One always wonders where, exactly, strange compulsions (such as deciding at 28 to become a motorcycler) come from. I'd never considered getting on a bike before; I'd only known one or two guys that ever had, among my buddies, and I'd never had much desire to try my hand at it. It always seemed like a strange antique way to get around - too risky for today's world, too impractical, and no doubt a bit too expensive for a junior scientist's salary.

I moved recently, out of Seattle into the suburbs up north, and after years of living within 5 miles of my job, suddenly I was commuting every day. No big deal. There's traffic, but give me a good CD to listen to and I don't much mind. And then one day, a few weeks ago, stuck for a moment in the leftmost lane on the way to work, someone cruised past me on an older BMW cycle in the carpool lane, and I happened to wonder to myself what it would be like to ride a cycle. When I got a free moment at work I did a quick web search, found a forum or two, and read a couple of posts, and then suddenly my lunch break was over, and something had taken hold in my mind.

I've started this log to keep a record of my thoughts and experiences through the process of learning to ride. I expect it will be a bit of a long journey, and if experience is any judge, by the time I'm a competant rider, I'll have mostly forgotten what it took to get there. Hopefully this will help me remember, and maybe it'll inspire someone else in a similar situation. I'm sure the various logs that I've read were a big part, for better or for worse, of why thoughts of getting a bike are suddenly occupying all my waking hours.

Posting is likely to be pretty light, all things considered - especially up until I get my bike. Anyway. We'll just have to see.

So we'll start this off the safe way, I suppose. I'm registered for a Basic Riders' Course in August. the 18th, 20th, and 21st. I promise I won't buy a motorcycle until after the class, when I ought to have at least the vaguest idea what I'm doing.

Reading David Hough's excellent Proficient Motorcycling last night, and in a section about the tremendous dangers intersections pose to riders, there was a picture of a chunk of Aurora Avenue, fairly close to my house. Intimidating shots of Seattle metro busses are scattered throughout the book, as well. Kinda brings it all home.

In other news, this weekend's task: get some protective gear. Helmet and gloves, at least - the rest will probably have to wait until after the MSC course.

The purchasing of Far Too Much Gear has begun. After checking into a couple of places 'round Seattle and Woodinville, I ended up with a mostly-red HJC CL-14 Switch helmet, and a pair of light Teknic Freeway gloves. Fitting for this stuff seems to be more of a trial than I expected; the gloves, of course, are just fine, but getting that perfect fit out of a helmet seemed a bit tougher. I didn't bother to try one of the Arais (at about $450+) or Shoeis (at about $400) that I saw either place, but I tried a variety of HJCs, Z1Rs, and a few other lower-priced models. Long story short, none of them fit quite right.

I assumed that a bit too tight is better than a bit too loose, when fitting lids, and ended up erring on that side. I wore the CL-14 around the shop for about a half hour (earning some annoyed stares from the salesdroids; I think I'll head somewhere else in the future) and it's just a tiny bit tight at the forehead. A bit more than a tiny bit tight on the cheeks; I look kind of like a chipmunk with the thing on. Salesdroids assured me that the cheekpads will break in a little bit. HJC also appears to sell replacement cheek pads in slightly smaller and larger sizes; maybe a set of the next size down will solve this problem.

The folks I've talked to, and the infosites I've read about helmet fitting, all say "It should be tight, but not TOO tight," which is about the least useful advice I've ever encountered. How tight is too tight? Ah well. Suppose I'll wear it and see. Better I guess wrong on a starter helmet than on a $500 street ninja model.

Also tried a pair of boots; the only pair I saw that wasn't a bigtime cowboy style was the Alpinestars Roam, and though I really liked the looks of 'em, my feet are a little bit narrow, so no dice. Boots will have to wait.

Leaning toward the FirstGear Kilimanjaro jacket right now, though it's pretty pricy. May end up settling for the Magnum. With any luck I can snag something cheap off eBay...

The Tourmaster Solution looks like it might be a good one... Cheaper than most, too. Excellent.

Tried out some more gear and butt-tested my first bike today. On the way home from work I stopped at a Honda / Kawasaki dealership and the salesperson pointed me straight at the Ninja display. The EX500 ("Almost the Littlest Ninja") actually felt pretty damn good. Nice straight back, no crouch, no feet-way-out-in-front or tucked-in-way tight... Only problem was it felt about an inch too short to be just right, on me. My knees were a bit bent when standing it on the ground. Then again, my ass is as yet untrained in the ways of the cycle; maybe that's normal.

Salesperson told me he'd actually send me away on a shiny new ZZR-600 if he felt I could be trusted to "handle it responsibly and not crank on that throttle," which concerns me a little bit, but hey, what do I know. I'll content myself with its little brother. If I can ever find one used...the EX250s are a dime a dozen around here, but I've only seen two EX500s for sale, a couple of weeks apart, and one of 'em was an '89 - a bit old for my tastes.

Jackets. That Kilimanjaro is a bit on the amazingly heavy side. Maybe lighter is good...I can always add a rainjacket over it.

Jacket and pants are in the mail. A Joe Rocket Comet jacket and matching Alter Ego pants. I really wanted to order from NewEnough, but they had the Alter Egos backordered through October, and I just couldn't wait that long. Motorcyclecloseouts.com had pretty much the same prices and no backorder, so I went with them instead.

I ordered a pair of narrower cheekpads and a mirrored visor for my helmet from NewEnough last week, and they were very quick and courteous in their dealings with me; I'd recommend them highly and hope to use 'em more in the future, but I'd really like to have the gear before my BRC.

That just leaves boots. I think I'll likely pick up a pair of the Solution boots on the way home, from the local Honda/Kawasaki dealer, and that'll be the end of the expensive part. All I need now is 1) some education, and 2) a bike. Oh, and several years of experience...

Boots done. Nothing more in the gear department. Bring on the class.

Wrong size for the jacket. Have to return it. Guess that means paying shipping, both ways, again. The trials and tribulations of ordering online. At least MotorcycleCloseouts will let you return stuff, unlike some other sites...

This means no jacket to wear for the MSC course this weekend. Probably for the best, it's supposed to be 80 degrees or so anyway.

Last night was the (first) classroom session of my Basic Riders' Course, and I've learned a valuable lession:

When you spend several weeks obsessing over motorcycling, reading all the books you can get your hands on, and so forth, taking a beginner's course can be extremely boring.

The classroom portion consisted (mostly) of class members taking it in turns to read from the (very basic) book, and then discussing things such as "What is a clutch?" and the like. Not exactly intellectually stimulating. Important, I know, to make sure everyone understands the basics, but a bit slow after the research I've been doing:

Me: "The clutch controls the connection between the engine and the rear wheel. You can use it to modulate the power delivered to the wheel and to prevent the engine from stalling when the bike is starting from a stop, and also to shift gears. The area where the clutch is partially engaged is called the friction zone and it's very important for low-speed maneuvering."
Instructor: "Well, that's good, but I was looking for 'It takes you in and out of gear.'"

The reading-aloud-from-the-book school of learning doesn't do much for me, anyway. But the on-the-bike part of the MSF course ought to be a lot of good, useful information for me, and that's tomorrow, bright and early.

In other news, it looks like I've found my bike-to-be: a 2001 Suzuki Bandit, beautiful metallic blue, in great shape. About 5000 miles, and this is the first owner. I'm very excited. If all goes to plan I will be picking her up on Monday. For some reason, after looking at the pictures of the bike, I'm inclined to name her Zoë.

Well, though the classroom was a bit slow, the cyclin' portion of the basic riders course was awesome. Lots of good experience - it's amazing how much faster 20mph feels on a bike than on, well, anything else. I passed. The instructors (Kelsi and Lee) were awesome. Hopefully, when and if I get to the point of an advanced rider course, I can track one of them down. Tomorrow, a license and a look at my first bike, the Bandit 600 I mentioned. If all goes well, my buddy and ex-sailing-student Josh will give her a look over and a test ride, and bring her back from Bellevue to my house - since I don't want my first experience on a twitchy little 600 to be mid-day traffic on I-90.

From reading, I'd kinda thought that the "look where you want the bike to go" thing was some sort of cheesy mnemonic to help keep your mind in focus, but it turns out it's pretty much a literal truth. I'm amazed what a difference it made to simply keep your head up and looking through your turn (for example) toward your next objective. The only points I lost on the riding test were exactly from that; I was focused on the end of the 135° turn rather than on the stop-gate beyond it, and so I swung wide at the end of the turn. Definitely something to keep firmly in mind when on these things.

My ride was a black Suzuki GZ250 and even that little guy had a fair bit of pickup. It wasn't perfectly sized for me, but it was pretty close. I picked it pretty much at random. The others were mostly little Nighthawks and Rebels. I guess with a learner bike it's pretty much irrelevant what you end up on, but I was glad I managed not to pick a 125...

Very excited. I want to go riding now but I can't see the bike until tomorrow, so...ah well. After nearly 12 hours over two days, I guess I could use a break.

Gentlemen and ladies, I'm proud to introduce you to Zoë. She's a 2001 Suzuki GSF600S Bandit, with 6,179 miles on her, and I think she's a beauty. The seller, a bike mechanic himself, bought her and a dualsport at around the same time, and has since found himself spending all his time on the dirt - not her strong suit, I gather. So she's been looking for a new home.

For right now, I couldn't tell you how she rides. My buddy Josh, a long-time rider, took her for a quick spin while the seller and I chatted about her, and when he came back he had a sort of a far-away look in his eyes. "Nice bike" he said.

That's high praise. There was a little more discussion to be done, but I handed over the fat envelopes of cash shortly. Josh got the keys, grinning like a madman, and I got back in my trashy ol' 1990 Volvo and slowly drove back home. When I got there, Josh was sprawled on my front porch, Zoë cooling down in the driveway, and I understand he beat me home by fifteen minutes. He said he ran across a group of four other riders on the freeway, and he just had to push it a bit.

And now after all that buildup, I have to wait until tomorrow to fax some paperwork back to the insurance company. I guess I can spend this evening in the driveway, making vroom-vroom noises. Tomorrow after work, though, it's going to be on.

Amazing. Took a bit over an hour this evening and ran Zoë around the neighborhood, dodging the occasional commuter and generally getting a feel for the bike. She's got a lot of power - at least, compared to what I was used to from the starter bikes at this weekend's course. I think the big tasks ahead are to concentrate on shifting smoothly - I tend to overrev when shifting, and it's annoying - and to really trust the lean when it comes to turning. I know for a fact that I'm nowhere near the limit of what the Bandit can do, in turns, as I'm leaning maybe 15 or 20 degrees. But we'll start slow and work our way up.

Only got her to about 45 tonight, on the longer straight stretches, and it seems perfectly comfy. As long as the tach stays relatively low she's very relaxed; the acceleration is impressive but not terrifying. I reved up to near 7k once though, by mistake, and she really wanted to take off. I get the feeling there's a long way to go on this bike, and I'm in no real hurry to get there.

This is so cool. I don't know if I've ever had this much fun. Feels a bit like skydiving did, but you can do it for hours at a time. Excellent.

N00b-O-Meter: 35.1 miles

Tonight was my first time in traffic - not real, I-5-at-rush-hour traffic, but two lanes on a side, and a few other cars here and there. It's true what they say: everyone else on the road IS crazy, and out to kill us. Lots of other riders, though, which was cool. One squid, one tattoo'ed old-skooler on a big Harley, and a bunch of sportbikers.

Shifting is a lot smoother than it was yesterday - focusing on sloooowly working the clutch instead of grabbing it - but the leaning bit still takes some getting used to. I think it may be about time to find a longer path; I've gone around this little 2.8 mile stretch quite a few times, by this point.

Filling the tank is not as hard as I'd been led to believe - and it's a whole lot easier on my wallet than my giant old steel-plate Volvo.

N00b-O-Meter: 69.9 miles

Well, everyone said I'd dump her eventually. I dropped Zoë today. Less than a block from my house, too. My daily ride consisted today of a cruise out to Fred Meyer to try and make some copies of the bike key - she only came with one, and I know I'll lose it sooner or later. At the end of my block, the street turns a bit downhill and also slopes off to the right. I came to a nice smooth stop, aimed for a right turn, took my foot off the brake, stuck it down to meet the road, and - ooooooh - it kept going down. The road was only an inch or two lower than it would have been on a flat surface, but that was enough. Zoë's heavy enough that once she starts to go, all I can do is slow her descent. I held her as best I could, and when she finally went down she dinged the engine cover, scraped the exhaust, and broke the plastic on my forward right turn signal. The real damage was to my pride.

A couple of nice folks across the street started yelling "Oh my god! Are you okay?" and I grudgingly admitted that I was fine, that I'd been stopped when I dropped her, and that the whole thing was very depressing. They helped me get the bike back on her feet and admonished me to "obey the speed limit" which I found a little bit odd...but hey, I'm a surly twenty-something in a mirrored helmet, I guess I could be a danger to society...

Really felt like just heading home, but I knew I needed to ride through it, so off I went, bitching to myself all the way about making such a bonehead, newbie move - and then remembering, wait, I am a newbie. I guess it's understandable, but it's depressing all the same. Zoë's not perfect anymore. The repairs are pretty easy - the ding will remain, I can't afford a new case cover right now - but it was just such a dumb thing to do.

Extra ironic and depressing fact: somewhere over the midwest, right now, headed to my door, is a pair of SW-MOTECH Engine Guards, which would of course have prevented any damage from this. Second ironic and depressing fact: the keys I had made, the goals of tonight's ride, don't fit the ignition.

Ah well. You win some, you lose some.

On the plus side, got into some (light) traffic on Highway 99, at speed. Not as bad as I'd feared. I do find it a bit unnerving how closely you have to watch everyone else. Riding at dusk isn't great; my headlight is very limited without the brights on. It's very easy to over-ride it, even at pretty low speeds. Shifting is much smoother, though, and so is my turning. I think I'm getting somewhere with this.

N00b-O-Meter: 89.6 miles

Decided I'd had enough of circling the block, and took Zoë to work today. I found an awesome route, as well, down Locust Way - full of Twisties Lite. Surface streets, pretty well wooded, lightly travelled, and with just enough exciting turns to have a really good time. It took me a bit longer than my usual to get to work, but I'll gladly take an hour of fun riding over a half hour of being cramped up on I-5, stuck in traffic half the way.

Nowhere near as bad as I'd expected, even on Lake City Way - three lanes on each side, pretty heavy traffic, and a lot of intersections. I just wish I could figure out a path that kept me on streets like Locust. So much fun. I never took her above 45, but there's space on that road to really wind her out, if I get the mind to.

Awesome.

N00b-O-Meter: forgot to check after I parked.

Okay, so it's much, much harder to pay attention at work when I know that Zoë's sitting in the garage right outside my office, waiting for me to ride away...and it's a beautiful day. 80 and sunny.

Just four more hours... :)

So zipping along down the freeway doesn't seem to be particularly difficult, compared to going slower but adding some curves into the mix. I figured traffic would be light on a Sunday afternoon, so I headed north out of Seattle with no particular destination in mind. A beautiful day for it; gathering clouds with patches of blue, that great smell before the rain, and yet the rain never came. On the way north no traffic at all, and I was free to run Zoë up and see how far she went. Actually, I gave up long before she did; I sensed a bit of disappointment from her that I never picked it up above 80. Ah well. In time, my dear, in time.

Ran about 70 miles out of town before my body started to question this whole motorcycling thing. The windblast at freeway speeds isn't trivial, and I've got a nice upright sitting position on this bike, which is also lacking any real windscreen. Winds were gusting to about 15 knots out there, as well, and between all that it was a bit tiring to stay out there. Also, my knees don't love their position; I think after the engine guards come in I ought to look into some freeway pegs. This will probably all come with experience; I figured for a first freeway run, I'd gotten a good one.

I got off at a rest area for a couple of minutes of leg stretching, bought a donut from some scouts or something, before heading back. The trip back wasn't as nice - traffic heading into the city had started to stack up in one of those inexplicable traffic jams which just appear and then disappear, with no evident cause. Anyway, about 5 miles of stop-and-go, and the rest of the trip was limited to about 55. I suppose I could have kept it at 80 if I was willing to weave, but I'm still a bit of a wimp out there.

N00b-O-Meter: 306.4 miles

Reading Lee Parks' Total Control: High-Performance Street Riding Techniques over the last few days, I've come across a few things I ought to be working on. First and most importantly, on just about every turn I'm making on the road, I tend to keep my body semi-vertical, out of line with the bike itself. I'm also generally providing steering input with both hands simultaneously. When I focus on it and think about relaxing my outside arm and letting the inside one provide the corrections I need, I notice much faster turns, but when I'm not actively thinking about it, both my arms tend to tense up a bit, and most of my turn initiation seems to come from body lean. Hopefully it's something that will come with practice. I feel I'm getting to the point where I don't need to force myself to pay close attention to the really fundamental things; braking and shifting, for example, are finally starting to be unconscious actions - though I do still overrev a bit when shifting. Haven't stalled her in a while, and no more drops, thank god. For the first little while I had to keep chanting to myself "I'm in third, I'm in third, I'm in third, [shift], I'm in fourth, I'm in fourth..." and that's starting to get unconscious as well.

The nice thing about not having to focus so much on all of these things is that it frees up a lot of my mind for situational awareness. On my first few commutes to work I was constantly being startled by cars passing me, because I hadn't really expanded my car-tracking to contain the area behind me. You really take your rear-view mirror for granted after driving cars for so long, and it's been a bit challenging to adapt to the side mirrors. Still, getting better.

It just gets more and more fun as I get comfortable at higher speeds. I ride the same route every day, and every day I take the turns just a tad faster... Some of my buddies are going hiking in the Cascades this weekend, and I'm planning to ride up with them and get my first experience on the mountain roads. Wish me luck. :)

N00b-O-Meter: 425.5 miles

Noticed on this morning's ride how much I rely on audible clues for input on the bike's performance. I was stuck at a stoplight behind a tricked-out pickup truck with massive glasspack mufflers, and when the light turned green and the truck started to accelerate, it made a hell of a racket. I, of course, stalled Zoë out as soon as I tried to get underway. Twice. I guess I didn't open the throttle fast enough, but without being able to hear the engine I didn't know. I wonder how one deals with this? In related news, I really need to tear the fairing apart and put vibration-damping tape and rubber washers on the various connectors in there. Fairing buzz between (about) 3500 and 4500 RPM is a real annoyance, especially since I do a lot of my riding at that speed.

A lot of Total Control focused on the mental aspects of motorcycle riding, with an emphasis on Eastern-inspired martial and meditation techniques. Parks relates what racers call "being in the Zone" to the Zen concept of mu shin, "no mind;" existing completly in the moment, reacting almost unconsciously, emptying your mind of all conscious thought, etc. Obviously it's easier said than done. My college Aikido training dealt with this concept a little bit, but I'm sad to say I was never very good at it - I have always been a bit too cerebral for my own good.

Tried to focus a bit on this concept today, and just by paying attention to where my thoughts were going, I have come to realize that my mind really isn't completely in the ride. I need to work on this. Even humming a little song to myself (which I often find myself doing) pulls a part of my mind away from analyzing the surrounding and situation, and until I have a much stronger riding instinct, I think this is a dangerous way to ride.

N00b-O-Meter: 471.1 miles

Five or six of my buddies went up into the Mount Baker-Snoqualmie national forest yesterday, up Highway 2 out of Seattle, aiming for a quick little hike up in the Cascades. I figured this would be a great opportunity to get some time in on a more exciting road, so I followed them up to the trailhead on the bike. It was pretty much the perfect day for riding - just chilly enough that the armor wasn't uncomfortable to wear, only light traffic, dry road... Perfect. Highway 2 is an undivided two-lane but with relatively recent smooth pavement, and so very nice for riding. We started off just before 10 in the morning, and arrived at the Skykomish ranger station around 11:20.

Highway 2 has a fair number of turns; none of the 90-degree switchbacks you'd see on the smaller mountain roads, but enough nice sweepers, grade changes, and the like to keep things real interesting. On the way up, I pretty much hung out about five seconds behind my buddy Bruce's Camry and just focused on trying to pick smooth lines through the turns. I've noticed in my city riding that I tend to adjust my course all the way through the turns (according to Parks' book, the Brits call that "fifty-pencing" the turns after the polygonal shape of the fifty P coins) and while that's fine at low speeds, I get the feeling that it's a bad habit to get into. Held a pretty consistant 55-60 all the way up.

After getting out of Seattle and the surrounding exurbs, it really turned into a great ride; there's a smell to a high evergreen forest that I really love. Wet foliage, slightly acrid pine scent, a bit of that ozone-smell of coming rain. Up past Monroe and Sultan, Highway 2 follows the banks of the Skykomish River, and makes for some amazing views. There's started to be some rainfall in the Cascades although Seattle has remained relatively dry, and the Skykomish was running high. Really a beautiful ride and one I'll have to revisit.

After reaching the ranger station, my buddies' two cars headed off to the trailhead, and I took a quick water break before turning Zoë around and heading back home. I kept seeing spots on the way up that were just begging for a picture, and telling myself that I'd pull off there on the way back down, but as soon as I was freed of following the other cars, I opened the throttle up and headed down at a bit of a higher speed, and running those turns at 70 was enough of a rush that I completely forgot about pulling off. Ah well.

On a couple of the turns on the descent back to Seattle I misjudged my entry speed, came in a bit fast, and about a third of the way in really started to wonder whether the tires were going to hold. I mean, I never dragged a knee or anything of that sort. Intellectually, I know I'm nowhere near the limits of my bike, and I'm sure I was planted solid every time, but all the same - there's a level of emotional response that kicks in when you realize that your line isn't quite right, and you're drifting a little bit toward the edge of the lane, and your gut reaction really is to scrub a little bit of speed with the brakes - it's very hard to override that, keep on accelerating, and add some lean. I think more faith in the bike than I currently possess is required, and I guess that just comes with experience. I hope, at least, it will come. The one single turn where I came out of it with my heart racing and the sure knowledge that any moment I'd feel the rear tire break free pounding through my mind really left me a bit shaken. But I held the turn and kept slowly rolling on the throttle, and I came out at 75 instead of the 70 I was aiming for, and everything was fine.

On the way down I saw probably a hundred bikers, alone or in small groups, along with one big contingent of Harley riders probably 25 strong. Lots of pickups with dualsports and dirtbikes in the back. I guess there was some Labor Day event up past Stevens Pass? The sailor in me is really coming to love the comraderie of the motorcycle community, the waving and all that. I'm still surprised by how many folks respond when I drop a hand to them.

This bike can do more than I give her credit for, I think. I just need to build up my faith in her. Slowly. :)

N00b-O-Meter: 608.4 miles

Yesterday was my first experience with rush-hour traffic - realized when I left home that I'd forgotten about a meeting that morning, and didn't have the hour I needed to have a leisurely cruise down Locust Way. That left I-5, right at 8:30 AM, heading into Seattle. Heavy traffic - enough that folks were weaving around a lot, but not enough to really slow the pace much below 65.

Heavy traffic freeway riding is very intimidating. Mostly, mentally fatiguing - constantly evaluating every vehicle on the road, and wondering "does he see me? does she see me?" The required 2-second following distance leaves a very large gap at freeway speeds, into which others tend to constantly merge, such that position is constantly being adjusted to accomodate new vehicles. And, of course, things happen quite a bit faster at those speeds. I got to work in about 20 minutes, safely, but I didn't enjoy myself at all. I'll take the longer, exciting run down Locust any day.

This morning I was stuck for some time behind a well-dressed 30-something woman in a newish black Jetta, putting on her makeup with both hands while driving and generally being a menace to everyone around her. I really wish sometimes that I had a "Hey, Idiot!" sign that would pop out from my fairing as needed... At least I was behind her, where I could see her and react to her idiocy. It's the thought of drivers like that behind me that's unnerving.

In other news, I've turned Comments on. If you're reading this, I'd appreciate it if you'd drop a note in the comments section - I'm curious if anyone is actually out there.

N00b-O-Meter: 713.3 miles

Well, a couple more days of freeway riding under my belt. Yesterday morning I learned that there's a window within which I should never try to get to work, when every lane on I-5 is stop-and-go, including the HOV lane (which cycles can use in Washington state). No fun at all. Nothing like standing, motionless, breathing diesel fumes and waiting for whatever the hell is holding up traffic to subside.

After work yesterday I had a few hours of rehearsal time with a group of my buddies that's singing at a friend's wedding, and by the time that was done it was late. I'd never ridden at night, and as I was growing hungry I got back on I-5 to head home. The freeway was pretty much empty, it being late evening, and though the wind was high and gusty, it was a much more enjoyable time than my previous freeway rides. Plenty of room to wind Zoë out a bit. Speeds feel much faster in the dark; I wonder if it's the lack of a good fixed horizon to orient on, and only the small area of your headlights rushing down at you? Regardless, night riding seemed very enjoyable - it was similar, somehow, to the experience of being on a small boat at sea, out of sight of the land. Your world seems to contract a bit - everything you can sense is right around you in the little bubble of your lights, and then just darkness out to infinity.

Well, not quite, but something like that. Taillights of all the other cars do seem to spoil the illusion, and it's really important to keep your perception active and have the warning you'd need to avoid a collision with whatever's out there... But you'll have to grant me my rare moments of poetic inspiration.

Yet again, more freeway this morning. I'm not at the point of weaving between lanes, dodging traffic, and driving 30 over the limit like some of the other sportbikers I've seen around here, and I don't plan to ever get to that point. But I'm starting to modify my feelings of utter terror on the superslab to merely feelings of concern, and that's a good thing. Confidence, within reason, seems like a hell of an important survival skill on a cycle.

N00b-O-Meter: 771.4 miles

No riding yesterday; Saturday was project day at Req's house. I've been thinking of installing a set of foglights on Zoë for a bit of increased night vision; I've no idea how much difference it will make, but it looked to be an easy project, a chance to get under the fairing and explore, etc. I didn't want to pay the $400 or so that most commercial cycle fog light kits are charging, so I went with the time-tested "buy cheap stuff and spend six hours soldering" strategy.

I got a pair of Navigator "Crystal-Rod" fog lights from Pep Boys for $25 or so. They were a lot smaller than the others, and had a nice solid black aluminum housing with a pretty small forward lens. They fit standard 55W halogen lamps. Mounting brackets were 3" corner braces from Home Depot, drilled out to fit on the upper engine guard mounting bolts - I still ought to pull these off and lacquer them black to fit with the guard and lights. Got a 12V relay to switch the fog lights, as I wanted them to trigger off the high beam circuit but not draw current from it.

As I wanted to keep all the assorted wiring under the seat, I tapped a short length of 14ga wire into the input end of the high-beam fuse and from there to the relay. Power to the relay straight from the battery, and from there power out to the lights. Ground for the relay and the lights came seperately back to the battery.

As the system's currently set up, the fog lights trigger only off the highbeams; if the brights are on, so're the fog lights, and only then. If I can find a good waterproof handlebar switch, I'd like to tap the low-beam fuse as well, and switch the relay trigger so it either triggers off the brights or the normal beams. As normal is always on, that'll basically let me switch the fogs independantly. Ought to be more useful. For right now, though, this works well.

While I was at it, I figured it was time to clean and lube the chain. I sprayed it down really well with Honda Contact/Brake Cleaner, and I guess I used a bit too much as almost all the can is gone this morning. Gave the stuff awhile to dry, 15 minutes or so, and then finished up with Honda Performance Chain Lube (the stuff in the red can). So that's another 600 miles before I have to worry about it.

Hopefully a longer ride this afternoon...

I'm feeling a little bit confused about this whole cycling thing. The part that's really getting to me is how confident I feel about the whole thing. I know that my primary weakness is still the crawling-speed maneuvering, but when I'm riding at speed - even just 10mph or so - the operation of the bike is already mostly transparent to me. Internalized, I guess. I'm not thinking through the steps of shifting, as a process, anymore, for example - I'm thinking "shift up" and the rest just happens. I feel like I'm really in control of my ride. I'm concentrating on the road and the other drivers and the environment around me, and I'm feeling pretty good about the whole thing. Occasionally I have a bit of a surge-y shift, or have to readjust my line a little while in a turn, but by and large I feel really good about this.

Now, I know I haven't mastered this thing - by a long shot - but I continue to wonder. Am I in control, or am I blind to what's really going on? Am I competant at this, or am I overconfident? Am I accurately assessing my skills? I'm just surprised by how much - well - less-difficult this seems, compared to what I expected.

Discussing this with my girlfriend (who is not a rider), her initial instinct is that the skills required of a cycler - mechanical intuition, wide perception, threat assessment and avoidance, balance, etc - are things that I've always found to be relatively strong suits. But I don't know. I don't want to get overconfident; I know that's the quick road to getting in over your head. But I don't want to sell myself short either. I want to be able to have a good, clear idea of what I can do, what my strengths and weaknesses are, what I need to work on and what I can be proud of. And I don't rightly know how to figure this out.

Anyone?

Ask anyone in the US what comes to mind when they think of Seattle, and I'll give good odds they'll either mention Nirvana, the Space Needle, or rain. (Or possibly, "those damn liberals" if you ask an angry Southerner.) It rains here. A lot. All the damn time. So you'd think that would mean Seattlites have an idea of how to drive in the rain. You'd be wrong, at least in the first week of rain after summer. It seems everyone spends the summer luxuriating in the beautiful warm weather, and when the sky goes grey again, everyone's forgotten the skills they hone in the other 9 months of the year.

Yes, today felt like the first day of winter - grey and cold, around 50 degrees, and drizzling when I got out this morning. I couldn't come up with a good excuse not to just go ahead and ride, though - if I won't ride in the rain, I won't be riding much at all, 'round here - and so I put the liners in my gear for the first time, pulled the cover off Zoë, and off I went. And despite what I expected, it wasn't that bad.

The primary problem, of course, is the difficulty of seeing and being seen. We don't have the torrential downpours you might find elsewhere; Seattle rain is more of 9-month-long drizzle, and so visibility isn't that bad. All the same, I was glad of my extra lights (which I've rewired to be always-on, rather than tied to the brights). There is the problem of rain beading up on your visor; quickly turning your head to one side and then the other can clear a lot of it off in the windstream, if you're moving fast. Traction didn't feel all that much affected, but then I didn't try an emergency stop or a peg-dragging corner, where I guess it would show up most strongly. Nevertheless, I left a grossly huge following distance on the highway and played it pretty safe.

Gear held up well. The Comet jacket, Freeway gloves, and Solution boots are more than waterproof enough for this kind of rain. The pants - well, they're not perfect. I noticed some definite leakage at a few points along one of the seams. They're also really cold, but tight enough that there's only room for longjohns or something under 'em if the liner's in. For a half-hour commute it's not a killer, but I'm pretty sure I'll need to look for something else for longer rides (HT Overpants from Firstgear come pretty highly recommended).

On the plus side, even though I got into work later than usual, there were plenty of cycle spots open in the parking lot. I guess a lot of the riders stick to the dry weather. Time will tell...

In totally unrelated news, I took my sailing GPS along on the ride to get an idea of how accurate my speedo is. I'd heard a lot of chatter that the Bandit's instrumentation is quite "optimistic," and it looks like it's true. At around-the-town speeds it's not off by much - 30 indicated is probably 28.5 true - but as you pick it up, the error gets magnified. 70 indicated is really around 63. I've heard that when you really push it, the error gets massive. Wonder why that is? It can't be that tough to make an accurate speedo...

Another beautiful day's ride today. Had practice with my real vocal group this morning - we're doing a very challenging winter concert and so there's a lot of work to be done, and the tenor section is very, very small. One of the three tenor 2's is me, and so there's no-one to hide behind when you don't know your part... Rode in this morning in heavy about-to-rain air, but it stayed dry all day. The freeway was pretty much empty at 8:30 on a Saturday morning.

After practice it was off to Seward Park in south Seattle for a friend's wedding reception, at which a group of my buddies was to sing a few songs. Certainly nothing serious. I rarely venture into the south end and I don't know the streets, so I tailed a buddy on the way down. South Seattle is a bit less affluent than most of the city, and the condition of the streets definitely shows it. Lots of bumps, jaggies, and potholes. Good practice in keeping my ab and back muscles tight, tying the weight of my body to my center rather than through my arms leaning on the handlebars bars, and keeping my elbows bent to absorb shocks. This position also makes it easier to isolate the inside arm in turns, rather than using both and opposing yourself. I know my standard riding position needs to incorporate more of this; I need to lean forward a bit more and not lock my arms, but it's a tough habit to break.

Played a bunch of volleyball in my motorcycle boots. They really make it hard to jump. It's not like I'm good at the game by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm a lot better in athletic shoes than I am in heavy waterproof leather boots.

On the ride home I scared a pedestrian. I am still berating myself for this. She had entered a crosswalk and I knew I had plenty of room to make my turn ahead of her, and I didn't even think about it; I just went. It was fine, of course, but I don't want to become the kind of rider who does things like that. Just because I can make it doesn't mean I should. Pausing and letting her finish her crossing would have cost me maybe 10 seconds. If I had misjudged my lean or my speed, her presence cut off half my maneuvering room - to say nothing of what would have happened if she'd sped up after I entered the turn. I didn't even realize that I was pissed off at myself for maybe three blocks.

That kind of put a damper on the good spirits of the rest of the ride. All the same, I convoyed for a good while on I5 with a Gold Wing rider and a Harley man, and near home saw another few groups of riders. One of these was a threesome; two on Hayabusas (black and red), and someone on what I think was one of the bigger Ninjas. Lot of riders out today. Everyone wants that one last ride before the rainy season comes, I suppose.

Tomorrow, if it's moderately pleasant, I think I'll take the Edmonds ferry to the Olympic Peninsula and do some riding out there.

No riding today, despite the beautiful weather. Ever since Zoë and I met, there's been a startling decline in the amount of housework that's been getting done. I have a long list of projects and nothing's happened on that list since late July. So, sadly, I spent the day running between home and Home Depot, cleaning and building and generally being productive. I guess the road trip will have to wait.

On the plus side, my Volvo still starts, after its month sitting motionlessly in my driveway.

So today I learned, quite clearly, the value of a 2-second following distance. I also learned that I'm going to try for a lot more, in the future. Cruising back home after work on I5, traffic was heavy but still movin' pretty well - 50 to 60. I had made my way over to the HOV lane and was toolin' along behind a white Lexus, just a touch over 2 seconds back. There was a smaller green SUV, I think a Toyota RAV4, behind me. Pavement was dry, visibility was perfect: there could be no better conditions.

Suddenly and inexplicably, the car ahead of the Lexus put on its brakes hard. Of course the Lexus followed suit. When I saw the first car slow I was off the throttle, covering the brakes and clutch, waiting to see whether this was a "tap the brake lights" or a real stop, and it turns out it was the real thing. I got on the brakes - no grabbing but a semi-smooth application of front and rear, started to slow, and had the distinct impression that it wasn't going to be enough. I wasn't thinking at this point, just reacting.

I then felt my rear tire do - something. I don't know if it was a rear skid or if the tire lifted; all I know is the rear felt like there was no resistance on it and the bike started to slew a bit to the right. I'd guess it had lifted, if I had to, from the feeling of the bike's center of gravity moving forward. I held the rear brake in case it was a skid and tried to keep everything balanced on the front as best I could. Came to a bit of an unsteady stop about 10' from the Lexus' bumper, and managed to avoid dropping the bike. I did stall it, though; hadn't gotten on the clutch, for better or for worse.

About this point I started to feel very frightened. In the matter of seconds in which I was doing anything, I was too busy to really fear, but the instant my feet touched down and stopped the bike I realized what a close call that had been. Got her started up again and got moving, dropped back 10 or fifteen seconds from the Lexus, and tried to calm myself down.

I think I need to find a way to practice some stops from higher speeds. I've never practiced an emergency stop above probably 30, and whether I did everything right or not, I didn't feel comfortable doing it. It's tough to find a place where I can get up to speed and then brake, though, without being a hazard to someone. Regardless, I see some more parking-lot time in my future.

Today, coming north through the U District on the way to I-5, some tool in a little blue Celica (I think) decided running a red light would be a good idea. He was to the right of me, heading west toward the express lanes to downtown. He actually came to a complete stop at the light, looked (right through me, actually), and then smoothly accelerated out into the intersection. He wasn't turning, just cutting straight across. I was moving at about 30-35, and had just entered the intersection when he moved.

I panicked. Too many things all at once: hit the horn, get on the brakes, get off the gas, and swerve. The horn did the trick; Idiot McToolenstein hit the brakes and threw up his arms in a clear "What the fuck, man? Why are you cutting me off?" gesture, to impress his girlfriend I think. The swerve and the braking at the same time, though, wasn't good. I felt the front tire lock for a terrifying fraction of a second. As soon as the weight transfer forward happened, it spun up again, but for a moment there I knew I was going to go down. From everything I've read, if you lock that tire, you're done. I'm still a little bit surprised that I rode out of there.

I swerved left aiming to cut in front of him, and assuming he'd hear my horn and at least not accelerate. I guess that was a safer decision than to aim behind him - but if he hadn't heard the horn, hadn't slowed, I think I would have gone right into his front quarter. The fact that I was on my brakes as well really limited me; I scrubbed a lot of speed but was still moving when I reached him. If I hadn't braked at all, I don't think it would have improved my options any; I couldn't go behind him without riding up onto the sidewalk, and there wasn't room to stop before reaching him... This time I know I did the right thing, although I should have separated the swerve from the braking; gotten off his line before slowing. I am positive that only luck saved me from a ride on the concrete, when the tire locked. Another half-second before coming hard on the front brake would have prevented it, I think.

I have no idea why he didn't see me, other than the general "motorcycles are invisible" thing. I wasn't speeding; there was plenty of light; no obstacles; no sunset; I had both headlights and both driving lights lit; I was in full reflective gear. I can't think of anything I could have done differently before he came out, and once he did I think I was pretty much out of options...

I hope this isn't something that happens every time. I haven't had a real "close call" since I started riding, and then all of a sudden I get yesterday's emergency-braking and today's situation. I've been searching and searching and I can't find anything I could have done differently.

This is worrying.

Nothing much to report this time, but I know my fervant fans will grow worried if I go to long without posting, especially given the events of the last two posts. Never fear, gentle readers, all is well.

Beautiful rides today. Had to venture into the city for a scientific meeting in the morning, and then back to the UW around noon. The nice thing about the freeway at noon, here, is that there ain't nobody else there. After all the traffic-riding I'm used to on I5, it was a joy to see four lanes of empty road. Heading home from work now, and hoping to beat the Friday rush.

With luck I can get out of the city this weekend, hopefully to the Peninsula. I've got me a copy of Destination Highways Washington and there's a bunch of suggested rides in there that have me pretty stoked about getting away and trying someplace new.

Today's trip was a smashing success. I left home later than I'd planned this morning, around 11, after doing some last-minute foglight bulb changes - the halogens are blowing out, like, every couple of days, which is a hassle at $9 a bulb. Yesterday I spent a couple hours wrenching; changed the oil and oil filter, and the spark plugs. Changing the plugs actually made a really big difference in Zoë's power output; she idles much more smoothly and power comes on quicker when I open her up. Anyway, all good stuff.

It was a perfect day. I'm really wondering when the winter's going to show up; today was warm and cloudless. The trip plan was the Edmonds-Kingston ferry over to the Olympic Peninsula, then follow Hwy 104 to Hwy 101, turn south to Quilcene, and ride the well-recommended section of 101 between Quilcene and Hoodsport (DH22 if you're following along in your copy of Destination Highways Washington). Taking a bike onto the ferries up here is awesome. You just show up, give the man your $5.80, go straight to the head of the line, and off you go. In a car, on a summer Sunday, you can expect to wait two hours in line. Here's a bunch of us bikers heading West on the ferry this morning:

That part of 101 starts (at the north end) winding through the Olympic National Forest; heavily wooded evergreens and steep mini-mountains. As you head south out of the Quilcene range, 101 works its way to the edge of Hood Canal, a good-sized estuary of Puget Sound a couple of miles wide according to my map - big enough that the Navy has a ballistic missile sub base here. Great vistas out over the Canal and up into the mountains.

Anyway, a wonderful ride. Traffic was pretty light and I made good time. The only annoying part about this trip is the irrational speed limit changes all over the place. I almost blundered past a lurking state patrolman coming through the town of Eldon, but a nice Harley rider coming the other way flashed his brights at me in warning, and by the time I reached the officer I was safely below the limit.

Ate lunch in Hoodsport at the scenic Model T Pub & Eatery, which was much more a pub than an eatery - the waitress sadly informed me that she couldn't get me a burger because "the hamburger machine was broken" - but good nonetheless. My options at this point were to retrace my steps, or take a different and much less interesting and longer route south through Shelton and Olympia, back to I5. I turned around.

Destination Highways lists, in addition to their Destination Highways, a large number of shorter routes they call Twisted Edges. There happened to be one of these routes coming off 104 at Quilcene and heading back to the Hood Canal Bridge (DH22 TE-B, Dabob Rd - Coyle Rd - Thorndyte Rd - S Point Rd) and I threw that into the mix for the way back. Talk about remote. This route heads through a very heavily wooded part of the Toandos Peninsula that's given over mostly to tree farms for the paper industry, and along these roads you can go some time between seeing any cars. Also, twisty as hell. Major elevation changes, 10-mph s-curves, the works. I'll file this route as something I need to hit again.

I am always amazed by the folks I meet riding around. There was an older couple on a giant Kawasaki version of the Gold Wing, that had come most recently from Indiana. A large contingent of Christian Harley riders, a bunch of other Suzuki pilots on several Hayabusas, Gixxers, and an SV1000S. Chatted on the ferry with one Harley rider about the little bell (about a half-inch long) he had affixed to his frame; he told me it warded off evil spirits from making his bike break down. I asked if it worked, and he replied that he hadn't broken down yet, so he reckoned so. Apparently you can't buy those; you have to have a mentor gift gift one to you. Cool tradition.

I'd stopped at one point to take a picture, and during that time three groups of riders passed me, and the lead rider in each group gestured to me "are you okay? do you need help?" If my car was on the side of the road, I know not one driver in a hundred would think to stop and help. Riders really are a whole different breed.

All in all, about 140 miles today, and a really great time. If you're in the area, ride this route, it's awesome. And come to think of it, send me an email, and I'll come ride it again.

(and here's the best named river in Washington State: the Hamma Hamma. Please Hamma, don't hurt 'em!)

So the zipper on my Joe Rocket jacket is already starting to fail. I guess the teeth are getting misaligned or something of the sort. I basically need a pair of pliers to get it all the way up or all the way down, which is pretty depressing. It still works, it's just a hassle to get the thing on or off. Guess I'll be looking to Firstgear when it's time for a new one.

In other news, a green Land Rover tried to merge into me on the freeway this morning. Not a big deal at all; he obviously wasn't looking for me, but I was looking for him. Saw him moving into my lane, dumped some throttle on and I was gone. The HOV lane is really nice that way; since there's no traffic to your left, you can stay far over on the edge of the lane and only have to keep an eye on one side of you. That gives you a lot of maneuvering room if someone tries something stupid, and you've got the shoulder as an escape route if you need it. Being in the middle lane of the freeway is a much more stressful environment; I'll take the HOV anyday. Plus, of course, it's faster.

Here is a very interesting analysis of proper emergency braking technique carried out by some very determined Canadians. It's nice to see some actual data, rather than the usual assumptions of what works and what doesn't. I do wonder why they built a giant wooden box on the back of their test bike to hold a full-sized G4 Mac when they could easily have used a little laptop, but I guess they do things differently up north. Check it out.

Well, it looks like the rain's a'comin'. The weather forecast calls for rain pretty much every day for the next 10. Rain, and gusty winds. Today's ride in was a bit challenging as the crosswinds pushed me around in my lane a fair bit. I'm still working on adjusting my riding position, trying to add just enough crouch to get my forearms horizontal and relaxed, scoot myself back and up in the seat, and get my crotch off the tank, and hopefully getting this stance issue resolved will help a bit in reducing my windage. I'm also beginning to look into getting a new pair of riding pants for the wet weather; the AlterEgo's are really quite uncomfortable with the liner in, as it's non-breathable, and there's no room for a layer of street clothes underneath if the liner's in place. NewEnough has the Firstgear HT Overpants on sale, so that's something.

In other (non-moto) news, I shaved my head yesterday. Was planning to just trim my hair back, but as I was prepping the clippers I happened to notice the razor sitting next to 'em, and just decided to see what would happen. It was a lot harder than I expected, and I cut the hell out of myself. Turns out wearing a helmet on a shorn head is really uncomfortable, so I had to break down and get myself a headscarf. It's black with red kanji on it - it was that or a giant American flag (no) or red or blue flames (no) or an eagle clutching some arrows over a Harley logo (no!). I can't tell whether I look like a total poser, or a dangerous, dangerous man.

Probably the former, actually.

Looks like the ride home is going to be an exciting one. The 520 Bridge wind-sensor is reporting gusts upwards of 30kts from the southwest. It may be an evening to stay off I-5 and take the long way home. It's raining, too, so double the excitement.

After all that buildup, it turned out that while the wind over Lake Washington was howling away, inshore it was just another breeze. No problems, no worries.

Very little riding this weekend; the winter has officially started. Real rain, rather than the mizzle (mist plus drizzle is mizzle, fo' shizzle!) that we normally get 'round here. Saturday was all housework and a delicious sushi dinner; Sunday, i just took a quick run out to do a few errands. Nothing particularly fun. Instead, I've been boning up on my technical knowledge; I just got a bunch more books to study.

Kevin Cameron's Sportbike Performance Handbook is amazingly technical. I never thought I'd describe a book as being maybe too technical, but this one just might be. It's all very interesting and I know a whole lot more about the engineering challenges behind designing carbs and exhaust systems and the difference between horizontal and vertical fuel mixing inside cylinders and the like, but I don't think most of this is going to affect the way I ride or maintain my bike. If you're looking for a broad understanding of the physics behind cycles and their engines, well, this is a good place to start. The author has a good, sort of subtle sense of humor that pops out surprisingly in the middle of a long and complex technical overview, and clearly knows his stuff. Just don't get discouraged when he spends two pages explaining how spark at 33° BTDC is superior to spark at 25°.

Evans Brasfield's 101 Sportbike Performance Projects is aimed much more squarely at the layman. The "projects" range from checking that your lights work to swapping out your entire brake system for a mad sexy aftermarket package. The pictures are great and the writing is clear, although Brasfield doesn't seem to go into quite as much detail as to why these modifications work as I would like. Nevertheless, this book is a great compilation of modifications and maintenance tasks, and though much of it is aimed at the higher-end tuner set, at least some of the book will be of great use to me. Used in combination with Cameron's book, it's much easier to understand the reasoning behind some of the projects, especially in the engine and exhaust sections.

The final book for this set of mini-reviews is Keith Code's Soft Science of Road Racing Motorcycles and I can't contribute much to this one, just yet. I've only read one page, as I started too late at night to really get into it. Seems to be aimed quite clearly at beginning racers, but hopefully there's enough general riding tips in there that I can get something out of it.

I am sorry to report that I can't in good faith recommend Soft Science of Road Racing Motorcycles. Again I try, and again I fail to get through it. I guess I was expecting a lot more, well, science, given the name, but it seems to focus on the premise that you have to THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'RE DOING OR IT WON'T WORK. Well, at the risk of sounding pedantic: no shit, Sherlock. I have heard lots of positive things about Code's other books, and he's clearly a very well-respected riding instructor, but this book just doesn't seem valuable to me.

Try as I might, I just can't manage to get my mind around inside-arm-only steering corrections. I'm still doing a lot of my maneuvering by shifting my weight ("body english") and I know it's not very effective, and my countersteering usually seems to take the form of pulling with my outside arm, rather than pushing with the inside. When I consciously remind myself to do it right, I have a much crisper turn response; I just need to internalize this process, so that I'll do it right when I really need it. I'm making progress refining my riding position; scooting my ass back to the rear of the seat and keeping my upper body canted forward, so that my arms can relax a little bit. It's not quite there, but it's getting better.

A nice day today - a bit of a surprise. No rain!

Well, now that I've had a real exposure to it, I think it's safe to say that rain kinda sucks. Late-ish work day today; I got out around 6:15 and headed to the bike. This time of year, it's full dark by then, and the rain was coming down pretty seriously - seriously, at least, for Seattle, but it'd been going on long enough that there was a fair bit of water on the roadway. Traffic was slow and fairly heavy on I5, and you could see the rainbow sheen of oil or gas or whatever in the center-track of the lane. Real good incentive to stay at one of the edges, in the wheeltracks where the water was lessened.

I made the journey home without incident, but with a fair bit of discomfort. Vision is pretty difficult in heavy rain at night, with the water beading up on your visor and the anemic low-beam on Zoë, and I found myself trying to wipe it clear about every 20 seconds with the palm of my glove. I need to look into whether there's some sort of plastic treatment that'll keep the rain from sticking, or something. Drivers were doing their usual clueless tailgating; I had one tool in a Civic right up on me for some time. I guess he objected to my long following distance, but there was no way for me to let him pass, and flashing my brake lights only got him back about a car length. I was very glad when a space opened up for me to pull aside and let him go.

I saw another rider on a Harley see an open space in traffic, roll on the throttle hard to get into it, and lose the back wheel immediately in a skid. He managed not to lose the bike as well; wish I'd seen exactly what he did, but the wheel snapped back to center without tossing him off, so I guess what he did was right. A few other riders were around as well, everyone being really cautious and leaving a lot of space, but I couldn't help but feel really vulnerable. I didn't feel the bike act much differently than usual in the rain, but then I don't have a good sense of just how much grip I have when it's wet, and I'm not sure how to figure that out.

And to think we've got another six months or so of this...damn, I miss the summer.

(Yes, I know it's a trashy reference in the title of this post. Name the song and you get a cookie, and then you get to feel terrible for recognizing it.)

Had to get in my car yesterday for a groceries run, as there's really no space on the bike for bags and bags of mango mochi and the like. I really only drive once a week, now, for errands where I'll need lots of storage space, and it's always odd to start the car and just drive off. No warming-up time, no TCLOCS check, no gear to put on... I find that my riding is a positive thing in terms of safety in the Volvo; the scanning for dangers and keeping aware of my surroundings translates straight across. I do have to remind myself not to wander in the lane for best visibility, as I already fill the whole thing, and not to try for quick acceleration or braking, as the Volvo can't do either very well.

I have noticed a very unusual psychological change, though - when I'm in the car with the windows rolled up and the radio on, or talking to my passenger or (God forbid) on a cell phone, I really have to constantly remind myself that I'm hurtling down the road and not sitting quietly at home. I miss the feedback I get from the engine and the windblast and the noise of the road, and subconsciously I think that's what keeps me grounded and aware on the bike. Seeing the pavement hurtling past me is much less visceral than hearing my passage. When I roll down the windows and get a chance to hear the world around me, I'm much more in tune with it.

On my ride on the Olympic Peninsula a few weeks ago, I briefly tried wearing a pair of foam earplugs, as lots of folks have told me that not doing so can lead to hearing damage. I found that though I could still hear fairly clearly, the muted sounds that came through the plugs weren't enough to trigger that sense of speed and urgency that I normally have. After putting them in I only rode about a mile before I realized I just wasn't in the ride, wasn't paying the kind of attention to the road that I needed to, and I wasn't feeling safe. I pulled the plugs and instantly I was right there again. I find it strange that so much seems to stem from the sound of the ride.

I'm sure I could train myself to ride with the plugs in, but I'm not sure if I ought to. I really feel so much safer without them. Clearly there's some instinctual alertness that's getting triggered, here, and it seems foolish not to make use of it.

Had to come in to work tonight (yes, a full week with overtime, and then back in on Sunday night - sucks) and it was really blowing out there. Wind buffeting me back and forth across the lane. I actually had to suck it up and try for a sportbiker crouch to get behind the mostly-decorative windscreen, and that really didn't help much.

Spent most of the afternoon putting up a polypropylene shed-thing - basically a fabric awning car-cover with walls - to keep Zoë in when it rains. It's so ghetto. I really wish we could put a garage in, or something - I really don't get much of a kick out of that giant gray tarp, 10'10'x8', out in front of my house. At least I can change my oil in the rain, though.

A woman in a white panel van was reading the newspaper while merging onto I5 this morning. She had it all spread out over the steering wheel and up into the windshield. Needless to say I gave her a nice wide berth.

This weekend's exciting plan: Mount St Helens. A little group of riders from Sport-Touring.net is heading down that way on Sunday, and I plan to tag along as the resident newbie. The folks there have been very welcoming and are under no illusions as to my skill level, and so hopefully this will be a good mentoring experience rather than a "keep up with the Hayabusa riders" type of trip. At least, that's going to be my plan.

Our destination is Johnston Ridge, on the west side of the mountain, as it's supposed to be a bit of a less technical, easier route than the eastern side. Meeting first at Beth's Cafe in Seattle, which seems a bit of a sketchy place - hopefully the good kind of sketchy. Reading the message board linked on their website, one of the posts consisted of "you should all hurry down to the cafe, there's a chick at the next table over giving free blowjobs." And they have 6- and 12-egg omelettes. Umm...

I've a bit of concern about the group aspect of this thing - well, honestly, I don't have much concern about it, but it seems the general wisdom consists of "don't go on a group ride, all you newbies." I guess the tendancy is for new riders to really fixate on the rider in front of you, to the exclusion of all else, and to end up getting in over their heads. Riding too fast and too close would seem to lead to that. I think the focus for these sorts of things needs to be on riding your own ride, as they say - none of the pretty-but risky staggered formation 5' behind the other fellow's bumper for me. I'm confidant that if I approach this as "going for a ride that happens to be headed for the same place as others," rather than "going on a ride with others," I'll be fine and have a good time. I believe we'll probably end up a very loose federation of solo bikers, rather than a long train, and that's a good thing.

Plus it will be very nice to meet some other riders in my area. I've never been out with any other riders, and while I love the solitude of being on a bike alone with the road, I'd like to give the other side of the coin a try. This will definitely be a longer ride than any single day I've had to this point, and it ought to be a real good time.

Hopefully I can get myself a digital camera before the ride and get some good pictures - my old cam seems to have given up the ghost. After four years of service, though, it's not too surprising.

proposed route, as best as I can figure:

Everyone can stop sending emails and leaving comments telling me to wear earplugs. I've gotten the message. Ear plugs are apparently good, going deaf is apparently bad, and I'll give 'em another try this weekend.

I am so sore.

Today's ride to Mount St. Helens was pretty damn amazing. I got out of the house around 7:30 this morning; roads were moist from last night's rain and nobody else was on 'em. Breakfast at Beth's (I didn't chance the 12-egg omelette, thank god) and we were off and on the roads by nine. A couple of S-T.N members who couldn't make the ride met us for breakfast as well. From Beth's it was onto I5 and south to meet up with some more folks from the south Sound area. I was by far the newest rider here; the sheer amount of experience in this group was staggering. I wish I could have spent more of the ride watching others and learning how they rode, but I was too busy keeping the shiny side up.

The group stretched itself out pretty quickly, as folks set their own paces, but reconvened at various turnoff points to make sure no-one got lost. This was a perfect atmosphere for a group ride; I don't think anyone was getting pushed beyond their comfort zone. I tried to make a point of keeping a nice big bubble of empty space around me and focusing on my own ride, and I think it worked fairly well.

I've already forgotten the exact route we took down to the mountain; I believe the majority of it was down rte 7. A little chunk of that route, near Alder Lake, was composed of just nutty little twisties. I've never before ridden a road with real S-curves, the kind where you need to flick the bike over the instant you come out of the first turn and drop right into the second, and they were a blast. With the exception of that area, the ride down was pretty straightforward - mostly 2-lane roads with a 50 or 55 limit. Go ahead, ask me if this crew rode at the speed limit. :)

Johnston Ridge itself was an absolutely perfect ride. Long sweepers, a lot of elevation gain (up to 3800, I believe), and what would have been amazing vistas out over the wasteland around Mt St Helens, if the fog wasn't here. The fog was the most startling part of this ride. I'd be whipping around a turn at 70 or 75, catch a glimpse of a bank of fog just above me, climb into it, and suddenly visibility was 15' in front of my bike. It was all I could do sometimes to pick out the fog line and stay on my course. I cut my speed down pretty hard in the fog, but all the same it was quite uncomfortable at times and I was glad to be out of it.

Coming out of the first heavy fogbank was the most breathtaking part of this ride. It had been gray and rainy all morning, and to emerge from that fogbank into bright (if not clear) sky and a view for miles down and out from the ridge was one of those moments that reminds you how wonderful it is to be alive.

After reaching the Ridge we took a quick break for group photos, hot coffee/chocolate/chai from the odd little trolley that served as a cafe, and stretching of legs. By this point (around 2 PM I believe) I was starting to feel pretty tired, sore, and cold, and a warm drink and quick little walk was a great thing. We started our descent shortly thereafter, heading for a pub in Toledo that supposedly had fine burgers to offer to tired bikers.

The descent was very much like the climb, although the fog seemed to have gotten worse. I was quite a bit surprised at just how much power Zoë lost as we gained elevation, and feeling that power return as we headed down made it a challenge to keep my speed under control. I stayed pretty much at the back of the pack - the sweep and one other were behind me - hoping to inconvenience the least number of riders with my staunch refusal to go 140 mph. :)

After the aforementioned burger (good, but no Red Mill) we headed back to I5 and turned north. As much fun as the Alder twisties were on the way down, I wouldn't have wanted to face them again after such a long day, and I think everyone was in a hurry to get home. About an hour and a half on the slab found me back at my door, 11 hours and 45 minutes after I left. I wasn't able to hang with the pack on the ride home, but that's probably for the best, given their predilection for highway speed well beyond my meager skills.

I think today was one of those paradigm shifts, a quantum leap in riding skill. I rode pretty hard today, and at some points in the Alder twisties I was well beyond any riding I'd done before. I wasn't dragging knees or anything of the sort, but I know I was leaned a lot further at higher speed than I'm used to, and you never know if you can do something until you try it. I knew my technique was right (for the most part) and I knew intellectually that at the speed I was riding, I could flick the bike over and get through the turn safely, but that didn't stop me from some real uneasiness when I finally tried it. I have a much better idea of how Zoë handles sharper turns and wet pavement than I did before, and I feel a lot more comfortable with her than I did yesterday.

My back and legs are tremendously sore. My gear has been weighed in the balance and found wanting; my "waterproof" gloves were soaked through in an hour, the new Firstgear pants leak in the crotch, and my Rocket jacket had a puddle under it when I hung it up at lunch. My boots held up well, though, so that's something. I rode with earplugs today (for the first time) and all of you who were harassing me about it can rest easy; it's a good thing, I feel comfortable with them, and I'll stick to 'em in the future. They were pretty distracting for