Whither March

And so the lion came. In the form of an inch of wet snow last Saturday and with a chilly 18 degree overnight low tonight. More of an annoyed lion's scratch than a culling of the herd. Thank goodness.

Two divergent topics tonight - new tires and achy joints.

Achy joints - Well, predictably, I got competitive with myself lifting weights in the barn. I started following a program based on 5 sets of 5 reps and increasing the weight incrementally each time. Except it was supposed to be "increase the weight incrementally each week", and incrementally rarely, for fellas 47 years old, means 10 pounds.

So I found my self doing squat 5 x 5's with 265 pounds and HOLY WAH! my left hip felt like it needed to be replaced! For a few weeks I bobbed back and forth so bad while I was walking I looked like Festus scurrying to the shootout.

So here're the things - Incrementally means like, oh, 2.5 or 5 pounds. Per week. The result is I started over at 225 to give my tendons, ligaments and shit time to catch up with my skinny thighs. And last night popped out a set at 235 and feel great.

Tires - Here's something I didn't want to know. Some people change the tires on their bikes with each oil change! Now that's street bike dudes tearin' up the twisties, but still. Most Motorcyclists are thrilled to get 10 k out of a set.

My tires need replacing.

Now go shop for tires. Too many damn choices. Features, tread, soft, hard, compounds, yadda, yadda, yadda. I settled on a new pair of Michelins which were cutting edge 2 or 3 years ago. There are "better" tires out there now, but hey, my VFR is 4 years old. This laptop is two years old. Eh.

Friday Night

The macro. The micro. Lessons are learned when one sees the other. The lesson is learned when they see each other.

What is the lesson?

All that ever will be is now and has forever been.

You can't take it with you.

Put up or Shut up

I hereby publicly declare that the next chance I get to gear up and ride I'm going to do it. Only thing that will hold me back is crappy road conditions. My wife runs in every type of weather, even with crappy roads, so I'm going to adopt her fortitude.

Besides, what is being "cold"? Temporary freezing of the fingers? A red, runny nose? The shivers? Nah - that's just what happens when you're out in the cold. Being "cold" is not having the recourse to become warm (i.e. stranded on a desolate road in sub-zero temperatures; not able to pay the utility bill; being homeless). My wife loves running - she is a "runner" - so the cold doesn't hold her back. If I am a "motorcyclist" then it shouldn't me either.

Winter

I am a motorcyclist. But is winter, in Wisconsin, real winter. Thus I am out of the saddle and out of sorts - for now.

So I spend hours every week in a cage (car) that really brings me no joy. It's not a great bother either, but it leads me to spend a lot of time in neutral (me, not the car). Which has led to, literally, saddle sores. My wife has shown me some yoga positions and reinforced positively my efforts to stretch out the kinks and bursitis.

I finally got my butt out to the barn and started lifting weights again. Next to my new favorite past time, riding my motorcycle, lifting is a close second, or at worst third, maybe fourth or fifth. Anyway - squats, bench presses, cleans, dead lifts and standing presses are being recorded by yours truly. I hope to be able to keep a lid on it a little and not fall into competing with myself, lifting too hard and incurring another little injury. Deep down I'm an ectomorph trying to look like a mesomorph and I just ain't hard wired for power lifting.

I do think it will improve my riding though. Well-er is better. Engaged is better. Expending energy (having energy to expend?) is better than taking it in (read: beer, donuts, other crap).

Peace

I wear a helmet when I ride. This is important to me although not so important that I allowed myself the thought of purchasing a cruiser. Allow me to explain. I’ve ridden cruisers, real ones too – a Fat Boy and a Road King – and fuck man, a helmet just is not part of the picture. Because it is a picture you see. The image. I felt concern about my image when cruising. Cool. Like my brother. I’m cool. Wearing a helmet is important to me but I know I am weak. On a sport oriented bike, for me, a helmet is just part of the picture. A hypocritical admonition I’m certain. However I want to wear a helmet every time I ride for big safety and small safety, and I know I will on this sport bike. No temptation for other image than Motorcyclist.

There are a lot of little things. I like putting gas in the tank on my motorcycle. I’m neat, I’m particular. I revel in the act. I don’t know how much it costs to put gas in my bike because I don’t look at the dollar indicator but I know I have to make more frequent stops at gas stations than when I was driving my car all the time. But I use less gas. Starting from stops is a little thing. Turning off the turn signal is a little thing. Not hitting neutral when up shifting from 1st gear is a little thing. I do a lot of little things in my life but I do too many of them without thinking. Like I said “love you” to my wife yesterday morning. I caught myself and went back and said “I love you” because a man should be conscious of telling his woman that he loves her. I drink beer with a pronounced dispassion, devoid of consciousness that when I think about it is worth consideration. I wander up to bed at night but set an alarm to get up. And what the fuck does that say – that I set an alarm to get up in the morning, but I go to bed at night haphazardly! All these little things.

I sure ain't a writer

I am a motorcyclist. For a long time I was a motorcyclist without a motorcycle. Now I am a motorcyclist with a motorcycle and I am happy.

My new motorcycle is a 2006 Honda VFR Interceptor. It has heated grips, hard luggage and wires I can plug into an expensive suit, which I do not own, to keep me warm on cold days. My motorcycle is mostly black, but it has some brushed aluminum too.

My motorcycle says nothing about me. Motorcycling on the other hand does. Like, I like to be fully present a few times a week. If I can be fully present several times a week, or daily, or more, for prolonged periods of time, cool. (If you don’t know what I mean by “fully present”, don’t worry about it.) Motorcyclists are fully present while they’re in the saddle. They are attuned to the moment, the experience, the setting, the environment, the intangibles, the unexpected, the intangibles, the environment, the setting, the experience, the moment, now. They are conscious.

Bikers’ motorcycles say something about them. “I am sexy.” “I am wealthy.” “I am cool.” “I am searching.” A lot of bikers ride Harley Davidson motorcycles. A lot of bikers ride Hondas too. And Suzukis and Yamahas and Kawies. Not a lot of bikers ride BMW’s. Most of them are motorcyclists. A lot of bikers ride crotch rockets, which are beautiful machines but are too often trifled with. A lot of bikers ride cruisers which allow them to sit on wheeled lazy boys and drink beers and are too often trifled with.

2006 Honda VFR Interceptors are comfortable, smooth, quiet (relatively – much quieter than many), look like crotch rockets to some, but in fact are designed for grown up, Zen conciousness freaks who aren’t affronted, indeed who look forward to, significant tactile stimulation. Hwhew, hwhew, whappity, whappity, sssss, fffsssfffsss, wwwwhew, szszsz.