Still November Riding

It's been an unusual winter.

Between bouts of severe cold and snow, it's warmed up enough to bring temperatures just above my "safety line" of 35 degrees F. Below that, I know I've got a limited chance of keeping my tire temperatures warm enough to stay sticky. I've already got one low-side slide in traffic under my belt to prove that. But at 35 F and above, I can usually work the tires laterally as I'm riding the straights, and do enough hard stops and starts and aggressive braking, to warm the rubber up enough to where I have some good measure of control over the bike.

And so I've been hesitating putting the bike into warm storage for the winter.

It's been a tough decision because I know ahead of me lay a long, cold, and snowy winter without any riding, and yet the forecast has continued to have days reaching into the low to mid 30's. As long as there hasn't been too much moisture leaving streets ice/snow covered, I've been out riding, and about 15 of the 24 days this month have been ridable, even if sometimes it's been very hard to keep my body warm at speed.

Last night's cold soak and the freezing rain and snow the previous week have left a slick, glassy "ice sheen" on most of the roadways this morning. Previously snow and rain-moistened leaves collected around the roadways in sometimes impressive patches are de facto ice traps.

Still, I give the frosty alleyway a "kick test" in my riding boots, and I decide it's doable. I mount Sunshine, my Suzuki Bandit 1250S, my favorite bike, and ride to a nearby espresso place.

I take the long route, heading north from home until the sun starts to blaze through the partly cloudy eastern sky, then east and facing the sun, soaking it in and allowing the loosening rays to warm through my many layers, then circling back south and north through the city itself.

Lots of puddles remain stubbornly frozen despite the above-freezing air temps, and the wind and sky tell tales of a coming winter cold soak. Also, no matter what I did this morning, I couldn't keep my fingers warm. The engine itself struggled to put off enough heat to warm up my legs at speed (and gloved fingers at stop lights).

Still, I saw this morning's beautiful orange and blue sunrise on the back of my motorcycle, breathing in the environment and feeling the thundering heartbeat of my bike as my pulse and speed quickened a bit to match it... well... it was awesome, and that's the point.

Freezing Rain, No Snow This Morning...

... so *this* is definitely ...

the last ride of the year.

 :-)

Last Ride of 2019

I've been on Sunshine (my 2008 Suzuki Bandit 1250s) every ridable day possible, dozens of rides the past few weeks between bouts of single-digit weather and several short stretches of snow. Between those days, the thermometer would crawl and claw its way back into the 30's and even low 40's, and I would ride.

I was the only bike on the roads around Minneapolis and St Paul this morning as I carved my way through northeast traffic and out to the eastern river valley one last time, avoiding patches of ice from yesterday's melt and last night's freeze-up, and keeping my body and legs tucked tightly into Sunshine's engined-warmed midsection. The sky even opened up for about an hour and let the bright sun tease me into believing I was warm. It didn't last long, though.

I soon found myself navigating back towards the city, my limbs in the now severe headwind were suffering the cold despite being layered up, and my high-tech Icon winter gloves couldn't keep the icy chill from numbing the tips of my fingers and grip. I head for a safe haven, a warm and welcoming coffee shop near home, not willing to park my friend in the garage again just yet.

With the windchill in the teens and the temperature hovering around 35, though, I believe this will likely be my last ride of 2019. Snow in the forecast tomorrow, 20's and much colder after that. I'd like to keep riding but, because of the severe stretch of cold last week, even Sunshine's powerful fuel-injected 1250cc engine wouldn't stay lit for our first ride yesterday morning. I'm pretty sure this was because the fuel had gelled with the severe cold. I bought some fuel stabilizer and anti-gel additive to pour into her tank, and today she was fine, but I really want to end this riding season on a high note, and so I'm going to call it and give her a well-deserved warm winter's rest in a heated garage up north.

There will be many more adventures to be had in 2020, I'm sure. More roads and places to explore. More time spent in the awesome moving meditation that riding has come to mean for me.

I wish you a safe and joyful holiday season, see you next year.

Days like These

I fired up Sunshine, my Bandit 1250s, this Friday morning and unlike the much frostier mornings this past week, she fired right up and gladly stayed lit, her engine burbling and gulping air with excitement for the early morning ride that was to come.

The Bandit and I rode into the early morning sunrise, dodging questionable city traffic and swelling rush hour pandemonium as everybody seemed in a hurry to try to finish up their work week (myself included) so we could all enjoy the nearly 70-degrees and bright blue skies today.

Such awesome October weather.

I finish my work at a nearby Dunn Brothers in a t-shirt, leaving my insulated riding jacket hanging on the chair next to me - I just want to enjoy the wind on my arms, despite the obvious chill hanging in the air.

I was headed for the music cafe that I usually enjoy for a bit on a Friday, but sadly, it has now been converted into an "egg roll" place, and the music scene seems to have all but died there. Ah well, everything changes. I hope the independent and local musicians I've enjoyed there over the years find an even better venue to call home. And, of course, I'll really enjoy riding around finding it, too. ;-)

Not many days like this left this year...

Life Rider, 'Realized'...

In my many travels this past year, I have had precious little cycle time. I mean, I've probably been on 50+ rides, but they've been necessarily shorter than I would have liked.

Last week, though, an old school friend on a business trip about 300 miles away offers a welcome excuse for a leg stretching ride, something more than "to the gym, from the gym, to the gym, from the gym, ..." The ride down was picture perfect, carving highways and long stretches of double-digit back roads to get to the southern Wisconsin / Illinois border. A few maintenance issues but nothing a quick stop by the parts store for a replacement bolt that had shaken off during the rougher parts of the ride, and a new chain (with an oil change) installed last night by Motorcycle Performance in Madison, since the old chain was starting to make a really bad rattle (picked up a rock..?) with every circuit which I only noticed after I had stripped the bike of its saddle bags and went to park it without a helmet on.

So my friend and his six co-workers and I went to dinner (and watched the Packers lose) and hung out yesterday and this morning, and this afternoon I started my ride back the "long way", intending to ride due west to the Mississippi river valley and then swinging by a tiny town in southwestern Wisconsin to visit my daughter on the ride north from there.

Very much unlike yesterday's long and sunny ride, this afternoon saw the skies in southern Wisconsin turn very moody and dark, and my ride started out in a slow, drizzle that quickly turned into a regular rainstorm. I finally called 'time' about 30 miles from where my younger daughter lives in order to regroup and dry out.

But as I sit and dry out and reflect on the the last hour or so of riding, I realized that at some point, I just forgot that I was actually riding a motorcycle. The movement felt completely natural, as though it was perfectly normal for my body to fly down these beautiful (but wet) Wisconsin two-lanes across fields and farmland at 70+ miles per hour. The means and method became invisible to my mind, and for a good long part of that ride, I was free and just saturated by the experience... wet, glassy roads, cloudy hilltops, saturated helmet, the rain saturating the tops of my legs and jeans, taking in the ride through a rain-soaked visor, all of it... pure experience.

In many ways, I feel like I just started riding again. It feels new somehow, and yet deeply familiar. I think somehow all this thinking about riding has calmed down and now I just ride. Period.

For the rest of this life, I will be on a motorcycle and riding...

Doing the Right Thing

Rode into a perfect 45 degree spring morning, sun filling the ever-blue sky above me, all the trees now leafed out, pine pollen wafting through the air, and buds and flowers and foliage of all kinds just popping.

The dark blue waters in the lakes along my ride reflects all hues of green, white, yellows, and silvery blues, and seem to blur the distinction between earth and sky. It's the kind of day where a half hour of riding seems like it passes by in about 3 minutes.

This ride is heavenly, I think to myself, trying hard to stay focused on the ride and the moment.

My "usual" thoughts these days are heavier than normal.

A few years back, I promised to take care of a loved one as she grew older, and now, protecting her means keeping her from doing things that are not in her best interest, and she has very much let me know how much she hates me for it.

The world is full of takers. Regardless of the 'label' they wear... 'brother', 'son', 'friend', 'family', etc., there are basically two kinds of people in the world: those who live to feed off others, and those who've learned the much harder lesson of feeding themselves and finding their own way, no matter what.

In choosing to protect this person, I am putting myself squarely in the line of those who would continue to take her for granted and set her up for failure.

That's a tough place to be. A lonely place to be.

But in being a man of honor. and knowing my intentions are clean, without any false or self-interest, I'm willing to stand in the face of ugly people and say, simply: "no".

No, I don't claim to know what's "best" for this person, but I certainly do know what's worse for her, and that's where I draw the line.

The ride clears my energy and bolsters my spirit, and so I ride. These endless scenes of nature fill my helmet (and my head) for a while... good enough for now.

Cold Starts (Warm Hearts?)

The past couple days have once again dipped down into the 20's and 30's. Spring seems to have woken up the animals and the budding poplar and maple and elms are not being shy about their urgency to see the days grow warmer as they also grow longer.

Although it feels like it should be spring, there is still a lingering cold start to each day thus far that feels like tentacles from a long winter, refusing to let go.

Still, I am on my bike again, and my wife and I took a very cold evening ride two-up on Burt (my Honda Shadow Spirit 750dc) on Saturday. Warm days are coming for sure. We just have to believe that nothing unwelcome ever lasts forever.

The positive that seems to have come from all this is that every one of these good country folk seems equally haggard by how long and trying this winter has been. The temperaments I'm encountering as I wander about town are unexpectedly mellow and kind and warm. People here seem generously engaging with their smiles and concerns, but a lingering tiredness shows through chapped winter faces. 

Spring is about renewal, so maybe a deep winter challenge has made that overdue renewal that much more worthwhile..?

Regardless, another unexpected win from a motorcyclist's perspective: my ride into the coffee shop in downtown Ely to start my work day was completely bug free. 

That is one VERY welcome side-effect from these still-frozen nights. :-)

The Importance of Reflection

I left early this morning so I could start my work day at a coffee shop in the small town about 20 miles down the road. I park the bike on the gravel when I see one of our neighbors walking his dog, and we get caught up on the latest. His dog, it seems, took himself on his own 'ride' yesterday while his wife was busy transplanting garden asparagus. Ten hours later, an exhausted ghost of a dog showed up again on his doorstep, and this morning, she certainly seems all smiles and tail wags, no worse for the adventure.

As I say goodbye and fire the bike back up, the back tire spits gravel and spins out a bit as I rapidly accelerate onto the asphalt highway towards town, hoping to avoid forcing any traffic to slow down if they should round the curve and, surprise, find me entering the blind intersection. Up to speed, my attention immediately shifts to concern about deer. Multiple bikers have been killed on this very road in motorcycle-vs-deer accidents. I've studied these accidents and learned as much as I can from what I could gather from the media reports, but I'm still very acutely aware of the increased danger this particular backwoods-twisty-road-plus-forest-full-of-deer combination represents.

Quite contrary to what a lot of people who read these words may believe... it's not the 'thrill of danger' that keeps me riding here, it's a solemn respect for it, as well as a feeling of privilege that I am able to do what I chose do, ride where I want, despite this objective risk.

Of course, it's hard to think about any of that in the middle of the tire-screeching braking that happens when deer have (and continue to) run in front of my bike. It's only afterwards, upon quiet reflection like this, that it all makes sense again.

So I write this blog for myself, mostly.

One of my daughters may occasionally read something I write (usually because I send them a link), but mostly, this blog is for me to reflect and write about things in a way that I understand, and maybe only me. And that's ok.

My 'ride', whatever the vehicle, is expression in motion. It translates thought and presence into a linear trail (literally one of time and position), whether those miles are covered horizontally on a bike or flying a plane, or vertically on a skydive or climb. Any ride is, at least in part, a way of getting things out. And in doing so, it also becomes a life journal of sorts.

And then comes reflection.

I cannot imagine living life without sitting back and reflecting on what I learned along the way. Whatever your form of expression may be, look back on how that played itself out, and reflect on what you left behind, what it meant to you, each second of the way. Only then can your next ride be as good or better than the one that came before it. Each will always be different from the one before, but it'll also always then be better in some important way.

That is hard-won advice, if ever I had any to give.

Remembering to Live Again

I woke up listening to the early morning loons on the lake by our home. Our dog pretended to sleep at the foot of the bed while I got dressed, but as soon as I clicked the handle on the door he came running out, ready for our early morning walk in the woods.

We live in the Northwoods now, not far from the Canadian border and surrounded by one of the most pristine wilderness areas still in existence. Our dog drags his tongue out and he smiles in readiness as I tell him to wait, and lace up my boots. We both bolt out the door. 

The crispness of the day is not lost on me, and soon we are walking up the national forest (cross-country ski) trail just a few hundred yards from our front door. Bald eagles soar above the dog and me, and the lake is still and reflective of the budding poplars and pines in every direction. Loons swoon their morning song and song birds of every kind chirp and trill, as our part of this forest is in the middle of a primary songbird migratory path.

So I decide on the walk back that this would be an excellent 'first day' to ride. 

The weather this winter and spring has been rough, even by Minnesota standards. We spent a good month in January hovering around -40℉ lows, and -20℉ highs. And even though spring is here, and (at least on the calendar) it has been 'Spring' for a while, last week we woke up to 3 inches of snow (the northern Minnesota town of Duluth about 2 hours south of us got 10 inches).

Really, though, any of several days in the past couple weeks would have been good 'first days' to ride, but neither my heart nor my head would have been fully in it, so I kept the bikes parked and waited until both would be fully engaged. Not just for safety (though partly for that), but also to not take anything away from the ride ... to be able to fully enjoy the the exhilaration and the experience.

The thing is... I've forgotten somewhere in the past year, with the continuous stress of relocating and rearranging and moving our lives up here, and accommodating the very demanding needs of my mother, and planning and as yet being unable to go see my father again. And working like crazy, and... the physical toll all of this took on my health and general feeling of wellbeing... well, all that was a bit too much. 

I feel like I'm just now waking up from a dream, remembering who I am again, so that I can keep being that person.

I feel like I'm remember how to live again.

The bike is definitely helping. :-)