I hope to be there with 2 Kawi KZ builds!
"Hunting Road 'Gators..."
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Street Vibrations in Virginia City
Heading up to VC today for Street Vibes... Annual event in this old silver mining town above Reno Nevada.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Motorcycle Riding is Good for Your Cognitive Faculties
Motorcycle Riding is Good for Your Cognitive Faculties
"Scientists Find that Motorcycle Riding is Good for Your Brain" ... well, let's clarify that.
Kawashima’s experiments involved current riders who currently rode motorcycles on a regular basis (the average age of the riders was 45) and ex-riders who once rode regularly but had not taken a ride for 10 years or more. Kawashima asked the participants to ride on courses in different conditions while he recorded their brain activities. The eight courses included a series of curves, poor road conditions, steep hills, hair-pin turns and a variety of other challenges.
What did he find? After an analysis of the data, Kawashima found that the current riders and ex-riders used their brain in radically different ways. When the current riders rode motorcycles, specific segments of their brains (the right hemisphere of the prefrontal lobe) was activated and riders demonstrated a higher level of concentration.
His next experiment was a test of how making a habit of riding a motorcycle affects the brain.
Trial subjects were otherwise healthy people who had not ridden for 10 years or more. Over the course of a couple of months, those riders used a motorcycle for their daily commute and in other everyday situations while Dr Kawashima and his team studied how their brains and mental health changed.
The upshot was that the use of motorcycles in everyday life improved cognitive faculties, particularly those that relate to memory and spatial reasoning capacity. An added benefit? Participants revealed on questionnaires they filled out at the end of the study that their stress levels had been reduced and their mental state changed for the better.
These findings "feel right", but sadly the sample size in the original study is too low to be statistically significant. Still, You know it, I know it, all riders know that our brains go through a chemical change-of-state when we to ride - we can feel it, we sigh with relief when we start our ride and sigh with resignation when we reach our destination.
I have wondered why some people describe why they ride as "It makes me feel free." Free as a bird on the wing? Free to be a rude jerk on the road and get away with it because of greater acceleration and mobility than the cars around you? Free to scare the bejeezus out of people with loud pipes? I remember a zen teacher once saying something like, "freedom is not a ticket to do anything you want; freedom is having no constraints preventing you from doing what needs to be done for the greater good." Leave it to the Zen Buddhists to turn "freedom" into a lesson in social and moral responsibility.
The study talks about the rider's need to concentrate their mind and body. I know that when I get stressed out by my reaction to people or a situation, I want to get away from that negative source. Getting on a motorcycle literally lets me do that. Yes, a car does too, but driving a car doesn't present the constant physical challenge that a motorcycle does. Furthermore, on a single ride, as when I concentrate on riding I receive rolling sense of small achievements - smooth navigation of hairpin turn, didn't grab a handful in the unexpected decreasing radius turn, anticipated the blue car moving into my lane without signalling, didn't freak out over the slight loss of traction due gravel in the road while making a turn, didn't hit the chicken that was playing squirrel with me...and so on all the way home. The combination of the internal need to maintain balance and momentum (somatic focus) and the all-around threats to my bodily integrity (that's both me and my bike) are usually enough to keep the negative stressors are kept out my conscious mind. Not drowning in negative stress, feeling rewarded by multiple successive accomplishments - definitely good for the brain.
I would love to see a study that talked about the neurochemical changes that occur in the brain when a person rides a motorcycle. Wouldn't it be cool if to hear my doctor say, "Look Cecilie, you push yourself too hard at work and you take things way too seriously. Your cortisol levels are too high. We need balance out those elevated levels of norepinephron. You need to ride more for your mental health. Don't stay late at work, leave earlier and take the long way home. Here's a prescription for gasoline for the bike, 92 octane, 2 tankfuls a week - now the gas is a medical expense and tax deductible." (in my dreams)
- - -
Thanks to Paul Hollerbach for the link. Thanks to Alicia Mariah Elfving of TheMotoLady.com for permission to use her lovely graphic.
Preparing for the Worst - Just in Case
I've signed up with MASA (medical air services) for past trips with my better half because one of MASA's benefits is that they not only take care of the rider, they take care of the rider's companion / fellow rider, and *both* bikes. Think about it, had I needed hospitalization after I high sided on Mormon cricket slime on Nevada's Highway 50 which was more than 150 miles away from our home, Peter would have gone to the hospital with me, leaving one very messed up bike and one ridable bike just sitting out there. MASA's policy would have flown both Peter and me to a hospital near our home *and* retrieved the bikes. Pretty good policy! Worth the money as far as I'm concerned.
The service that takes care of you, your partner/family and your bikes is an annual membership. MASA does have a short trip service offering that will take care of you, but not your bike.
For my summer trip I figured it was time to check out MedJet,
a MASA competitor. As a BMW MOA member I get a discount on MedJet
services. MedJet's services are comparable to MASA's. MedJet's prices
for a single rider are a little cheaper than MASA's and their short trip
service offering will take care of your bike.
Just for grins, I also checked on Air Ambulance Card because the inmates on the ADVRider Forum mentioned the service in the same thread as MASA and MedJet. I scoured the Air Ambulance website and saw no mention of motorcycles so I sent them a message and asked. I received a polite message confirming that they do not offer any services to take care of your motorcycle if you are hospitalized so I crossed them off my list.
I hope that the research and the purchase of a short trip policy with MedJet will be an acceptable sacrifice to the gods of road trip chaos. If not, that's what the policy is for - to give me peace of mind. Four weeks and counting.
[A note on the link to the cricket slime story, 10 years ago when I started this blog, I was hand-coding it and I used frames. To see the entry in its proper context, go to the July 2005 entry after you click here. Someday if I get very ambitious, I'll reimplement the seven years of historical entries in WordPress. (grin)]
Copied from;
Cecilie's Moto Journal
From the beginning riders' class to the track,
across the US continent, Logan Pass and Canada's Icefield Highway, the
Alaska Canada Highway, into the dirt, through Death Valley, from
Newfoundland to Vancouver (July-August 2010), 2012 solo ride from North Carolina to California on back roads, and beyond. [Entries from 2001 to April 2008 appear in my original journal.]
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Monday, September 3, 2012
BUILD Inspires High-Schoolers Through Bikes
How's this for cool?
The Build Moto Mentor Program
is a Milwaukee-based non-profit outreach organization that pairs six
teams of high-school kids with mentors on a 100-day, after-school bike
restoration project.
Each team gets a barn-find condition Honda CB 160/175, $2,000 in
parts, and the opportunity to be judged in areas of "Performance," "Art
Bike," "Facebook Favorite," and "Best of Show." The bikes are later
raced and displayed at the Iron Horse Hotel (the program's sponsor), the
AHRMA Vintage Classic at Elkhart Lake, and the "Rockerbox" Street
Festival in Milwaukee, among others.
Apart from offering students what Build describes as "the opportunity
to learn vintage bike restoration while developing important business,
trade and interpersonal skills," the 2nd annual program also seems like a
great outlet for guys and girls who are passionate about motorcycles...
all of which begs the question: Why don't more organizations like this
exist?
China's Solution for Street Racing? Death Penalty!
It's no surprise when reckless riders get tossed into jail for their
two-wheeled misdeeds, but a new law in China has the potential to land
street racers six feet under. Two riders identified only as Jin and Zhang were racing through the
streets of Shanghai aboard Honda and Yamaha literbikes when they evaded
patrolling police officers. Surveillance footage led to their detention
and the confiscation of their motorcycles, and the two later confessed
to the crimes. Unfortunately for the offenders, street racing in China once led to a maximum of 15 days of imprisonment, but is now subject to the death penalty.
Um, wow.
William H. Macy Goes Hog Wild in Real Life
The idea began in my kitchen when the cast of “Shameless” came over to
watch our series premiere. Steve Howey, who plays Kevin, and Justin
Chatwin, who confusingly plays a character named Steve, both ride
motorcycles, and I suggested we take a road trip from Los Angeles to San
Francisco. Justin pointed out that it was wintertime. I said, “No, man,
it’ California. It’s perfect riding weather.” We all agreed on a date
and then Justin added, “Not to put too fine a point on it, but San
Francisco is northern California.” Whatever.
On a Friday morning, we met at Coogie’s on the Pacific
Coast Highway to begin our trip. Can I say I was nervous to ride with
two young guys? They are half my age, stupidly good-looking and
annoyingly talented.
After a huge breakfast, we headed out to the bikes and mounted up. I
ride a Harley-Davidson Heritage Softail Classic, which looks like a
vintage bike with lots of chrome, saddlebags and a windshield. Justin
rides a Night Train with few creature comforts and Steve has a custom
Wide Glide (both are Harleys, too). My bike has the stock muffler and is
quiet for a Harley, but as for the other two bikes: Rommel made less
noise invading North Africa.
Justin’s handlebars are short and he has to lean forward, usually with
his left arm on his knee, which gives him an “I couldn’t care less”
look. Steve has “ape hangers,” which arch up over the bike so he has to
keep his hands at about face level. He looks wicked cool. Before we did
our pretakeoff fist bump, Justin lay in the road in front of the
restaurant and I took his picture. I don’t know why we did it or what it
means, but I have a picture of Justin, apparently dead, in the front of
every place we stopped.
Up the coast we went, in motorcycle formation — staggered so there’s
time to stop short, but close enough together that a car couldn’t cut
between us — and I felt excellent. I was with the boys, my tribe. We
kept an eye on each other. If the lead biker passed a piece of detritus
or a patch of rough road, he would signal to the rest of us. We saluted
other bikes as they passed with the traditional vague sideways peace
sign. (You only salute big bikes, never motor scooters. No offense.)
We left Highway 1 and took a small road through Los Olivos. I had worked
out a complete itinerary with mileage, reservation numbers and sights
of interest, and I made copies of this six-page document for each of us.
Within three hours we decided to ditch the document and let “Linda”
navigate. Justin can find his way around anywhere, and he says he’s
guided by a voice in his head he calls Linda. He can be really odd
sometimes.
On our first night, we stayed in San Luis Obispo at the Sycamore Mineral
Springs Resort. It’s a great old joint built in the late 1800s with
terrific hot springs. We checked in, and the woman gave Steve and Justin
their keys and pointed them to their rooms. She gave me a map and
described how I would get to my “cabin.” The guys looked at their keys,
and then at each other, and then at me.
“I didn’t think you guys wanted to spend too much money,” I said sheepishly.
“Mr. Macy?” the lady interrupted us. “Your massage is in half an hour so
perhaps I should show you to your cabin?” Steve took the key from her
and handed it to me, saying, “I think Mr. Macy can find his way.”
Later, Steve and I sat in the bar while Justin soaked in one of the springs.
We talked about being actors and having actress wives. Steve’s married
to Sarah Shahi, who was shooting “Fairly Legal” in Vancouver, and I’m
married to Felicity Huffman, who was shooting the final season of
“Desperate Housewives.” One of the challenges of being married to an
actress is that there are often long periods of separation. Steve and
Sarah are suffering from that.
When my kids were young, I (like many men) freaked out about money and
worked nonstop, and most of the work was out of town. And while I did
some lovely films and made some money, I would face three pissed-off
females each time I got home. So I found myself holding forth about how
you have to work at marriage. I hate myself when I do that, but I keep
doing it. “Seriously, man, you keep surprising them with delightful
stuff, and they will give it back in spades. Women . . . are like cats.”
Good lord, I’m a jerk.
The next morning after breakfast, Steve told me to check my rear tire
and sure enough it was almost flat. At a Harley dealer 15 miles away,
the service guy said there were three bikes ahead of me. I said, “Look,
I’m William H. Macy. Do you watch ‘Shameless?’ ” “What?” “It’s a TV show . . . uhhh, you see ‘Wild Hogs?’”
He didn’t know what that was, either. I said, “O.K., look, I tried to
play the movie-star card, but we’re hoping to get to San Francisco
tonight. Can you slip me in?” He said no, that around here he was a
bigger star than me.
We finally hit the road three hours behind schedule. This delay meant we
had to do the 101 — which was under construction — at rush hour, at
night. Justin pointed out that the temperature had dropped 20 degrees in
20 minutes. We rode for about an hour and had to pull over we were so
cold. Justin and I put on all the clothes we had, and Steve tried to buy
pantyhose at a gift shop. (Dear God, I wish they had carried them, as
this would have been such a better story.)
Around 9:30 p.m., we rolled into San Francisco and roared up to the
Fairmont hotel on Nob Hill. It’s a swanky old pile, and when we arrived
there was some big shindig going on. Two pretty young things in little
black dresses recognized me and squealed as they both gave me a hug on
my bike. I found a lipstick kiss on my helmet later. Then they saw
Justin and Steve, and one of them climbed on Justin’s bike and onto his
lap. We three just sat there, frozen. Steve needed help lowering his
hands from his ape hangers. We left our bikes sitting right in front of
the hotel and limped into the lobby, where I offered the concierge any
amount of money for a massage. (Later, the doorman called and asked me
to move my bike; it was blocking a Rolls-Royce and a Lamborghini.)
The next morning, we set off early for Morro Bay, following Highway 1
out of town, and as we roared up those San Francisco streets our bikes
set off car alarms. I don’t know why that tickles me so.
Highway 1 along the Pacific Coast has to be why God created motorcycles.
We had a glorious ride down to Santa Cruz, the kind that gets you
thinking. One of the odd things about riding is that when I hang around
and talk about bikes with guys like Steve and Justin, I experience a
camaraderie and closeness with men I can’t find anywhere else in my
life. But when I actually hit the road, it’s a very singular, private
experience. A long ride can become an athletic challenge, but it’s
lovely to be alone with your thoughts. And sometimes the wind is at your
back and you can really hear the engine humming along. I love that.
We decided to say our goodbyes at the last gas stop before Los Angeles.
We fist bumped, and as I put on my gloves, I instantly regretted saying,
“I love you guys.” But without skipping a beat, they told me they loved
me, too.
When I finally pulled into my driveway, I had a message on my phone from
Steve. “Hey Mace, you know how you said you have to keep doing
delightful stuff for your wife? Well, I parked my bike at LAX and bought
a ticket to Vancouver. I’m going to surprise Sarah at the gate.”
Quail Motorcycle Gathering Holds the Line on Fancy Bikes, Luscious Locales
If you're a well-heeled two-wheeled enthusiast, you've got limited options in this wild world of bikes. Legend of the Motorcycle enjoyed its days under the hazy Half Moon Bay sun (and has since morphed into an online site dubbed Bench and Loom), and though bikes have infiltrated the tony Pebble Beach Concours d'Elegance, they still play second fiddle to four-wheelers at that grassy venue.
This year's Quail Motorcycle Gathering is right around the corner,
and the May 5th event highlights Marty Dickerson's "Blue Bike" (the 1948
Vincent Rapide which I featured my book, Legendary Motorcycles)
and Dan Gurney's "Alligator Bike." The festivities, which take place in
Carmel, California, also include an Indian Motorcycles retrospective.
Event tickets are $65 per person, and $15 for kids 12 and under. On
May 4th, the Quail Ride takes 100 miles of Carmel and Salinas Valley
back roads, and culminates in a private dinner. The ride will run you
$295-- but hey, if you have to ask how much this stuff costs, this
probably isn't the event for you.
Related:
A Heartwarming Tale of Motorcycle Loss and Gain
When 29 year-old Ikuo Yokoyama lost three family members and
virtually all of his personal possessions to the earthquake and tsunami
that destroyed large sections of coastal Japan, he probably never would
have guessed that his prized 2004 Harley-Davidson Night Train would ever
make its way back home. So imagine his surprise when the bike washed up
on the coast of British Columbia, Canada, nearly 4,000 miles away.
Canadian Peter Mark spotted the storage container housing the heavily
rusted bike, along with golf clubs, tools, and camping gear. After the
motorcycle was traced back to Yokoyama thanks to its VIN number, it was
transported to a Victoria, B.C. dealership by Ralph Tieleman, a
motorcyclist who was inspired to volunteer his services. Even more
impressive, Harley-Davidson of Japan was so moved by the story that they
promised to restore the bike.
Of the 1.5 million tons of debris estimated to hit Canadian shores by
the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, it's hard to
imagine anything quite so emotionally invested as a beloved bike. "I
would like to thank the man who found my bike in person," the owner
said. "Thanks for coming back buddy."
Tsunami Bike Finds Home at Harley-Davidson Museum
Remember the Harley that swept up on Canadian shores after drifting 4,000 miles from Japan?
The story originally concluded with plans to send the bike back
across the Pacific, have it restored by H-D of Japan, and return it to
owner Ikuo Yokoyama, who lost his family to the horrendous natural
disaster that claimed nearly 16,000 lives... but a new twist offers an
intriguing outcome to the poignant tale.
According to Harley-Davidson's Milwaukee headquarters, Yokoyama
"respectfully declined" the offer to return his bike, asking instead
that the 2004 Night Train be preserved in its current state at the H-D
Museum in honor of the disaster's victims. He also turned down the offer
of a new replacement bike, wishing not to be "singled out when so many
others lost as much or more" than he did.
Yokoyama expressed gratitude to Peter Mark, the Canadian who found
the remains and, with the help of Ralph Tieleman and Steve Drane,
transported the bike to Steve Drane Harley-Davidson. He also thanks
Harley-Davidson, which has extended an invitation to fly him to
Milwaukee to visit the bike.
"I've always felt Harley-Davidson motorcycles have a soul, and their
owners obviously have an emotional attachment to their bikes," says
Drane. "I just wanted to reunite this bike with its owner."
Source: Harley-Davidson
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