Category Archives: Motorcycle Ride

500km to Cumberland and Back?

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Yesterday morning my visiting twin brother, J, was up bright and early. Of course, I was up two hours before him, but for J to get up at 6:00am, I thought something was on his mind. It was. He came bounding into the kitchen with a bright idea: “Let’s go visit Shirley!”

Shirley? Man, I haven’t seen her in ages. Shirley was the first person to give J and me a “real” job, working at her store in the neighborhood shopping center. We were both 16 and wanted to do something productive during the summer and earn some spending money beyond what we got for mowing lawns. But nobody wanted to hire “kids,” nor two of us to boot. But we were bound and determined to get a job at the same place and work together. Shirley gave us a chance, and we will never forget it. We must have done something right, because she asked us back to work for her part-time throughout high school and during the summers. We both owe a lot to her for the faith she invested in us when we were teenagers.

We thought Shirley was “old.” I mean, she was 30!!! Ancient by a 16-year-old’s perspective–almost twice our age! But she took a gamble on hiring two neighborhood kids, and we proved to her that she could depend on us. She sold the store about 20 years ago and moved to Cumberland, Maryland, which (to me) is waaaaaaaaaay up there, far away. And J was dead-set on going to see her.

He said that he had called her yesterday, just to say hello. But one thing led to another… and he promised to visit. What better way to rack up miles on his rental Harley and enjoy some nice, warm sunny weather than to ride to see her?

J asked me, “can you get that GPS of yours to plot a non-highway route to get there?” I thought about it, and used mapping software, and soon enough had a route figured out that went via ferry across the Potomac River into Virginia, and up through the beautiful Shenandoah foothills. Here’s the route:
It took five hours, but we stopped a few times to stretch and drink water that we had brought with us. Even as comfortable as my Road King is and his Ultra, we both suffered from “Harley Butt” which is a common occurrence on long rides.

We got there in time for a nice long lunch at a restaurant with a beautiful view of the Cumberland Gap and the Potomac River. We had a lot of fun catching up with our dear friend. She is doing very well, enjoying life, and keeping busy. Unfortunately, the ride back was daunting, and I wanted to get home before our dinnertime and to avoid storms that were predicted for late afternoon.

After an all-too-brief visit, we remounted our iron steeds. Concerned that a five-hour return would be too long, J agreed that we should take the highway back. It’s shorter, quicker, and more direct. Though riding alongside big rigs at 70mph isn’t our cup-o-tea, we shifted into sixth gear, clicked on the cruise control, and put our boots up on the highway pegs. We stopped only once for gas on the way back. I am glad that we didn’t dawdle on the return, because we got back home just as the skies opened up with a deluge of a thunderstorm.

We had a lot of fun: two brothers out on the road on their Harleys, enjoying life, visiting with someone to whom we owe a debt of gratitude for having faith in us, and crafting the taller tail to regale to my partner over dinner last night. The hills were higher, the roads were narrower, and the snow was deeper (oops, not that!)… we just laughed and laughed. My partner just smiled. He told me as he held me in his arms as we were in bed that he was so happy that I am really enjoying my birthday “staycation” with J, and how pleased he was that J was staying with us and sharing such enthusiastic joy. Heck, that’s what life is all about!

Oh, why no pictures of J? He is dead serious about not having his image appear anywhere on the Internet. I understand; he has a sensitive job. But his legs in an old pair of my Banana Frye campus boots appear here. He asked to wear these boots, specifically, because it’s what we wore in high school, and he remembered them. He looked really cool in those Fryes!

Life is short: get out and ride, love your family and your friends with all you’ve got!

Leo Ride Leader

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Today, August 16, is my birthday and one that I share with my twin, “J,” who is visiting with me this week. Photo shown here was created by my buddy, David (Bamaboy), who is a real whiz with Photoshop. He has a great sense of humor, and has become a terrific friend. Thanks, man! J and I laughed our heads off!

Yesterday, I took J to pick up a Harley rental, but right after that, he needed to catch up on sleep since he was jet lagged from his long flight from Europe. While he was napping, I did a “pre-ride” with a buddy of a ride I led today. More on that below.

When I got back, my brother “abducted me” for a “let’s get lost” ride. We rode about 100 miles through Southern Maryland and ended up at another brother’s home, located on Maryland’s Chesapeake Bay. My partner was waiting there for us. This all had been arranged in secret, though I figured something was going on.

My brother invited a lot of the family over. We enjoyed a good old fashioned Maryland crab feast, with all the trimmings. We had a great time. I just love my family. Even my partner — the “less social” of our twosome — said that he really enjoyed it.

Today, I led a ride for my club. Each ride gets a title, and this one was simply, “My Birthday Ride.” Our destination was a frozen custard place that was far enough away that we would enjoy a nice ride through Maryland’s countryside to get there, but not take all day. I appreciated that an off-duty bike cop rode in the wing position, as he had a CB radio (I do not). He was able to talk to our sweep rider so we could get the group back together when we got separated in traffic in a couple places along the route.

My fellow club buddies were great to ride with, and all said they enjoyed the ride. Probably so, because of three things: 1) I did not miss a turn; 2) I did not ride through a water hazard nor ford a stream (LOL!); and it was just a great day for riding — sunny and warm, but not unpleasant.

I connected a motorcycle video recorder with the pencil camera pointing backwards from my bike. This shows what it’s like to lead the pack. Leading the pack is something that us leos are known to do.

Life is short: get out and enjoy it!


Why Not Sturgis?

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[I am second from the right in this photo taken in front of Devil’s Tower, Wyoming in August, 1995. My partner took the picture].

A few friends have asked me, “why didn’t you go to Sturgis this year?” Sturgis is a general reference to the largest motorcycle rally held in the United States. The epicenter of the rally is a small town: Sturgis, South Dakota, USA, which becomes a thriving throng of hundreds of thousands of bikers during the first week of August each year. The 69th Anniversary Sturgis Rally & Races was held August 3 – 9, 2009.

I had heard about this big rally for many years, and convinced my partner to go to it with me in 1995, two-up on my Dyna Low Rider. I shipped my Harley to Denver, then my partner and I flew out and met it there. We spent a beautiful week getting to South Dakota via the Rocky Mountains and Wyoming, staying a night or two in various towns along the way. Riding two-up with all of our gear on a cruiser was not something taken lightly, nor provided for riding more than a couple hundred miles each day.

We stayed in a “dive” of a hotel in Rapid City, which we had arranged a year in advance. Oh well, it provided our own private bath, air conditioning, and a bed without bed bugs. We are not the types of guys who would enjoy camping with a bunch of rowdy drunken bikers, so we avoided the camp grounds. (That’s where a lot of the visitors stay.)

For the five days we were in the Sturgis area, we rode back roads and byways that provided for fascinating scenery via two wheels. Riding right up to Mt. Rushmore was a thrill. We saw Devil’s Tower, Wyoming, Lead and Wall, South Dakota, and the badlands. We were among the few “weirdos” who actually went to bed early so we could get up early, have breakfast, then mount our ride and ride … and ride… and ride (I put over 2,500 miles on my bike during that trip!) Many others did not seem to awaken until after noon ’cause they stayed up half the night partying.

We visited the mega-destination of Sturgis, itself, three times during the rally. It was quite a scene, with literally tens of thousand bikes parked everywhere. Vendors of anything biker-related were ubiquitous. My partner bought me my “Skyrider Vest” while I was there. But besides a few t-shirts and small items, we didn’t get much. We didn’t have room to pack it! We did not go to any of the other events held during the rally, such as races (I’m not interested in motorcycle racing), nor parties that were more oriented to straight bikers (women’s boobs and such…).

What I noticed most was the noise. Man, it was just LOUD all the time. We couldn’t hear ourselves talk. Of our three visits to Sturgis itself, my ears rang and I started getting bad headaches. Some thought I was hung over — but since I don’t drink alcohol, that wasn’t the problem. I bought some ear plugs that helped somewhat. But my ears rang and head ached all week. My partner had the same problems.

What we enjoyed most was the scenery. There’s nothing quite like riding highways with thousands of other bikers around, and hardly any four-wheeled vehicles. Pity the poor family on vacation driving a recreational vehicle through the area, not knowing the rally was going on. I betcha they thought all those bikes were like gnats buzzing by, going 85mph when they were only going 50.

During this visit, I explored riding without a helmet. There is no mandatory helmet law in South Dakota or Wyoming. I bought some really good eye protection (sort of like goggles) and we rode for about a half-hour helmetless. Then we decided that: 1) the noise of the blowing wind was really bad; 2) we learned what “bugs in the teeth were;” and 3) we felt very uncomfortable. We pulled over and put our full-face helmets back on and were much more comfortable. I have never ridden without a helmet since then.

Why not go back? Well… it is far away and getting there takes a lot of planning. Either ride all the way and bust one’s butt doing so, or ship the bike and be without it for a month before and a month after the event. It is over 1,600 miles (2,575km) one-way from where we live. Limiting our daily travel to no more than 300 miles/day (my limit), it would take more than five days to get there (provided we don’t stop and see something along the way) and equally as long to get back, not to mention the time actually there. I just don’t have that amount of leave to take from work. Plus, my partner can not ride with me any more, and going alone is not an option. Some guys in my club have ridden out there, but they like to ride longer distances per day that I do, so it wouldn’t work for me to go with them.

Plus, I hate to say it, but as I get older, events like that are not as interesting to me any more. The noise is the strongest deterrent. Then being around all those people … really, not something I want to do again. I would love to ride those roads again, and see things I did not have the chance to see before. However, I do not think I will. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt (and the vest.)

Life is short: realize your dreams when you’re young — life has a funny habit of changing your priorities and interests as you age.

Wet Boots and Bike – Updated

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I can now completely validate that Wesco Motor Patrol Boots are watertight. While on a motorcycle ride on Saturday, the GPS merrily led me along on a road that appeared as a connection between two main roads. However, the road that the damn GPS led me on became progressively more narrow until we came upon a ford! Who woulda thunk our ritzy county still has roads in it with fords?

Heck, this would have been fun had I not been attempting to lead a ride with others behind me. Out I plunged, almost dropped the bike, made it through, along with one other. But the rest of the riders turned back, and I don’t blame ’em. What a friggin’ dumb idea!

Oh well, the boots performed admirably! Never lost my footing, nor got my feet wet.

Life is short: try to have fun, even if lost!

Update: My friend, Bamaboy, is a whiz with Photoshop. He created a revised version of this photo, just for me. It is below. I am ROFL!

Following the Pack

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I served as sweep, “tailgunner,” or “tail,” whichever you want to call it, for a group ride on Friday. We rode through the beautiful highways and byways of my home state of Maryland to the Antietam National Battlefield, the site of the bloodiest battle of the U.S. Civil War.

It’s fun riding in this position. You can watch all the other bikers ahead of you, and have no worries about losing the group (if I were leading it), since all I do is follow along.

The position is important, in case someone has a problem with his bike or is involved in a crash, the sweep rider implements emergency response procedures and renders first aid if necessary.

I enjoy riding in groups, listening to the rumble of fellow Harley motors, and seeing the sights along the way. It was a nice ride on a nice day!

I call the image below “Independence Day in Small Town America” — one of the small towns we rode through still had flags flying on every home facing the main street, and some had red, white, and blue bunting on display. There’s always a church or two with a tall, white steeple on main street. It’s nice to ride through these small towns to remind me that my home state has much of what composes America The Beautiful.

Life is short: ride your ride!

Stupidity on a Motorcycle

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Responsible motorcyclists like me see kids like this and just shake their heads. This kid was to my left, waiting at a red traffic signal when I snapped his photo. What’s wrong with this picture?

  • His right leg is ready to get seriously burned, as both of his hot exhaust pipes are centimeters from his leg.

  • His feet are ready to be seriously injured, as sneakers provide no protection whatsoever in a crash.

  • His backpack was heavy, and I observed that it restricted his movement. That’s really bright; I guess he’s never heard of bungee cords.

  • He was wearing a nice jacket, and while it’s difficult to see, he was wearing thick gloves — why the jacket and gloves if he doesn’t give a damn about the rest of his body?

  • Don’t miss that full-face helmet. If he weren’t riding with his visor fully open, he might actually be doing something right on that end of his anatomy.

What you can not see in this photo is that he was driving like a hot dog, too. He tore off at the light, only for me and others going the speed limit to catch up to him at the next light.

This style of dress and motorcycle riding behavior is so stupid! Yet we see this all too often. When I was an emergency medical responder, I scraped kids like this up off the street all the time. Still happens.

Life is short: Real Bikers Wear Boots! (with long pants).

Commute from Hell

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This week, our Metrorail system is still in major recovery mode from the June 22 crash. Trains stop without notice, slug along slowly, and are crowded as heck. I spoke with a member of Metro’s Board of Directors about it, and he foretold no end in sight. He also reminded me that the crowds are compounded not only with regular commuters, but holiday visitors to Washington, DC.

Today I decided to ride my Harley to work, located in downtown DC on Capitol Hill. I found a great place where I can park safely and for free. The ride there at 5:30am was a piece of cake. The ride home, however, was the commute from hell. I had completely forgotten how awful our traffic is, even earlier in the afternoon. It took me 1:45 to get home. Usually I make it door-to-door in 45 minutes. My feet were really hot (I wore Chip Hi-Shines)… I swear I poured out a liter of sweat from each boot when I pulled them off my feet and wrung out the socks! Air-cooled 1600cc engines get awfully hot in stop-and-stop traffic.

Oh well, I tried… and now remember that driving in the city is no fun (even on a Harley), with the frequent stops at traffic lights and the bumper-to-bumper traffic. On Monday, after our holiday weekend, I am returning to Metro, despite its delays.

And the GPS? … not good for the city. It kept telling me to turn on streets that I know “don’t go there.” Not a good day overall. Here’s hoping to have an early “snuggle night” tonight, where I will relax in my partner’s arms, listen to music, and just relax. That will prepare me for the day-o’-shoppin’ comin’ up tomorrow. Check back!

Life is short: hmmm… longer I guess if you’re stuck in traffic!

It Felt Weird

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Today is the Harley Owner’s Group’s “Million Mile Monday” where members are encouraged to ride — and ride alot — then enter their mileage on-line so that HOG can demonstrate how many miles members rode in one day. My chapter is sponsoring an exceptionally long ride today. Because I was out of the office almost all last week on travel, I couldn’t take a day off today for fun. Plus, riding over 400 miles in a day is not something I realistically can handle. My bike could handle it fine. My body could not. I know my limits. Plus, after a weekend of skydiving and floor laying, I am sore in places of my body that I didn’t know I had!

As I rolled my Harley out of the garage, I was seriously debating contributing some more miles than my usual daily ride in recognition of HOG’s MMM by riding to work. I usually ride to the local Metro station and hop on the train to get to work. Metro has reopened the entire red line, which I use, and thus I would be able to get to work using it. However… I among many still have residual uncomfortable feelings about Metro’s safety. But I also know that now more than ever, they are being exceptionally careful.

So I sat on my bike out in the driveway, watching the sun rise, and was having this big debate with myself. Do I want to try to find a place to park in the city? Would it be safe? Am I willing to deal with the traffic hassles, especially on my return commute? Should I show Metro support, and return to using it right away? Should I confront my anxiety head-on and return to my usual routine?

Well, I did the latter… and rode to the station, parked the bike, locked it up six ways from Sunday, covered it, and then walked to the platform.

I would say there were the usual number of riders. But none in the first car. I got on the second car, which was a 1,000-series train — the most notorious for being the oldest and least safe in the fleet. I began debating again, deciding whether I should switch cars, when that familiar recorded voice declared, “step back, doors are closing!” I took a seat, and began to read the daily free rag to see what the Resnubrikans were railing about today. (One of the daily free rags is ultra-conservative. It’s always a good idea to keep an eye on what they’re saying.)

The train slowly crawled out of the station, and moved more slow than usual down the tracks. I was facing forward, and could see that there were no passengers in the first car. Throughout the trip, I didn’t see anyone get on the first car.

As the train passed by the location where the wreck occurred a week ago today, it stopped, then crawled ever-so-slowly through the area, then picked up a little more speed and continued on its way.

I arrived safely at Union Station. But I have to admit that it felt weird. Should I have ridden the bike to work? Well, I made a different choice: face up to my apprehensions and try to return to my usual routine. So HOG will get only five miles from me for MMM today. That’s okay, I’m sure many others will make up much more of the difference.

Life is short: face your fears.

Bad Biker Boots

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In the old style of ’50s bad-a** bikers who wore engineer boots, those are the boots I chose to wear yesterday when I led a short motorcycle ride. These are my old and very comfy 17″ Chippewa Engineer boots. I have had them for over a decade. They have been through mud, crud, and have come back for more.

I wore them with jeans over. I don’t always wear jeans inside my boots. Actually, when I wear traditional blue jeans, I wear them over whatever boots I choose to wear that day. If I want to wear boots outside my clothing, then I choose a pair of breeches, such as what motorcops wear, and pull on tall cop boots over them.

Yesterday’s ride on Maryland’s backroads and byways was organized for some of us who just wanted to get out for a little bit, orient new riders to the process of safe group riding, and have some fun. The weather was pleasant (and thank goodness the clouds didn’t tinkle through the ride, though it was sprinkling at dawn). Riding with your buddies is a great way to relax, and after this past week I sure needed it!

Life is short: ride and have fun!

A Gorgeous Ride

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Everything came together today, including time for a long motorcycle ride with some buddies. The temperature was perfect — low 80s (27°C) with a very low dew point, so it did not feel sticky. And it finally stopped raining! The work on our home renovation needed to take a pause. My aunt and a few others I check on regularly are doing well, so it’s time to RIDE!

We rode on Maryland’s twisty and hilly byways through three counties (though it seemed like more) to the Antietam Battlefield. The scenery was spectacular, with the sun filtering through the tall trees, and (most) all you heard was the thundering roar of the Harleys in front of you. I rode mid-pack, which is a comfortable place to be. Not in charge out front, not in the rear safety position — just out for a ride with fellow safe riders as we prepare to lead this ride again for visitors to a rally in a few weeks.

For visitors to this blog from outside the U.S., Antietam is an historic location, now turned into a national park. The battle that occurred here on September 17, 1862, was the first on “northern” soil in the U.S. Civil War, and was the bloodiest single-day battle in U.S. history, ever. It is located near the town of Sharpsburg.

I so much enjoyed getting out and shaking the dust off my Chippewa Firefighter boots (which are my most favourite to wear on a long ride when the weather is warm). I got a little sun (though sunscreen blocked the burn) and put 160 miles on my trusty Road King. It truly was a very special day.

Life is short: let’s get booted and ride!