The air temperatures around where I live in the DC ‘burbs of Maryland have dropped considerably. When I left for work yesterday morning, it was 44F (6.7C)! Whew! Time for a warmer jacket and my warm retro chaps! Gloves! And insulated motorcycle boots!

I love this time of year. Crisp, sunny, dry days with cool, snuggly-with-my-man nights. Perfect.

Anyway, the mornings of just hopping on the Harley and taking off for work in whatever-I-am-wearing (shirt, pants, boots) are over. While it’s nice not to have to take more time to put on additional layers and then take them off and secure them upon arrival at my destination, I still love autumn and enjoy what I often refer to as, “leather weather.”

Yesterday morning, I tried out my new gray leather motorcycle jacket. It felt great. Lots of room to maneuver yet tight enough to keep the wind out and keep me warm.

As any visitor to the leather jackets section of my website knows, I have a variety of jackets from which to select. The lighter-weight jackets are worn when the temperatures are in the low 70s (22C), the mid-weight jackets are worn when the temps are in the mid-50s to 60s (15C), and the heavier jackets that have zip closures on the wrists and close all the way up to the neck are worn when it’s cooler than that.

I plan to ride to work this year up until the temperatures reach freezing. I will not run the risk of hitting a patch of ice, which at the time I leave for work in the morning, I may not see because it is always dark.

But meanwhile, “leather weather” is here! Woo-hoo!

This is the photo I submitted to The Advocate representing my day (yesterday) in America.

I enjoyed a day off and went for a ride on my Harley, leading four friends through spectacularly gorgeous Maryland backroads and byways on a delightful day. Yep, we got slightly lost, but we turned around and found our destination. The ride back was uneventful and equally as stunning in the beauty of my home state’s green forests, farmlands, and countryside.

My brother didn’t join us. He couldn’t find a rental Harley that was available (not until next week). He thought it would not be safe for me to ride on unfamiliar, twisty and hilly roads with a passenger of his size and weight. I agreed with him, though I missed him.

Life is short: be out and open. Enjoy your day in America, gay or not.

I ride my Harley to work, and park it in a parking garage near my office. The parking garage has a designated area for motorcycle parking tucked into a corner where cars can’t fit. Best part about it, the parking there is free for motorcycles. (I worked to support legislation that assures free motorcycle parking in our county’s public parking garages).

I am the first to arrive each day, considering my early work hours. When I leave in the afternoon, I see four or five other bikes in the designated parking area.

On Thursday, when I was leaving, I found a printed note (with no name) left on the seat of my bike whining about how I parked and implying that others couldn’t park there. Heck, there was plenty of room on either side of me. Even I, among the most inept at walking his bike in and out of a parking stall, could have parked a clone of my big Harley next to my bike.

Seriously? Hmmm…

Let’s revert for a moment to Thursday morning upon my arrival. When I got there, another guy on a sport bike showed up a few minutes after I did, and tried to park next to me but couldn’t get his bike where he wanted to go, so he moved over and parked down a ways. Plenty of room. When he dismounted, I asked him, “is my bike in your way?” To that he said, “yeah” and then literally ran away. Like I am some big bad-ass Harley dude who’s going to pick a fight with him. Not me, but he wouldn’t even give me a chance. He ran away. How cowardly. He couldn’t even talk to me or have a reasonable conversation.

I think he was the anonymous whiny note-writer. I sense that he is among those who ride sport bikes who have opinions about those of us who ride Harleys. This belief that I have is grounded in the fact that I have complimented him several times on his bike’s paint job and styling. It’s interesting and attractive. Not once, however, has he said anything (good or bad) about my bike. And my bike ain’t so bad-lookin’!

He probably thinks that Harley owners have a low opinion of sport bike riders. Personally, I don’t like sport bikes because of the physical position it puts your body into while operating it — which to me, appears to be very uncomfortable (all hunched over.) I prefer to sit straight up.

I have no ill-will toward operators of sport bikes, though I notice that most sport bike riders do not dress appropriately and seldom wear long pants and motorcycle boots.  And, unfortunately, the younger operators tend to be more likely to ride way above the speed limit and zig-zag around traffic (which gives all motorcyclists a bad rep)…but I digress.

Seriously, if you have a beef with someone, try talking to them about it and don’t leave a whiny anonymous note. Kiddy stuff.

Mr. Whiny McWhinersen (borrowed from another blogger who I follow): get a life. Really. If you have something to say, talk to me in person. If you don’t know who I am, you could leave a note and say, “call me on (number)” and leave your name. Don’t hide behind an anonymous note and leave it on the seat of my bike. ‘K?

Life is short: be a man.

I enjoy riding my Harley, and being a member of a group that has many organized rides — over 100 per year. I have the pleasure of leading some of those rides sometimes, as well as riding in a safety position in the back of the group (known as “sweep.”) I wish I could ride with them more often; alas, my time is tight and since my partner cannot ride with me, I am often torn between being out riding vs. spending time with the man who means the world to me (and fulfilling his never-ending “honey-do” list! LOL!)

Here are some photos of me leading a ride last Saturday. I’m the guy up front in the first three pics. Last pic is of the bikes behind my friend who took the pictures. He has a camera mounted on his handle bars.

Riding a motorcycle with an organized group is fun. Being a leader in the group is enjoyable, too. The spirit is “ride and have fun.” That’s what it’s all about. Doesn’t matter if I’m gay, or that I am not the most skilled rider, or that I easily get lost. I am part of a group who share a common interest.

Life is short: ride and have fun!

Whoo-hoo! Two weekend days in a row, I’m out riding my Harley! Pardon the dust in the bloggetory, but I’m rollin’ down the road looking for corn at a roadside stand… so many tassled corn stalks observed yesterday on my ride that went extremely well, I am now seeking a stand where I can buy some fresh corn for my partner to enjoy. (I can’t eat it, but that’s another story). Man, what a gorgeous weekend!

Actually, today marks the eighth day in a row I have ridden my bike, starting with last Sunday, and every weekday this past week to commute to work, then yesterday, and now today! I plan to continue the commuting pattern all of this coming week, too. I love summer… despite the heat, and provided storms happen at night when they occur, then I ride every.single.day. Who can beat that! Yippie!

See you tomorrow! I’m out ridin’!

Life is short: RIDE! (In long pants and boots! Leave the sneakers for the gym!)

I often include comments on this blog with suggestions to stop obsessing (such as whether you should wear boots or leather garments in public), to chill out (relax, stop worrying about stupid stuff), and enjoy the ride (smile, be happy, etc.)

I realized that I had not been following my own advice. Today (Saturday), I am leading a motorcycle ride. It’s supposed to be a short, fun, just “get out and ride” kinda ride. No specific destination to go to. Just put your boots up on the highway pegs, lean back, set the throttle on cruise at a moderate speed, and enjoy the scenery of the Maryland byways through farmlands and small towns that have historical connections to the U.S. Civil War.

But I take things too seriously sometimes. (Some good friends call it “conscientious”). To prepare for this ride, I got out on my Harley last Sunday and began to ride, thinking that I would ride along and use the trip log on the GPS to track my ride, then save it, and use it for the “official” ride.

Well, no such luck. As I was riding along, I took a turn that led to another turn and before I knew it, I had doubled back almost to my origin. That is, I got lost on familiar roads. Heck, if I get lost on roads that I ride often, how in the heck am I going to lead a ride for a large group to places that are interesting, and have the ride take more than a half-hour and not go through rivers, fords, or involve mountain-climbing?

I had hoped that a buddy would be riding with me last week, but he couldn’t make it. If I had a passenger, I might have pressed on. But it was exceptionally hot and I was tired and frustrated, so I gave up and rode back home. (Well, I took some pictures of my new All American 401 Firefighter Boots that I was breaking in that day for posting to my website, so the ride wasn’t a complete loss.)

But that was all the time I had to attempt to pre-ride the ride. With our usual weekday routine — we both work, I cook dinner, then my partner and I eat — we usually have only a couple hours after dinner before we go to bed before 9pm (and I usually go to a meeting or two in the evenings during the week, to boot). No way I can find three hours after my work day ends to get out and ride.

So the anxiety was building. I was obsessing, worrying, and wondering just how I was going to lead a ride if I didn’t know where I was going to go?

I got onto the computer and began trying to plan a ride. I found the motor company’s on-line ride planner. It worked well, and I thought I figured out a really nice ride. But then I couldn’t save it, or print it out. All the effort I put into it was for naught — all due to some computer problem. This situation was making me even more stressed. (Turns out, the ride planning tool is not compatible with Win7. Who knew?)

The internal fret-meter continued. Self-pressure was mounting. Then a thoughtful, caring, special sister just happened to call me on Thursday afternoon for a routine catch-up chat. She noticed some tension in my voice, and thought my concern was about my partner’s health condition. I explained that as of now, he’s okay and we’re in a waiting pattern, so that wasn’t the reason I was stressed. Then I told her about my concern about the ride planning.

After she lectured me about getting my priorities straight (i.e., it is correct to be worried about my partner’s health; it is not right to be worried about a simple 3-hour motorcycle ride), she helped me to refocus myself. She was absolutely right.

Friday morning, I approached the matter anew, with a more up-beat attitude. I found an old computer with Windows XP, and found that the ride planning tool worked fine on that one. I plotted the ride, printed it out, shared it with my sweep road captain, and followed it with Google Earth and Google Maps (satellite and street view.) It looks good… theoretically.

The attitude adjustment was critical. So what if we get out, ride, and make some wrong turns? As long as we don’t end up in a river or on a roof of a building, we’ll be okay. I have been on all the roads that I want to ride at one time or another, but not in this particular route. But that’s okay… we’ll try it, and if it works, that’s great. If it doesn’t, as long as we remain upright with the rubber side down and smiles on our faces, we’ll be fine.

Life is short: don’t sweat the small stuff.

This guy went on a motorcycle ride that I was part of last week. He showed up wearing boots, a Harley t-shirt, and a pair of ugly plaid shorts with chaps over them.

I admire his courage. And, as usual, nobody said a thing. His legs were protected, and he had boots on… so as long as he didn’t take off those chaps, I guess he was alright. But man, if you’re going to wear shorts under chaps, find a pair of plain-colored shorts. Those plaid things have got to go! LOL!

Life is short: wear leather and boots when riding — no shorts (alone!)

Admit it… we all do it… we see someone pull an idiotic stunt while driving, and we make, uhhh, certain “utterances.”  In my case, most of what I say is in Italian, and most of the time, it’s under my breath.  That is, no one else can hear me, or if they can hear me, they cannot understand what I say. I am not one of those kinds of people who yells and screams in traffic. I usually give the other guy the right-of-way, even if he’s being a jerk or she is driving aggressively. I am not nearly as important as many of the other drivers here in snoburbia. I’ll get there eventually.

So here are (in English) the most common phrases I mutter when I see a driver doing something stupid:

• Hang up and drive!

• The speed camera will trigger a ticket for people going 12 mph over the speed limit — not 12mph under! Speed up at least to the posted speed limit, dumb-dumb!

• Stop checking your email and drive!

• No, idiot in the little black sports car, just because I am on a motorcycle doesn’t give you the right to blow past me in my lane! Go back to driving school.

• appenda e guidi!

• oh yeah, that’s right. Turn signals were invented for the other guy to use. Silly me, wanting to know your intentions.

• Stop texting and drive!

• Luxury minivan driver from the western part of our county, you really don’t need two mini DVD players, do you? Really?

• Hang up and drive!

• Oh goody, thanks for cutting me off so I can test my Harley’s stoopid-driver-avoidance skills once again.

• Nope, your email is still not that important. Put down your toy and drive!

• Which lane do you want? My lane, your lane, or both? Oh, both? Why didn’t you say so!

• appenda e guidi!

• It’s right turn on red after stop, idiot — not “right turn after slowing down to 30mph.” Silly me, I forgot how important you are.

• Stop texting — drive!

• Oh yeah, that’s right, Mr. “my expensive luxury car is better than your dirty old truck” — I sure hope some dirt from my truck didn’t sully your car’s expensive fresh-washed finish!

• Hang up and drive!

• Umm… umm… the light is green. Oh yeah, right, your email is much more important than actually driving. Excuse me for not understanding.

• I just love what you’ve done with the fingernail on the third finger of your left hand! Show me again, puhleeze?

• Stop texting and drive!

• There’s yet another idiot riding a motorcycle wearing a full-face helmet but also shorts and tennis shoes (insert alternatives–sneakers, flip-flops, sandals): way to go to earn points for your Darwin Award while simultaneously giving the rest of us bikers a bad name. Bikers wear long pants and boots!

• Juggling both a Blackberry and a cell phone? Really?

• Your left turn in front of my Harley is always more important that my legal right-of-way riding on this road. Forgive my indiscretion, and look for my family’s wrongful death lawsuit when you kill me.

• No, ducking won’t avoid getting a ticket when you blow past a red light with a camera (you won’t believe how many people I see speed through the lights and duck while doing it! LOL!)

These are some of the things I say… I’m sure there are more. Have you had any of these situations happen? Life is lovely here in snoburbia — home of the most gadget-obsessed and thoughtless drivers around.

Life is short: drive responsibly, and watch for us motorcyclists!