Saddlemen Saddlebags - Don't Waste Your Money

 

This summer, sitting around the house, laid off due to the ‘Rona, I decided to do a couple of things with the bike. One of those things was to get a nice set of saddlebags.Well, that was the goal, anyway.

 I looked around a few motorcycle accessory websites, and settled on a set of bags called the Saddlemen Cruis’n Teardrop Saddlebags. They were nice looking imitation leather with an interior plastic framework to hold the shape, and they had a yoke that mounts underneath the seat and the bags themselves attach via zippers for easy removal to take your bags into a tent or motel room. They even included chrome D rings to lock the zipper pulls to, and little padlocks for the illusion of security.

 

I spent most of the day June 10 installing them. I can’t really fault Saddlemen for that – we all know that “universal fit” is an optimistic term at best. I had to fight with my bike’s configuration and do a lot of disassembly to get those brackets in. But hey – it wasn’t like I had to go to work, right? The bags themselves weren’t all that easy to mount, either. The material was stiffer than regular leather, making it hard to get the zippers lined up properly. They also required two strings each (front and rear edge of the bag) to be tied to the support brackets, plus a nylon webbing strap with a quick release buckle on the bottom of the bag to strap to the bracket. So much for an easy saddlebag removal. Oh well – I always pack stuff in a bag before it goes into the saddlebags anyway and rarely remove the bags.

 

So, after all that, I used the turn signal relocation bracket that was included in the package, because the bags crowded the signals just a bit. Then, the bags went on. Looked great, too. I went on a shakedown run – about 20 or 30 minutes with mixed residential riding (frequent stops) and some interstate blast to see how they held at speed. All looked good. That was Wednesday. On Thursday or Friday, I went across town – about an hour round trip, mostly highway miles. They still seemed good.

I had a rare fit of insomnia Friday night/early Saturday (June 13) morning, so I went for a predawn ride. It was all going great – kind of refreshing to ride in cool night air as a break from the summer heat of the day. I was enjoying myself on a rural state highway, and then it happened. I heard a “whop whop whop” sound. At first I thought my tire had gone flat, then I realized the ride didn’t feel any different. I came to a stop at a red light and looked back at the tire, to find that the left saddlebag was almost off the bike and had been flopping against my tire. The zipper had come undone from the base – the opposite end of where the zipper pull was. Luckily I wasn’t on a long trip on an interstate when it happened, or it would have completely come off or worn a hole in the sidewall before I knew it was happening. As it was, the tire ate a hole into the corner of the bag, and there was a strip of melted bag plastic all the way around the wheel rim. I pulled over and used bungee cords to hold it off the tire until I got home and removed the bags. (Yes, you can see in the photo that I didn't attach the little padlock. That's because I thought they were more for security, but you can also see that the zipper completely let go at the other end.)

When I got home, I looked at Saddlemen’s website and the best information I could get was to call during business hours. I was kind of ticked at that, because I’d rather have sent an email then, so it would be waiting for the warranty people when they came into work on Monday. I left a voicemail and got an email reply the next day saying I’d hear from them in 24-48 hours. When 72 hours rolled around, I sent a reply email and never got a response from that. Finally, a week later, I ended up talking to a live person, who told me I should have emailed them with my information and problem. Now I was more irritated, since I’d wanted to do that very thing, but the website was misleading.

 

For the next three weeks, I’d be promised an update, and not get one in a timely manner. I’d have to leave multiple emails and voice mails before I’d get a response. The response usually didn’t happen until I allowed an angry tone of voice to come through (after a long retail career, I try to at least keep a neutral tone when I’m angry with customer service). At one point, I went over a week with no response. The customer service person apologized at one point, saying he’d been sick and out of the office. I can sympathize with that, but it seems like if he were going to be out for a while, knowing he had an unhappy customer, he should have asked somebody to cover the account for him. He kept having to talk to the warranty department and go back and forth between them and me. I have no idea why he couldn’t just connect me with them. I’d already decided I was done with this company once the situation was done. I can understand a defective part. What I won’t accept (again, after a retail career) is substandard customer service.

Finally, I was told since it had been so long, they would just send me a new set of bags and I wouldn’t even have to return the old ones. They’d ship the bags that afternoon and email me the tracking number.  I thought that was a good move, and felt like they were trying to make it right. That was a Monday (July 13). July 15 came, and still no email, so I emailed the rep again. I got a voice mail from him the next day saying they’d ship then (the 16). No tracking number either. No surprise.

 

The replacement bags finally came, and I installed them. Luckily I didn’t have to wrestle with the mounting brackets again, so it was just a matter of zipping them on and tying the support strings and straps to the brackets. I wasn’t entirely happy with the support arrangement, feeling like the bags rested too far aft of the supports, so a friend and I bent up some metal rods and attached them to the supports. I also didn’t like the idea of those strings either getting caught on the tire or coming united, so I replaced them with carabiners.

 

All was well until I’d had them reattached a couple of months and noticed the “chrome” hardware was already showing rust. Granted, I don’t have a garage, and my bike sits in the weather, but it seems to me that saddlebags are a touring item and should be able to hold up to inclement weather for years. 

Shortly after noticing the rust, the carry handle on top of the right saddle bag tore. I was attaching a small overnight bag to the passenger seat with a bungee cargo net. The hooks went to the fender and the saddlebag supports, and I just hooked the middle hooks to the carrying straps to keep them from flopping. You’d think a handle intended to carry a full saddlebag would stand up to a bungee hook that isn’t bearing any weight at all. Anyway, I took that bag off and used the right bag from the original set.

 

That was okay until last Friday when I went to bungee my lunchbox to the passenger seat to go home from work, and saw that the right bag zipper had come undone. Once again, it didn’t just come unzipped like a jacket would – it came undone from the base.

So, now I have to call Saddlemen after work Monday and see if they’ll give me a refund. I doubt it since they already replaced the bags once. At best, they’ll probably offer me another set of bags, but they can keep them. My experience with Saddlemen has been nothing but negative, and I’ll never buy another thing from them. Lousy customer service, and from my experience, consistently shoddy merchandise. They have a good reputation for their seats, but apparently that’s where all their effort goes, and they don’t care about the bags.

Sleepwalking

Wow. I just looked and it's been over a year since my last post. What the hell?

In my defense, I've had a lot going on in the last year, and to be honest, I've been writing more lately; I've just been more focused on fiction and it's not really blog material.

I had an interesting thing happen recently. I've mentioned that I live in my Dad's house these days. He owns an old portable manual typewriter. It's contained in a suitcase like container with a handle and all. He used to type my term papers for me on them in high school. Kids, this was long before the average person owned a computer. Even at that, an electric typewriter would've been an easier tool, but my dad plugged away on this thing. Eventually I learned to type for myself.

I digress. One morning, in the wee hours, I woke up to go to the bathroom. As I got out of bed, my foot hit something.

Ladies and gentlemen, I kid you not: this antique typewriter was sitting on top of my blankets. I can only think of one other time in my life I walked in my sleep, so the fact that I got out of bed, went to another room of the house, and brought this thing back to bed with me feels significant. I was pretty puzzled, to say the least, but I put it on the floor and went back to bed.

Thinking about it for a couple of hours after waking up, the only conclusion I could come to was that my subconscious mind was trying to  give my conscious brain a kick in the mental ass and tell it to

WRITE MORE

So, that's what I've been trying to do. Write more. Like I said, I've been working on a few things. Some fiction, some semi-autobiographical stuff. But I realized I'd been neglecting the blog, and I used to enjoy writing it. So, this is me, writing more.

Think I can still find ribbon for that old Royal?

Biker Meditation

I was in sort of a mood this morning, for a variety of reasons I won’t go into here, except to say that one of them was probably that I haven’t had a good ride in a while. So, when your thoughts are all tangled and your mood is dark, the best thing to do to unfuck yourself is meditation. Specifically biker meditation, also known as wind therapy. Besides, I just oiled all the leathers yesterday – they needed to be aired out.

I was pretty proud to still be able to zip my chaps down my legs. There were a couple winters recently I couldn’t, due to “middle age spread”. I’ve had this same pair since 1989, so I really want to see how long I can make them last. So far, they’ve outlasted four leather jackets, four ol’ ladies, and about ten bikes. Who knows how many miles they’ve seen?

I digress. I put Lucy on a charger while I ate breakfast, because A) it’s been a while since I really rode her, B) we’ve had some cold nights lately, which can drain a battery left unused and outside, and C) due to finances of the moment, I was forced to buy a low quality, cheap-ass battery a few months ago.

Aaaaaanyhow, I got her all fired up and warmed up and myself suited up. Huh, look at that sentence – my day was already looking up….. (see what I did there?)

Sunday Rd on Sunday afternoon

Off I went. I started down some familiar territory, but chose some different roads branching off the state highways I’ve gotten used to. When you see a side road named Sunday Rd and you’re riding with no destination or schedule on a Sunday, you just kinda HAVE to try it, right? It turned out to be mainly residential, but had some hills and curves, so it wasn’t completely disappointing. A weird thing about today was that I kept taking these random turns onto roads I’d never ridden before, and somehow I kept riding circles and coming back to places I’d already been today. I’m not gonna lie, it felt like a metaphor for life, especially with the way my mind had been working earlier in the day.









But I just rolled with it, and let the engine vibration, the chilly air and the wind brush the stress away. After a couple of hours of crisp air, rolling through some semi-rural roads lined with a mix of Georgia pine and half barren trees still hanging onto some leaves that varied between red, brown, and gold, my mental load felt a lot lighter. Even when I found myself on an unfamiliar road heading toward downtown, with long lines at red lights, I didn’t stress it.

Autumn foliage in the metro ATL

Well, until I got stuck behind a bus doing 30 in a 45, holding up traffic, with no clear sight line to be able to pass safely. And me with a full bladder! By the time I was able to stop somewhere, I was doing the pee pee dance. Ah well, a couple drinks later and I was back to being relaxed.

So, the cure for an overthinking day in November appears to be wind and gin. In that order, mind you: be safe out there.

Winterizing Your Motorcycle (Southern Style)

You can find all kinds of articles in print and online containing information on how to “winterize” your motorcycle. From what I can tell, the final step involves actually ignoring the poor machine, possibly for months, afterwards.

But whyyyyyyy?????

Speaking from my own experience, having lived as far north as the Baltimore suburbs for two winters, I can tell you all you really need to know to winterize your bike.

1. Make sure your tires have good tread and keep them inflated to the proper psi. Or whatever the metric equivalent is, if you live in one of those places.
2. Be sure to change your oil and filter every 3,000 miles or so. Again, or the metric equivalent. You do the math, because I don’t feel like it.
3. This one is very important, and can save you a LOT of trouble. As soon as possible after switching to reserve or seeing the fuel light come on, refill your gas tank.
These are the basic steps to winterizing a motorcycle, and should keep you running through the winter. Also, for the rest of the year, for that matter.

Advanced steps might include things like installing a windshield/fairing, a wiring accessory to plug an electric jacket/vest liner into, or memorizing the locations of the Waffle House locations in your area that tend to have the freshest coffee.


Ride ‘em, don’t hide ‘em, folks!

So Far

As I’m closing in on the half century mark, I grow reflective and pensive. Of course this is contributed to by friends’ Facebook posts. One high school classmate posted about her list of 50 Things To Do Before Turning 50. Another turned 50 today and posted a status with his own particular wry take on the fiftieth trip around the sun.

In the past, I’ve been inclined to think I’ve led a boring life. After all, most of my friends usually have wilder, bolder, more extreme stories of their exploits. Occasionally, I get reminders that everything is relative. It’s less a case of a boring life, and more that I’ve chosen to surround myself with some truly larger than life folks.

I thought I was boring, calm, conservative. Hearing my girlfriend-at-the-time’s assessment of my lifestyle a few years ago made me realize that I was just the calm one in my crowd. Kind of like being the smartest kid on the short bus, apparently, because ultimately I was too wild and out there for her.

Several years ago, I was standing in line waiting for the accountants who set up temporary kiosks at Walmart to do taxes. I’d ridden, so I was wearing my club colors. An older gentleman who was also waiting to get his taxes done starting asking questions about the various patches on my cut. Normally, too many questions will get on my nerves. However, this gentleman seemed genuinely just simply curious, and was completely respectful. We wound up in quite a long conversation (highly unusual for me in such circumstances), and he drew my history out of me. As we closed our talk, he commented “Well, you’ve certainly had an interesting life so far.” And I was awestruck by that simple statement. I’ve lost sight of it many times since, but once in a while that conversation drifts back to mind and I reflect back on my “boring” life.

Let’s see, looking back…………

Six weeks after high school graduation, I was in Navy Boot Camp. I went to the Defense Language Institute, where I became fluent in Farsi, then went on to a couple of other schools for intelligence/crypto training. My permanent duty station (PCS) was at the Naval Security Group Activity (NSGA) Ft. Meade, in Maryland. It’s home to the NSA, whose headquarters building I worked in for a couple of years. I was deployed to Command, Middle East Forces (COMMIDEASTFOR), in the Persian Gulf, and spent time on multiple warships manned by the finest maritime fighting force in the world. I saw offshore oil rigs spouting flames several stories into the air, resulting from a battle more than two years prior. I watched schools of luminescent fish swim alongside a frigate at night. Walked the twisted streets of the bazaar in Manama, Bahrain – streets and buildings which had probably not changed much in hundreds of years (with the exception of adding wiring and plumbing). I climbed a rope ladder down the side of a frigate and jumped into a 27’ boat to travel a couple hundred yards and climb up a rope ladder and board a cruiser. There’s nothing quite like a sunset crossdeck by motor boat while underway in the PG.

Counting my military time, I’ve lived in Georgia, California, Texas, Florida, and Maryland.

In all, I’ve set foot in seven foreign countries and twenty three states (and Washington, DC).

I’ve ridden a motorcycle in fifteen states and Mexico. I’ve ridden in temperatures over 110 degrees, and under 20. I’ve ridden in rain so hard I couldn’t see the lane divider lines. I’ve been caught in freezing rain such that when I stood up off the bike, sheets of ice fell off me. I’ve ridden at ludicrous speeds through ridiculous situations with complete confidence in my fellow riders. I’ve spent saddle time alongside some of the best motorcycle riders there are. Also, some of the worst. I’ve managed to get groups I was leading hopelessly lost in the middle of nowhere, but hey – if it all went according to plan, we wouldn’t have anything to talk about, would we?

I’ve had the pleasure and honor to wear colors with the greatest Motorcycle Club in the world for over 25 years: Gypsy MC. During that time, I served as Road Captain five times, Sergeant At Arms five or six terms, Vice President twice, Secretary twice, and ultimately was an Area Vice President for four years before retiring from active membership. They say the colors don’t make the person, the person makes the colors, but Gypsy has a lot to do with who I am today.

I’ve been threatened with knives and guns and survived. I’ve fought in bars, raced on the streets along the Mexico border, and been involved in a car/motorcycle chase and here I am. Maybe a little worse for wear, but there’s that thing about things to talk about, eh? The best stories come from the worst decisions. 



I’ve been with women. Mostly (but not always), we parted ways on a friendly note. Mostly (but not always) we parted due to some fault of mine. (Cue Julio Iglesias’ song “To All The Girls I’ve Loved Before”….). I’d like to think I’ve learned some lessons along the way and I hope that my current relationship lasts.

I have two wonderful children, one of whom is starting his own adulthood, and one who is just beginning her education. I couldn’t be prouder of either of them. He’s working at building a career in the entertainment industry, and even at her young age, she’s leaning towards art. My two artists: I can’t wait to see where their own journeys take them.

I’ve recently relocated back to Georgia, and my childhood home. Back to my roots. Beginning the next chapter of my life. Who knows what adventures lie in wait for me in the next few decades? After all, it’s been a pretty eventful “boring” life…


So far.

Winterizing Your Bike, for Southerners

I went for a ride today. I put a friend on hold for some tentative plans we had, because "it's a pretty nice day, and there probably won't be a whole lot more before the cold weather kicks in".

Well, "cold weather", as most of us know, is a relative term. I live in the southeastern US, The South. Georgia. We're actually gifted with a climate that allows year-round riding. So when I talk about one of the last nice riding days, I mean without bundling up.

It was the kind of day I really enjoy. I got my first bike, a 1978 Honda Hondamatic 400cc back in 1989, picking it up in the winter. I rode it through Spring and early summer, until I deployed to the Persian Gulf for a little while. When I came back with some extra money in my bank account, I dropped a down payment on a 1985 Honda Shadow 700, which I consider my first "real" bike. The rides I used to take after that deployment settled into my psyche as perfect riding weather.


Perfect riding weather, like today. High 60s and sunny. The kind of weather where I head out with a leather jacket, but just a t shirt underneath - no need for layering on a day like this. The kind of day where when you're stopped, you feel the sun warming up the leather, and you even start to feel hot if the red light takes too long turning green, but then as you get up to speed, you feel the chill as the cool wind creeps in around the edges of the jacket at collar and sleeve. The kind of day where everything just seems right. The motor fires at just the right rpm level to let you feel the vibration, but never overwhelms you. Where the sun hits at just the right angle, and never blinds you in an unfamiliar curve. The kind of day where you glance at a side road and this time you don't file it away in your memory for another day, but double back and turn off to see what it has to offer a curious rider who has a day off work on a Tuesday.

It wasn't lost on me that although this was pretty much the perfect riding day here, there are many people who are already performing their annual ritual of winterizing their motorcycle to prepare it for months of storage in a garage or shed. This is a really big part of what I love about living in the South. Mild climate. Year round riding. None of that fluffy white stuff that falls out of the sky and makes it hard for rubber tires to maintain traction on asphalt.

So, if you're in the right climate, don't take it for granted. Get out there and ride. Pay attention and really appreciate what you have. And if you're stuck in the great northern wasteland, try to get in a few more good rides if you can. And as you're putting that bike away for the next few months, we'll be doing our own winterizing: pulling the heavy gloves, chaps, and warm layers (or electric liners) out of the closet.

Personal Rebuild

“I hate writing, I love having written.”

― Dorothy Parker

And that, my friends, is my problem. Makes me think I should pick up some of old Dorothy’s books and see what she managed to churn out in spite of herself. I’ve been told I’m a good writer, but to be honest, sometimes it’s hard to make myself do it, even though I like the results. Well, sometimes. But I guess like any other hobby/pastime/passion/whatever, no matter how much you enjoy something, it can become a chore at times. You just have to push through that, and keep your eyes on the good times ahead. Kind of like bikers in the winter. Sure, your fingertips get numb, and your whole body is tense, but on some level, the ride itself is still fun, or you wouldn’t do it. So you push through, waiting anxiously for warmer weather.

I do want to write more. Once upon a time, I wrote nearly every day. I keep saying I’m going to do that again. I also keep saying I’m going to do some other things more, too. It’s well past time for talking about it, and I’m getting a pretty late start at the actual doing. It’s time to put up or shut up. Fish or cut bait. Shit or get off the pot.

I’m inspired by a friend. She made a list of changes she wanted to make in her life, and created an Instagram account to post about it and to hold herself accountable. She has a hundred things on her list, and is adding one each day, then accounting for how she implements the new habits, and how she’s maintaining them all as time goes on.

While I applaud my friend, and enjoy her posts, I know myself well enough to know that that level of both detail and obligation (even self-imposed) would just backfire and basically push me away. So, I’m following her inspiration, but with my own spin.

So, in no particular order, here’s my own list, with accompanying commentary.

·         Write.
I used to write blog posts a few times a week. I’m going to get back to that. I think I also want to try to work in some more fiction. I may not post the fiction, at least not immediately, but I’d like to work up to writing at least an hour per day average. Life happens, so obviously actual time spent will fluctuate, and if I end up doing more on a regular basis, that’s even better.

·         Exercise
I’m solidly into middle age, and terribly out of shape, so in the interest of realism, I’m not looking at any bodybuilding competitions or marathons or whatever. Just trying to get my ass in motion and feel better in general. Maybe as I improve, I’ll develop more ambitious goals, but for now, I’m looking to grind out a walk and/or some pushups and situps/crunches every day.

·         Read
I used to be this guy who had a book in his lunchbox to read on break at work, another book or magazine on the coffee table to pick up during commercials while watching TV, and one on the nightstand for pre-sleep reading. Then along came the internet and close on its heels, social media. Then easy streaming  bingeing of TV shows and movies. I actually fell out of the habit of reading for a while. I’m reading more now, but I’d like to expand it. So, I’m committing to an hour per day (not counting what reading I do on break at work). I’ve never been good about reading nonfiction, so I’m looking to bump that up too. Part of the commitment is to read at least one chapter a day of nonfiction. Honestly, this is probably going to be the easiest part of the whole program.

·         Stay current on correspondence
When I got my first smartphone, I thought it would help me stay in touch and up to date with communication. Nah, it helped me waste even more time with its easy access to things like Facebook and Twitter. Sure, I can read emails during the day when I’m nowhere near my computer. But then I decide that a reply will be easier on the full sized keyboard at home. And I promptly forget to go back and write that reply. As a result, I have a backlog of emails and Messenger messages waiting my attention. So, the goal here is to fix that and to stay on top of the messages. I’ll work out some sort of system. Maybe set aside a day a week to make sure I catch up on anything I’ve put off over the previous seven days.

·         Less “TV”
The quotation marks indicate that TV means all those things I use the TV for: Netflix, Hulu, Vudu, DVDs. Movies, shows, all of it. The goal is to limit it to an hour a day. This will honestly probably fluctuate a bit, too, and that’s okay. I’ll also make exceptions for days I’m stuck at home sick, and obviously if I decide to watch a movie that will go over the time. I think in this case, the spirit of the law is more important than the letter of the law.

·         Disconnect more from the phone
I’ve become more addicted to my phone than a teenage girl, and that needs to stop for a number of reasons. I took a couple of steps already. A few months ago, I deleted the Facebook app. That alone reduced my phone screen time. I just started a new job where we’re not allowed to have phones on our person while working, so that’s been a big help in making this particular adjustment, too. I can’t reach for the phone just because I have thirty seconds of space to fill.

I’m hoping that writing out this list and posting it online will help bolster my commitment to making some improvements. I started out trying to push myself to write more, and look at this. An all-around self improvement plan. Who knew writing could also make you a better person?

I know this is kind of a boring blog post, but I guess I’m trying to rehab my writer’s legs. Gotta crawl before I can walk, right?


Wish me luck, y’all. Here I goooooo……


P.S. I know it’s a big no-no because of SEO and original content and all, but I’m doing a copy and paste of this onto both of the blogs I’m maintaining. These are www.ridinandwritin.blogspot.com and www.handgrenadesandhorseshoes.blogspot.com. Whichever one you’re reading this on, take a few minutes and check out my other writing on the other blog.

P.P.S Thanks for the inspiration, BW. Thanks for the occasional written kick in the ass to help motivate me, too.

We All Need More Motorcycle In Our LIves

Saturday morning I got Lucy, my 2006 Suzuki Boulevard S83, back from the shop. It had been way too long. I’d tried working on her myself for too long before throwing in the towel and taking her to the pros. Electrical issues are damned tricky, I’m telling ya. As one of my club brothers once said when I asked him if he knew motorcycle electrical systems: “I know they got one lever. Lever alone!” (RIP Trippple Nippple, you’re GBNF). Total down time: three months. I was having withdrawals.

The rest of Saturday was taken up with attending a wedding and reception. I worked Sunday, and got sprinkled on on the way home, but no biggie. Monday was the magic day. Instead of heading toward home after work, I went the opposite direction. Because you know: motorcycle. I rode a couple of highways and several streets I’d never been on before, through a couple of towns I’d never been in (Union City and College Park, GA if you’re curious) before the road led me into southwest Atlanta and more new-to-me streets. A random turn wound up putting me directly onto I 75. I was pretty hungry by this time anyway, so I decided to head homeward.

I decided on a Waffle House near home for supper. I grew up on Waffle House, and in my opinion, it’s almost the perfect restaurant. Good ol’ greasy spoon food for any meal of the day, and everything available 24/7. The only imperfection is the serious lack of Tex Mex on the menu, but I digress.

Another cool thing about most Waffle Houses is the atmosphere. The grill is right behind the counter, and if it’s slow, you can end up being dragged into conversation with the waitresses and cooks. Almost like at a bar, only without the booze. Well, this was well past normal meal time on a weekday evening, so I was the only customer at first. There were a couple of (I’m assuming) off duty employees hanging out in a booth, plus two waitresses and a cook. I’m sitting there, happily eating my patty melt and hash browns (scattered, smothered, and covered), and the juke box is blaring away. It’s kinda loud due to the relative emptiness of the place, but not obnoxious. The waitress is doing her side work right in front of where I’m sitting at the counter, smiling as she and the other waitress sing along with one R&B song after another. I didn’t recognize any of the songs or artists, but they were obviously having a ball. She told me I had to pay for the food, but the show was free. We laughed and a few minutes later, the recent cover of “Tennessee Whiskey” came on the juke box, and I joined in the singing.

I hadn’t noticed, but a couple of older ladies had come in at some point during the song and were sitting in a booth at the end of the place. Next thing I know, one is at the door while her friend calls out to her: “It’s nearly over, come back”. I guessed she meant the song, both because it was fading out, and because the lady who was headed for the door started yelling about not sitting there with it so loud she gets a headache, and that’s why she stopped coming to this place, and, and, and, more sour, bitter things I couldn't keep up with.

Now, to be clear, I’ve been married to two migraine sufferers (I’m probably not the cause of the migraines), so I understand that can be an issue, but this wasn’t that. She was just an angry lady who wanted a reason to be angry. I finished, paid, and walked outside, where my waitress and one of the off duty employees were smoking cigarettes. I walked up, shaking my head, saying “Ain’t it a shame that some people don’t seem to be capable of saying something simple like: excuse me, but the juke box is a little loud – would you mind turning it down?”

Personally, I’d just had a pretty enjoyable and fun hour or so after work, simply by riding down some roads I’d never seen. I’ll be honest – I’m not typically the world’s most positive person. In fact, I’m quite often fairly negative, but there are two things I can say about myself. One, I never try to spread my misery to others when I’m in a low place. Two, I can almost always find a way to have some fun. Assuming I’m not waiting a month and a half for the shop mechanic to chase down my electrical gremlin…

Anyway, I’ve found that motorcycle people generally are able to find a way to make the best of bad situations. I’ve been at bike rallies where we had a blast camping in sub freezing temperatures, and at others camped in triple digits. Yet, here was this lady, who essentially walked into a spontaneous party on a random Monday evening and got pissed off about it. She obviously needs more motorcycling in her life, huh?

Don't we all?

Maybe I should start carrying a spare helmet with me. If I run into her again, I can offer her a ride and teach her how lighten up.

Rollin' With The Changes

So…..

Harley Davidson has announced four new models ( https://www.harley-davidson.com/us/en/about-us/more-roads.html#intcmp_HP-BB-MoreRoads ) coming up in the next couple of years. These models are a radical change from the expected from the Motor Company, and social media is all ablaze with hate from the Harley Faithful.

Which is ironic for a few reasons. For one thing, aside from the electric bike, these aren’t exactly new concept motorcycles. Even for H-D, if we’re being honest. Despite what their website says, the Pan America isn’t their first adventure tourer. Have they already forgotten a little branch of their company called Buell that they shut down just a few years ago? There was this Buell model called the Ulysses. Pretty capable adventure tourer, from articles I read back when it was a current bike. And that Streetfighter model? A streetfighter is essentially just a naked sportbike. Um… wouldn’t that be, I don’t know, EVERY other Buell model? The Custom looks to be basically a factory street tracker. Honestly, my biggest issue with the new models is the names. Streetfighters were originally custom bikes, not something you bought as is, and I actually kind of cringe at the term “factory custom”. It’s like “postal service” or “military intelligence” or “jumbo shrimp”.  But apparently the motorcycle industry at large has appropriated the words chopper and bobber for bikes rolling off the assembly line, so I guess streetfighter and custom are just marketing-speak now.

The biggest departure (again, aside from the electric model), is that these three models will apparently be each offered in four different engine sizes. 500, 975, and 1250cc are specifically mentioned on the site. A 250 is mentioned in reference to Asian markets, but I’m wondering if the fourth displacement for the American and European market won’t more likely be a 750, like the Street. Personally, I think this is something they should’ve done many years ago. If they’d introduced a 500cc Sportster back in the 80s, with its easier use for novice riders and inevitably lower price point, how many new riders might they have attracted, and possibly kept as those riders traded up as experience and disposable incomes increased?

Harley folks seem (to me, anyway) too hung up on “tradition” and classic looks. Don’t get me wrong – I have a solid appreciation for the aesthetics of the past. I just happen to like modern reliability and ease of use, too. It seems like every time H-D makes a technological step forward (which is only about 1/5 as often as other motorcycle companies to begin with), there’s an uproar of protest. “Sellout!” Well, “selling out”... isn’t that what a business exists to do? Sell their product? The sad fact is that Harley’s sales have been in decline. Today’s motorcycle buyer just isn’t buying the classic look, heavy cruiser. And for those that are, Harley now has competition in a segment of the market they’ve dominated for decades. With first Victory, and now Indian syphoning off a big chunk of their customers, Harley has to adapt, or face going under. So, they’re adjusting to the new reality of the motorcycle market. It’s a smart move, and really, judging from the reactions I’ve read, a brave one. It seems like every time they take that step forward on the technological timeline, Harley is also accused of wimping out. It seems every change H-D makes comes with a flood of negativity from the very people who insist that buying anything else is just plain un-American. The fairly recent release of the partially watercooled motors was the source of jokes. Same with the V Rod. I remember when I was first setting foot into the biker world in the early 90s, the hard core bikers were still making fun of Evo riders (the Evolution motor was introduced in 1984). Of course, I’m sure Panhead guys made fun of the Shovelhead (1966). I’ve heard that when Harley put rear suspension on its bikes, there were people upset about that. Electric starter? Sacrilege. I’m sure there were some who hated the idea of overhead valves when the Knucklehead motor came out. If some people had their way, we’d all still be riding kick start only bikes with rigid frames, magnetos instead of batteries, hand shift/foot clutch, and questionable drum brakes.

It’s laughingly ironic that these seeming technophobes want to hate on new technology, profess how much better the old ways in the old days were, yet, they’re doing so on the freakin’ internet, using a smartphone that puts more computing power in their pocket than NASA used for the moon launch. Like the old song says “Things that make you go Hmmm…”

Anyway, while I do like the looks of most Harleys, it’s no secret I’m not a huge fan of the brand. Plus, they’ve now done away with pretty much the only two lines I’d have been interested in if I were to go H-D again: the FXR and the Dyna. However, they’ve impressed me with this bold new move, and since they’re an iconic piece of Americana, I’d hate to see them go out. I wish them all the best with their new product lines. And who knows? Maybe one day you’ll see me on a Harley Streetfighter. Maybe.

I Got The Shaft

So, I’ve recently transitioned to a new-to-me bike. In my nearly three decades of riding, I’ve owned in the neighborhood of a dozen bikes (I could count, but I’m too lazy at the moment). This new(ish) bike is a 2006 Suzuki Boulevard S83, and even though she’s in the shop at the moment getting an electrical gremlin hunted down, I’ve loved every minute I’ve spent riding her. Don’t get me wrong – I can’t say anything negative about the SV1000 that just went away. Well, maybe something about that seat, but I digress. The SV was a bit of a departure for me – I’ve always had UJMs and cruisers. I like to refer to her as my midlife crisis bike.

Now, it’s not a knock on the SV itself, but one big hassle with a lot of bikes is chain maintenance. It used to be that nearly all bikes were driven by chains, but somewhere along the way some smart guy invented the Kevlar drive belt, and then those clever engineers in Japan started putting drive shafts on a few of their bikes.

I’ve had several chain drive bikes, two belt drives, and I’m now on my third shaftie. The belts are kinda nice in that you don’t have to lube them, but you do still need to check the slack and adjust them occasionally, and I just never quite got the hang of belt maintenance. Also, they’re much more expensive to replace than a chain when they break. Ask me about the time I slung a belt off my Sportster on Hwy 183 rolling through Austin, TX traffic…

Which brings me back to the shaft. When I started thinking about what my next bike would be, I decided a while back that one of the tick boxes on the checklist had to be shaft drive. I put over 100,000 miles on the SV. I can’t even begin to guess how much time and effort was spent on lubing, adjusting, and changing chains. Plus how much money went into chains and lube over the ten years I had her. I’m guessing it was in the neighborhood of $Toodamnmuch. Matter of fact, I think I still have a couple of partial cans of lube, and a spray can of chain cleaner. Hit me up if you want them.

Now, the shaft drive. Ah, the shaft. No adjustment whatsoever. Lube? Sure; every year or two, drain the gear oil from the housing at the rear wheel, and pour a quart or liter or whatever in to replace it. Boom. Done.

So I’ve developed this weird obsession with shaft drive bikes. Since I’ve already owned multiples of each Japanese brand plus a Harley, BMW and Triumph were already on my bucket list. Now, due to my new quirky little preoccupation, Triumph has taken third place, replaced by Moto Guzzi. Matter of fact, the third place slot is precarious for the little limey, because there are other bikes out there competing for my attention: older Yamaha Maxims, older Honda Shadows (my second bike was a 1985 Shadow 700 with a shaft drive), Suzuki cruisers, Honda baggers, the VTX, and even the venerable Nighthawk. Even the bike you see everywhere on the hipster café/custom circuit: the Honda CX500.  Hmm. Honda seems to be as fond of shaft drive bikes as I am. Maybe I need to look into them some more…

Luckily, my financial situation doesn’t exactly lend itself to impulsive purchases, or I’d have a back yard full of second hand R- and K- models, CXes, Maxims, and at least one Guzzi.

Wait. How exactly would that be a bad thing?

So, yeah. If you have some old bike with a shaft drive just sitting around taking up space, and you want to find it a loving home, leave a comment below.

Gentlemen, Start Your Engines!

I haven’t written much at all lately. Like, in months. In spite of promises to the contrary on my blogs and to myself.

Ironically, the problem often isn’t that I don’t have anything I want to say, but that I have too much to say, and it gets hard – daunting – to open the white screen and put fingertips to keyboard and.

Just.

Start.


So that’s what this near-meaningless, borderline whiny post is all about. I’m making myself write something. Anything. Just to fucking do it.

I’m going through a similar physical experience. I’ve let my body get to the point where ten pushups is a strain. Bending over to tie my shoes is painful to my lower back. But I’m making myself start somewhere, even if it’s an embarrassing starting line. Something about a journey of a thousand miles and a single step, right?

So I’ll post this on both my blogs, and then hopefully there will be a flurry of posts on both. Hopefully it won’t stop after that initial flurry, but just settle down to a steady pace.

Oh, and just to put extra stress on myself, I’m considering trying to throw some fiction into the mix…


www.handgrenadesandhorseshoes.blogspot.com

www.ridinandwritin.blogspot.com

When The New Bike Works Just Right

Turning left on the way home tonight, a car going the other way turned right. Should've been no problem, except the driver decided to make an immediate left into a strip center on the corner. Why she didn't go through the intersection and make a simple, single right turn is beyond me. I should've had two lanes to choose from, but she had had the entire left lane blocked, with the rear of her car extending into the right lane too. I was already in a hard left lean, so I pushed the right handlebar and swerved hard right. Got past the bumper and was pointed at the curb, so I gave a hard shove on the left handelbar to swerve back to point the right way. Wound up feeling a slight slide from the rear tire as I found the edge of the tread.

Damn, I'm loving this bike! She went right where I told her to go, when I told her to. This is also why I love drag bars.

Ride on, y'all. Mileage is knowledge!

That's Not How Uber Works

I saw something a couple of weeks ago that I had to share with my readers.

We all know certain stereotypes exist on TV and in the movies about bikes and riders. We also know that we see a lot of behaviors depicted that just aren’t realistic. Sure, they’re great for entertainment, but we don’t expect them to happen in real life.

Well, most of us don’t.

Here’s what happened.

I’m on my way to work one afternoon, and hear a bike coming up from behind on my left. Naturally, I glance over as he passed me. Cool, a Yamaha Bolt, with a spare helmet hanging from the side. Yes, the spare lid is relevant. Bear with me.

Well, he passes on by me (I was going slower than usual because I was in my car, because work uniform).  Anyway, a bit later, he makes the same left turn I was making. Right after the left turn, he shoots across both lanes of our side of the road to zoom to a stop at a bus stop. I saw him saying something to a pretty young lady waiting for the bus. He even patted the back seat and pointed at the spare helmet, all while she was (kind of disgustedly) looking him up and down from head to toe, and stepping back from the curb.


Oh. My. God.

Dude, did you just……?


Did you really think that move from Hollywood would actually get a modern woman to just hop on the back of a motorcycle with some dude she’s never even seen before and ride off into the sunset?


I shook my head and laughed the rest of the way to work.


Thanks for the afternoon entertainment, Mr. Hopeful.

No Wasted Trips

I went to the dealership looking for a bike part today. I'd totally forgotten that it's Monday and every dealership in the country is apparently required by the laws of physics to be closed.


See, some people would consider that a waste of time, but a motorcycle rider just makes a U turn in the parking lot and takes the long way home. It's not a wasted trip, it's an opportunity for a ride.

We Don't Need No Stinkin' Baggers (repost)

In the interest of making regular posts, I'm once again throwing out a repost from my original blog (handgrenadesandhorseshoes.blogspot.com).

This one is actually timely, in a way, as the world just lost rider/writer Robert Pirsig in the last week. If you've never read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, go pick up a copy. Especially if you ride.

We Don't Need No Stinkin' Baggers

Photo taken from http://ww2.usca.edu/ResearchProjects/ProfessorGurr/gallery/Pictures-Robert-Pirsigs-original-1968-trip/aam

In the late 1960s, Robert M. Pirsig took a motorcycle trip. He told the story of that trip, and mingled in philosophy and a bit of autobiography in the book "Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance".


Here is a list, excerpted and compiled (and  paraphrased in places) from lists of his own in the book, telling what he carried on his trip:

1. Two changes of underwear
2.  Long underwear
3.  One change of shirt and pants for each of us. I use Army-surplus fatigues. They're cheap, tough, and don't show dirt.
4. One sweater and jacket each
5. Gloves
6. Cycle Boots
7. Rain Gear
8. Helmet and sunshade
9. Bubble (he refers to a snap on face shield available for the helmets of the day - full face helmets weren't around yet)
10. Goggles
11. Shop manual for his bike
12. Chilton's Motorcycle Troubleshooting Guide
13. A copy of Thoreau's Walden
14. Two sleeping bags
15. Two ponchos and one ground cloth. These convert to a tent and protect the luggage from rain
16. Rope
17. Maps
18. Machete
19. Compass
20. Canteen
21. Two Army surplus mess kits with knife, fork, and spoon
22. Collapsible Sterno stove
23. Aluminum screw top cans for food and condiment storage
24. Brillo
25. Two aluminum-frame backpacks

Toolkit containing:

1. Large adjustable wrench
2. Machinist's hammer
3. Cold Chisel
4. Taper Punch
5. Tire Irons
6. Tire patch kit
7. Bicycle pump
8. Chain lube
9. Impact Driver
10. Point File
11. Feeler Gauge
12. Test Lamp
    

Spare Parts:

1. Plugs
2. Throttle, Clutch, Brake cables
3. Points
4. Fuses
5. Headlight & Taillight Bulbs
6. Chain Master Link
7. Cotter Pins
8. Baling Wire
9. Spare Chain

Notice he had no cell phone, no rainsuit, was prepared to make major repairs including changing tires and/or the chain while on the side of the road. Also notice his tent was no lightweight, waterproof nylon thing with lightweight shock-corded aluminum poles that set up in five minutes.

Also notice he was traveling with his teenage son, and had all this stuff piled onto the bike. For seventeen days. No interstate travel, either - back roads and two lane highways as much as possible.

What kind of bike did he use? A Harley-Davidson Electra Glide? Nope. Indian? Nope. A Honda CB360. Including the passengers and gear, the bike was probably carrying its own weight.

And nowdays we feel we need fairings and windshields and radios and CBs and CD players and mp3 players and GPS and a big monster engine.

No. We just need two wheels and to get on 'em and RIDE.

Reflections On a Ride Home One Spring Night.

Riding home tonight from across town.


Middle of April, around 9:00 pm. Sun’s been down an hour or so, but all I need is a light cotton long sleeve shirt for warmth at 75 mph.



Riding through a large city, yet I can still catch the occasional whiff of honeysuckle in the air, punctuated by the smell of backyard cookouts.



This is Bike Life in Atlanta. Southern riding at its best.

Black Top and Red Clay

Beautiful day for a Monday

Ah, the benefits of working retail hours. Sure, my schedule changes weekly. Different days, different shifts. However, sometimes it falls into place. While everybody else was griping and posting Facebook memes all basically saying “I hate Mondays”, I slept in, leisurely cooked and ate breakfast, and took my time sipping coffee while checking out Facebook and Instagram.

Recently, a friend gave me a route he likes to ride on occasion. Normally, I like to discover roads on my own, but then again, I’ve ridden a lot of poker runs and enjoyed the hell out of those roads, so why not?

I set out during what is most people’s lunch hour. The temperature in the low 70s, and no chance of rain. Wearing a light flannel shirt, I was just a bit cool at speed, and just a bit warm at a stop. So, you know, it balanced out just fine.

As everyone knows, freeways are great for getting from Point A to Point B in a hurry (except for I-85 in Atlanta at the moment, but I digress), but not for much else. To really enjoy your ride, you have to take surface streets and back roads. On a bike, you see things differently than in a car. You experience the trip rather than endure it. You can feel the variations in temperature and humidity, you can smell the surrounding countryside (for better or worse)

Black Top and Red Clay

Winding down rural highways and country backroads, I was struck again by the contrast between Georgia and central Texas. I’ve been used to wide open skies, and wide fields off to the side. Here there are a lot more tall trees right up near the roadside, and if there’s a field it’s most likely planted as opposed to just open country. Also, I’ve made numerous mention of kudzu on this blog, but today I saw more of another regional marker: red clay dirt. Yup. Black top roads, pine trees, kudzu, and red clay. That’s what Georgia is made of.

Monticello, GA courthouse and Civil War veteran memorial

I wound my way from Morrow/Rex through Stockbridge, switching to Hwy 138 after 42 turned off west. Turning onto 212, I continued down to Monticello, and stopped for a pic of their courthouse and a pretty neat quote on a veteran’s memorial in front of the courthouse. From there, I switched to Hwy 11 and rolled north back up through Mansfield to 278 east to Covington. Turned onto 81, and back south. 81 crossed my earlier track at Hwy 212. Coming into McDonough, I turned north onto 42 and headed back home.

Sleeping in, followed by a three hour, 122 mile ride on a Monday? Yes, please.

Ride Her More

I’ve been in a writing slump for a while, partly because of time, partly other factors. One of which was lack of time and good riding weather coinciding. And since this a motorcycle related blog, well…

Circumstances have changed in my favor. I have more time now, and today was the second day of Spring, and it actually looked like it: sunny and warm, in the 70s mostly, with a predicted high in the low 80s.

I celebrated my day off by sleeping late and taking my time cooking breakfast at lunch time while the bike battery sat on the trickle charger (since it’d been a while since I’d ridden her). 

Suzi, ready to ride.

Suzi fired right up when I hit the start button and we were off. A couple of turns to get out of the neighborhood, and then I was on GA 54, toward Jonesboro. 54 turned off to the right, but I continued onto what became Main Street and just kind of enjoyed the historic part of town, along the railroad line. Once I ran out of town, I circled back and turned onto 54 and rode out into the Georgia countryside.

If you’ve seen the movie Smokey and the Bandit, most of it was filmed in this area. There was a scene where Jerry Reed’s character wades waist deep into a pond, chasing his dog. I rode past that pond. I know, because my family used to drive this route to church three times a week when I was a kid, and my father pointed it out back when the movie was still recent. I’d have taken a picture, but there were two ponds that could’ve been that one. I guess I’ll just have to watch the movie again to find out which one. Hmmmm…. I wonder if it's on Netflix?

Anyway, I’m rolling along, enjoying what was really a perfect day. Sunny, warm-but-not-hot. Scenic roads with just enough curve and hills to be interesting, but not enough to require strict focus, allowing my thoughts to wander. Riding along, totally in synch with the bike, feeling the engine vibration, feeling when to shift up or down, grooving along perfectly, never feeling the need to go any faster or slower than what I was doing at the moment. (Except of course stopping for traffic and signs/lights.) Perfect ride on a perfect day.

On into historic Fayetteville.  Still on Cloud Nine from this awesome day. Fayetteville has an old fashioned town square, around an old fashioned courthouse. I decided to circle back and get a photo. I parked across the street, bungee corded my jacket to the back seat (it was really too warm for the jacket), and lined up and took a picture.

Courthouse, Fayetteville, GA

Then I put the phone back in the tank bag. Turned the key. Pushed the starter button. And heard “RRRRR rrrr rr r….”

Crap.

Push the button again.

“RRrrr rrrr r”

Apparently, being ridden only sporadically and being parked outside all winter will kill a motorcycle battery. But it will wait until you're 20 miles from home on a great ride on a beautiful day before it strands you.

I think Suzi may have developed some passive-aggressive issues.

Suzi, no longer ready to ride.

The parking lot had a slight slope to it, so I tried to push start her. Got rolling, clicked into second, dumped the clutch, and …. I might as well have just stepped on the brake, because that was the only effect I got.

I pushed the bike into a parking spot under a tree, pulled out the phone and called my dad to bring jumper cables*. When he got there and we connected the cables, Suzi fired to life with no hesitation.

I rode right to the bike parts store and got a new battery. Luckily I got offered a really low price, and a veteran discount on top of that. Nice way to salvage the nearly ruined perfect riding day.

I guess the moral of the story is:

Ride your damned bike!






* Before anybody tries to lecture me about jump starting a bike from a car, it’s actually fairly safe if the car isn’t running when you push the starter button. Matter of fact, before I knew better, I actually jump started one of my bikes from a running car several times with no ill effect.