Flirting with Fay: notes after riding wet

I have not been inspired to write since arriving home at about 11 PM Monday night. I even asked Ann to send out the "I arrived OK" email to interested family and friends. I did drink a beer, which I had been desiring since hot, sweaty Florida and called ahead to make sure Ann would bring one home. We usually do not have beer in our fridge, but she was faithful to find some and make it cold for me. And everyone knows that ice cream and berries goes good with beer, so I had a dish of that as well.

Far from the hot, sweaty Florida weather, the majority of my trip back home was a continuation of my flirting with Fay. I got wet and dry and wet and dry and wet on this leg of the trip. My gear did fine, but this was real rain. So, when I missed closing up the vent zippers (used to keep me cool and help dry out during those sunny interludes) the water came in and soaked my t-shirt, which feels good when it is hot, but not when the temp goes below 70 degrees.

Near Boone, NC I stopped for dinner and to change into dry and warmer clothes. I met a couple and a woman who had just bought her husband a nice used BMW bike. The couple were trailering it home and were to hid it until his birthday so he would be surprised. I am sure he will be, it was a nice one! Anyway, just another chance encounter along the road. They had driven about 75 miles to get the bike, and could not believe anyone would ride 800 miles in a day. If they only knew!

A dry t-shirt and putting in the jacket liner (in August?) got me home feeling pretty comfortably. Constantly trying to learn something, here is what I (re)learned about wet riding. First of all, once you are wet, not much advantage to putting on raingear. Therefore, all my riding gear is designed to be worn in the rain using breathable (Gortex or such) membranes inside. However, one must remember to close the vents mentioned above if the rain is going to be heavy and/or prolonged. I could tell from the black sky that it was likely to be heavy and prolonged, I just didn't pull over and tug on the zipper tabs.

Second thing is once the rain is coming down and you are riding on a highway with traffic, it is not really possible to stop safely. Limited visibility makes it hard for cars to see you and you might get hit while parked. Also, for many rain systems if you keep going you ride out of them in a few minutes. This was the case several times on the way home.

Third thing is that interstate highways do get you over lots of miles in short time, but the experience is not very good. There are exceptions, but in general, I am not a fan of Eisenhower's invention. Of course they keep a lot of cars and trucks off the good roads, so Thanks Ike! And this summer was loaded with interstate travel for me. Not next year, I'll remember this lesson learned.

Forth thing is that for me, it is easier to ride long distances on the bike compared to a car. I am sure that I cannot drive for 20 hours at a shot even in the Audi's which were very comfortable and sensory vehicles. I think the vastly increased mental operations per unit of time required to ride a bike actually keep me awake as opposed to putting me to sleep. And this same requirement tells me immediately when I am tired. Not only can't I maintain a steady speed, keeping the bike going in a straight line becomes a chore. Time to stop at the next motel!

So I am home and back to work. Fay is still making my world wet. I drove the truck to work the last two days. Ironically, after walking from the parking lot to my office my pants were wet from shoes to knee and if I had ridden the bike, I would have been dry!

The bike is still filthy in the garage, but I will clean it up this weekend. Next ride? Don't know yet, but I am teaching the last weekend of September, so I'll be riding to that gig about 100 miles from home. Summer is about over and the fall riding season, really the best riding, is upon us.

Consider this picture: Looking at the number of people turning around, they are obeying the sign. But what is the message? Is it a help to finding the U.U. Church or a message from fundies warning the U.U.'s to repent?

I made it!

I wanted you to know that I made it to Ft Myers. 900 miles in 20 hours, but I did not record how many miles I was blown sideways. Quick summary is "do not read too much into local weather reports on-line when planning a trip 'behind' a tropical depression." They forgot to mention 1" per hour rainfall and gusting winds up to 45 knots. I guess they think we know that stuff will be happening in addition to the "Winds out of the east 5-10 mph" and "random showers, some thundershowers possible." They were random, got that right!

I now understand more about the wind rotation of such a system. For hours I battled cross winds out of the east. Timing was unpredictable, but they were always from the east. Then as the 'back end' of the system reached I-75, I got a mix, as in Easterly - easterly- headwind - easterly. The headwind was so strong that my ground speed would go from 60 mph to 40 mph in a second. It was like slamming on the brakes at highway speed. Exhilarating to say the least especially when preparing for a side wind. I was glad to be behind that Vetter Windjammer fairing, thanks go to Craig Vetter! Oh, and all that wind and water cleaned the bike. It looks good. Now I don't have to wash it this year.

I learned to watch (out of the corner of my eye) the tree tops on the east side hiway. When they bowed down, count one-two-three four-five and get ready to lean into the wind. I stayed in the right lane so I had the shoulder as an extra 'run off' area. I never needed it, but it was nice to see it there. However, there was no shoulder for much of the I-75 stretch in Georgia and Florida due to construction.

When I did a short due west stretch, I had a tail wind and was going 60 mph with almost no throttle. the fairing was acting like a sail I guess. Too bad the scenery was mile after mile of flooded out houses west of Jacksonville. This is a road (A1A and US301) that we have traveled for 30 years and are familiar with the small towns along the way. They have some tough times ahead. No power for many miles, crews were out there taking out the trees and re-stringing power lines while it was still blowing.

Funny sign will have to be in words as I was unable to get out the camera. At the Florida Welcome Station, the place was closed due to the storm and they had a sign on the door saying so. This was a time when people needed welcoming more than ever. They closed the rest-rooms as well! What is with that? There was a groups wearing XM radio gear and I am guessing they were reporters looking for a story. They were amazed as well. Anyway, when I got back on the bike, the sun came out for 30 seconds. God smiled on me. I liked it!

I had pretty much decided to bag it when I got to Ocala on US 301. But it was only 6pm, though it was dark. I just could not go to bed at 6PM and I'd have to wake up and ride in the rain again. So I bit the bullet and got on I-75. The first minute was terrible and I was in the right lane to get off and find a bed when I saw a bright spot on the horizon, just east of south. I rode on and in ten miles broke out of the system, all the sky to the south was high clouds and bright. Rode all the way to Ft Myers in that. Arrived in the area at midnight, just two hours later than my "earliest if you don't stop to eat or play" time of ten pm. However it took an hour to find the right La Quinta and get checked in. the hotel is great, surely the best $55 room I've ever had. The bed felt very good at 2am. I feel fine and needed not even an advil.

I am going to the ECHO farm now, the sun is out, it is beautiful! Taking the sun screen, and the rain-gear! Looks like Fay is going to visit Jack's family....

Held hostage by Fay at Hardees!

My plan to slip in behind the frontal push from Fay as it heads across the top of Florida towards Baton Rouge is not working well at the moment. I am in North Georgia just South of Savannah and finally got wet. Making great time, probably got here too soon. I was on the bike at 5:30 this morning, so there!

But the water is not the problem, we are seeing 30-40 MPH gusts. I can't do that with traffic on I-95, so I am enjoying a milkshake. Sorry no picture of it, already gone into my being.

The bike is making beautiful music, no issues there.

A look at NOAA shows the entire Georgia coast as a high wind warning area, but not inland, so I am planning to head west now to find stiller air and then head south.

More at 11 on ron news.

On the road again

The phone was ringing as I opened the door to our house the day we returned from the July trip. It was someone I had not yet met, inviting me to submit a bio and photo for the ECHO board website. I was not sure why they wanted this, but it seems that they were gathering former board members for a dinner in honor of retiring executive director Martin Price. Not satisfied with the 4000 miles traveled this July, I can't resist a trip to Florida to celebrate his years of service and retirement. (I might be gathering tips for MY retirement dinner!)

The appearance of Fay (the Hurricane, not our good friend of the same name) almost put the bike trip off and confined me to a car. But, I see the weather along my route dissipating and the forecasts for cities along the way are similar to average summer weather in the Southeast, so at the moment, it is planned to depart home at 6 AM Friday and arrive in Fort Myers at 10PM. Spend Saturday touring the ECHO facilities and sharing time with visitors, volunteers and other board alumnus. One current board member is Rod Frank, a veterinarian that we worked with in Haiti years ago.

The route will once again be planned as super-slab (rider talk for interstate highways) as time is of the essence getting down there. This time the interstates are not interesting ones (like I-77 in West Virginia) but more like boredom. There are opportunities to take 'shortcuts' in South Carolina and Georgia to get off I-95, the worst road in the trip. I will be off interstates in north Florida from the border to the Gainesville area, and then back onto I-75.

But seeing those people and especially celebrating with Martin and Bonnie will be worth it. My trip back north will be at a more leisurely pace. Sunday I will travel up to Clearwater and stay a day and night with my step-dad. I'll leave Clearwater early and try to get out of the high traffic density area by going up the coast on US-19 to Tarpon Springs or farther as the spirit leads. I suspect that the route will develop from that point and no-doubt will include meeting some interesting people and see some funny signs or other fun stuff. I'll share it with you when I get back.

The bike is great with the new rear tire, tuned up brakes and fixed headlight. All I need to do is clean all those bugs off the windscreen so I can collect a new crop of them on the way south.


Lesson learned: never trust a weather report, specially path of hurricanes over land. (Map from NOAA hurricane tracker service)

Is a motorcycle trip like music?

I pose the title as a question because I know very little about music and some of my readers know a lot about various aspects of playing, composing and analyzing it. However, there are some things about music that I have grasped over years of seeing it made and listening to it, and I decided some weeks ago, while crossing the mid-west, that a motorcycle trip and music had several parallel characteristics. Proof that riding across the mid-west will cause one to have delusions.

The first obvious parallel is a beginning and an end. On one level the beginning can be the first note of a performance, but it might really be the lift of the baton by the conductor, focusing the players, or the opening of the score or the seating of the concert-master. At any rate, this is the beginning of a performance, but not the beginning of music. At a more personal level, the beginning of music is closer to a child's forming sounds and motions that produce sounds. The first efforts of a child making music continues through the last gasp of breath on the person's death bed. So the end is defined by either the last encore or bow or that scratching sound as the last performer's chair slides upon the floor. But there is a point when it can be called done.

So the trip begins and the trip ends. The plan is to go from the first note to the last note, but there is a definite opening of the score, raising the baton and seating of the concert-master. There is even tuning. Left carb a bit rich at idle, don't you think? A little sharp?

Loading the bike, the sound and vibration as the gas valve is twisted open in preparation of starting the motor, the click of the starter and then the first real note, often stumbling, cold idle of the engine. The click into first gear marks the end of the first movement, the prelude, and the release of the clutch marks the beginning of the next. Motion. Movement of air. Acceleration. Press the bars to initiate lean into the first turn. Twist the throttle. Repeat. Again. Adjust the body position for turns, 'caress the brakes and giant magnets hold you back' braking, re-position to get more air in the face, to get less air in the face. Breath in. Enjoy. Be cold-hot-wet-dry. All in a day. The theme repeats, with change in texture. Smell great smells, or the other kind.

Stop for gas-food-bathroom: the intermission. Or the period when the person puts down the instrument for some years, then goes back to it to once again experience the joy of making music. or riding....

Back on the road, feeling that automatic activity that results in motion or music. Shift at just the right time, on the beat. Enter a turn a little late, forcing some creative phrasing. Drag a footpeg in a tight, off-camber turn resulting in a bit of discord. Act like a cat, denying that you made that error in judgment because no-one saw you do it (or did they?). Wave at another cyclist as if to acknowledge the solo they just played. Smile to acknowledge the solo you just played. Return to the theme, play it again, Sam. Brake hard for some unexpected thing - change of tempo, change of texture. Repeat and get it right this time. Downshift and accelerate hard, perfect sound reaching red-line and a shift has to happen. Smooth, good clutch timing, flutes coming in on time up up up and an up-shift that converts the engine to an oboe suddenly. Mournful pull from the belly of the bike. End of that movement. Audience stirs in their seats, anxious to hear the piece build. Anticipation. Wonder. Do I remember the road? Have I heard/rode this before? Will I want to return to it again? Why? Why not?

And the next movement celebrates the day ending, sun setting, temperature falling, a little too cold in the low spots and shadows, refreshing in the places the sun beats on the back and shoulders. Just like those cellos drawing simple emotions from blacks spots on paper, linear bow motion converted into lump-in-the-throat or shivers down the spine. The day ends. The conductor bows, the audience stands. The players pack up and prepare themselves for another trip home, knowing they will once again dog-ear that page of music and convert it from two dimensional monochromatic notation to four dimensional energy that excites and calms, elicits hormones to flow, feet to tap, and even tears to escape tightly bound reservoirs.

The promise of another performance is the promise of life. It allows one to close the case, grab the handle and walk out of the room nodding to the other players. That is the ride. Repeat again and again. Fuel, ignition, neutral, engine switch, clutch - start - click into first gear - release clutch and the music plays again inside the helmet. No MP3 player needed - making your own music. Score by Nature, arranged by Chaos. All is well in the world. Bravo! Bravo!

Dream about the ride all night. Encore ...