05/21/2024 – So I was sitting here on a rainy Saturday, working, while singing along with Otis Redding’s Pain in My Heart. Why the blues? I was feeling the emotional pain… brother. I was being forced to listen to music on free Spotify, as Premium Spotify did not make the budget cut. Plus, chicken again last night. Damn you, Joe Biden.
We all have our trials and tribulations, and we are all self centered and feel self importance at some time, and to some degree. One man’s inability to build and save a personal song list, is at least as important as another man’s loss of life and limb, or financial devastation, or being barred from participation on a social media platform.
A moderate life style rebellion
Since my wife’s passing, a little over two years ago, I have been discovering what it is like to live life in the absence of caring, adult supervision. While my surroundings, habits and routine have remained essentially unchanged, I was perfectly happy with the way things were, there are those moments when I am left on my own to figure things out. Diet as an example.
I took the bold step of combining several things I like into one big taste sensation. It just seemed… efficient. Two not necessarily beef hot dogs, microwaved for 1 minute 20 seconds, or until they burst from boiling internal pressure. Topped with Hannaford Hot Dog Chili Sauce, which my or may not contain chili, stir mixed with Silver Floss Sauerkraut, basking in horseradish mustard, wrapped in zero carb tortillas.
Why the need to be different? There are 8.1 billion people here on Earth. Each person has their own story, filled with their own experiences: happy, sad, gains, losses, fulfilling, meaningful, extreme, or severe. Snowflakes everyone of us, in the sense that no two of us are alike. However, I am pretty sure this hot dog thing will make me a standout.
If the Lord wanted me to have a motorcycle…
I thought that buying and riding a motorcycle was another moment of breakaway independence but, on review and consideration, I realized a motorcycle was part of teen age dating memory of me and Di; riding fast and irresponsibly, her with her arms tight around me, her long hair blowing into a tangle.
Motorcycles were with us throughout our lives; transportation or recreational riding over the years, well into our 60s. However, more recent years of not sitting on a motorcycle diminished important skills. Not the going fast and erasing chicken strips part, more the starting, stopping, tight turning, and braking techniques.
In any event, the ride home from the dealer was enlightening. Road construction, heavy traffic, the woman who pulled out across traffic from her driveway, after making close eye contact, but before trying to give me a full Treat Williams experience. In any event, I got to test my reflexes, and I got a refresher course on swerving around a barrier.
Halfway home, at the very busy intersection of River Road and Route 302, cars stopped quickly and traffic stacked up. I came in hot, glanced right at near traffic for an escape route, a move that turned the bars a little right. Then, not stopping quickly enough, I grabbed a handful of double disc front brake.
It was all very exciting, the events unfolding quickly. The braked front wheel compressed the front suspension under the weight of the bike’s momentum, and I rode the bike right into the blacktop. I got my leg out as the bike was going down, did a pretty nifty body roll, jumped up, and ran to the bike to check her condition. Newer built in tech had automatically shut the bike down when it reached an acute angle of inclination.
I got help raising the bike off the deck, one friend, one stranger… an old timer who had just gotten out of the hospital, and a not old friend. Most of the younger folks passing by were content shooting video of the scene to post on YouTube.
Past experience and age allowed me to ride the bike the rest of the way home, at speed, on twisty mountain roads, unfazed by the fact I had just dumped the bike and nearly took a nap in traffic. Nothing was going to take the fun out of that ride, even if I were angry with myself. Totally unavoidable, and a compilation of every rookie mistake.
The damage to the bike was minor and aesthetic. The breakaway part of the brake lever… broke, a bar end weight was scuffed, the front cowl cracked when the bike fell on the turn signal and the turn signal punched through the front cowl. The top fairing had several small fine pavement scratches on its trailing edge. That was it. No functional damage, no nicks nor a single scratch more. However, even a single scratch on the Mona Lisa is heart breaking.
What is the cost of a guilt driven, minor aesthetic repairs on a motorcycle these days? Let’s just say it was an $800 phone call to Partzilla. Easy enough to work on, the bike was restored within two weeks. All I can do is keep at it. No, not the crashy part, I mean the skill development part, there are too many miles still ahead.
Joe , been there done that , and no longer have the tee shirt ! My first bike on my first night ride w/ a couple work buddies after shift. We were heading for doughnuts & coffee. I lost it on a curve and put it under the guide rail. More damage to my ego than the bike . Keep her on the hard side of the white line & safe travel (s) .
Appreciate your sharing your experience. You’re lucky to walk away from that.
I was 16 when I got my first motorcycle — a Honda 150 Dream. Someone wiser than I was told me all motorcyclists will have two accidents — the first one from lack of skill and the second from over confidence. I had the first one about a week later when I banked into a turn covered by wet leaves. Embarrassing, but no harm done. The second was about three years later when someone turned left in front of me and totaled my Harley Sportster and nearly me. I spent the next ten years riding every day rain or shine without incident. I even toured the United States on a 1970 CB 750. I quit riding after I had three close calls in one week while sitting at different lights in traffic. Bad omens, I guess. I am 76 now and I still miss it. Every time a rider flies by a piece of my heart goes with him or her.
A lot of wisdom in those comments. It is tough on the road these days. Sometimes it feels like playing frogger. I understand people don’t see motorcycles, they can’t judge their speed and sometimes there is a little hostility thrown in. That pulling out in front of a bike is way to common. That is what finally got Treat Williams.
As a side note, you had some really nice bikes.
I did have some nice bikes. One of my favorites was a BSA Thunderbolt 650. Not as reliable or fast as the Honda CB 750, but a joy to ride. I am happy to see the classical British marques back in production. I won’t buy one, but I am tempted.
I love British bikes, two BSAs and one Norton, even if morning dew was enough to make the electronics quit. Not to mention sorting out the choke lever and cracking the throttle timing to avoid wearing out the kick starter. I like the Norton a lot. It was very light, a lot of flex in the frame, and parts vibrated off on a regular basis.
I remember the first 305 Honda Dream I ever saw, when I decided Honda did not understand the American market, right up until the 750 came out and put Britain out of business.
I never had a Norton, but I always admired them. I heard one fellow say that he loved his Norton, but he wouldn’t ride anywhere he couldn’t walk back from. One time my BSA lost power on the freeway. I coasted to a stop and saw gasoline pouring out of the bottom of the carburetor. I shut off the gas and walked back down the road until I found the main jet sitting on the pavement. I screwed it back in and went on my way.