The Zipsicle

I was pondering the reasons I like riding my bikes, the other day, and decided that one of the main reasons is the motion…

Not just the motion of the bike along the road, although that’s certainly a big part of the enjoyment, but also the motion of the wind rushing past and my protective clothing moving in the disturbed air. The motion of the pistons sliding up and down (or in and out depending upon which bike I’m riding). There’s the slight but steadily changing vibration as the tires move over every irregularity in the road surface and the motion of the forks moving up and down in response to bumps in the pavement. There’s inertial motion as my body avoids catching up with the accelerating bike and the inertial motion as my body avoids slowing down with the bike as I apply the brakes to slow or stop. There’s the side to side motion of the bike and body as we lean back and forth in the turns and the motion of my head and helmet as I check out the intersecting roads for potentially dangerous cross-traffic. I like the motion as the handlebars turn one way or another at slower, parking lot speeds. There’s the motion of the raindrops flowing back over my faceshield as it protrudes into the airstream and the lights of traffic around me as I ride at night.

There’s even enjoyable motion before and after the ride when I swing my leg over  the saddle while mounting or dismounting the bike – a motion that seems to get more difficult as time goes by.  I dread the day when, for me, the only motorcycle motion will be the neurons firing weakly in my brain as I try to recall the motions and emotions of riding my finely crafted vehicles over what seemed at the time to be endless roads…

Ride safe,

Zippo and Jax

Well, the Bulgesicle looks to be due for new rubber. There’s a wealth of choices in tires to install out there even if you don’t consider installing a car tie (which many do install on their bikes). I don’t think I’m quite ready for that step, yet…

Many riders sing the praises of the Bridgestones on the GL1800 and others like the Dunlops. The Bridgestones that came on the Zipsicle were awful, in my opinion. The grip was lousy at the best of times and terrible when the roads were wet. And, surprisingly enough, the roads often are wet here in the Pacific Northwest. I was never so happy as when I finally wore the B ridgestones out and was able to put a good set of Metzlers on the bike. I also went from a 180/60/16 on the back of the bike to a slightly larger 180/70/16. This gave a slightly laqrger contact patch as well as a bit higher load rating. These tire handle superbly on the VSTAR 1300.

Surprisingly, the rear tire on the stock GL1800  Goldwing is the same size as the stock tire on the VSTAR 1300 – 180/60/16 (and, also surprisingly, so is the load capacity of both bikes the same). I think I will also replace this tire with the bigger sized 180/70/16 on the Goldwing, too. I’m sure it will improve the already superb handling of the bike and, like the Zipsicle, will give a slightly better load capacity as well. I’ve pretty much chosen the Avon Cobra series of tires to try on the Bulgesicle. Hopefully, the mileage will be acceptable and I’m sure the handling will be excellent – even when wet.

I think I will pay to have this set switched out but, I also think that, by the time the next tires are due, I’ll buy the equipment to change the tires myself. Should be able to save a few bucks  and maybe it’ll even be fun. Sort of…. Like visiting the dentist, I suppose… Ahhhh, well. That’s why they invented Jack Daniels!

Ride safe,

Zippo and Jax

This was posted on a Goldwing forum and I thought it was hilarious. I’ve posted it here for your enjoyment:

Ok….I’m still not totally calmed down yet but this was crazy……let me explain…

Out riding last night, I stopped to fill up my bike’s gas tank. When I released the filler lever, it didn’t shut off. Panic sets in!! I’m beating the thing around to get it to shut off, while trying to keep the nozzle in the tank, but, soon gas is shooting up in the air all over the place. Finally, I jump over to the pump and hit the on/off lever. Phew!!! What a mess. They had one of those “emergency spill kits” there, which is basically kitty litter that you must spread around, so I do all that. I wipe the bike down as best I can and figure it’ll air dry, ’cause gas evaporates so quickly. I got some on the arm of my leather jacket, but figured it’ll evaporate while I’m riding..

Anyway, I ride away, and next thing I know, my right arm – the one that had been holding the filler nozzle, is on FIRE!! Must have been a spark from the engine or something. Ever notice how sometimes life goes into ‘Fast Forward’, well, in this case, it went into Slow Motion!! Surreally, I’m trying to slow down and get the fire out, and as I pull to the side of the road, I notice a police car’s red/blue lights flashing in my mirror. I rip my jacket off and jump up/down on it to get the fire out – fortunately that and my heavy riding gloves prevented a major burn. I notice the officer walking up to me.

He says “Sir, step away from the motorcycle”; I’m thinking this is a little weird, but I do it.

Then I notice his hand resting on the handle of his weapon, and I hear “You’re under arrest”.

I think, “WHAT, it’s illegal to be on fire here?!?!?!”

So I ask, “what for?!?!?”

He says………………………………………..>

“For driving with an unregistered firearm”…..

Road rash is what happens when your body is sliding down the road and your skin meets the pavement. Skin is removed from your body by the pavement as quickly as a cheese grater removes cheese from the block. In worst cases the skin and muscle can be ground off right down to the bone. Not only is the injury itself very painful but the treatment is often at least as painful as the original injury. First the wound needs to be completely cleaned and often new skin will need to be grafted from other parts of the body. Both procedures are painful.

Road rash can usually be prevented by the wearing of proper apparel when riding. While none of us intend to crash our bikes the unexpected does occur. Good boots designed for motorcycle riding offer much more protection to your feet or ankles than “flipflops” or “sneakers”. Chaps or , better yet, padded riding pants offer more protection than blue jeans or (gasp!) shorts. An armoured riding jacket is much more protection that t-shirts or halter tops. And a quality pair of gloves will protect your hands much better than nothing at all. Last, a full face helmet can prevent your nose and chin from being ground off should you be unlucky enough to slide face first on the pavement.

Modern riding gear offers much more comfort than it used to. Modern mesh gear can help to keep you cool in the summer along with saving your skin in the event of a fall. Modern helmets have better venting systems and the field of view is mandated to be larger than your peripheral vision. Good venting systems help to keep the helmet cool in the summer and drop down sunshades improve your vision when riding into the rising or setting sun.

You may decide that you’re willing to take the “risk” of injury during a fall but keep in mind that it’s not only you who is taking that risk; your family will be injured as well. They’ll be injured by having to see you in pain as you suffer through medical treatment and, perhaps, more months of rehabilitation. They’ll suffer from the loss of your income as you recuperate from your injuries and they’ll suffer the loss of you as a companion as they go home at night after visiting with you in the hospital.

It’s your choice to make but think about wearing your personal protective gear ATGATT – All The Gear All The Time…

Jax and I went into Bellingham this afternoon for a visit to the Mt Baker Theatre where we watched a performance of “Tao – The Martial Art of Drumming”…

We haven’t been out to a theatre in at least a dozen years. Neither of us are very comfortable with crowds and our visit tonight reminded us why it is that we don’t often visit this kind of venue. For example, there were clearly some folks in the audience tonight who might have been more comfortable sitting home and taking some sort of anti-flatulence medication. I know for sure I’d have been more comfotable if they had and I know my nose would have been happier as well. And, there was some lady sitting a couple of rows back and a few seats over who was either giggling or laughing at every move made on stage – whether giggling or laughter was appropriate to that move or not. We also had aisle seats and we got to do our impression of pogo sticks as people entered or left our row.

All that aside, however, the performance was great and Jax and I both really enjoyed seeing it. The performers were young and in excellent physical condition and beat those drums with an obvious relish and a passion that had to be seen to be believed. We were both amazed at how many different sounds the performers could coax out of the different sized drums and were awed when they hauled out drumsticks the size of baseball bats to beat the larger drums. Almost every drumstroke looked to be perfectly choreographed and the drumming was clearly a team effort. We were also delighted with how well the performers were able to add humor to their drumming and how well they were able to get the audience involved. These young Japanese artists truly did turn drumming into a martial art form and Jax and I were glad we went. I wish I could provide you with a photo or two but photography was, unfortunately, prohibited in the theatre.

Now, maybe it’s time I began work on “Meow: The Martial Art of Motorcycle Riding”. First, though, I’ll need to get myself in shape. Hmmmm. I think I’ll start right after dessert…

Ride safe,

Zippo and Jax

I’ve lived in the Bellingham, Washington area since I was a youngster (longer ago than I care to remember, usually). Back then the population, as I recall, was in the neighborhood of 35,000 or so. Now, it’s 75,000 and growing. The county has experienced much the same growth with the result that the freeway has become a mass of bumper to bumper traffic from Bellingham south to Mount Vernon during “rush” hour (and, actually, an hour or two either side of that time) morning and evening.

I often ride at or just above the speed limit in the right hand “slow” lane (trying to maintain a safe interval between my bike and the traffic in front of me) and marvel as a solid row of vehicles in the “fast” lane slowly creep by me (also bumper to bumper) blithely believing that the extra one or two mph they’re moving is really getting them home any more quickly than it would if they were in my lane. Speed control by the State Patrol is a very occasional thing along this stretch of I-5 with the result that when the traffic does spread out a bit the speed increases to more than 10 over as drivers feel the freedom of the “open” road.

Tailgating is epidemic and it would appear that many drivers are simply unable to function unless they have their radiator buried in your license plate. Often, when being tailgated mercilessly by some cager with a cell phone mashed to their ear, I’ll move into the left lane to let them by whereupon they’ll rush forward madly until they again have their radiator hard up against the rear bumper of the next car ahead of them where they’ll tool along blissfully unaware of the risk they pose to themselves and others but serene and comforted in the thought that they now have someone to follow.

Often I’ll drop off the freeway to take a “back” road home only to find that it also is packed with traffic as others also try the alternate routes to get away from the madness that I-5 has become. Finding a relaxing route home free from the hustle and bustle is becoming as difficult as finding a cheap cup of coffee and about as relaxing as a colonoscopy. Years ago my drive was quiet enough that I saw a coyote sauntering across the freeway with a dead cat in its mouth. Nowadays, that same coyote wouldn’t make it across one lane alive (and if it did the coyote would find itself tailgated by a cager with it’s radiator pressed up tight under the coyote’s tail).

Ah, well. Perhaps it’s time to look for another sleepy, little town that hasn’t yet experienced that growth that has blighted Bellingham and that still has an opportunity for a “quiet” commute. But for now, it’s me and the bike and the crowded roadway.

Ride safe,

Zippo and Jax

Riders often speak of the wonderful things they’ve seen while riding and love the sound of their powerful engines stepping through the gears. You’ll hear them talk of the light touch needed to countersteer their sleek and shiny machines through the twisties but there’s more to it than just those three (admitedly wonderful) senses…

The smells. Wow! In the summertime one often smells the freshly mown grass while tooling through residential areas and out in the country there’s freshly cut hay and pine tree forests. There’s the smell of a quick shower of rain on the hot pavement and burgers being fried at the local squat and gobble. In the fall and winter you’ll often smell the smoke from the woodstoves, as you pass, and leaves smouldering in yards. Springtime brings the scent of warming earth and moldering leaves and early flowers. The salty air as you ride along a seaside route. Sagebrush in the high desert. And there’s the plain and simple – good ol’  fresh air.

Of course, there’s also the seamy underside of riding odors; the dead skunk or deer at the side of the road. That diesel pickup or bus idling away in front of you at the stoplight. Hot tar from paving crews and burning cigarettes and cigars for those of us who are non-smokers. The smell of your raingear burning on your exhaust pipe (OOPS!).  The gas fumes as you fill your bike’s tank.  Smashed grasshoppers on your leathers. And, of course, the sweat inside of your helmet on a hot, summer’s day…

I enjoy the sights of a great ride and love the feel of my machine vibrating beneath me and appreciate the sound of the engine as the bike flips up and down through the gears but, oh, the scents and odors of riding a motorcycle are an additional bonus that I never expected but I truly enjoy.

Ride safe,

Zippo and Jax

I rode to Monroe, Washington yesterday for a meeting. Friends invited me to ride along with them but as they had decided to take the freeway and I, not being one to pass up an opportunity to take a more scenic route anytime the chance presents itself, decided to take the back roads there and back again…

I headed south on Highway 9 where I enjoyed the sweepers through Clear Lake and Lake McMurray from Burlington to Arlington. In Arlington I picked up the Jordan Road for a ways before making my turn onto the Burn Road. Traffic was light to near non-existent and the sun was just beginning to peer over the ridges to the east turning the light fog in the valleys into a rosy, glowing mist. Temperatures were in the low 40s giving me occasion to thank my heated gear once again as I banked the bike around yet another curve.

At Granite Falls I found the Mentzel Lake Road and continued my southerly course. Here the speed limit drops to 35 mph giving one a greater chance to admire the scenery alongside the route. Lawns, pasture and forest fall behind and more of the same appears ahead. At Lake Roesiger I catch Woods Creek Road and ride it on into Monroe. There are some interesting farms along the way here with all manner of Alpaca and Llama and other strange creatures so the lower speed limit just adds to the enjoyment of this route.

After reaching Monroe I spend the next 45 minutes searching for my destination before realizing that I can have the directions downloaded to my Blackberry handheld. However, even after the Blackberry begins route finding for me, I find myself unable to believe that it actually knows where to go so I spend some more time driving around Monroe fighting and disregarding the turns the device is recommending. At last I give it up and realize that my “bump of direction” will never be as smart as modern science and I give in and make the turns as suggested and, in short order, find myself where I needed to be. And only an hour later than planned!

After the meeting and some visiting I headed back to the Woods Creek Road and turned north. I stopped briefly at Lake Roesiger Park where I took this image and visited the porta-john. Not much here in the Park but some picnic tables and a swimming area, which I’m sure is very popular in the summer, but it’s utterly deserted now:

When I reach Granite Falls instead of turning left onto the route I traveled earlier I carry on straight which leads me onto the Mountain Loop Highway and, hopefully onto Darrington, Washington. The first 12 or 15 miles of my route wind though second or third growth forest plots and then carry me alongside of the river. I stopped in for a quick look at Turlo Campground. Turlo is a nice little campground on the small section between the highway and the river. Many of the campsites are right on the river and it’s quite noisy here this time of year as the water level is higher than normal.

Carrying on I see that there’s lots of Alder alongside the river which, at this time of year, is leafless but carrying its requisite loads of moss.

It’s mostly cloudy out now but the clouds lift long enough for me to get a picture of the “Four Peaks Mountain” from this picnic and day use area.

Soon I reach the end of the pavement and the road becomes one lane of packed dirt and gravel. I wanted to see how the Bulgesicle would handle on this kind of unimproved forest road so this seemed like a great time to try it out. The next fourteen miles are the same narrow, winding, and sometimes wet sand and dirt road that you can see here. Some of the route is along a very pretty and noisy creek.

The Mountain Loop Highway is designated as a National Forest Scenic Byway and it truly lives up to its name:

The Bulgesicle handled well (maybe even better than I anticipated) on the sometimes slippery road but I was glad, once again to reach pavement and increase my speed. Shortly, I reached Darrington and from there was but a short and often ridden route to Rockport and Highway 20 back to Burlington. The bike and I logged another 220 miles for the day and were pleased to arrive safely at home once more.

My Sunday will be spent washing twenty pounds of dirt from the bike and anticipating when I might again take a ride on the beautiful Mountain Loop Highway.

Ride safe,
Zippo and Jax

It never occurred to me that I’d ever be a shade over fifty-eight and one-half years old. Not that I ever really thought about it too much. But, I find myself thinking about it more frequently these days…

Jax and I were talking recently about whether or not we wanted to take a two week on the bike vacation or a one week on the bike vacation this year. She’s leaning towards one week away and one week home. Taking just a week would limit the distance we could comfortably travel on our bike and preclude some of the destinations I’d been imagining ourselves visiting this summer in southern Utah and northern Arizona. Not that there aren’t plenty of beautiful places to visit on the Bulgesicle that are closer to home, mind you, but there’s something about Utah that does draw me and I was looking forward to seeing some of them this summer. And, there’s the undeniable fact that we are both ageing and who knows how many more of these kinds of trips we’ll actually be able to manage. In only ten short years (and the years seem to get shorter as more of them fall behind me and shrink into the rearview mirror of my memory) I’ll be sixty-eight and one-half years old and it’s not too difficult to imagine that long motorcycle trips might be a bit too much. On the other hand, there’s always a ton of work that needs to be done around the homestead and the more we put it off to go enjoy ourselves on the back of the bike the more the work piles onto us when we return. Still, it’s not like we’ll ever get it all “done” and really, is it that important?

Guess the thing to do is jump on the bike and take a ride and ponder the options. I better do it pretty soon, though. After all, I’m not getting any younger…

Ride safe,
Zippo and Jax

Jax and I figured we’d reached that, uhmmmm, stage in life where camping would take place in our 35 foot Class A Winnebago bulgemobile with refrigerator and microwave and six cats while towing the motorcycle behind on the trailer – she probably still thinks that way! :>). But lately I’ve been considering (dare I say it?) motorcycle camping! Yikes! Call them dudes with the butterfly nets!

There’s just something to be said for heading out on the Bulgesicle plying nearly endless twisty roads through the day and ending up in a nice, quiet (and inexpensive) campsite for the night. Kicking back with your feet up in front of a roaring campfire with a babbling creek running alongside and a suitable adult beverage in your hand… Ahhhhhh, the good life.

On the other hand, of course, there’s the need for a tent, sleeping bags, air mattresses, something to sit on and all the other paraphernalia that make a campsite “habitable”. Packing all of the camping gear onto the back of the bike would probably work fine if I was riding alone but there simply isn’t going to be enough room for the both of us, all of our gear, and all of the camping equipment. That means locating and buying a trailer and installing a hitch; all of which cost money and tend to negate the “inexpensive” part of camping. Another option is a camping trailer to pull behind the bike eliminating the tent and air mattresses but costs truly skyrocket when considering these beauties. Some of them seem to have as many “features” as one could want in such a small package and there’s no denying their attractiveness…

Then there’s simply the possibility that my (slightly) aging (but still willing) body is going to complain about crawling around inside a tent while it’s cold and raining and windy out. Cramming myself into a rucksack hardly bigger than I am while trying to make certain I don’t wiggle myself off of the air mattress and onto the ground into those puddles forming in my supposedly “waterproof” tent. Then, of course, there’s all them little (or not so little) bloodsucking insects whining around and doing their best to make a meal of me. Smoke from the dying campfire drifting into the tent and choking my poor, ex-smoker lungs and making my eyes water like a little kid who’s eaten too much watermelon. Waking up in the morning and doing a McGuyver trying to make a coffee on a burner designed by the Marquis De Sade using a paper towel for a filter and burning myself on hot coffee grounds. Then there’s the fumbling my way to the restroom three or four times during the night to drain that suitably adult beverage I shouldn’t have had earlier. This is the good life?

I don’t know but something tells me I’m going to give this “motorcycle camping” thing a try this year. So, if you pull into a campground and see some (slightly) aging fellow crawling around on the ground next to a red Bulgesicle and coughing like a madman while a tear drips from his eye just smile and say “Hi”. It’ll just be me “having fun”!

Ride safe,
Zippo and Jax