driving, over time the shift lever will slip down into low. On a really bumpy road, it happens much sooner. Being a novice to the Dynaflow, is there an adjustment to tighten the shift lever, or is this a function of some other issue? Appreciate any help you can provide. Thanks in advance.


text:
Talk2this wiki
- For fighter info, see Wario (SSBB). For universe info, see Wario (universe).
Wario | |
Official artwork of Wario from WarioWare: Smooth Moves. | |
Universe | Wario |
Debut | Super Mario Land 2: 6 Golden Coins (1992) |
Appears in | SSB (as Mario's color scheme) SSBM (as Mario's color scheme) (SSBB (as a playable character) |
Console of origin | Game Boy |
Species | Human |
Gender | Male |
Hair color | Brown |
Eye color | Black |
Homeworld | Diamond City |
Created by | Gunpei Yokoi |
Designed by | Hiroji Kiyotake |
English voice actor | Charles Martinet |
Japanese voice actor | Chikao Ōtsuka
Mayumi Tanaka (1994) |
Wario (ワリオ, Wario) is a character from the Mario series, who was known as the "Anti-Mario" in his early days. He eventually became popular enough to spawn his own side-franchise. He has made several small cameos in the first two Super Smash Bros. games, and has been made a full fledged character in Super Smash Bros. Brawl.
Contents |
Character descriptionEdit
When Nintendo's very first handheld system, the Game Boy, launched in 1989, Gunpei Yokoi's Super Mario Land launched with it. Mario's 8-bit adventure was so successful that one year later, a sequel arrived. Super Mario Land 2: 6 Golden Coins takes place directly after the first game, when Mario comes home after defeating the evil alien Tatanga. When he arrives, he discovers that his castle has been taken over by his antagonistic, greedy counterpart, Wario, and he must retrieve the 6 Golden Coins hidden around the land to get his home back. In the final showdown, Wario was revealed to look very much like Mario himself, except fatter, slightly shorter, and with a big, bulbous nose that had a jagged, pointy mustache jutting out of it. In a three-part battle, Wario uses the same power-ups that Mario had access to throughout the game, and adds his own abilities to the mix. Wario charges at his opponent with his shoulder, and crashes to the floor butt first, which become staple moves for the character in future games. When conquered by Mario, he reverted to a "tiny" form, and escaped out the window to search for better treasures.
And search for them he did, as he landed a starring role in the third game in the series, Wario Land: Super Mario Land 3. It takes place directly after 6 Golden Coins, in which Wario sets out to earn as much gold as humanly possible, so he can buy his own castle and rub it in Mario's goody-goody face. This game played differently than the first two games, because Wario brought his own style with him. Instead of deploying acrobatics like Mario, Wario relied on his brute strength, and the ability to sport various hats that gave him different powers, such as a dragon hat that spewed fire. He also gained his own villain in this adventure, the equally greedy Captain Syrup, who captured a Genie to use for her own selfish purposes. By the end of the quest, Wario gives both Syrup and the Genie a sound thrashing, and pays the Genie to grant him his castle.
After antagonizing Mario and his friends yet again in games such as Wario's Woods and Mario and Wario, Wario continued to have three more adventures on various Game Boy platforms. In Wario Land II, Wario experiences a case of bad karma when Captain Syrup kicks him out of his own castle and steals it. Wario Land 3 involves Wario doing his first (slightly) unselfish deed, saving the inhabitants of a music box from the devious Rudy the Clown- on the condition that he gets to keep all the treasure that he earned along the way. In Wario Land 4 he does what Mario had been doing for the last decade beforehand and rescues a princess. Through these games, Wario eventually evolved from the classification of "villain" and earned the title of "anti-hero".
After all these platforming escapades, Wario, now sporting biker gear as opposed to a yellow and purple version of Mario's duds, notices the boom of the video game industry, and decides to take advantage of this craze by forming his own game company. Due to his short attention span, instead of creating a single game of reasonable length, he opts to make over two hundred games, each of them a mere five seconds long. Too short to even be called "minigames", they were dubbed "microgames". Finally, since he was too lazy to make all these games himself, he hires a handful of his fellow residents of Diamond City to do his dirty work for him, among them the feisty multi-talented Mona, and the Nintendo superfan 9-Volt. Thus, the Wario Ware franchise was born.
As if having two of his own series of games wasn't enough, Wario has also made appearances in a great number of Mario spin-offs, including the Mario Kart and Mario Party games, as well as a great plethora of Mario sports titles. In these titles, Wario is no longer evil, but more of a bumbling comic relief. His rumored brother bent on bothering Mario's brother, Luigi, is soon revealed, being named Waluigi.Due to Wario's popularity, he has been chosen as one of the newcomers in the latest addition to the Super Smash Bros. franchise, Super Smash Bros. Brawl. Instead of being added as yet another Mario character, Wario enters the arena representing the Wario Ware franchise, as shown by his biker uniform.
In Super Smash Bros.Edit
As a color schemeEdit
Wario's color scheme appears as an Alternate Costume for Mario. This has no effect on gameplay whatsoever.
[Cut from the Game]
Wario was actually going to be a playable character in Super Smash Bros. but was cut from unknown reasons.
In Super Smash Bros. MeleeEdit
As a color schemeEdit
Wario is once again represented by a costume with his colors being sported by Mario. Once again, this costume change has no effect on gameplay.
In addition, Wario has his own Trophy in the game, unlocked by beating All-Star Mode on any difficulty level without continuing.
Trophy InfoEdit
An old acquaintance of Mario's. His failure to seize Mario's castle has fueled Wario's desire for a palace of his own. Wario has herculean strength and can do things that even Mario can't imitate. His unexpected skills include a talent with items and the ability to assume many roles, among them a snowman, a zombie, and a bat. (Super Mario Land 2: 6 Golden Coins, 11/92)
In Super Smash Bros. BrawlEdit
- Main article: Wario (SSBB)
Wario is a playable character in Super Smash Bros. Brawl. As a fighter, his moves and maneuvers seems to be very erratic and sometimes comical in nature, ranging from a dash where he appears to be dancing, to a fart attack that builds up in power as time passes. Mario still has a Wario costume again and Wario bears his WarioWare biker suit, as well as his original mario-style suit. His Final Smash is Wario Man.
Trophy InfoEdit
Mario's self-styled rival. He loves money and gross humor. He often sets out in search of hidden treasure. His bold moves come from his superhuman strength and are completely different from Mario's moves. Aside from adventuring, he's also the chairman of game maker WarioWare, Inc. Its franchise game is WarioWare, Inc.: Mega Microgame$.


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Rapid dissemination of results of high-quality scientific investigations is desirable and now possible, prompting editors and researchers to examine ways to reduce the time from completion of a study to publication of the results.1 Delays from study completion to article publication can occur at many stages, including by researchers in submitting the manuscript,2 by editors and peer reviewers during editorial evaluation and peer review, by authors during manuscript revision, and by limitations imposed by journal space and frequency of publication.3 JAMA has made many efforts to minimize the delay, with an average turnaround from submission to publication of 180 days and acceptance to publication of 60 days. For an article of substantial public health importance, however, even this time may be too long. Two journals have recently announced fast-track processing of manuscripts.4- 5
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Country-Specific Mortality and Growth Failure in Infancy and Yound Children and Association With Material Stature
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Dow ends above 14,000 for first time since fall 2007
The rise was propelled by auto sales and optimism over jobs
By Associated PressTopics: Dow JOnes, Stock Market, Financial Crisis, Business News, News
NEW YORK (AP) — The Dow stock market index closed above 14,000 for the first time since before the financial crisis rocked the world economy.
Propelled by strong auto sales and optimism about U.S. jobs, the Dow Jones industrial average crossed the line early Friday and continued flirting with the mark all day. The other major stock indexes also rose.
The Dow was up 149 points to 14,010. It's gained 6.9 percent this year. The Standard & Poor's 500 rose 15 to 1,513. The Nasdaq composite index added 37 to 3,179.
The government jobs report that pushed stocks forward was mixed. The U.S. said it added 157,000 jobs in January, in line with expectations. But unemployment inched up to 7.9 percent.
Automakers Toyota, Ford, GM and Chrysler all reported double-digit sales gains for January.
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text:
About My Yoga Online
My Yoga Online is the #1 yoga video website in the world.
The original online yoga studio, established in 2004, My Yoga Online offers yoga, Pilates and wellness video classes for streaming or download.
Advance your yoga practice with our renowned teachers from around the world. Reduce stress, get fit, and find your balance with yoga videos and wellness content filmed at the top studios, and festivals.
Every day we share new online classes, expert articles and resources to nourish your body, mind and soul. Sign up now!
How My Yoga Works
- Over 1000 streaming yoga, Pilates, and wellness videos.
- Learn from wellness experts and connect with our world-wide yoga community.
- Watch yoga videos on Android, iPhone, iPad...
- Stream yoga to TVs with Roku, Samsung, PS3, and Apple TV.
- Sign up for a Premium Video Membership for full access
Beginner Warm Up
I'm so glad to be back, and this video is great to get back to yoga
about 2 hours ago from Henderson, US
Morning Yoga Flow
Such a great pace and tone to this class. Absolutely perfect for starting the day energized...
4 hours ago from New York, US
Busy Moms Sweet Sweaty Time Out Flow
As a mom, I shy away from "mommy" workouts, thinking that they won't be challenging...
4 hours ago
2nd Chakra for Passion and Creativity
my body really felt alive after this class, thanks for a great start to my day
about 4 hours ago
Intense Warm Up
Great warm up for a saturday
about 4 hours ago from San Salvador, SV


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Bites 2013: Tiramisu
A good tiramisu is like a classic painting in that all the culinary brushstrokes are authentic, you know when you're seeing the real deal, and a lame knockoff simply will never capture the original's spirit. Paravicini's tiramisu is the equivalent of a primo museum piece, with the ideal creamy texture plus balanced coffee and chocolate notes. A masterpiece. ($6)
Price: $$
Showing 1-5 of 5


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Choosing a college that's the right "fit" for you is a big decision. One of the best ways to truly know what a college has to offer is to visit our campus in person. You'll see our state-of-the-art facilities, get the inside scoop on campus life from current students, and learn more about our programs, activities, support services, financial aid and career/transfer opportunities.
With enough advance notice, we may even be able to arrange for you to sit in on a class, meet with a faculty member in your program of interest, or meet the coach and team for a sport you'd like to play.
You can either take one of our campus tours or contact us at 215-641-6551 or email email@example.com to ask questions and schedule a visit. We look forward to showing you everything we have to offer!
Complete Listing of Future Admissions Events
Students can receive financial aid with full-time or part-time enrollment status.