- We are scientists, too!
July of this year will mark three years I've had the DL650 V-strom (2006 model). As of last night, the bike has seen over 37,000 miles of gravel and paved road (and occasionally grass). It sat lost and lonely for six months of last year while I recovered from a broken ankle and surgery. And, at times, it remains home while I ride the little KL250, a more dirt and sand capable bike.
The wheels have seen only two sets of tires these 2.5 years: the stock Bridgeport Trail Wings (often called "Death Wings" by V-strom riders) and Metzler Tourances. By far, the latter are preferred: quiet, increased life, better traction. But all tires succumb to fysicks (aka physics, that 'f' word).
A symptom of many commuting miles on a bike is a greater ratio of wear in the middle of the tire tread. Inevitably the tire develops a wide flat ribbon that circles the middle of the tire. At some point this affects handling in turns. It feels like the bike falls into the turn and becomes more pronounced as the flat area becomes wider. Eventually it can cause the rear to slide, especially in or near 90-degree turns. In fact, it's dangerous.
Since getting back on the Whee last November, the degeneration in handling rapidly became worse. It was time for new tires. I decided to stay with the Tourances. A good friend gave me a front tire off of his V-strom that had only 10% wear; he replaced both his tires with another model when his rear tire needed replacing. I ordered a new rear tire and a flat tire during last Sunday's ride forced me to mount it sooner than planned. Since my bike seems to go through rear tires faster than front (still don't know why), this worked out well.
We mounted the rear tire last night and the short ride afterwards made me realize how awful the bike was before then. I felt like I was riding a bike with square wheels, like those on Fred Flinstone's car. The old tire stood unaided after we removed it; it was that square. Now the bike easily flicks sideways, smoothly maneuvers turns and curves, and doesn't vibrate as much. It's almost like having a new bike again.
So now I can cross off one item on the list of Things To Do before a short bike trip to Big Bend at the end of this month. This time I will be riding the Whee-strom with a good friend on his FJR. This Saturday I will change the oil and oil filter, repair the sheepskin seat pad, and determine how I can fasten a set of highway pegs on the crash bars. I'll think about packing later. All I can think of everyday is just being there.
The wireless thermometer in my house indicated 24 degrees F outside at 4:15 this morning. The first thought in my head was to drive the truck. That was immediately overridden by 'Nnnnno'. But it was a slow 'No'.
The typical cold weather attire was topped off with a wool blend longjohn shirt and silk glove liners underneath the Triumph gauntlet gloves. I allowed extra time for the bike to warm up. Then geared up completely in the house before plugging the Wider vest's electrical coil into the Powerlet socket on the fairing. Turning the thermostat up to '5', the highest yet, I waited until I was wheeling down the drive to turn on the heated grips.
Not bad for a frigid morning until my fingertips started to get too cold. I flipped the switch to high for the fist time since the heated grips were installed over a year ago. In half and hour or so the grips were almost too hot, but my finger tips were not in danger of freezing anymore. Keeping a relaxed grip on the bars kept me from burning the palms of my hands.
With the balaclava pulled up over my nose in the helmet the visor had to be cracked open to avoid fogging. On the highway at speeds near 70 mph the wind into the helmet was enough that I could fully close the visor which kept my face warm.
As usual on my commute rides I kept an eagle eye on vehicles around me. Driving behaviour can reveal much about the driver's inherent personality as well as driving ability and conditions. I tend to mentally and systematically profile any driver near me that demonstrates aberrant driving behaviour. Why? Because I can strategically adapt my defensive driving when near them.
For instance, a truck in my lane in front of me this morning periodically veered over the dividing lines with one or two wheels. One time is excusable if overlap is marginal and quickly corrected. But several times rings alarm bells. After the second time wavering on both sides I concluded he was not attentive to his driving. Cell phone? Applying make-up? (yes, I have seen this more than once) Tuning the radio?
I increased following distance between us. When he changed lanes to my right without signaling I watched for the opportunity to roll the throttle open and pass on his left, keeping him in my peripheral vision. I cautiously passed him on the far left side of my lane and sure enough, he was wandering into my lane as I completed the pass.
I glanced inside the driver window to see an older Hispanic man with both hands rigidly placed on the steering wheel and facing straight ahead. Extrapolating from the condition of the truck -old, beat up, worn tires- I suspected he may not have a driver's license and/or insurance. The latter is very common here in Texas; the combination can be disastrous. "Warning! Warning! Danger, Will Robinson!"
I was concerned about drain on the battery with all the heated gear running at high, so I turned the vest off several miles from the train station and then the heated grips as I exited the highway. This reminded me of the need for a voltmeter on the dash to monitor battery charge and discharge. I've read that most bikes don't efficiently recharge their batteries until 5 rpm or over. I would like to monitor my battery status with all the modifications on my Whee. A voltmeter is on the list.
I sat on the bike waiting for my train with all gear on including my helmet with visor closed. It completely fogged up and all the lights in the dark looked like alien eyes with huge round and diffuse pupils. I snickered at this image with the cars entering and jockeying for parking spaces. Aliens with huge eyes running amok.
On the train one of the routine commuters tapped the armor inside my Joe Rocket Ballistic touring jacket and called me 'Ballistic Transformer'. Then he said, "I don't know if I should call you brave or stupid riding a bike in this damned cold weather."
I'm still trying to figure that one out myself.
And now, another episode in the Gumby Rider Show.
{Pan front of Gumby Rider and bike on country road in the dark, gently leaning into a country curve between trees. Pan closer on the V-shaped headlights and pan out to the side then rear of bike as it passes by camera. }
Script:
Gumby Rider gears down to navigate right turn onto frontage road and merges into left lane approaching ramp onto the highway. Approximately half a mile behind are many pairs of headlights bunched together in both lanes. Except for one lone pair of headlights in the right lane. As Gumby Rider tries to merge onto the highway right lane, the pair of headlights matches Gumby Rider’s speed and neither slows or passes into left lane, thus causing Gumby Rider to brake and nearly outride the entrance ramp.
Gumby Rider shakes her head wondering why the driver didn’t just move into the empty left lane. Gumby Rider pulls into the left lane to pass Mini Van and looks over at the driver. She sees a woman reading a book propped up on the steering wheel with the interior light on. Mini Van Driver is not paying attention to driving.
Gumby Rider’s right arm extends out ten feet and taps on Mini Van Driver’s window. Index finger makes a circle in the air then points downward. Surprised Mini Van Driver rolls window down. Gumby Rider’s hand quickly reaches inside the window, grabs book off steering wheel and smacks the woman on the head several times, then tosses book in the back seat. Astonished Mini Van Driver stares at hand while rubbing side of head. Gumby Rider’s index finger points to the woman then waves it side-to-side.
Bad woman driver.
Is this you?
Gumby Rider negotiates merging traffic from three access highways on Hwys 121/820/183 and maintains speed limit, eyes sliding side to side like a Cylon monitoring heavy traffic on five lanes in the dark. Gumby Rider hears a high pitch whine and sees a sport bike whiz by at 85 mph in the far right lane where other vehicles enter and exit. Gumby Rider turns the locater beam on Sportbike Rider and pushes a button to lock in tracking beam. Then she pushes another button which sends a message and signal to a nearby Law Enforcement vehicle. Shortly a flashing green light on the Gumby GPS device indicates message received.
A few miles ahead in heavy commuting traffic Gumby Rider passes a LE car on the side of the highway with blue and red flashing lights. In front of the car is Sport Bike Rider. Gumby Rider’s arm extends a dozen feet out to the pair on the roadside, fingers forming a big “Okay!”.
Is this you?
Exiting the highway by way of the ramp and onto frontage road, Gumby Rider switches the right turn signal to the left turn signal. She sees two pairs of big bright lights on a big brown Suburban speed up to her bike's rear end as she slows for the red light ahead. Gumby Rider flashes her brake lights as she shifts down, slowing for the stop, and watches Brown Suburban in mirrors, trying to avoid being blinded by the double pair of headlights. Brown Suburban backs off for a moment than stops barely a foot behind Gumby Rider at the light.
The light changes to green and Gumby Rider takes off and turns left like a horse out of the gate. Slowing down to negotiate an angled railroad track, Brown Suburban is again on her rear end. She stands up on the pegs extending her body up twelve feet high, big and bright in the night with her hi-vis vest on and beaming in Brown Suburban’s headlights. Blipping the throttle over the tracks, Gumby Rider is ahead again. Slowing for the red light ahead, again Brown Suburban is on Gumby Rider’s rear end. So close that Gumby Rider can only see headlights on one side of the vehicle in each mirror.
At the green light with turn signal on, Gumby Rider turns right and Brown Suburban turns wide into the other lane to pass her. Just as Brown Suburban passes her, Gumby Rider’s left arm and hand extend several feet out and down, poking a large nail into the passing right rear tire. The Brown Suburban slows with a flat rear tire and Gumby Rider slowly passes, her right arm extended out to the driver’s window with a fist and thumb up.
Is this you?
With a quick flick of the bike, Gumby Rider turns into the train station, slows, turning a nice controlled U-turn into an empty parking spot in the third row back. Gumby Rider sits and relaxes on Gumby Bike watching cars, trucks and SUVs pull in and jockey for position in parking spaces close to the train platform as they try and squeeze in. One car pulls nose in to a spot, backs out, turns, then spends the next two minutes trying to back into the spot.
Is this you?
Gumby Rider sits on her bike, watching the comical scene unfold and shakes her head. She pats Gumby Bike on its tank and gets ready for her morning commute on the train.
Another morning for Gumby Rider.
Labels: commuting
Riding my Sweet Road home -the road with curves, dips, bridges and creeks, grazing horses, eerie trees overhanging the road, changes in temperatures, smells and scenes, bumps and crannies- while passing a horse pasture I saw in my headlights a buck. On the side of the road, my lane, front cloven hooves on the tarmac, looking at the other side of the road. Because he could. To see what he could see.
Instantly the adrenaline surged and the voices began calmly debating:
"Beep the horn?"
"No! The noise may startle him and he'll jump right on top of us."
"Swerve?"
"Not yet. Only as last resort. Considering our speed and trajectory point he'll be beside us, not in front of us."
"Hopefully."
"Brake; firmly but slowly, both wheels. Watch him for movement, then react accordingly. "
"Easy does it......"
Braking firmly but slowly, decreasing speed in the event of an impact, the crash would be less than if at higher speed. My heart pounding but head clear. I rode slowly by him while he stood still on the side of the road. If I had extended my arm and hand, I could have touched his head. As the rear wheel rode past the point of his head, he stepped back onto the shoulder.
And I breathed a sigh of relief. My heart still pounding.
Adrenaline.
Labels: commuting, meanderings
A dark brown pickup truck tailgated my rear end for the third time this morning on the road to and into the parking lot. I have a rule: Three strikes and you're out. After I pulled into my parking spot and removed myself off the saddle, I sauntered over to his truck where it was parked and politely suggested that he maintain more space between his vehicle and any motorcycle in front of him, especially me. I mentioned that this morning was the third time he's followed too close. I smiled and walked back to the bike.
52 degrees Fahrenheit at 4:30 am. That's cold. An extra long sleeved shirt, jeans today under the winter riding pants, polar fleece neck gaiter, winter gloves and the heated grips came on before I entered the road from home. It was a brisk ride. I want the warmth back. I don't mind riding in the heat.
Odors are stronger in the cold. Thicker, lingering, heavy, and not always pleasant. Riding past a refinery assaults my senses. I breathe shallowly until I'm past it enough for clean air. I long for crisp mountain or desert air. Clean air.
The sun is rising over the haze of the city as I view it from my lab window on the thirteenth floor. Soon I'll be in the mountains of Tennessee, away from this haze and fumes that creep into my lab and office through the ventilation system. Cursed with a hypersensitive sense of smell, I'm the departmental 'canary' for odors and fumes. A better ventilation system is scheduled for installation this winter.
Time to play with E. coli, my friends.
Labels: commuting
I wore my touring coat and pants this morning, but packed the mesh jacket in hope some heat diffuses back into my environment. No shorts today; I grimaced as I pulled on pants this morning. Two shirts covered my tank top. I kept my socks on while removing my gear at the train station and stowing it all on the bike under cover. But I usually wear sandals unless it's snowing. At least I didn't have to zip the quilted liners into my gear this morning, but I almost wished I had my electric vest.
I don't like bundling up with layers of clothes, restricting my movement, covering my skin, weighing me down; I feel burdened. Sluggish. I don't like lack of heat. Or lack of sun.
Sigh. It's that time again.
Some time ago I intended to begin a series of posts containing thoughts and observations while commuting on a motorcycle. Alas, the posts composed in my head while on the road invariably dissipate during the day. This series is an attempt to resurrect or synthesize them.
I’m still waiting for the prototype of a flash drive I can insert into my brain and remove to download on my laptop.
Duck on Wheels
I still ride in it. I keep a rain jacket in one side bag and usually wear First Gear overpants which are waterproof (unlike many other gear which claim to be waterproof but are only various degrees of water resistant. There is a difference.) The quilted liner is a plus, despite the tedium of attaching or detaching it.
Boots are another matter. My Dainese touring boots are an interesting mix of water resistant and water magnet. The left leaks like a sieve; my left foot has more than once been submerged in water inside that boot. The right boot is more water resistant, but certainly does not deserve the label of waterproof.
My short Frank Thomas summer boots defy the name embossed on the top: ‘Aqua Master’. Touted to be water proof, they are anything but. I suspect it was a rude joke on us riders by a malcontent employee. Maybe they confused them for scuba divers.
The water repellent Triumph gloves keep my hands dry better than the mesh and leather summer gloves, but they still get soaked through in a hard and prolonged downpour. Reach forward, switch on the heated hand grips. Ahhh………
Yesterday morning revealed clouds in the sky but no rain. In my morning daze at 5:30 am and my brain barely functional with only one cup of coffee, I grabbed the rain coat but forgot to pack the over pants. The balmy 76 degrees F coaxed me into wearing the mesh pants over jeans.
On the train home, I watched with defeat as the rain pelted the windows. I realized I had worn the mesh pants and short boots. I was going to get wet. Drenched.
So be it.
Carefully maneuvering the waterlogged gravel driveway at home, I repeated in my helmet “Greasy, greasy, greasy”. The driveway was slick in places. I stayed in first gear and used my feet to coast to a stop next to the house.
‘Keep hands off the front brake, dudette.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
Hot shower, hot cup of tea, blanket.
Clothes were still wet this morning.
Oh, and its raining again.
Quack, quack!!!!
Labels: commuting