A New Motorcycle for Sturgis

Jesus I've been lazy!

2011-12-29T10:58:00.001-05:00

Yeah, we'll go with that. I got a few nice compliments recently about this blog. As I look back on this past year's effort, I see that it's pretty damn thin. I can partially blame that on work but the rest is on me. If I want to be known for my creative mind, then I had better show a hint of "brain cleavage" to get your attention now, shouldn't I?

Aside from the drudgery of work, my riding has been limited this past year. And I have no excuse for it, either. We had a great trip to Island Pond, VT with a day trip into Coaticook, Quebec. Other than that, there were no other overnight rides and, I think that's the issue. When all you're doing is buzzing back and forth over local roads you've ridden a million times before, you're not having new adventures and making new memories. All local and no stays makes Jack a dull boy.


Pirate support vehicle

The Vermont trip had it's moments of mirth and I'll share the highlights. We camped on Spectacle Pond for 2 nights, with the aforementioned day trip to O'Canada in-between. What I love a-boot Canada is their attitude towards Americans. Somebody once described Canada as your cool older cousin who lets you have beer. The border crossing was friendly, fast and fun. And no one's hand ever covered their weapon. We hiked a gorge, found a fromagerie and local bakery and had a great lunch and resultant dinner. Our lack of french only became an issue at the bakery, where I ate (and summarily purchased) some hot-from-the-oven butter cookies that were meant for another patron. Oops! Oh, and the scenery was stunning.

Returning through US Customs was no laughing matter. We were split up and handled separately, to my wife's chagrin. When asked for my passport, I approached the customs agent and she retreated. Confused, I took another step forward and she retreated again, her hand now on her weapon. What the fuck? Was I supposed to throw you my passport, douche? Fine. I'll wait here while you approach me like a ninja to snatch this from my hand. Fuck me. Welcome to the United States of Fear.

Anyway, we had fun and I learned that sharing a room with other people has its disadvantages. We rented a cabin for the stay, because one female rider not married to me won't tent camp. So, at modest expense, we rented a 3 bed cinder block bunker in which to crash. Now, I love this friend dearly but, someone should have made mention of the thrashing about that takes place at night, after a few adult beverages. In her defense, I suppose that I could have disclosed my snoring, but I didn't...After that first largely sleepless night, all I could do was hug her and tell her how much I liked her. The other option was anger. We all laughed it off and decided that we were going to get so drunk that night so as to not have any trouble sleeping. It worked.

I think the best part of the ride is the "after-party" that happens around the campfire, when you're well-stuffed with dinner, drink and a day full of behind-the-bars memories. And that seems to be what's been missing most for me. I need more long, multi-day rides to form the fun memories and experiences.

As a member of the AMA, I get their monthly magazine. The current issue has a story about the Van Buren sisters who, at a young age and in the year 1916, made a cross-country motorcycle trip. This is a fantastic story of two young, independent women who refused to believe the they couldn't accomplish their goals, just because of their gender. Their story is here: Van Buren Sisters. I bet they had more than their share of adventure.

Riding cross-country is one of those goals that I want to have under my belt. Living as I do on the East coast, I am fortunate to have the whole country between me and some family members in California. A well-timed ride could take me from New Hampshire through Colorado and into the San Francisco area.

Another idea, which seems more easily attainable is to circumnavigate New England by riding the perimeter of all the states. If done right, it looks to be under 2,000 miles and achievable as a long weekend. This is not a final route, but it will but give you an idea:

View Larger Map

Another ride would be back to Nova Scotia, riding versus taking the ferry crossing. I haven't done it before, but I know that it would be all the more gratifying to accomplish the trip this way.

So, all this just to say that, I plan to ride more in the coming year. I plan to write more too. Without the two-wheeled adventures, I don't have the fodder for this blog. Also, I'll try to get back on track with a discussion about Sturgis, gear reviews and other things that I think other riders will find interesting. I sort of got off track here after a bit. Keep me honest and keep me focused. I appreciate the feedback and will try to make this an interesting and informative place for you.

If you want a small treat, click on the headline to find the musical link to the title.

A low, slow wave and a Happy New Year,

Joe Rocket

Two-up, for life!

2011-11-13T19:33:00.000-05:00

We did something today that we don't normally do, we took a two-up ride, late in the riding season. We had some warm weather this week (anything north of 60 degrees in November in New Hampshire, is a good day). This following a record Halloween storm that dumped about 2 feet of snow on us and triggered a 5+-day power outage across New England.

With winter breathing down our necks, we took a break from raking the endless bounty of oak leaves and pointed just one bike towards the seacoast. We both ride but since I had already started the process of winterizing the bikes, it seemed superfluous to use both bikes for a short day's ride. We've ridden two-up before, for convenience and again, usually for a short hop or, when we're with another couple who only ride that way. But today, it seemed like a good way to share the experience.

My wife is an accomplished rider who has really come into her own in the last year or two. Gone are the days of constant supervision from me and the tense moments after my having to remind her to cancel her turn signal or some other newbie mistake. But, on a day like today, taking the rear seat allowed her to relax and enjoy the view.

All around me, friends are separating and divorcing. There seems to be a spate of it lately, three announcements alone in the early part of this year. I don't know what to attribute this to but as a child of divorce, I take my commitment to my marriage seriously. My wife and I are polar opposites, she's classical and I'm rock 'n' roll. She shy and introverted while I'm a showboat and will chat up anyone. We are Yin and Yang. When she told me that she wanted to go riding with me, I had my reservations about losing my "time off." Now, years later, I look forward to our time off together.

At some point everyone gives up riding. I don't have any immediate plans to quit riding any time soon but, I know that at the point that riding is no longer an option, my partner for life will be there, at my side as we motor down the road of life. In the meantime, I will look forward to her joining me on rides, sharing my experiences, sharing the road and the ride. I know she prefers to ride her own bike but I'm happy that she is willing to join me every once in a while.

Maybe the secret to a happy marriage is the inclusion of a couple of motorcycles or, at the very least one bike, with the couple riding two-up. Sharing experiences is what married life is all about. Now get out there and ride together.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

An American Graffiti moment

2011-05-16T07:00:00.000-04:00

If you didn't see this classic "coming of age" movie, then you won't understand my reference.

I'd like to say that I had dinner with an old friend, but she won't allow me to describe her as "old". Laura and I worked together many years ago, when I was on my way to being old and she was merely a babe. Yes, a babe then and still a babe today.

Dinner was a result of a cancelled company reunion and a subsequent trip to CT. Laura's family was kind enough to allow her a night off and we met at a new restaurant in Danbury called Max 40's. We spent hours hours catching up, drinking wine and eating calamari and pizza. When the night came to an end, Laura muttered something about how hard it was to drive her car home after a few drinks. She seemed fine and so I inquired. She said, "Oh, I have this race car outside. My husband races." Huh? Wha? How come we didn't get to that in our catch-up conversation???

So, we exited the restaurant and there was this spotless, late-model Porsche 911 C4S. White, with a full roll-cage, a slow, loping race idle and a heavy clutch that makes it so difficult for a young woman in heels to drive. Being a car nut, Porsche fan and wanting to capture the moment, I had to have a photo. Laura was happy to play along, standing near the car but, she was more interested in my getting a good photo of the car, than of her. So typical. As a mom of two, she stood by the car, rather than posing. After several attempts, I got a halfway decent shot that (yes, Laura) shows that the car is a Porsche and of my friend.

It was only on reflection of our fun dinner that I realized that, to some, she is the mystery blond in the hot car. What do guys think after she pulls away from them, engine "blat-blat-blatting"? I can only surmise that she is the stuff of dreams now, this quaint little Connecticut housewife. Little does she know that, when she hops into this car to run her errands, she's turning heads, causing consternation amongst young males and causing more questions than can be answered in one long night. In this case, life imitates art.

I wonder if she's ever seen American Graffiti?

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

And so it goes...

2011-04-26T00:53:00.000-04:00

Another riding season is underway. And so it goes. We had our first group ride of the season about a week ago and it was a complete disaster. Fourteen of us, astride thirteen bikes, set off for points west, with the goal of getting a belly full of Hungarian Mushroom soup. The lead bike planned and took a most circuitous route, losing half of the group along the way. One would think it's easy to tell the difference between 13 bikes and 7 bikes but, there we were, caught at a light and doing the right thing for the folks BEHIND us, while the rest of the group roared off, clueless.

The first rule of Fight Club is we don't talk about Fight Club. The first rule of group riding is to keep an eye on the rider behind you. If he or she ain't there, pull the fuck over. If everyone understood that then even the leader would eventually get a clue. And this is why I eschew (Bless you!) group riding.

The best group size is small, no more than five bikes (an even BETTER number is 2-3 bikes). A bigger group gets spread out over too large an area and can't keep all the riders in sight, or as a cohesive unit. Big groups make bad decisions, at lights, changing lanes, etc. Small groups are tight and tidy. I like it tight. Much mo' bettah.

Big groups overwhelm gas stations, parking lots, restaurants or almost anywhere you go. Arrive in a small group and you'll have less stress everywhere you go. One car-sized parking spot is a good place to park three bikes. When fifteen bikes arrive almost anywhere together, chaos ensues. People make poor choices and you end up irritating motorists as you leave bikes hanging out in the road, awaiting their turn to pull in or find a spot. It's the same thing at a busy gas station. People panic and jockey for an open pump and that's when we run into a risk of a collision or an "Artie Johnson" (slow speed dismount).

I have a couple of friends that I can rely on and, are my first choice to call when I want to ride. Failing that, the missus has her own scooter and, when I can pry her from her other activities and interests, is always willing to join me. I fall back on group rides more as a way to connect with the people I haven't seen in a while or when I just don't want to make the effort to plan a ride. It's easy to just get carried along, letting others make the decisions.

Click on the title link above if you want to get some tips about group riding. At little preparation will go a long way to making sure that EVERYONE has a safe and enjoyable ride. Ride safe, check your bike before you go past Turn One (the end of your driveway) and keep your eye open for the cell phone idiots in cars.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Let me go swiftly

2011-02-12T18:18:00.003-05:00

The concept of death has weighed heavily on me for the past month. A close friend (Mark) was diagnosed with mesothelioma in September and, after one surgery, the prognosis quickly became that he was terminal. Initially, there was hope that the surgery was a success and that he had 5-10 years before this insidious cancer would claim him. Within weeks, he was back in the hospital, where they found that the cancer had spread quickly to other parts of his chest cavity and organs. He is now days away from death and it saddens us terribly.

I have long thought that the chances I took would eventually be the cause of my demise. At a younger age, I drove recklessly at very high speeds. I drag raced when I could, taunted bullies by egging their cars and had numerous car chases that could have ended in beatings. When I took a wife, I felt that I owed her an explanation in the event of a car crash. I told her that if it looked like I was speeding, I probably was and enjoyed every last minute. A somewhat morbid thing to mention to your new, blushing bride, but I did it anyway.

Cars gave way to fast motorcycles and soon I had a whole new addiction to danger. Yes, there were foolish stunts and the occasional bad judgement, but I survived it all. The thought of crashing almost never enters my head when I ride although I do take extra precautions when the conditions are poor. The thought of a high-speed crash resulting in an almost instantaneous death is nothing to fear. Rather, I fear a slow, wasting death or a waste of my life.

Mark is a good man, an honest man, a doctor. He, by his own admission, has lived an unremarkable life. His greatest regret these past months is that he "didn't do anything wrong". From that, I assume it to mean he didn't drink, smoke, speed or otherwise live an interesting life. He stayed inside the lines. He is a good father and husband and I know how proud his family is of him and his accomplishments. Still, at a too-young age, his time is almost over and he's too late realized that he hasn't really lived.

Most of us have obligations to work or family that necessiate a lifestyle that is less than "cinematic". That is, we have to pay our mortgages, rent, tuition and car payments and most of us don't get to earn our living in an exciting way. We drive trucks or we work in an office or we work in some other fashion. These mundane choices don't have to be the wholeness of our existence. Rather, we can life life to it's fullest almost every day.

Those of us who ride understand that it's not the fear of crashing that makes us safe riders. It's the fear that we might otherwise live sedentary lives, sitting safely on our sofas. Perhaps my biggest fear of all is that no one would remember me. So, I'm prone to outrageous behavior, actions and words. If people don't like me, fuck them. Stop following me on Facebook, then!

I will live, slightly larger than life. I am the shadow I cast, from a light source six feet behind me. I am no rock star, throw no tantrums and don't bust up hotels rooms but, I will be true to myself and in who I believe myself to be. We are, after all, our own creations. I am a chameleon, adapting to each situation presented. I am a businessman in a suit, I am a biker in leather. I am a racer, a lover and a fighter. I fit my personality and persona to the need. While I can't necessarily afford all of the toys and joys that money can buy, I can still have all of those experiences by not sitting on the sidelines of life.

Life is too short. We ought to get a practice lifetime to make our mistakes and to learn and then the "real" one, in which we learn to enjoy ourselves. But, perhaps some of you are way ahead of me in the realization of self. All our clocks run down at some point, we just never know when.

Quoting anything from Mel Gibson's lips is corny but “Every man dies - Not every man really lives.” rings true. At the end of your journey, what will you remember of the trip? That you never took a risk, never flirted with danger, never felt your balls up in your stomach over what you just survived?

Last night, we dared each other to skydive this year and said we'd do it. The funny thing is that, the gal I married is a bit of a risk-taker and for years I've looked at that photo of her jumping out of a plane as a bit crazy. Well, bring on the crazy. We have lots of living left to do.

Winter's almost over. Mark will never see another Spring. His family will find a way to carry on without his dark sense of humor. I will lose a friend who made all of the mundane shit we had to do together all the more enjoyable. Mark is a funny guy in a bad situation. He'll succumb in just a couple of days. I'd like to think that he will die with a wry smile on his face and a dirty thought. Maybe he did live a little, even if only in his mind.

Godspeed Mark, and to all of us. I hope to be out riding soon, pushing my comfort levels and the boundaries of good taste and judgement. If I piss you off somehow well, remember that.

A low slow wave,

Joe Rocket

The Fall and Decline of Motorcycling

2011-01-30T22:10:00.000-05:00

Do you ever get a whiff of a strange smell, the one that smells like something electrical is burning it's wires? It's almost an instinctive reaction for those of us of a certain age. It's a "fight or flight" gut reaction that sets your "Spider Sense" tingling. It's also a smell that's easy to miss, if you're not paying attention. It's the smell of change and it's happening slowly. If you are attuned to it, perhaps you've also noticed the signs.

The motorcycle market is poised for change and the impetus of this change is the state of the economy and new applied technologies. This is an exciting time to be working for a motorcycle manufacturer or a terrifying time, depending on your perspective. Thanks a very weak American economy, few can afford to buy or own an expensive "non-essential" form or transportation. The used bike market is flooded with many low-mileage bikes, the owners dumping due to financial limitations. The high-end custom cruiser market is taking a hit too, now that $30-50,000 custom bikes are out of the reach of most owners.

At the same time, the burgeoning market for electrics is taking off at a record speed. New investment and developments in battery technology have put these bikes into the performance range of gasoline-powered bikes. Brands like Brammo, Mission and Zero Motorcycles are attracting investors and the interest of the motorcycle press. And MotoCzysz has abandoned development of a gas bike due to the opportunities to create a lighter and better balanced bike.

The 2010 MotoCzysz E1pc (Amadeus Photography)

What manufacturers have failed to do, is to promote motorcycling to the non-riding public as an alternative form of transportation. With three-wheelers (like the Can Am), trikes, small dual-purpose bikes, there are tons of available models for newbies. It doesn't have to be black leather and do-rags, it could be a young adult riding a small electric bike (or scooter) to work. Gas prices have already broached the $3/gal. mark here on the East coast and I suspect that they will continue to rise over the next two years, before miraculously dropping just prior to the Presidential election. It's funny how that works, isn't it?

In order to convince these future customers to take up riding, I think an appeal to the economics has to happen. Let's compare the price of having multiple cars versus having one car and one bike. Let's do the math on the cost of ownership, payments, maintenance, taxes, insurance and let's do the same for the household which uses a bike as a secondary form of transportation. Add in the fun factor and I think a lot of people will shed their old beaters in favor of a whisper quiet, clean electric motorcycle.

Form factor will come into play too, as people's need for a vehicle that carries more than your standard bike. Honda's N700V is interesting but I like what I see in a Can Am, with saddlebags and a tour pack. Built in storage is the answer. Yesterday, at the bike show in Boston, I spotted trikes with trunks.

As more companies come to market, with new technologies and new ideas, I hope they won't just try to reinvent the wheel. I look forward to the creative new designs and mobility devices that are in our future, just a few short years away.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Fountain of youth

2010-11-01T12:30:00.000-04:00

Anyone who has ever ridden a motorcycle can tell you it's an exhilarating experience. There are countless "WA-HOO!" moments that make your heart beat faster and plant a permanent grin on your face for the rest of the day. More important than this, I think riding keeps you young.

Whether you ride a sport bike, a cruiser or some other iteration, the simple act of participating in the sport of motorcycling keeps you moving, out of doors and off the La-Z-Boy recliner. The planning and preparation for any trip is an exercise in anticipation and it gives us goals to achieve in the near, or not-so-near, future. That's why, with our season winding down here in New Hampshire, I'm thinking ahead to next year. I want to have goals to achieve, mountains to climb.

I think I've mentioned this before. In years past, at the height of winter doldrums, we've repaired to "The Bunker" with some cold beer and hot pizza, to throw out ideas for the coming year. That was how we came to ride to Sturgis in 2008. Someone put a stake in the ground, a target or goal, for us to achieve. Mentally, we had already accepted the fact that we were going to embark on this cross-country tour. Everything in-between became a step in that direction. Now, I think it's time for loftier goals.

I recently read an article in American Motorcyclist magazine, the free magazine from the AMA, about a(n older) guy who visits all 49 contiguous American states with each bike he owns. His latest acquisition is a BMW, perfect for the short "run" from Ohio to Alaska. All it takes is planning, cash and some free time. I'm still a long way from retirement age but, I like the idea of spending the next ten years or so, squeezing in great trips around work, until the time I'm free to travel the country (or planet!) like a wandering fool.

In the coming year, I want to get back to Nova Scotia, to ride the Cabot Trail again. This time, I'll take my time and enjoy the ride and not try to break some sort of land-speed record. I want to complete a Saddle Sore 1000: 1000 miles in 24 hours. It would be great to achieve this one with some good friends. Then, there's the Italian Alps. How can one not drool over the prospect of riding The Alps, on a rented Ducati??? I also want to circumnavigate the continental U.S., taking in as many coastal areas as I can. I have "a thing" for beach communities. How about Australia, mate? We could ride "down unda" during our winter, when the northern hemisphere is covered in snow and ice. So many rides to consider, so little time!

Obviously, health issues will dictate when I will no longer be able to ride. Interestingly enough, though I've often admitted to myself that at some point I won't be able to drive, I've never considered a day when I won't be able to ride. I suppose, at best, those two days will come at the same time.

So, where are you going? What will you do, in the coming year? A cross-country tour of breweries sounds like a good start. How about a New England perimeter ride? What about a BBQ tour? Or a covered bridge tour? Or a state park tour? Or Federal Park tour?

The season may be short, but my imagination is long and I can dream about all of the wonderful places that two wheels and a tankful of gas can get me. Maybe you'll be along for the journey?

A low slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Do your own thing or, The Lone Wolf

2010-10-09T08:44:00.000-04:00

It's been a long time coming and it's been preceded by the same actions of other club members. I'm talking about leaving club riding and doing my own thing.

When I first started riding, as a newbie, I was also new to this area and had no knowledge of the roads and other attractions. Then, astride my Kawasaki ZX-6, I would go out for an hour, at most, before returning home. I had no idea of where to go or what to do. I was lost half of that time, anyway.

Then, I heard about The Club. Local guys with a wide variety of bikes, got together on the weekend just to ride. Thanks to them, I learned a lot about riding, friendship and our part of New England. I made some very good friends through the club and am grateful for that. Within a year or two, a rift became evident and a small group splintered off, with harsh words and leaving bad feelings behind them. They wanted to be bad-asses, but mostly just made asses of themselves, with the manner of their departure.

I enjoyed club riding for the next five or more years, as we made plans for long distance trips that I never would have undertaken on my own. Each winter, we would meet and cast out ideas for reasonable destinations. These would range from the reachable and achievable, to the ridiculous. In the end, it came down to schedule and finances, but almost every year there was a multi-day trip for all to enjoy.

When we weren't planning long trips, the weekend rides would alternate between Saturdays and Sundays until we realized that almost everyone was available for a Sunday ride. So, we defaulted to that day, for the group rides, but others would still get together when available, as a small group. Somewhere along the line, I started returning from rides with a sense of dissatisfaction, but didn't realize why. The LAST thing I should have done was to return from a ride, and report to my wife that I didn't have a good time. Before she got her own bike, I was off with the guys, while she stayed home and tended to household chores and yard work. I think they call that Double Jeopardy.

Still, I stayed on but growing more dissatisfied as the years went on. Each year, towards the end of the riding season, I'd question my commitment to the group, after a series of unsatisfactory outings. I realized that, what was happening was that the Sunday rides were becoming lowest common denominator rides. That is, Steve needs to be back by 2, because the game is on, Larry can only ride for an hour, because his wife is pissed at him for not raking leaves, etc., etc. Soon, our rides became the answer to the question, "How little can we ride to accommodate everyone?" No longer were destinations chosen or planned in advance. We started riding the same local roads again and again. Boring.

After 10 years of club membership and participation (as unofficial social director) I said to hell with it. I unplugged myself from the email group and rode occasionally with some of my closer friends. I have no shortage of riding partners, now that the missus has her own bike. After my experience on the Sturgis ride, I no longer have any qualms about riding alone. Perhaps I am riding less but the quality of the rides are way up. I don't need to put miles on my bike riding in circles, just to brag about my annual mileage. I'm happier to have a couple of great rides each year, with close friends, where we put a pin in the map and head off for a couple of days. Motorcycle camping is a relatively new acquired taste for me (over the past 3-4 years) as it allows us to leave our local area and see new places.

One of my favorite rides (despite Jerry's recollection) was a quick trip to Quebec City. Yes, I did have some discomfort on that ride. I blame that on some musculoskeletal problems and a lack of Motrin. It wasn't the sport bike! Okay, the seat could have been partially to blame. In any event, a long weekend got shortened due to horrific weather, but we had a great ride and a great dinner in Canada, before returning home.

Last weekend, I tried the group ride once again. Why? Because I allowed myself to succumb to peer pressure. The ride got off to a bad start. We were split up at the get go and three of us got separated from the rest and tried hard to catch up. We finally did, halfway to our destination. You can read about that ride here, on Pat's Blog: http://patnwilton.blogspot.com/2010/10/looking-behind-planning-ahead.html

A bad ride got worse and my mood soured. I realize that I hate to compromise these days and rather than suffer through a long lunch and a dull ride home, I punched out, in favor of some quality time with my wife. She was happily surprised to see me return early and I was just as happy to be home.

The key to any good ride is planning. Pat's blog touches on this and it's clear that a lack of planning is one of the reasons that some guys show up for rides but don't join in. I used to take that personally but now I see it for what it is. We all only get some many good riding days, no sense wasting them on a bad ride.

I hope anyone reading this takes this with the intention that it's written. All I want is better riding. I think one main component of that is the size of the group. Smaller is better. Three is good, two is better. Sometimes, one is the loneliest number, but I'm okay with that.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

When the rain comes, you run and hide your head...

2010-07-22T15:12:00.009-04:00

Well, some of you do, anyway.

It's been said that, "If you don't ride when it rains, you're not a rider." I guess, to some extent, that's true. The same holds true for the owner of the show bike that rides a few miles to the nearest biker hang-out and watches from afar as others admire his bike and ask about it. That person is not a rider.

Just as a writer, writes; a rider rides. And when you ride and put in a good, long day of travel, you know that you're eventually going to encounter rain. Sometimes it's not too bad, a soft drizzle that makes the pavement just oily enough for you to crash. And other times, it's a torrential downpour, icy cold and laden with hail. Hail hurts! The only thing to do when you encounter that beastie is to find cover and wait it out.

Sure, you can ride in a gentle rain, depending on what gear you're wearing. So, you get a little wet, pass through some showers and then dry out on the other side. That's actually kind of fun (and cooling, too!). It's the day-long rain that you HAVE TO PASS THROUGH that makes a rain suit a "must-have".

But otherwise, riding in the rain does not have to be daunting or even miserable. Yes, you will want to reduce your speed. Yes, you will want to carefully watch your lane placement, so you can avoid the spray of oncoming traffic or to avoid getting clipped by the overwhelmed motorist overtaking you on your Six. A good rain suit makes all the difference in the world.

For years I put off buying one, assuming that my weather-resistant textile suit would adequately protect me. Until one day it didn't. And then, there I was, sitting in a cold pool that was my saddle. If you want to experience this for yourself, fill your tub halfway with cold water. Then, don your riding gear, boots and all, and climb into the tub. How does that feel after a few minutes? Nice?

We were coming South through the mountains a few years ago, when I had that unpleasant experience and it gave me pause for thought. So, when we were planning the Sturgis ride, with the prospect of 600+ mile days, I knew that we would be riding no matter what the weather. I invested in a good quality rain suit and I can count on one hand the number of times I've HAD to wear it.

If you can't afford rain gear, get a can of ScotchGuard and spray the heck out of your textile suit. Be careful not to inhale that stuff though, as it is quite damaging to your lungs. This will give you about a season's worth of wet weather, provided you don't launder your gear. If you do, re-apply the ScotchGuard.

Fair weather riders (or those who live in the high desert) won't need to read this post but, like a good helmet, a good quality rain suit will make living on your motorcycle a more pleasurable experience. And, while you're at it, invest in a pair of good waterproof boots, as well. There's no point in being dry from the ankles up, if you're feet are ready to fall off from the cold & damp.

A low, dry wave,

Joe Rocket

PS - I don't often put in a postscript but, I started this blog a week or two ago and then set it aside...Since that time, friends returned from a one-week trip down south. On the way, they encountered heavy rain, up to 4 hours at a time. After that daunting day, they agreed that they both needed to upgrade their rain gear. After doing so, at the nearest Harley-Davidson boutique (ka-ching!), it didn't rain again for the remainder of the trip. Oh well, they'll have it now, when they need it next...

FULL Throttle

2010-05-04T17:04:00.017-04:00

I was lazily riding the lawn tractor early this week when my thoughts drifted off to the two very different rides I had this past weekend. Yes, I was VERY fortunate to get out and ride both days. Who knows when the weather will be as good again, right? So, I sneaked in a mow job before the torrential rains hit as reflecting back on the nature of the rides.

Both headed south from our home in NH. Saturday's was a straight shot due south, to Putnam, CT and Sunday's was a circuitous route around Boston, to take us to Westport, MA and the Massachusetts coastline. Both days were unseasonably hot. On both rides, there were multiple riders. In both cases, I lead the rides for a majority of the ride. What's the difference, then?

Saturday's ride was planned to be a back-roads scoot through small towns in MA and into CT. I had programmed my TomTom GPS to avoid highways and tolls. I was relieved when I found Gary (nickname: NeverLost) there for the start of the ride. Not only did he correct me on the destination I had in mind, he seemed to know the route we had taken previously and was agreeable to leading us. For an hour. "Okay", I figured, by then, we'd be so far down the road towards our destination that "Chad", my Rider GPS, would accurately lead us the rest of the way. Uh, not exactly.

Turns out, Gary punched out of our ride at the 30 minute mark when we were barely down the road. He took another rider with him, leaving me to lead four others. I have always had faith in Chad but, the device is only as good as the programmer. I'll cut this tale short and just say that it lead us into the heart of Worcester, MA, a very industrial city to our south. Yes, it DID avoid the highways, it just didn't provide the indirect, scenic route that I had taken once before and was looking forward to. It was a hot, sweaty, busy ride with lots of stops to allow others to catch up. It felt like we hit each traffic light in that entire city, many when we did not all make it through in one pass.

Sunday morning dawned and my supportive wife knew I was in favor of an additional ride. Friends called to say they were headed south and it took me scant minutes to get ready. The primary difference between these rides was this: SPEED. We rode highways around Boston to skirt Fall River and pointed ourselves at the ocean. We rode fast the entire way, in traffic, moving cagers out of OUR way. The motors thrummed as we hammered along. We finally arrived at Westport Point, finding it cool and foggy. A relaxing lunch at the Back Eddy restaurant was followed by an hour-long tour of the local scenery.

Visually sated, we clambered back aboard our scooters and pointed towards home. Once again, we zoomed through traffic and into the open lanes. At one point, I considered challenging Ken & Jerry to a race, but Jerry hung back, knowing full well what devilishness I was up to. At times, we were three abreast, owning the highway.

I know I miss my sport bike and the insane speeds at which I used to ride. But, I've only now realized exactly how much I miss the sensation of speed. Riding at 40-50 mph on back roads is a great way to see the scenery. However, riding at full throttle (or at the very least 9/10s) is a good way to put some distance behind you and make miles. It's also good for filling your soul with sunshine and happiness; at least mine.

There's no solution in sight, but now I know what I've been missing. That special ingredient known as SPEED.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

An ode to snow

2010-03-20T08:08:00.004-04:00

With my apologies to the real poets in the world!

Ode to Snow
by Joe Rocket
March 20, 2010

Oh, last lonely pile of snow, hidden in the shade of the hemlock.
You are but the last remnants from the plow man’s efforts.
Down at the base of the driveway, a clump of dirty ice and compacted snow
You greet me on the way to the mailbox and welcome me home.
You have friends scattered about, I see deep within the woods.
But you are the solitary sentry to my home on this late March morning.
The weatherman predicts 70 degrees today. I’ll bet that makes you sweat!
All I can say is, you best not be here when I return from my ride.
Your time has come and gone. Be gone with thee, until next year.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

So you want to be a rock and roll star...

2010-03-03T07:53:00.018-05:00

The Beatles led me astray.

If I think about bad influences in my life, I'd have to put the Beatles at the top of that list. If not for their influence on my malleable young mind, I might not find myself at this juncture in my life.

Music's always been a large part of my life. Unfortunately, I have zero talent and can't play a lick. My Dad played piano/organ and accordion and the house was always rocking. Well, swinging was more like it. Dad was a huge fan of jazz, before he got into rock music, which was in its infancy, then.

The Beatles come along and WHAM!, there I am with a plastic guitar, singing along to their records and putting on "shows" for the parents, while they sipped their highballs. I wasn't alone in this. I remember (and have photos, somewhere) of me and my siblings "jamming" poolside, where our folks were getting a little sun. Hey, it was 1966 and I was seven.

My red plastic guitar took a childhood hit one day as I jumped on a bed or couch without looking before I leapt. SNAP! went the neck and instantly my treasured hollow-body was now garbage. Into the trash it went. Years later, I begged my parents to provide me with music lessons, as they had done earlier, with my older brother. They consented and I proved unteachable and lazy. Practice? What the hell was that? Acoustic? I wanted to jack into a big Fender stack and crank it!

So, they soon pulled the plug on the lessons and it was many years later, on my own dime, that I tried again. There was only one problem, I CAN'T READ MUSIC. WTF? I had gotten well past the point of learning a new "language".

But I could sing and I had rhythm. I could keep time like Desi Arnaz, on his congas. So, I joined the boys chorus in grade school and sang my sweet, little soprano heart out. The songs SUCKED. One painful memory is "The New Ashmolean Marching Society and Students Conservatory Band". It was from some Broadway show of the era, or the era way before cool. God I hated that song. It went on and on. Didn't composers of that era know about a hook? Or a guitar solo? I wanted to sing catchy, rock songs.

One day, I heard a song on the radio that I thought was The Partridge Family. It turned out to be Queen, performing "You're My Best Friend". I was instantly hooked. Freddie Mercury had an impressive range and the songs were simple and melodic. Then came "Bohemian Rhapsody". I could sing it pretty well but I knew what a difficult piece it was. My next door neighbor Jeanine's greasy, little boyfriend Louie showed up and he could sing it a whole lot better than I did. Hmm. So, I knew I had my limitations but I didn't let that stop me from singing, though.

We formed a little band, of sorts. My neighbor Pete had a white Ibanez strat, Bob Wragg had a Gibson Les Paul, brother Bobby had some sort of drum kit and I bought a mic and stand, which played through one of the amps. And we jammed. We probably knew about three or four songs. That was it, our entire repertoire. I think we knew "Why Do Fools Fall In Love" all the way through. When I say practice, I really mean hang out in the garage after school, make some noise and smoke cigarettes. We had more discussion than actual playing. "Can you play this?" "No." "Can you play, this?? "No".

Of our little four-man combo, only Bob Wragg practiced and could actually play his guitar. Pete was a hack and I don't even think took lessons. His parents just indulged his expensive whims to placate him. Bob PRACTICED. He spent hours indoors when we were out running around, trying to get into trouble or trying to get one of the neighborhood girls to kiss us. So, we soon drifted apart and the "sessions" came to a halt.

My dreams of becoming a rock star took a back seat to more practical things. I did well in high school. I didn't have to work at all to maintain a B average. I played soccer and enjoyed it as much as one can, under the tutelage of a German Varsity coach, who took his training drills from the East German Army. There were girls and more ineptitude. The fumblings in the dark at school dances. Experimentation, education, learning.

College arrived, I put my thoughts of singing out of my head, with the exception of the Freddie Mercury and David Bowie posters in my room freshman year. Who knew back then that Freddie Mercury was gay, or that David Bowie was bi-sexual? Jeez, not me, seriously. Not that I'm biased, but the guys in the fraternity didn't get it and the posters came down. Besides, my roommate that first year was a big, puffy marshmallow of a guy named Scott and who knows what he did while looking at my posters, when I wasn't around. He could have been my first gay friend but chose to BFF my girlfriend instead. I wonder where he is now?

Years later, here I am, no talent, still torturing myself and others, with my guitar-playing. My voice is shot from age, booze and cigars. I don't sound like Tom Waits yet, but give it time. It's sad to see artists not progress from the adolescent sounds they can create when they're 20 and become "stars". I recall some rock and roll induction ceremony not long ago where John Sebastian (of the Lovin' Spoonful) CROAKED his way through "Do You Believe in Magic". Sad. Pathetic. I felt really badly for him.

So, there it is. I'll never have that dream fulfilled and I don't even know why I carried it along for so many years. I blame the Beatles for making me want it so much. If I'd had a more realistic role model (and achievable goals) then, who knows? Maybe I wouldn't be sitting here, wondering what I'm going to do today. Perhaps my career would have taken a different direction. I should have given more serious consideration to my father's offer to go into his business. Maybe I could have learned something at his feet, gone from apprentice to master. But I had pride. I was a college graduate. Manual labor was beneath me. I should have listened to Marsellus Wallace (to Butch, the fighter):

"The night of the fight, you may feel a slight sting. That's pride fucking with you. Fuck pride. Pride only hurts, it never helps."

Maybe soon, I'll get over myself and get back to work. I know I can't sing, unless it's in my helmet, at speed. They say, "In Space, no one can hear you scream". The same is true when I'm riding. No one can hear me sing.

Riding season is almost here. Time to put take the charger off and put the seat back on. Now where the hell is my iPod? Ride safe!

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

In contemplation of the season's first ride...

2010-02-13T09:01:00.014-05:00

Usually by this time of the year, I'm pissin' and moanin' about the winter weather and how much it sucks to live in NH and only ride for about six months out of the year. So, I'm quite surprised at the fact that winter has been particularly mild here and I've got nothing to bitch about! Still, it has been a few months since my last ride and I can't wait for the day I roll the bike out of the garage again.

With the dry and warm winter, I have a clear driveway and riding seems to be right around the corner. We had a few days that were sunny and near 40 and a few brave souls were out, on local short rides in the city of Nashua. Usually, I can spot members of BMW Nation, who tend to ride no matter how much salt is on the road. They don their one-piece riding suits and brave the elements because A.) They can and B.) It's the Germanic Superiority Complex at work. A little Freudian analysis would uncover the homo-erotic attachment to their bikes. As President Bill Clinton would say "Sometimes a cigar is not just a cigar."

Despite what that furry, Pennsylvanian rodent Punxatawney Phil had to say this year, I predict an early riding season. With the absence of a layer of ice on my driveway, I'll be out well before the town gets around to sweeping up all of the sand and salt they dumped so far this year. The city mice fared even better, with warmer temps and less weather overall. The one challenge, as it is every year, will be the frost heaves. "Love don't show up in the pavement cracks." The roads in our area are a mogul-field of humps and bumps, threatening to launch you out of your seat and trash your suspension. It's hard enough driving on this with four wheels.

Still, in about two weeks (February 28, 2010) I'll be ready to ride, should the weather cooperate. One can hope and hope springs eternal. Hope Lang springs to mind as the Ghost & Mrs. Muir, but that leads us to Muir Woods and a bit North of San Francisco. How did I get clear across the country? How am I gonna get back?

Okay, I swear, someone put a roofie in my coffee. I'll be clear-headed and less addled with a few miles under my belt. Looking forward to riding soon, with or without you. I think this year will be a new adventure.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Old Indians Never, Ever, Die

2009-12-01T08:11:00.007-05:00

Who knew that there's a Sturgis-type rally in Scotland????

Got an email from a chap across the pond, asking me to post this. Since it's motorcycle related and I liked what I saw, I said "Why not?". Check out the great trailer, below:

Old Indians Never Ever Die

November 30, 2009

Watermill present an hour long documentary film of the “Old Indians Never Die 2″ Indian Motorcycle rally, 24-26 July 2009 at Traquair House, Scotland, England.
The film is called “Old Indians Never, Ever, Die”.

Indian Motorcycles were produced in Springfield Massachusetts, Illinois, USA from 1901 to 1953. They were, in their day, the definitive American Motorcycle. Used by the Police, raced by top riders, hill climbers and stunt men as well as adored by the riding public. Sturdy and beautiful these bikes have a large following worldwide.

Over the weekend there were some 400 vintage machines from all over Europe, Australia and the USA.

The film is an affectionate portrait of the people who’s lives are so bound up in these amazing machines.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_qx_WsKD_zc

Hope you enjoyed this clip. Let's make plans to see this when it makes the rounds.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

End of Season Blues

2009-11-15T21:34:00.009-05:00

Well, we ended the season on a high note today. We took a long, ambling ride to Vermont, on back roads, stopping to explore, get lost, get found again and eventually arriving at our destination.

I got my first ride on a Yamaha FJR 1300. My bike has been put up for the winter and a generous friend offered me the use of his second bike, which is currently for sale (email me for details).

What a beauty this bike is! And, if you know anything about this model, you know it goes likes a runaway train. As the ride was mostly on back roads, I didn't get to twist the throttle as hard as I wanted to or for more than a blip. With just a little input, I leapt ahead, quickly on the tail of whoever was riding in front of me. A real test of this bike would be on wide open super slab, where I could carefully watch the needle climb to it's top speed somewhere north of 150 mph.

On the return trip, at a red light, I looked across to friend Manny, astride his H-D Cruiser and he comments "Fast, huh?" With that, the light greened and I was gone, Manny still looking for 1st gear. I slowed down for the next light, only a block ahead and he smiled at me. Again, the light turned and I whacked the throttle, shifting through first to second gear at about 55 mph. I held it open for a bit and saw that I'd left my compatriots well behind me. Easing off the throttle, I stayed in the lead the rest of the way, until a gas stop forced us to re-group.

It's light, carries a full load in the side bags, is very well-balanced and has more engine than the transmission can handle. You almost need a traction-control setting for this bike. I was trying hard to keep the front-end down while doing my stop light drag racing. I didn't think Jason would appreciate my doing wheelies on his bike. Jase, if I'm wrong, can I take it out again tomorrow?

It was a good end to a short season, no thanks to the bad weather the northeast suffered for most of the summer. Still, a good ride, with great bikes (and even better friends) will keep me moderately satisfied until Spring comes around once again. Come February, you might find me in the garage with a beer in one hand, looking under my bike cover like a ten year old boy inspects female mannequins in a department store. By then, with the holidays behind us and the wish list catalogs repeatedly dog-earred, I'll be ready to ride again.

Have a great rest of the season, for those of you who don't have to tuck your bike away for the winter months. There's always the possibility for a warm-weather business trip and an early Spring.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Snow in mid-October?

2009-10-18T17:24:00.009-04:00

As I sit here, watching the snow fall for the second time in a week, I guess I must come to grips with the fact that riding season is over. And it's only mid-October! The season is very short here in New Hampshire and was made even more so, by the wet weather that plagued most of the summer months. It rained here from March to mid-July.

Snow here in NH is expected by Thanksgiving but not this early. Our first snow event was Friday AM but western CT got dumped on the previous day. So, I guess we're not alone in this. Still, it makes for a swift ending for riding season when, in years past, we've seen days in December that were high in the 70's.

I'd like to speak to Al Gore about this global warming phenomenon and find out when palm trees will begin to grow here. When that happens, THEN I'll cut back on my carbon footprint.

The coming year should be an exciting time for motorcycling. First, there is a slew of new motorcycles being introduced by Honda. Second, as my business continues to grow, I think that I will be able to afford to take more trips than I was able to in this past year. My goal has been to be able to work from almost anywhere I can get a cell signal and an internet connection. I'm dreaming of a solo ride to Colorado, to see family members there. It's 2,000 miles each way, without side trips. If I can convince my bride that we can afford this distraction, then I'm off like a dog after a stick.

I didn't ride (or blog) much this year. The two are interrelated. With no exciting trips to report on, or even good local trips, I found myself using the time for other efforts. I'll make an effort to attend some of the bike shows this season and carry a camera to report on the new lines from the various manufacturers. One way to get thrilled about riding again is to pick up a new (or new to you) bike. I would LOVE to pick up a friends used Honda Magna and make a project out of it. It would make a great rat bike.

That's all for now. I'll write again when I have more time. For now, I hope you can still get out there and ride before Mother Nature shuts you down for the season.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Time flies...

2009-09-10T10:33:00.003-04:00

They say Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana. I don't know who first said that but it puts a smile on my face.

That being said, I see that it's been almost two months since I've blogged. Now that the Sturgis trip is behind me, I haven't got much at all to say on that topic. The anniversary of our trip passed almost unnoticed. I did get one email from Ken B. telling me that his commute to work during that week was mostly relived as some of the great rides we enjoyed a year ago.

The riding season was very short for us this year and I haven't done much riding at all, unless you count the desk that I'm seated at. Wet weather in the spring and early summer finally gave way to warmth and sun by August. We've enjoyed little more than one month of good riding weather.

We have one camping trip ahead, maybe two. The rest of the season will be spent riding locally with occasional stops at coffee shops to warm our hands.

I'll come back when I've got more to say but right now, I'm tapped.

I hope your season was better.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

More lust in my bones!

2009-07-17T14:37:00.016-04:00

Yeah, I'm sort of repeating myself here. This is reminiscent of my FIRST blog post, from @ 2 years ago. That was when I first saw the Yamaha FJR1300A in Black and was ready to switch my allegiance from Honda for the first time in years.

(Click on the title above to get the full article at Motorcyclist Magazine)
SPIED: 2010 Honda VFR1200
No racer-rep, the new model will be a supersport-touring V-4!
By Aaron Frank
Photography by Brenda Priddy & Co.

2010 Honda VFR1200

These are the first-ever photographs of the long-awaited, next-generation Honda VFR, shown here undergoing hot-weather testing at an undisclosed location in the American Southwest. Continuing its evolution as an all-around, GT-style sport-touring machine (rather than an aggressive, MotoGP-derived race replica, as earlier rumors hinted), this new-from-the-rims-up VFR looks bigger and brawnier than ever before. This suggests a return to CBR1100XX Blackbird-level speed and stamina, capable of challenging the BMW K1300S, Suzuki GSX1300R Hayabusa and Kawasaki ZX-14 for the supersport-touring crown.

So, Honda has finally done it and brought out a "big boy" VFR. The 1200T is up from the 800cc displacement of my last bike and hp is rumored to be in the 200hp range.

I'll admit, some of the bodywork looks a bit heavy and clunky. The bike will debut this Fall, at the October motorcycle show in Tokyo. We'll have a better look at it then.

MCN is calling it the most high tech bike on the planet. The VFR 1200T is rumored to have all sorts of cool tech to improve gas mileage and make it lighter and faster.

As for me, I plan to try to start saving again. No reason why I can't have both a cruiser and a sport-touring bike, right?

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Ain't nothin' to bitch about!

2009-07-13T16:24:00.004-04:00

Wow! After at least a month without riding, we finally had some dry weather and, more importantly, the free time to enjoy it. I've been privately chastised for not writing about riding, but honestly, it's only because I hadn't ridden in so long.

This past weekend's weather (and today's) is perfect. Perfect as in a perfect 10. Sunny, dry, low humidity, warm (but not too hot). This is the calm before storm, and I hope the storm is a long way off.

We had such a good turnout for yesterday's ride that we actually split into two groups. The short ride was to Greenland, NH to see the Ultralight Fly-in. The longer ride was to Ludlow, VT to gorge ourselves on sweet corners and pretty scenery. You can guess that I fell into this latter category.

We blasted across Route 101 past Peterborough and Keene, NH and onto Route 9. I wasn't keeping track of the roads but did enjoy when the opportunities presented themselves to do some passing and to get out front, with the Beemers. Vader was leading, with Jay in close quarters. I dropped in on them like a kook at North Shore. Vader was content to lead the way and I was content to put my focus on grinding down my floorboards.

The roads in Vermont are spectacular. We had a nice mix of fast and slow sweepers and only occasionally got stuck behind some slow cagers. The opportunities to pass them were minimal and, law-abiding citizens that we are, chose to bide our time rather than to pass on the double-yellow. We were rewarded soon enough, as nervous drivers looked back on a phalanx of motorcycles and took the first exit they could find.

Despite our unofficial motto of "Ride to Eat, Eat to Ride", I was not the one who kept asking when we were stopping for lunch. We paused at Hogback Mountain long enough to take in the view and several of the other guys were ready for lunch. Vader tried to take it in stride but, as our ride leader, our happiness (and empty stomachs) were a result of his route and pace. We eventually made it to Ludlow and the Potbelly for lunch. We were 8 happy riders when we finally stopped.

Jay had been watching my progress through the tight curves and was impressed with the way I hustled the VTX through the corners. When it feels right, it just feels right. The bike and I were one. It was if I were flying over the road, kicked back and relaxed. The was no real effort involved, it was a natural thing.

It did make me yearn, somewhat, for another sport bike. I imagined how much faster I could have been riding but I'm sure I would have eventually scared (and nearly soiled) myself! Now that I think of it, we didn't see too many sport bikes out yesterday. Where were they all? Or, have they all moved up to a more comfortable ride? I have no complaints today. I am perfectly content with this bike, for this terrain.

Jay was a bit fidgety on his BMW. I think it has more to do with the age of his bike than with the age of his bones. He probably just needs a new seat, after all the miles he's put on his. Nothing like a nice firm cushion, for your tushie. It makes the ride that much more enjoyable. As my wife says, "The mind can't absorb what the seat can't endure." That's doubly true when riding. A minor discomfort can distract from the whole experience.

Anyway, it was a great day. We (Jay & I) split from the group to beat feet home and missed "the bee dance". We hopped onto 91N to 89S to Route 13 (Concord, Goffstown, Mont Vernon to home). It gave us a nice end to the ride, after blasting down the highway at illegal speeds. See? Not even a cop scare to report, except for that early one in P'boro. Traffic was heavy and he never woulda caught us anyway. Hmm. 65 in a 40? It wasn't me.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

We are living in a Media World (and I am a Media Man!)

2009-06-19T09:07:00.005-04:00

The thought occurred to me that I live in a media-centered, ad-centric universe unlike many others around me. This epiphany came the other morning when I was a guest in my sister-in-law’s home. She remarked that her towels were scratchy and loofa-like due to her air drying them. Of course, I replied “Towels are kind of scratchy!” in the voice of the Creepy Innkeeper from the Verizon Wireless commercial. No one in the room knew what I was referring to. If you have to explain a joke, it’s not a very good joke or, so said David Letterman, of his recent apology to Alaska Governor Sarah Palin.

Recently Dave made a comment about Ms. Palin being at a NY baseball game and her daughter getting impregnated by A-Rod in the 7th inning. Of course, he was referring to the older daughter, Bristol, who had a child out of wedlock at age 18, despite her then political candidate mother’s anti-abortion stance and her right wing bullshit that she taught her children to abstain from pre-marital sex. Ouch! I’ll bet that stung.

In any event, Dave was making a joke about the older daughter but unbeknownst to him, it was actually 14-year old Willow Palin who was traveling with her Mom on the recent NY outing. Oops! Dave did his best to apologize but it was all for naught. The haters had already spooled up and created a scene over a one-line joke and Mr. Letterman was forced to make a pseudo-apology. Ms. Palin accepted and we can all move on.

I suppose my focus on the media is due to my love of advertising (I watch the Super Bowl for the ads, really) and my work in Marketing/Ecommerce. Yes, while I am on the fringe, I still follow all of the media news and am fascinated at the many new ways to get one’s message across.

I quote commercials, if I think they’re funny or share a laugh with my teen if something is particularly entertaining. To me, it’s an art form and not an easy one to master. Many will recall the atrocious animated SalesGenie commercials that InfoUSA put on during the 2007 Super Bowl. They were poorly written (then-CEO Vinod Gupta actually credited himself for writing them!) and racially insensitive.

If you find the world of Advertising fascinating like I do, rent Mad Men, from Netflix, a fictionalized (and adult) look at advertising in the 60’s. Never have I seen people drink and smoke so much! They drink at work (in the office, self-congratulatory cocktails are always at hand) and smoke in elevators, in the office, in bed, almost non-stop. It’s an amazing look at an earlier time.

In the past week, I’ve traveled to both New York City and Boston, in search of expanding my empire (I like the way that sounds). My biz is up and running and now I need to find the right way to spread the word about myself and my/our capabilities. It’s slow going in this economy. It’s hard to prove yourself when you no one is willing to answer the phone to speak to you. I understand the pressure and the workload, as I’ve been on the other side of the desk before. Still, at a time when you’re business is going to hell, now is the time to find out what solutions exist in the market.

So, in a recession, when all around me will retreat, what will I do? What would Don Draper do? The answer is simple: I'll advertise.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Motorcycles and hearing loss

2009-05-29T15:59:00.009-04:00

As I write this, my ears are ringing. For the past two years, I've gone for annual hearing tests as my tinnitus seems to be getting worse. What's the cause, do you suppose? Riding without hearing protection.

I can't blame all of my hearing loss on motorcycle riding. I did a lot of stupid things when I was younger and now my chickens have come home to roost. In the 1970's, live bands played at our school dances and I didn't think that there was anything cooler than to stand right in front of the band's speaker system to get a full dose of early rock classics, played by local musicians. Sure, I suppose if I'd had been feeling up Gina Statutore, instead of groovin' on Wipe Out, I might have better hearing right now. And then, of course, there was Arena Rock.

On one occasion, my brother won tickets to a Grand Funk Railroad concert from WPLR but his gf, Anna Marie, was being a bundt, so he gave them to me, with the stipulation that I take her younger brother Donnie to the show. Sure, why not. GFR rocked the house and about halfway through the show, we noticed that there were empty floor seats closer to the stage so, we eagerly moved forward. The sound was literally deafening. I couldn't hear much after the show and I remember that being the first time my ears rang for days (or weeks) afterward.

Post college found me working for a printing company, training for a sales job. We spent months in the bindery (no OSHA rules for mandatory hearing protection at that time) and in the press-room. Hearing protection was required in the press-room but the problem was, we couldn't hear the pressmen if we wore it! So, we routinely took it out and left it out. Big mistake. These days, all printing presses have enclosed areas (with all of the machine controls) nearby where you can escape the noise levels of the large machinery.

By then, the damage was done. Add to that the noise levels we take for granted at concerts, races, mowing the lawn, using a chainsaw and we put ourselves at risk on a regular basis. But, I had no idea how much damage wind noise can do.

If you ride with a full-face helmet, like I do, there's an assumption that takes place, thinking that since your ears are covered, your hearing's protected. Even with a great quality helmet, like the Arai that I wear, fit is a very important matter and, unless your ears are mashed into a helmet too small for you, air is going to flow through that helmet and whistle past your ears.

I noticed the effect of this, in full, last summer during our ride to Sturgis. Due to the long riding days, I was experimenting with different positions of my face shield. I have to state that, for the most part, we were riding well above the posted limits. Even when it was 65 mph. I found that the noise levels were actually reduced when I opened my shield into the full upright position. Why this is, I don't really know. I suppose that with the shield up, the air didn't have to sneak in and out of my helmet, like it did with only certain vents open.

I had purchased special earplugs for the trip. One of which I lost following our first day. I had other plugs, cheapies, that rolled up or squished down to fit. I used what I had, as often as I remembered.

On my last ride, we visited White Horse Press, in Center Conway, NH. Nice folks. They hold an annual event and offer a discount on everything they sell, during the Open House. I found a set of mold-able silicone plugs to use. You start with them rolled up as round balls and then flatten into your outer ear. I've used them on one ride and, so far, I like them. I'm not sure how long they'll last but I'll report back on this. Not bad for $3 and if I use them.

I have tried to impress upon my own child the errors of my ways, so that he learns from my mistakes. He's pretty good about keeping the volume of the stereo and his iPod, down. And he wears hearing protection when he mows the lawn or practices his drums.

So, if you hear me saying "What?" (repeatedly), cupping my ear to hear you above the din or seating myself centrally at any group gathering, you now know why. I wish it weren't so, but hearing loss is not reversible.

Here's a couple of good links for additional information (cut and paste):

http://www.motorcyclecruiser.com/streetsurvival/0710_crup_motorcycle_hearing_protection/index.html

http://www.freehearingtest.com/hia_motorcyclefacts.shtml

Take an extra minute, before you ride off, to stuff something into your ears. You HEAR me?

A low, quiet wave,

Joe Racket

Memorial Day

2009-05-25T10:24:00.005-04:00

Today is Memorial Day, May 25, 2009 and I have little to do. Oh sure, there are a thousand things I could do, but none I have to do. That's the difference between a regular weekend day and a holiday. My obligations to self and family are no more than to fire up the grill in the middle of the afternoon and cook a palatable meal.

Yesterday's weather was a bit dicier than today's (sunny and warm) but since Sunday is our "normal" ride day, the wife and I saddled up with a short ride planned to visit the Shaker Village in nearby Canterbury, NH. I suppose it's a bit of an historical recreation like Sturbridge Village, down in Massachusetts. Still, having once been within a few miles without stopping, it seemed like a good destination for those of us not opting for the early and multi-hundred mile route that the club had planned for the day.

We made our way across Bedford, jumping onto 101, headed East towards the coast. Our jumping off point to head North was Candia (Candy-O, I need ya) but soon the sprinkles began. A few miles further up the road, they became steady and I pulled off the highway to confer with the missus. A line of rain was sweeping West-to-East across the state, with the leading edge the furthest East. That meant that our ride North would encounter this rain, with potential for heavy downpours, with the Southernmost part of the state missing out. Suit up and go on or save this ride for another day?

We decided that rain suits would be a drag and so turned tail, headed South through Auburn before turning West through Manchester. We had a nice ride through the city, much quieter on the weekend than I suppose it is during the week.

Returning home, we tucked the bike into the garage, tucked into a big lunch (and the Indy 500) before doing taking care of some other errands.

Perhaps we'll get out for a short scoot today. The weather's nice and I wouldn't mind going out just to hear my exhaust roar as I click through second and third gears. The cacophony of acceleration beats out the steady hum of highway riding, every time.

And let's not forget why we have this extra day to enjoy ourselves, our families and our hobbies. I extend my thanks to veterans everywhere and those in my family who have served, to bring us peace, safety and the American way of life.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Slow Ride (Take it Easy!)

2009-05-14T15:52:00.004-04:00

The weekend is almost here and I am practically OUT OF MY MIND with happiness. You see, tomorrow (Friday) I get to ride to a client meeting waaaay the F over in VT. It's about 170 miles each way and the weather looks just perfect. It should be in the high 70's by the time we return. I say we, 'cause my buddy, Box, set up this meeting for me and he's riding there too.

On Saturday, most of the entire state of NH will converge on Center Conway to attend the Whitehorse Press Open House (and BBQ). There will be music, food and discounts. I plan to meet two Twitter buddies there (Corry01 & Two Wheels New England) and say "hello" in person. Plus, I get to push the VTX hard across the Kancamangus Highway, one of the BEST roads in the state.

On a recent ride, the thought occurred to me that it's NOT a matter of how FAST you ride but rather, how SLOW you CAN ride. Think about that. I'm an adrenaline junkie like many of you and I have scared the crap outta myself more times than I will admit. You get a perfect patch of open highway, nary a cop in sight and you pin back that throttle and play boy racer. It's a load of fun to get so much wind that you got to duck way down behind that tiny windscreen. And then roll it back and be Joe Model Citizen, again.

A better measurement of how good a rider you are is how SLOWLY you can ride your bike. Can you maneuver it at speeds below 10 mph? How about below 5 mph? Can you do this and do it consistently? I'm not talking about a parking lot turn-around or a stop-n-go. I mean riding and controlling your bike at speeds just above a stall. That takes skill.

I may not be the best rider in our group (or maybe I am!) but I will consistently challenge myself to exert more control over my scooter every time I ride. It's the exact OPPOSITE of what so many car drivers do: get on the highway, put on cruise control and turn off their brains. I want to be ACTIVELY involved in the control and handling of my bike. It takes attention to small details, the road, the engine, clutch feathering, etc.

Anyway, I've got two days of great riding ahead of me and I am so looking forward to this. It's been a while since I was so jazzed about riding. I think it helps to have a destination and a plan, as opposed to aimless wandering (sorry Joe!). Getting lost never made me moist.

I hope you all have a fun weekend ahead. Riding season is truly here at last.

A low, slow wave

Joe Rocket

A few pix from DC

2009-04-30T19:43:00.010-04:00

Here's just a few pix from our day today. We had a blast riding the Segways around DC. We did a 3 hour tour of all of the major tourist spots. Two wheels in parallel are almost as much fun as when they are in-line...

Easter Island Totem:

BARRY'S HOUSE:

The Capitol Building:

Back view:

The Mall:

That's it. I'm done for now. Will talk to you soon.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Having a chat with Mr. Obama

2009-04-28T17:29:00.009-04:00

Well, at long last we're off on a family vacation again. 2008 found us all scattered in different directions: G to Spain for a month, Ma to Bar Harbor to do trail building and repair and my own two-week trip to Sturgis, SD.

In the hustle and bustle of our crazy schedules, we have little quality time together. I know that it will take us a day or two to get to that happy place, where we connect again as a family but it will happen soon enough.

Our trip will take us to Washington, DC where I jokingly promised to say hello to President Obama. My son thinks I'm a bit nutty but I enjoy perpetuating that sentiment. Some say I'm "colorful". I've been called worse.

We've got a long drive ahead but the Outback is a comfortable whip, cruising effortlessly and smoothly at highway speeds. We'll be there by early evening, depending on traffic and necessary stops. I'll shoot some photos while there and post them upon return.

We had a good ride Sunday to Palmer, MA. Manny led us to the Steaming Tender, a restored train station, filled with antiques and memorabilia. We had a lazy, winding ride down, through South Central NH and into MA. Leaving at about 10:30, it was nearly 1PM by the time we were seated. The "Tender" seems to be a popular destination for bikers. If it's not because of the location, it must be because the food is excellent and the waitresses overly attentive. Aside from the tasty chili, nachos and 1/3 lb. burgers, I can attest to the fettuccine with peach-infused cream sauce. What a delicious taste combination!

That's our feckless leader, Jerry, providing the one-finger salute, my task when I'm not behind the camera. Apologies to Crumpet for catching her dislodging a bone in her throat but the group was too large to pose. We had 13 riders astride 12 bikes, after Gary dropped out in Jaffrey. Feeding this large group took ample time and by the time we were sated, fat and bloated, some got the urge to take a faster route home. Our ride up the highways, through Worcester and up 495 were uneventful, dull and hectic. Heavy car and truck traffic shunted us to the safety of the right lane, where we puttered along slightly above the posted limit.

I'll write more with Washington, DC details and provide an update on our next group ride. Summer came early to NH but it looks like Spring will be back in the morning. Our high temperature of 94 degrees today was daunting and I'm looking forward to more comfortable riding weather.

It's black-fly season here but, that will be over soon enough (and replaced by mosquito season). Stay well, stay healthy and I'll see you out on the road soon.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

No Time Like the President's

2009-04-18T21:20:00.012-04:00

The great stand-up comedian, Norm Crosby, influenced me as a young person, as I watched him ply his trade on the late night shows. The Tonight Show, with Johnny Carson, and all of the daytime talk shows as well. He represented the immigrant American through his use of shtick concerning his poor command of the English language. As an artist, I knew he was so much smarter than the character he played, even though he never broke from character.

Norm's "fractured" English, tickled my sense of humor. I "got" the joke. I got that he had such an intimate understanding of language that he could poke fun at it, intelligently. There was the irony. "No time like the President's". For me, there's no time like the present to be taking on my new position.

Over the past four weeks, I've been laying the groundwork for a new role. The response I received from potential partners was overwhelmingly positive. It's time to shake up the old conventions and put the pieces back together in a new way. Like the Spring season unfolding around us, I'm planning a season of growth and re-birth.

Riding season is coming awfully slowly to New Hampshire. It's been cold and windy and rain is forecast for tonight and into tomorrow, Sunday, our normal day for club riding. Still, we managed a short scoot on Friday night, following the warmest day of this past week. The temperatures will fall again this week and be seasonally cool.

As a group, we have not yet gelled this year. Over the past season, we had so many new riders and so few chances to meet them all. A flurry of new names and email addresses bounced about that, at times, I'd felt like I should be wearing a name tag. "Hello. My name is...Joe Rocket". With the slow start, there haven't been many organized rides. I know that on the first nice day we get, the turnout will be overwhelming. 20-30 riders will show up and we'll all do that introductory do-si-do as we try to learn each others names, faces and riding styles. Despite our best efforts to organize the group off-season, some people will only come out for the rides and will defer the socializing until they get to know us better.

There are several rides already planned for the season including Nova Scotia, Gettysburg and several camping trips. It's been a long time since I've packed up my bike and headed down the road. I'm looking forward for the first chance to do just that. The short ride the other night was therapeutic. I wasn't focused on the stress and issues of the preceding week. On a nice long straightaway, I whacked the throttle back and instantly zipped down the road. A quick look in the mirror showed me how quickly the others fell behind. Acceleration is the best high!

I had plans to get some track time this year, plans that I'll have to put on hold. I think this will be another year, like others, where Summer slips away unloved. We have a lot to get done this year, in addition to launching my biz.

So, I hope I get a few memorable rides in this year. I hope the weather warms and I get to put some miles on my bike, in the company of my buddies. There's so much promise in the coming year.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Step back, step forward. Take a look!

2009-04-07T20:44:00.012-04:00

Have you ever noticed that if you change your perspective, ever so slightly, that it makes a world of difference in your view? This has been happening to me a lot lately.

It happened to me again today in the midst of a discussion with my new E-commerce partner. We were discussing how they bill for Pay-per-click (PPC) campaigns and they informed me that they simply billed for the amount of time it took them to manage the buys rather than as a percentage of the spend. So, instead of recommending a high-cost PPC, with an accompanying high commission for themselves, they charge the client honestly and fairly for their efforts. Wow.

All it took for them to devise this rate structure was to understand what was best for their clients; not their own business or shareholders. Simple and equitable.

When was the last time you took a look at your own pricing model? Is it customer-centric? Do you have their growth, profitability and goals in mind or, do you serve a different master?

If you're a buyer, when was the last time you asked a new vendor partner to meet with you, to learn fully how they differentiate themselves from others in the marketplace? With business as awful as it is, now's the time to be creative, open new doors, try new options.

If I were a buyer (and I have been), I'd have a veritable open-door policy right now and I would learn everything I could about potential partners, to the advantage of my company.

As a seller, I'm pleased that I have excellent products & services to offer which are fairly priced. And that, my friends, will win out every time. So......step forward and take a look!

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

First ride - 2009

2009-03-08T17:30:00.005-04:00

FIRST RIDE

What a nice weekend we had! The temps almost hit 60 degrees farenheit Saturday and today, Sunday, looked to be almost an exact repeat. I had challenged the other club members to see who would get out for the first "official" AMC (Amherst Motorcycle Club) ride for the year. I put a few parameters around it, to make sure everyone had a little skin in the game, but by and large, it was just me putting a stake in the ground to hurry the season along.

The ice on my driveway was giving me fits. At some points, it's 6" thick and very hard to break up. I spent hours yesterday clearing a swath four feet wide and about eight feet long. Rain was forecast for last night and I had hoped that it would help me complete the task. It didn't. It couldn't have rained that much last night as there was little change.

I was determined to get my bike out today, especially since Jerry stopped by yesterday and provided "supervision" while I put the seats back on, etc. Today, I got an early start and was chopping away when my elderly neighbor Tom, from across the street, came out to do the same. He was chopping with a steel snow shovel circa 1960! He's a good guy and took my ribbing in stride. Before you know it, I had stopped my work and was chopping ice across the street. We almost cleared the end of his driveway when I realized I was running out of time. Back to my own labor!

Tom is great and in a moment was across the street to help me clear mine. Here's what I got to by the time I decided to go ride:

I forgot to mention that two other riders beat me in the race to start the ride season. Cabin Boy & Crumpet got together for a little riding yesterday, making a small loop before feeling the chill and returning to base. Cabin Boy was eager to get out again today and, by the time I'd cleared a path, I saw that I missed a group of riders by about 90 minutes. So, my first ride of the season was a solo one.

I headed down Route 3 until I crossed the MA state line, made a U-turn at the Westford/Tyngsboro exit, headed North to Hudson, NH where I picked up Route 3A, the rural route on the opposite side of the Merrimack River from Nashua. It is a pretty, lazy, wending road following my high-speed blaze down the super-slab. I made the ride up to Manchester, by the airport, before heading West towards home. All told, I did just short of 60 miles.

The Happy Camper, at the end of his first ride for the season:

So, two days of "Manuel" Labor for a less than two hour ride. In my mind, a great deal. Oh, by the way, Old Man Winter is not through with us yet. The forecast is for a fresh 3-5" of snow and sleet during the day tomorrow. But, I don't care. I know we're on the back side of this mess and soon we'll be out riding in warm breezes to far-away destinations.

All I can say is "F" YOU Winter, you lost again.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Been thinking of you, y'know, Down Under

2009-02-24T11:55:00.006-05:00

If it weren't for Twitter, I probably would have paid little attention to the bushfires in Australia. The latest news is that over 200 people have lost their lives already, many more having lost everything they own.

Now that we're all connected in this new social network, more than a few of my followers are located in Australia and now I have a compelling need to know that these new friends are "Ok".

Technology is shrinking the world, as more people are able to communicate about things they have in common. The only obstacle now is language and, I'm sure that once Google or some other tech company has figured out how to do on-the-fly translation, the world will shrink even more.

Suddenly, issues that are localized to one continent like the wild fires in Australia or the situation in Darfur will more personal, more in the collective consciousness. And that, my friends, will be a change for the better.

I'm hoping you and yours are well today. The snow isn't gone yet and riding season still seems too far away. Sorry to get all serious on you. I'll revert to happy-go-lucky again once I can clear these seasonal cobwebs.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Call it a social experiment

2009-02-13T12:46:00.001-05:00

Todo esto es el hielo y la nieve para llegar a mí. Me siento un resentimiento hacia la construcción de invierno, el frío, sal, arena. Mayor que con la travesuras en el trabajo, los despidos, la economía, la incertidumbre del futuro de mi empresa y ya tienes la idea. Es algo cada vez va a ser el mismo otra vez? Necesito una salida a estas emociones.

Jerry era "tan amable" que me llame a partir de Daytona Beach, el sábado. Dijo que es necesario una temperatura de verificación (de NH), mientras que sentado en algún lado de la playa cangrejo choza de conseguir su alimento.

Estoy en necesidad de algunos de dos ruedas terapia. Necesito una cálida brisa para volar bajo mi visera lleva el tenue olor de la madreselva y la sal del mar el aire. Necesito el olor de aceite y gasolina, mezclado con el sudor, el cuero y el caucho.

¡Ja! Me recuerda a mí mismo de un producto que vi hace años, para las carreras de aficionados. Es una vela en forma de un neumático y, cuando está iluminado, despedía el olor de la quema de caucho. Ahora, si eso no es un don que sólo puede ser apreciado en una "cueva de hombre", entonces no sé qué es.

Últimamente, mi Twitter ha adicción me presentó a un montón de gente de todo el mundo. Me reuní con el Sr. Ken, que es abandonada en Sturgis, SD para el invierno y el uso de Twitter para evitar que la cabina loca. Conocí a un montón de personas en Australia que están disfrutando de su verano, pero el uso Twitter para conectar con el "resto del mundo". Uno me dijo que se sentían aislados y Twitter les ayuda a sentirse más conectados con gente de todo el mundo.

Twitter La comunidad está creciendo exponencialmente y voy a intentar "Tweet" antes de que algunos de nuestros paseos más largo para ver si puede reunirse con algunos de esta gente en persona. Si desea unirse a la conversación, vaya a www.twitter.com. Me pueden encontrar allí joerocket.

La primavera está haciendo un esfuerzo para llegar el día de hoy. Temps se espera alcanzar 50 grados y algunos de la nieve y el hielo se derretirá fuera. Tenemos una semana de este tiempo para conseguir nuestros fundirse en. He sido reticentes a utilizar cualquier arena en el camino de este año así que espero que el tiempo y un poco de sal se eliminará el hielo compactado.

Si el nombre de una chica de verano, hacen suponer que tendrá que utilizar la fase, "la venida de verano" mucho? Bueno, la primavera está en camino, Punxsutawney Phil ser condenado. Se puede tomar un tiempo, pero antes de que nos conocemos, nos quejandonos el hecho de que estamos a caballo y el DPW aún no ha barrido los caminos todavía. Al menos hasta aquí, esto no ocurre hasta alrededor del Día de las Madres o algo así.

Estos últimos meses en torno de la sesión, hunkered debido a condiciones meteorológicas y la necesidad económica son un lastre. Al menos lo que puedo permitirme un tanque de gas este año y las telarañas claro ahora y entonces. Voy a tratar de hacer más de camping este año y puede incluso aprender a gustar. Me enteré de un viejo truco de los campistas sobre el secreto de dormir sobre el duro suelo. Se llama Benadryl y whisky. Esta combinación asegura una buena noche de sueño cada vez!

Hice un comentario en línea recientemente que parecía resonar con otros ciclistas que haya encontrado. Algo a lo largo de las líneas de "El invierno es cuando tenemos previsto que todos los grandes paseos que prometemos a nosotros mismos vamos a tener, con el tiempo". La vida es muy corta. No quiero tener lamenta por el camino. Quiero ser un viejo motociclista con un millón de millas bajo mi cinturón algún día.

El invierno es duro en las carreteras hasta aquí. Las carreteras se mierda durante un tiempo, pero voy a arreglar para ser devueltos, de mi asiento hasta que el heaves heladas han disminuido o se han reparado. Esa es la disyuntiva de que hacer grandes carreteras de montaña, uncluttered autopistas, aire y agua limpios.

Es hora de sacar el calendario, iniciar el marcado algunas vacaciones, de conectar en unos pocos viajes largos y rellenar alrededor de ellos con nuestros habituales paseos locales. Sí, voy a hacerlo este año. De hecho, me voy a Yahoo ahora para publicar un calendario de viaje en línea que todos mis compañeros de club de corredores puede añadir a.

Todos ustedes tienen un gran día de hoy, domingo. Tal vez mi piel y ver si se ha reducido durante los meses de invierno ... heh-heh!

Una baja, la lentitud de las olas,

Joe Rocket

Grande Venti

2009-02-05T21:23:00.021-05:00

All this ice and snow is getting to me. I feel a building resentment towards Winter, cold, salt, sand. Couple that with the shenanigans at work, the layoffs, the economy, the uncertainty of the future of my company and you get the idea. Is anything ever going to be the same again? I need an outlet for these emotions.

Jerry was "kind enough" to call me from Daytona Beach on Saturday. He said he needed a temperature check (of NH), while he sitting at some beach-side crab shack getting his feed on.

I'm in need some two-wheeled therapy. I need a warm breeze to blow up under my visor carrying the faint smell of honeysuckle and salt sea air. I need to smell oil & gasoline, mixed with sweat, leather and rubber.

Ha! I just reminded myself of a product I saw years ago, for racing fans. It's a candle shaped like a tire and, when lit, it gave off the smell of burning rubber. Now, if that isn't a gift that can only be appreciated in a "man cave" then I don't know what is.

Lately, my Twitter addiction has introduced me to a lot of people from all over the world. I met Mr. Ken, who is stranded in Sturgis, SD for the winter and using Twitter to keep from going cabin crazy. I met a bunch of people in Australia who are enjoying their summer but use Twitter to connect to the "rest of the world". One told me that they felt isolated and Twitter helps them feel more connected with folks around the globe.

The Twitter community is growing exponentially and I will try to "tweet" prior to some of our longer rides to see if I can meet up with some of these folks in person. If you want to join in the conversation, go to www.twitter.com. You can find me there as joerocket.

Spring is making an effort to arrive today. Temps are expected to hit 50 degrees and some of the snow and ice will melt off. We need a week of this weather to get our melt on. I've been hesitant to use any sand on the driveway this year so I hope that the temps and some salt will remove the compacted ice.

If you dated a gal named Summer, do you suppose you'd use the phase, "Summer's coming" much? Well, Spring is on the way, Punxsutawney Phil be damned. It may take a while but before we know it, we'll be bitching about the fact that we're out riding and the DPW STILL hasn't swept the roads yet. At least up here, this doesn't occur until around Mother's Day or so.

These past few months of sitting around, hunkered down due to weather and economic necessity are a drag. At least I can afford a tank of gas this year and clear the cobwebs out now and then. I'm going to try to do more camping this year and may even learn to like it. I learned an old campers trick about the secret of sleeping on the hard ground. It's called Benadryl and whiskey. That combination assures a good night's sleep every time!

I made a comment online recently that seemed to resonate with other bikers I've met. Something along the lines of "Winter is when that we plan all those great rides we promise ourselves we'll take, given time". Life is very short. I don't want to have regrets down the road. I want to be a very old biker with a million miles under my belt someday.

Winter is tough on the roads up here. The roads will be crap for a while but I'll settle for being bounced out of my seat until the frost heaves have subsided or have been repaired. That's the trade-off we make for great mountain roads, uncluttered highways, clean air and water.

It's time to pull out the calendar, start marking off some vacation time, plugging in a few long trips and filling in around them with our usual local rides. Yep, I'm gonna do that this year. In fact, I'm off to Yahoo right now to post an online ride calendar that all of my fellow club riders can add to.

You all have a great day today, Sunday. Maybe I'll get my leathers out and see if they've shrunk over the winter months...heh-heh!

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Enough's enough...

2009-01-28T21:11:00.003-05:00

This is getting ridiculous. Another huge storm, thankfully we kept our power this time. It's an icy mess outside and tomorrow we'll all have to go back out in it again.

Ken says that he'd rather use an air conditioner than heat his house. I suppose he'll be off on a jaunt to Florida soon.

Daytona's coming up soon too, and some of you are migrating that way. Myrtle Beach is a bust and I hear that other towns may try to pick up the slack and happily take our tourist dollars.

I need therapy and need it soon. Cabin fever is setting in and I can feel the walls closing in around me. It's time to bust out, get outdoors (without freezing one's butt off) and get some fresh air.

I need to hear the motor purring under my seat, thrumming away, medicating my soul with it's powerful pulse. And, in that moment, my worries and cares will dissipate and I'll be myself once again.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Cabin Fever

2009-01-22T17:29:00.002-05:00

Here's a short video post from an online friend in Michigan. Check out the video by clicking on the title or cutting and pasting the link below:

http://www.rumblestrip.net/

He's got cabin fever as bad ass we all do. Can't wait to ride again. Jerry is off to Florida to ride a rental bike. I'll bet he wants to upgrade when he returns...

A low, chilly wave,

Joe Rocket

Gran Torino Blog Post addendum

2009-01-13T11:34:00.004-05:00

Sorry folks! I was just reminded by my younger brother that I left out a car. How could I forget the 1968 Torino Fastback we all enjoyed???

This was the car I enjoyed most in high school. It was purchased from one of my Dad's co-workers at Met Life as my sister's car. Not sure if it was to replace the car that got stolen (a Buick?) from the local service station, later found in an orchard on the outskirts of town, with bullet holes and evidence that they tried to torch it. No one was ever caught.

Anyway, this was a sweet tan (ok, beige) color with black racing stripes. It had a small block V-8, a 302 I think, and a three speed automatic on the floor. After sister went off to college (Good ol' F.U.) it was mine for a while, until I got the cancer-ridden Camaro. Then my brother Robert (Bobby then) took it over.

It met a sad demise in Bruce Carr's driveway early one morning. It went up in flames and burned to the ground. All that was left was the shell and some seat frames. So sad. It got towed to our house and I recall seeing the remnants of my brother's silver key chain, melted onto the floor. Small bits of molten silver had been deposited as the fire raged.

It was a fun car, one I would like to still have. Then again, if it had been a convertible, it would be worth something today.

Oh well! Lots of good cars have slipped through my fingers over the years. It's hard to imagine anything we drive now ever having the cachet of some of the muscle cars we've owned.

A low, slow wave (and a tip of the imaginary hat to me brudder),

Joe Rocket

Shoveling out my Gran Torino

2009-01-11T10:15:00.009-05:00

Last night, we had a motorcycle movie night, out with the gang, to see Gran Torino, the new movie from Clint Eastwood. I’m not sure of all of his credits (for this movie) but I do know that he acted in and directed this effort. This is an incredible movie, with powerful messages about racism, generational stereotypes and the capacity for change. Wow. What a movie. I won’t ruin it for you but I recommend it highly.

Seeing the “car star” of this movie brought back memories, for me. The visual centerpiece of this movie is a cherry 1972 Ford Gran Torino Sport. It reminded me of the 1971 Gran Torino my family owned, one of many Fords for us. My Dad was a hardcore “Buy American-type” when it came to purchasing autos. True, one of the first memories I have is of standing on his lap “driving” the old Volvo Humpback sedan, but he always bought American, after that. In hindsight, I realize that maybe I was just allowed to have my hands on the wheel while he drove and that we were moving at a speed of less than 10 mph, as we navigated Lakeview Drive. Perhaps my love of all motor vehicles came from that early sensation of speed.

Mom’s new white ’71 Gran Torino four-door was a family car, replete with bright blue vinyl seats, easy to keep clean with four kids constantly sliding in and out of it. It replaced a beautiful (1966?) pale butter yellow Pontiac Bonneville convertible, nicknamed the “Soul Train”. Mom’s car, as is often the case, is the car you live in, while Dad’s car, either the ’69 Mustang Mach 1 or the ’71 Mach 1, were driving cars and no French fries or milkshakes were allowed within. I seem to remember that it was me who DID spill a milkshake in the interior of one of the family cars. It had to be my mother’s Bonnie and I seem to recall it running down from a rear speaker embedded into the rear bench seats and disappearing between the cushions. Dad was furious, Mom shrugged it off. No doubt my father spent time later that day detailing that car to amend my error.

Speaking of the Soul Train, I was perusing Hemmings Motor News a few years ago and I found the Bonneville for sale. I doubt that it was our car but it was damn close. It was available for sale in NY State and I still kick myself for not having the funds or the room for a car that seemed to be longer than the inside of my garage. I learned to drive in Brother Jay’s VW Beetle, one of many. The low hp made it easy to shift, more or less, and how is he to know how many times I ground the gears in the educational process? Once I had driving down, at the age of @ 12, I would lift the keys for the Bonnie, drop the top and drive that car around the neighborhood at idle, sitting atop the driver’s seat, leaning forward only slightly to steer. Seems like that car would coast at @ 8 mph, which is a nice safe speed when you’re nowhere near a brake pedal. One of the neighbors would eventually alert my mother to the fact that a skinny kid was driving in circles in her car perched atop the seat and she would race out to yell at me to put the car away. I can’t tell you how many times I took that ride but it was many.

From the VW Bug(s), to the Bonnie, to the Gran Torino, to the Ford Maverick (pea soup green, no less) to the paint-challenged ’70 Chevy Camaro: these are the cars of my youth. But, there was one more vehicle that changed my life. A small, mini-bike with knobby wheels and a 5 hp Tecumseh engine. Somewhere in my pre-teen years, this used scooter entered our lives. It was too late for my older brother to use, by then he was probably into his first car. My younger brother and I took turns on this thing, riding the perimeter of our small suburban lot, tearing up the lawn and making a perpetual hard-packed dirt track around the yard.

When we were old enough to venture out of the neighborhood, we’d ride to the nearest Esso station and buy a half gallon of gas for a quarter. Then, we’re race it home, on town streets, and duck back into the ‘hood before the cops spotted us. Eventually, we’d ride deep into the woods, traversing the trails and power line roads that joined our neighborhood to another, where our school friends lived. More tales of juvenile delinquency will have to wait for another day.

So, the cars led to the mini-bike, which lead to the motorcycles. Growing up, only one kid I knew had a real bike. His name was John (Jack) Maculitis. We all called him Jack or Jackie, except for Howie, who referred to him as Mackie Ejaculitis. Yes, I learned some new words from the older kid in the neighborhood. He had a quick wit and a perverse sense of humor. In his house, farts were funny and meant to be shared. My Dad would have given him a good beat down, if he could have. None of those shenanigans were tolerated in our house.

I see that the snow has stopped falling and it’s time to get out the shovel. We got another 8” of light, fluffy powder overnight. Last month we set new snowfall records. January is off to a record pace, itself. Personally, I’m thinking of warmer climes and the chance to ride year-‘round. And maybe that’s what I like best about riding, that sensation of the warm sun on your face, wind in your hair, where you’re 12 again, atop the front seat of the most beautiful car in the world.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Happy New Year

2008-12-31T17:16:00.004-05:00

Hello all,

Well, the snow has been falling all day and I did a smart thing, for once. Today was slower than turtle poop and I made an "executive" decision to work from home this afternoon. I used my lunch "hour" to make the drive in the blizzard across Temple Mountain, from "Peterburgh" to Amherst. Cars were crashed and spun out all over the place. I crawled home but without incident.

The snow has moved out and now the temps are plummeting. New Year's Eve is upon us and all I can hope for is a better year in 2009.

I hope you are all somewhere safe and warm tonight. Maybe the challenging local weather will force some folks to stay in and off the roads.

Happy New Year to you and yours. Let's shovel a path to the street and get out and ride soon.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Separated at birth

2008-12-30T12:31:00.004-05:00

Sorry folks, I just had to....

Am I the only one to see the resemblance?

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

2008-12-24T11:34:00.005-05:00

Riders to the left of me. Riders to the right!

Ah, to be in a crowd of bikes right now, rolling down the road. Winter arrived early this year and we'll have a white Christmas in NH. The weather is warming somewhat but I suspect this mess will be here for a few days yet. No opportunity to ride in the next few months, unless I were to travel to warmer climes.

"I'm not going to get too sentimental, like those other sticky Valentines..."
I just wanted to take a moment to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and happy holidays, no matter what you celebrate. (Any Druids out there?)

It's been a good year overall. A lot happened (Sturgis trip) and another safe year under our collective belts. A couple of minor incidents but everyone seems to have recovered nicely (Box, I'm talkin' 'bout YOU.)

We all have a lot to look forward to in 2009.

So, Merry Christmas to my friends, fans and accidental passers-by. I hope you get what you wish for, what you deserve and that Spring comes early next year.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

'Tis the season...

2008-12-23T07:59:00.012-05:00

With the frenzy of activity necessary to keep one's job, I realized that I have let a lot of things slip this year. It's hard to get in the holiday spirit when you see the axe fall all around you. This year has seen a series of lay-offs and terminations of friends across the country.

Yesterday I realized that I had not bought a gift for a co-worker who consistently makes my life easier and is one of the hardest workers I know. He's low on the corporate totem but I know we would miss him dearly should something happen to him. I want to let him know how much I appreciate his kindness, friendship and spirit. I need to run out today to find something worthy.

This year the term fiscal frugality has been tossed around quite a bit. With the unplanned expenses of a week in hotels (and dining out 3x/day) plus that shiny new generator (an unplanned purchase), etc., etc., and there goes any financial cushion I might have had. I feel like I'm on a fixed income and it just isn't enough. In debt, with no job security is a very uncomfortable feeling. I find it very easy to ignore the sale exhortations of the emails and retail commercials.

No matter what comes in the next year, quarter or month, I know that I have a solid set of skills and an excellent network of colleagues, associates and friends. The year ahead will be challenging, not only for me, but for many others as well. I know how cliche it is to make New Year's resolutions but the recent ice storm (and 7-day power outage) pointed out how unprepared we were for that event. What else am I unprepared for? What steps can I take avoid the same complications in my financial life? I intend to find out.

I've been procrastinating, I know. It's a bad habit. I don't have much energy left at the end of the day. I'll be reviving my efforts to do my own thing.

I hope we all make it through this season and the poor economy. Time to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Talkin' 'bout my g-g-generator....!

2008-12-17T16:22:00.006-05:00

The darkness is winning

All,

Most of my readers are local, I think, and are suffering right along with me. All except for one club member who high-tailed it for Florida to pick out his white shoes and matching belt.

On Day 6, we were without power and have run out of hotel options and bunked at Chez Shane.

On Day 7, I caved in to mounting stress and the impending weather forcast and had a generator installed. My service guy was terrific, working late and facilitating the whole process.

I could tell you the whole litany, the delays, the long hours waiting in a cold and dark house, lit only by candles and firelight. The boiler leak, the forgotten parking passes, the carbon monoxide detectors going off, the round-trips to Nashua. Fact is, I'm just too damn tired.

We just got a forecast for 6-12 inches of snow Friday into Saturday. If the power is not restored, at least I know I can keep the house warm and the pipes from freezing. Without water in the house, I've given in to more rustic bathroom breaks. At times like this, it's good to have the proper equipment.

I'd love to compare notes with all of you when this is all done. For now, I could use a warm shower and a nap.

I'll wave at you later,

Joe Rocket

Ice, Ice, baby…

2008-12-14T19:03:00.004-05:00

December 14, 2008 – Dateline Amherst, NH

We’re deep into Day 3 of the Ice Storm of 2008. The power went out shortly after midnight on Thursday and we rolled over and went back to sleep. Deep under covers, little did I know how truly bad the situation was. That became evident on Friday, once we were outside the house. I saw several large limbs down and lots of smaller branches. But nothing major or threatening. The ice had already turned back into rain and I stood getting soaked, to get a chance to speak with my neighbor. His damage was more extensive with bigger trees split or topped by ice. But no damage to either’s home.

A drive provided a better idea of what took place. Large trees were down everywhere and many roads impassable. The roads out of our neighborhood were beset by downed lines and large roadblocks.

With no heat or water, we found refuge in a hotel Friday night. On Saturday, we returned home to build fires and attempt to heat the house. It was @ 50 degrees indoors at Noon on Saturday. The afternoon passed quickly as I tried to keep two fireplaces stoked and burning efficiently. I’ve come to the conclusion that the living room fireplace is mostly for “show” as it burns terribly, filling the room with more smoke than heat. Add to that the problem caused by the draft of the larger family room fireplace.

Saturday evening was approaching quickly with no resolution of lost power and we frantically called around for a hotel room. The closest was all the way down in Woburn, MA, which missed the brunt of the storm. We had a nice dinner at American Joe’s, followed by the movie, The Day the Earth Stood Still (DESS). I won’t give it away here and I confess I am not sure if it followed the original story.

By Sunday morning, we had an offer from friends to crash at their house. With this in our back pocket, we headed back towards home, to check on the house. Still no power, and still very cold. It was now down to 41 degrees indoors and it felt colder. You could see your breath inside. Not fun.

I lit the main fireplace and said “to hell with the other one”, which is just a waste of wood. If you know me at all, you know I had to waste good wood… ;-)

Speaking of wood, I have to say thanks to my neighbor for providing me with two carloads of seasoned wood, after putting in his pellet stove. Ironically, he couldn’t use it during the power outage because it needs an electrically powered blower motor.

Anyway, this weekend did not turn out the way I had planned. Mother Nature is a bitch and cares little about the best laid plans of mice and men.

Off to the pub for a little beer and dessert. Hope you are in a warm and safe place and that we all get through this very quickly.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Day 4 Update: I managed a car bomb and a beer on my birthday at the Peddler's Daughter. Not quite my plan but we were in excellent company with the Shanes.

Still in a hotel. Not having any fun. I'd almost rather be at work...

Q4 blues

2008-12-10T10:32:00.003-05:00

Hi all,

I started a blog post this past weekend about how corporate America sucks and how I was embroiled in the last minute push to sell anything and everthing I could to make our numbers look better for the month/quarter/year. And then my big, fat hands leaned on some key and deleted three-quarters of what was written. Auto-save saved the "revised" post before I noticed and, when I did, got angry and said "F' it!". At some point I will learn (maybe next year) that I should write in Word and import the final file into Blogger.

On a positive note, I'm happy about our pending AMC holiday bash coming up on the 19th. We have a large group and will be taking over a local restaurant for some seasonal and communal good cheer.

On top of that, soon I reach a major milestone in life and that alone is cause for celebration. Too soon to start a "bucket" list but I am contemplating making strides towards the things in life I've always wanted to do, like race. I'm making some inquiries with some folks in the know and will keep you posted.

Finally, if you look in the upper left hand corner of this blog you'll see some links to some new friends' blogs. Of course, Jerry & Marie's adventure is over but if you didn't get to enjoy this in 2007, find time to wander through this and review the adventures they had. Good stuff.

For now, it's head down until the end of the month. Sell, sell, sell! Before you know it, it will be a new year, a new administration and time for the motorcycle shows. Time to get on with our lives.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Give thanks

2008-11-27T08:07:00.002-05:00

Friends,

Today is a day to reflect on our lives and give thanks for all we have. That message was driven home early this morning by a phone call from my brother-in-law Peter, explaining that he and his wife would not be joining us today as his step-son was in a hospital today after a suicide attempt.

I'm thankful that I have a healthy and happy family, both physically and mentally. I'm thankful for all my friends and their families, my extended family. I'm thankful for all of the advantages I enjoy, the house, the cars and the bikes.

I'm thankful that I live in this country, enjoying the freedoms that we do.

I'm most thankful for my riding buddies with whom I just completed another safe year.

As a pessimist, it's hard for me to acknowledge how lucky I am. On a day like this, I'll hug my family and tell them how much I love them.

Thanks to you all for listening to my rants and raves for a full year now.

I hope you all have a safe and happy holiday.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Done and done.

2008-11-15T22:25:00.007-05:00

Well, I guess that's the "official" end of the 2008 riding season. Jerry's put up his bike and I plan to wash mine and prepare it for the winter season. A good wash, empty the saddle bags and store all my gear until Spring. It's always a bit of a sad feeling to see the end of the season come.

Today we took a drive (in the rain) to Brentwood (no, not the tony home of celebrity killers), NH near Exeter for lunch. We loaded up on pork BBQ and enjoyed a cold beer. Between the midday beer, full belly and raging daylong headache I took a power nap before emerging for the evening hours.

The leaves are almost fully down and tomorrow will be a day filled with manual labor. The week's rains will cease, following tornado warnings tonight, and the weekend will eventually turn sunny and cooler.

There are a number of fun activities coming up, to make the off-season a bit more fun. We're 40 days from Christmas and Thanksgiving is just around the corner. We've got a Stinky Cheese party that falls on the evening of the Nashua Holiday Stroll. J&M are hosting this annual soiree at their exquisite residence, high above downtown.

The only thing we can do during the winter months is to find constructive ways to stay entertained until the warmer months arrive. To us, that means getting out with friends, finding cultural events and other things to keep our minds off the fact that we're not riding. I proposed a club name change to the Amherst Motorcycle and Snowmobile Club but I don't think it will fly.

I hope you are all well. I'm going to find a fun, social hobby to keep me active in the winter months. S is suggesting I join a gym. True, I have gained back all of the weight I lost last year and I do not like the way I feel. Maybe today was the last hurrah for pigging out.

I plan to get out and walk tomorrow and couple that with vigorous yard work. The day should be good enough that we can get a lot done and collapse exhausted at the end of the day, with sore muscles and a feeling of accomplishment. I'll light a fire and hunker down close with a glass of port and a good cigar.

Have a good weekend, a great holiday and I'll see some of you soon.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Election Day 2008

2008-11-03T19:54:00.011-05:00

Well, Election Day is here tomorrow and we can finally put an end to the long parade of mud-slinging political ads. I, for one, am eager for change of almost any kind. The current regime has over-stayed its welcome. Perhaps if "W" seemed a bit brighter, a bit more polished, we might have found his down-home, country demeanor endearing like we did with that peanut farmer, Jimmy Carter. In any event, change is good.

Here we are at the change of the seasons, Fall is officially here, the clock has been turned back and we enter a long period of darkness. It will be a lengthy fourteen weeks until we're back to the same amount of daylight we're enjoying (?) now. And when do the clocks Spring forward? March 8th? Will that be the start of the 2009 riding season? What changes will be in store for us all by then?

How many of you will have new bikes? Have you seen some of the new iron out that's coming? Most of the Harley-Davidson line-up is revised and well worth a look. Wait until you see these bikes, with their fat (5"!) rear tires. It will be love at first sight. How many new riders will we meet, get to know and ride with next year? We've had quite a surge in membership in this past year and I swear that I haven't met all the new members. I don't even think that Jerry has managed to assign nicknames to everyone yet! Maybe it's time for "colors" so that we can ID them.

With the winter months ahead, I know that we'll have to make up for the missed weekends by making a concerted effort to get together as a group. The Third Thirsty Thursdays were a direct outcome of this need to meet (that, and beer). We'll make an effort to hold these regularly (monthly) at various locations in the Nashua/Amherst, NH area.

There are a couple of winter events that we'll try to attend. The Boston bike show is always a fun and easy break during the winter months, providing a glimpse of the coming riding season. Less frequently attended is the Toyota/Cycle World Motorcycle Expo held at the Javits Center in New York City. This is harder to get to and a much longer day. Still, it's been a fun and rewarding trip and I'd like to try to make it this year. No other show has the number of new bikes and the variety or manufacturers, under one roof.

Bike Week, in Daytona is in February and only the hardiest NH riders make it out through the snow drifts and, more importantly, make it back again. And then there's Myrtle Beach and Sturgis and...Hey! It's riding season again!

I see a few warm days this week. Election Day (Ride to Vote, Vote to Ride) and Wednesday both look to be in the mid-60's. Now that it's dark out, I need to swap my tinted shield for a clear one, so I can find my way home in the inky blackness. It was as black as the inside of a witch's heart tonight!

So, pick your moments, pick your line and pick your candidate. It ain't over 'til the Fat Lady Sings.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Surfers rule!

2008-10-27T22:02:00.002-04:00

Hi all,

Just a quick post to say hello and to let you know that the season is not over yet. If the surfers can be out there in the wet, then we can be out on our scooters doing our thing!

Sunday found me headed to Seabrook to visit Tank, my favorite tattoo artist. We had a brainstorming session so I could tell him my ideas for a 50th birthday commemorative tattoo. You see, I realize now that my brother Rob can never get a tattoo due to the blood-thinning drugs he's on, and will probably have to stay on for the rest of his life. I'd hate to miss out on the chance to further adorn this largely blank canvas.

We had a moment earlier this year at the Rockin' Rib Fest when, due to the beer and the heat, I stripped off my shirt. The Fraulein was surprised to see a tat on me and somehow, I thought that odd. Nothing wrong with tattoos, I just choose to keep mine largely private.

So, Tank and I kicked around an idea I had and he will get back to me with some interpretations of my basic idea.

From Seabrook, I headed North to rendezvous with the rest of the gang. I found them parked at Jenness Beach, in Rye, NH amid a crowded parking lot on a beautiful sunny day. The surfers were out in force, enjoying the good waves and sunshine. The temps were in the mid-60's so I am sure they were pleased.

We hung around for a bit and then I got a surprise when former Audi co-worker Scott Allerheilegen and his lovely girlfriend Jen pulled up alongside us. We chatted for a moment or two but the spell was broken by another car trying to make it's way through the parking lot. Too bad. I gave Scott my card and off they went, towards their local home.

Anyway, we had a spirited ride home, me leading with Jay and Rich close behind. The sun was full on my visor and I was glad to have the smoke-tinted shield on my Arai helmet. As we bombed home, I realized what a perfect short ride it was. A blast across 101 to the beach, up the coast, watching the surfers and zooming home. The yardwork that followed didn't even bother me but I would have rather ridden into Boston with Jerry. Maybe next time.

Don't give up, never give up. There's still good riding to be had, if you just pick your moments.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Pegs over paint

2008-10-02T12:46:00.005-04:00

They say "Use it or lose it". I think this applies to riding in New England at this stage of the season. Use the time you still have left or lose the opportunity to get out on your bike and ride.

Fall is fast upon us and the days are quite a bit cooler. Midweek, here in New Hampshire, we have a cold front moving in and the temps are dipping precipitously. The mornings are that much colder and we are starting to get a frost now and then. Yes, and I even heard a local weatherman use the dreaded "S" word on the air the other day and it didn't rhyme with SPIT. He said SNOW. The F'er. Of course, he was referring to waaaaaay up in the state but, still.

With the weekend high temps maxing out at 60 degrees or so, we'll need to bundle up for our normal 10AM starts. I am long overdue for a pair of winter riding gloves or even heated gloves. My hand are the first to suffer. There's only so much I can put on under a pair of leather gloves.

The colors are near peak here in NH so that means caravans of cars driving at yard-sale pace as the occupants moon over the gorgeous color. I hear that Vermont is in full bloom so, if you want, head there instead. We have lots of favorite roads but I'm not giving them up here, as Oxxcycle does every time they print an issue. It seems that monthly I will read that mag and see another one of our "secret surfing spots" outed for all to see. Please. Leave us some rides!

Discussions among my friends about winter storage have already begun. Who found what and how much they are paying. I keep mine in the garage where I can see it every day and dream about the coming season. Plus, we've had Decembers when the weather was 65-70 degrees and sunny. If the roads are clear, I'm going out. It's too soon to discuss winterizing so I won't.

I'm hoping to get a good, long ride in on Sunday, that is, if I get all my painting done. I've got a spot in mind on the south shore of Mass., west of the Cape. We rode there (past Fall River) a long time ago and had a nice lunch and an ocean view. We then piddled around the area and enjoyed some scenery before blasting back north to home.

Some day we'll all look back on this time and wonder why we didn't put it to better use. I don't want to say I didn't do everything I ever wanted. Get out and ride. Watch out for the wet leaves and the poky leaf-peepers. Ride hard and ride fast. And keep an eye out for me, I'll be coming the other way, pegs over paint...

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Fall riding tips

2008-09-26T19:41:00.001-04:00

All,

Not a lot of riding in the coming days if this rain continues. I want to make mention of the wet leaves on the ground from now until the end of the season. Wet leaves and lawn trimmings are as slick on the road as oil. Keep an eye open and reduce your speed when the conditions exist (post rainfall) to put these materials on the road.

In suburban areas, watch out for the "tool" mowing his lawn and blowing his clippings into the roadway. He's most likely not a rider and is generally clueless about his actions. If it makes you feel better to wave at him with one hand, feel free. No need to stop and explain it to him.

Plan for the changing weather by dressing in layers and allowing for multiple stops in your itinerary. Someone will no doubt be over or underdressed and will want to make an adjustment. Keep an eye on the riders ahead and the one behind for a signal to stop (pat top of helmet).

That's it for now. I hope to get out with you all soon. If you'd rather do a little interior or exterior painting, let me know!

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Rise and Fall

2008-09-16T23:09:00.005-04:00

Fall will rise at 11:44 AM on September 22, 2008. I know this fact to be true due to the cool mornings, empty roads and tinged leaves. A good wind will release the earliest of leaves, twigs and other debris. Later, even the hardiest wind, hail and snow will not remove the crusty oak leaves from their perch.

The riding is good now, if you don't mind adding a layer. My body seems to feel winter coming and is doing it's part to add insulation.

The bike is running so well on these chilly days. The cold air is denser and I'll defer to any mechanics or engineers among you to explain why the bike performs better under these conditions. I arrive to work happy, refreshed and thankful for these last few days of summer.

Now is the time to be planning those last few long rides, to the Cape, to Vermont and to Northern New Hampshire, for when the color is full, it almost hurts your eyes. The beaches are empty of tourists and we can enjoy a few last late lunches before they close up shop for another season.

Every sunny day is a gift, at this point. We've certainly seen our share of rain this year. I don't mind cold and I don't mind wet but, I don't like cold AND wet.

Speaking of cold and wet, we have another get-together this week. It's time for another Third Thirsty Thursday, on 9/18. As much as I hate that label I coined (and I don't know if it is original but, I think it is), at least THIS way, the club can remember which frickin' night of the month that we meet! Maybe a couple of cold ones will inspire me to come up with a better title. Perhaps each club member who attends should buy me a shot of Jagermeister to aid my in my quest for enlightenment.

Our "meetings" are fun events. Cold beer and lively chatter. No format, just show-up with your spouse or girlfriend, whichever can make it that night. Crumpet took offence to my labeling us as "grizzled". Since she claims she doesn't read my blog, I guess that I can get away with calling us that. I always err on the side of caution with these events and am never the last to leave. It's harder on those of us with teens at home. Good examples need to be set.

Next month will bring the annual P-Town Fantasia Fair week that we accidently attended years ago. Not sure if we can make it this year but 2009 is a definite. Ken, Wes and I had a raucous time there more than a few years ago. And there were no teens to witness our eventual inebriation and wobbly-legged walk home.

I want to end this season on a high note. Maybe a run to the Cape would be a good idea. Or, someplace stark, barren, windswept. I envision camping at the ocean's edge, with the roar of the pounding surf drowning out all civilization. I wonder if we could camp at Horseneck Beach in Massachusetts? Parts of that beach are REMOTE. I'd be giving up a fraternity secret if I told you how I know...

Oxxcycle, a local biker mag distributed by the Nashua-Manchester Hippo, had a short article recently about riding to Sturgis. In it, the writer gave directions to Sturgis. I'm reading along and going "yeah, yeah, yeah". And then I get to his line about not ever having made it all the way there. And I realized how much more significant our trip really was. I mean, we just took it all in stride. Nothing bad happened. No breakdowns, no missed ferries, no real problems.

I got most of my pictures printed recently by Kodak and sat there for a long time flipping through them. I want to add Ken's pix too and have yet to see Doc's photos. I'll bet they're pretty good, given that camera he was wielding. I'll have to find a way to organize and preserve the memories from this trip somehow, other than right here.

Alright kiddies, off to bed with ye! Or back to work or whatever the hell you were doing before you StumbleUpon'd this post. Tomorrow's a new day and another gorgeous day to ride. Make the most of it.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Remembering

2008-09-12T07:47:00.003-04:00

You're getting this post because Seth Godin speaks to the same issues I am trying to address, only from a business perspective.

[remembering]

Is it worth doing?
What was my impact?
Will it matter in the long haul?
What sort of connections did I create?
Wherever you live, whatever you do, you have an obligation.

Make today a productive day.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Goodbye Summer

2008-09-09T01:36:00.004-04:00

Holy crap it's late! What am I doing up? I'll be luggage tomorrow!

Hello all. We're down to the last couple of weekends of summer and a perfect time to ride. The weather is fine, cool in the morning and evening and adequately warm during the day. Riding at this time of year in New Hampshire means wearing layers and maybe even breaking out your leathers again, for the second time in the season. I love that first cold snap that means it's leather weather. There's nothing quite like wearing a thick leather jacket with cold air blowing in your face.

Riding in the White Mountains in the Fall is sensory overload. Bright sunny days, filled with winding roads and unbeatable views. But, we're not there yet. The leaves have only begun to show some change in color and it will be a month before we'll see full color. So, there's still time before the roads are clogged with buses filled with the sightseeing eldery, followed by poky RVs jammed with lazy families.

It's still possible to get a lot more rides in and maybe a camping trip (or two?). The nights are getting colder but, with the right gear, the right tent and sleeping bag, it's very do-able. Of course, we'll need a fire, some fire-water and some bottles to melt.

My last post had some people questioning my state-of-mind. People! It's not that bad. The ledge is only four feet off the ground. All I'm trying to say is that I want more out of life. I guess I always have.

It's funny how you pass through jobs and end up in various spots. I long for the days when I felt like I was part of the greater good, part of the hive. I had a large circle of friends, vendors and associates back in New York City and it felt like we were all doing something good. Truth is, we were all busting our butts to make money for someone else. Still, it felt good to be part of a team. My peers and I were all in it together. Now, I just feel like it's more of a solo act.

Still, I have my bike and that brings me joy. Somedays, though, I want to ride right past the office and keep going. It's hard to look outside and see it parked so close on a beautiful sunny day. I'll admit to the occasional long lunch, getting lost on the way back to the office. I figure it makes us even for all the days I sit in that stilted environment all day long. One of the perks of working in the city was the ever-changing backdrop. I'm bored by the town I work in. It's filled with hippies and blue-hairs. Okay, to be fair, that is not MY assessment but it's spot on.

A friend just sold his bike this past weekend and is in the hunt for another. Truth be told, he did it solely for financial reasons. He can't afford the monthly nut. I assumed that he was done for the year. "Nope.", he said. He's going to buy a (used) car and then buy a beater bike with the leftover money. He's looking for two wheels under $2,500. What a great attitude. He refuses to give up riding despite his financial hardship. This is the third bike I've seen him on in two years. He buys and sells regularly. Like our friend Kevin, who would buy a used bike at the start of the season, put 4-5,000 miles on it and sell it at the end of the year for close to what he bought it. Smart.

I had a good ride this past Sunday. It was a mix of back roads and slow sweepers with a bit of highway hard-charging as well. And we revisited an old favorite spot for a bite and a warm-up. The lanky blonde waitperson/barmaid was so easy on the eyes, for once I was speechless. Oh sure, smarminess floated just beneath the surface but, for the most part, I behaved.

The clock on the wall says it's past 2AM so I need to go now. Hopefully, I can get some sleep before I have to rise again.

I'll talk to you later.

A low, drowsy wave,

Joe Rocket

Seasons change and So Do I

2008-09-06T11:22:00.009-04:00

Socrates said "An unexamined life is not worth living."

I'm sitting here watching Martin Scorcese's movie "Shine A Light" a film about The Rolling Stones. It reminds me of a lyric from one of their songs:

"Take me down, little Susie, take me down
I know you think you're the queen of the underground
And you can send me dead flowers every morning
Send me dead flowers by the mail
Send me dead flowers to my wedding
And I won't forget to put roses on your grave"

I'm a glass half empty kind-of-guy. Always have been. I know that about myself and I clash on a regular basis with my eternally optimistic better half. She can find the bright side (or tries to, anyway, to my utter irritation) of almost any situation. Thank gooodness for Yin and Yang in the universe. Balance. Harmony. We are complete opposites, so I guess that old cliche is true.

Still, I can't but help but feel a growing dissatisfication with my current situation. Perhaps it's the economy, the increasing pressures at work or the looming mid-century milestone just ahead. I don't know the cause but I spend considerable time thinking about my lot in life and how I might improve it. Not only that, however, but what will I leave behind when I am gone? What sort of legacy will I leave, for my short time here on earth? What is the true measure of a man?

What is Success?

To laugh often and much;

To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;

To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;

To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;

To leave the world a bit better, whether by
a healthy child, a garden patch
or a redeemed social condition;

To know even one life has breathed
easier because you have lived;

This is to have succeeded.

This last quote is often attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson and is one of my favorites. I keep it posted on my desk as a reminder, a goal.

So, I sit and ponder what I can do to gain personal satisfaction while being a better person, doing more for others. Jerry pounds nails for Habitat for Humanity but doesn't talk much about it. He just does it in his spare time. Selfless and a good example.

The seasons are in the process of changing. Leaves are beginning to turn, fall, the flowers are starting to die off, the tomatoes fewer, greener, smaller. Is that what's happening to me? I feel the changes of age coming over me, see them on the faces of my family and friends. A new wrinkle here, a gray hair there. How much time is left for any of us? What can I do beside ride my motorcycle in the rain? I find that my interests have changed, along with my habits, and I wonder if the cause is mental or chemical.

I used to have more energy, a greater interest in reading and was a continuous scribbler. I recently took note of the fact that I have stopped drawing almost altogether. I couldn't attend a meeting in the past without filling the margins with doodles. Am I more focused now or less creative? I fear the latter, if that's the case.

So, I'm quietly embarking on a quest to find more meaning in my life and my work. It may involve a career change or some added activites. I figure I have only twenty years or so to do something worthwhile and satisfying. And maybe less. You never know. Oh yeah, there's that pessimism again...

If you have any ideas, let me know by leaving a comment (below). Oh Crap! IF THIS IS WHAT A MID-LIFE CRISIS FEELS LIKE, someone talk me off the ledge. Otherwise, I'll talk to you soon.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

The Handle of a Pump

2008-08-24T08:15:00.003-04:00

Hi,

I promised that I would publish Ken Bateman's recollection of Sturgis here with his permission. Ken is our resident poet, shaman and story-teller; a very talented fellow. The days are separated by paragraph. Enjoy!

The Handle of a Pump (AMC Sturgis 2008)

Copyright 2008

A coasting flat,

that's a flat tire you get

when rolling over glass to a coasting stop.

At 7:30 we left Joey's Diner for a slow roll through Vermont to Albany.

During one of the stops for rain and gas, the Hell's Angels were riding

stock Road Glides across the New York turnpike,

neither bobbed nor chopped.

London, ON, the first day's end: the Beer Store,

Malibu portions too large, and the Maple Glen Inn.

Luckily my foot doesn't hurt when I ride

and all I want to do is ride;

otherwise, it hurts all the time.

Overtaking Michigan from the Sarnia side of the Blue Water Bridge,

Port Huron looks like it certainly was.

We winged it: the big truck won't fit at Muskegon -

"Get it out of there and get the motorcycles in."

The wind on the Lake Express blows off all the passengers on the sundeck.

Milwaukee looks small from Lake Michigan,

it reeks on Sunday evening,

and Miller Park looks like the works of a giant protractor as we speed by.

A tavern in Madison is so exciting to memory it causes consternation

to be relived, ill-timed joshing, misunderstood, apology, hard feelings.

Chad, a kid wrench from Bikertown HD in Youngstown,

offers to check all our engine codes

and catches on for the ride to Rapid City.

Transitioning trees to grasslands, Rt. 90 Wisconsin is soft and swoopy -

the accurately carved farms, a Willa Cather little Switzerland.

A middle-aged woman at the La Crosse convenience says

she is blessed to live in a beautiful part of the country. She is.

Immediately across the Mississippi, Rt. 90 does a steep curving climb,

trucks hard-balling up to the plains.

Windmills populate Minnesota corn fields,

slow turning from cheap gas to alternatives, whatever the price.

Chad has some ass left, Sioux Falls eschewed for an hour more;

the lure of an outdoor pool and beer in the hot evening sun

snakes around Mitchell and draws us all in.

A thunder-less storm with whole-sky lightning rains in the evening,

a family couple tells their move for a job from beautiful B.C.

to a town near Toronto (and they are not city folk).

On the descent to Chamberlain, Jeff is stunned forever by

the pooling green Missouri

and all around, nature is Dakota-dry.

The way west is ungoverned, fast and free:

Chad blows past a spirit snagged in a Lakota dream catcher

and the Ultra gets to 95.

Orchids sighted, the Badlands are green bottomed and sunflower dotted.

Wall is a boardwalk frontier town. Wall Drug advertises,

"Give me your money" and free ice water.

Indulge in the latter and slather more sunblock on arms, neck, and nose -

anything uncovered.

Like they forgot winter in Rapid City,

surburban stores are sprawling in the quintessential summer-dry blue-sky sun.

Chad diced in to the behemoth rally dealer; snake eyes and twelve-hour days,

sweet trouble swishing her tail a hundred feet long.

From Sturgis, up the long mountain

past Deadwood and Lead (rhymes with greed)

six thousand feet to the alpine cool and Papa Joe's Rec Springs.

He's Mohawk hair on the short weight of a retired Texas sheriff.

He's a talker and good to his word:

the first beer is free and we camp 1800 miles from origin.

It's Tuesday and the band and Girls come Saturday night

(maybe Friday, he hasn't heard from them yet).

Three turkey patriarchs threaten, females are clucking the grounds.

Oh Spearfish and the relief of Precision Soles and Common Grounds,

good coffee and walking regained: thanks for your patience.

Spearfish Canyon, overcast and slow,

like a two-up honeymoon ride and I imagine her entreaty,

"Go slow so I can see."

From Rt. 14A, Rt. 85 starts narrow and twisty, then higher, wider,

and much faster toward and onto Rt. 16,

a blue-sky Wyoming ride, green and sparsely treed.

Newcastle to Custer, burned trunks like sticks give mountain views;

jumbo clouds in fantastic shapes holding still against the dark blue sky.

Many years from Wilton, most recently from Flagstaff,

the old lady met in Custer had arrived in June,

bought a house with a view on the hill next to the big gray.

She predicted, everyone so welcoming here,

many beautiful naked ladies in Sturgis.

Later we guessed her age and didn't mention

how attractive her mellow, peaceful ways.

We refused to pay Mt. Rushmore's fee, so they hurried us down.

Camp cook, those Tabasco shrimps were to my liking hot,

and more beer in the evening, dark and cool.

The Devil's Tower run.

Rt. 85 again in leather jacket chill.

Why not Rt. 85 every day? The snow-drift fencing answers why.

The Buckhorn Bar and Cafe with gas and pole cat hats:

Jerry now rides on a sheepskin bed

luxury cut generously for a magic carpet ride.

At the Rt. 90 and Rt. 14 Conoco, a couple from 1977 Troy, New York

sells buffalo skulls with horns stuck on,

sells pipes, wrist rests and whatever else.

He said Wyoming is a great place to live if you don't

like people and don't mind the wind.

Though it's grown so much, he's stuck in Casper now: grandkids.

John waved us through the Devil's Tower National Park scam and

we picnic lunched at the volcano's base.

Visitors bored family and friends with comments on the climbers:

"I'd be more scared coming down," and "They must be crazy,"...

humans chattering this and that.

John and Jerry on to Sturgis for a saddlebag solution,

the Harley store there a T-shirt shop,

they found the right brackets, twice, at J&P.

Hill City closed Main Street to all but bikes,

two tourist women commented, "Mark your calendar, not here."

John gets political fun with Geronimo, T-shirt Terrorist.

Iron Mountain free of fresh tar and sand,

15 mph hairpins dare quick looks to mountains beyond.

Jeff marks the tour bus two-lane climb, we give it more distance to the front.

Custer State Park slathered in sunblock, blue sky and open grass,

donkeys and buffalos photographed in the road.

Needles' Mt. Rushmore photograph with four in pose.

Slathered and dizzy hot, we swam a necessary idle at Sylvan Lake.

John remarked underpants would elsewhere be OK, not here.

A mother stretched too thin between her young daughter and

boy floating over his head, wanting to get off -

Jeff reeled him in, life saver telling kid, "Stay on the raft."

Dusk at Sturgis, parking free, attendance down this year,

plenty of bike slots on the street.

Jeff gets his shirt, taunting trailers, we'll see when worn.

One Eyed Jacks three levels filled with Hulk Hogan wannabes in obscene Ts

and go-go girls on platforms well out of reach.

Light jobs on bikes flashing in the street,

and up and down Main, the constant parade peaked around 10.

A wild night-ride back to camp,

cautious and warm up the long mountain, swooping in dark.

Deadwood done by 11 for the night,

we go longer, laughing by lantern till 2.

What logic in a bikini bike wash for $10; whereas,

half a bikini bike wash for twice the amount?

Vanocker Canyon praised uncrowded and beautifully paced

on the run to Rapid City for a bolt.

Spearfish, splendid western town and lunch at the Common

though the bookstore had no poetry:

"Are there any poets or poetry readings around?" "I don't think so."

The party's at the Chip, Bear Butte in background, $127 for two nights' camp

with entertainment. Wide open hot bare grassland -

we didn't think it'd do and cooled the thought at the Broken Spoke Saloon,

pins pushed in for Nashua and Amherst on the U.S. map.

Just two pins this year for all of Maine.

The run to Rochford (rhymes with Crotch) is another delight,

perfectly groomed twists and cattle along green valley fields.

Supper at the Moonshine Gulch Saloon, far away and deep in the groove.

The Party's at Rec Springs: a baldy in slippers retrieving his other from

the runway where she's 60 young with flex and good legs,

old exotic smashed on booze, grinding splits to cheers

while the band pumped out knock-offs and she fell

three feet to the stones under the shed.

Bouncing back up like a cat, she'll hurt like a dog in the morning.

The Girls, mixed fat and thin, young and not, strip for money tips

though the few Viet Nam Vets are all asleep by then.

John sleeps out and awakes in a cloud.

Jeff splits for home and runs out of gas -

an hour and a half by the side of the road, the hot way home.

Belle Fourche (rhymes with Boosh) deserted,

even the Welcome Bikers cafe is closed.

The Methodist Church lonesome sign offers biker breakfast

between 7 and 9 (which may be the headcount they draw).

But the Stone House Saloon, windowless

on the hot prairie with nothing else around,

is glinting with bikes parked on the grass,

the mid-day sun high in blue,

beers, burgers, and suntans like a ski-slope lodge.

Hulett's gas station closed, bad news for commerce and

bikers low on gas, so we dog it slow for 37 miles past

Devil's Tower, the Junction, and on to the Conoco.

It felt like a 10-minute ride 76 miles to camp, timeless

when stopped on Rt. 585 for pictures of clouds in the pure

Wyoming landscape of white, green, and blue.

We decamp for home with Dan.

Rt 14 through Pierre, and the wind, wide, flat, straight, and

hot through South Dakota fields.

An old Sportster pre-vision with an antler-and-chain kickstand.

We blow into Watertown and supper on

the shady porch with fried things and beer.

Minnesota Rt. 212 slows through towns and fields,

and past the Beet Sugar plant mid-day Minneapolis is jammed.

We're free for lunch in St. Croix Falls, waitressed with accents

lampooned in radio's Prairie Home Companion.

Rt. 8 across Wisconsin is like New Hampshire's Great North Woods,

most like Errol, old logging and camps, flatter, more lakes.

Jerry gets the lucky Duck in Crandon and we all get bugged off

the narrow Four Seasons veranda.

We've been agreed to 10 mph over limit and John holds true

when enticed by the red car passing at 80 or 85.

Thumbs up a few miles further when his ticket delivery comes into view.

Across the border: Michigan, people, and junk of suburban sprawl.

A quick lunch on Hot Pasties along Lake Michigan's north shore.

After the scenic slow tedium of Rt. 2 ends with dunes,

Rt. 75 is car-less and fast north to Sault St Marie,

the International Bridge to Ontario's same

gives view to lakes and the Soo Locks, a Great Lakes tour.

Jerry's Iron Bridge to the Red Top Motel, and

across the street, Chinese food Veronica can keep.

Both with dreads, an Amherst, NS and a Germany kid are hitching west

a good distance with an old Quebecois. He originates from Winnipeg.

We're shut out at Sudbury; the neutrino detector's elevator is being used.

My bike gets hit, knocked down, kickstand twisted,

and we're in rain suits languishing in thunderstorm clouds.

On to Ottawa and the rain won't stop so I must,

locking up at the Bel Air and enjoying pizza and beer on Richmond St.

Now the kickstand is a joke:

it won't stay up unless tied but then won't come down 400 miles from home.

Ottawa HD detaches one from a new bike and we're on our way to

Montreal's rain, road construction, and traffic jams.

Long to home and slow in rain, but Vermont is dramatic in cloud and green.

I'm getting rain pants butt and it's raining hard,

Jerry's holding the horse back from its race to the barn,

John's in the lead as we go steady and slow in one rain to the next.

I thought we had an angel truck behind, protecting us

from oncoming cars going too fast, but eventually it passed.

The rainbow end-to-end at Concord signaled a glorious end

then more rain, hard rain arriving home,

the goal of riding each day to its end.

Fading f-f-fast....

2008-08-20T22:33:00.006-04:00

Hi all. I just wanted to send a quick note out about a few things. The Sturgis blog is done but that doesn't mean that I will stop writing. What would Jerry do while he smokes his cigars down at Castro's? Talk to Mike?

I'll need a new topic and title and when I think of something worthy of your attention and time, I'll let you know. Few people got the joke at the end of the previous post. A blog is the ultimate in literary onanism and the link at the end of the last post was me pulling your leg. I shall not be writing about my toenails any time soon.

My cool cousin Erin (she's cool 'cause she rides and a whole lot of other reasons too) read my Sturgis post (#55) and was unsure if I had a good time on my trip or not. I did. However, I suppose I could have had more fun had I'd made it more fun. Does that make sense? I went into this adventure with no pre-conceived notions and no expectations. Suffice to say, I get bored easily. Or, after the first two or three sleepless nights, camping lost it's appeal for me. C'est la vie.

I'm glad I did the trip, it was an accomplishment and a bit of an adventure and I saw a lot of cool stuff, beautiful vistas and had some new experiences. That's all anyone can hope for from travel. No, we did not get arrested or in any trouble or require bail services from our former bail bondsman. That's all just rumor.

With the cold snap we're having this week, it feels like summer is fading fast. It took so long for it to arrive and then we suffered almost constant rain. But this morning's sub-50 degree temps dislodged me from my scooter in favor of the warm comfort of heated seats and a cupholder. But I'll ride tomorrow anyway, as my bike is now well overdue for another service visit.

We're at the point in the season where the rides get shorter and the starts get later. We tend to linger longer over our hot coffee, take more breaks, talk more and enjoy longer lunches. None of that is a bad thing. It prepares us for the long, cold winter months when we don't see much of one another and get together (at most) monthly for a night out and long discussions about "next year". We fantasize about the coming ride season like a soldier remembers his best girl at home, counting the days until we are together again. But I'm getting ahead of myself. This weather is going to break and we still have a lot of riding yet to do.

I can remember frigid rides up north when it began to snow or the ride to The Cape when our fingers got so numb that hot coffee barely had an effect. I look forward to the change in temps and scenery as New England goes into peacock mode. The bike loves to gulp down that cold air too! It runs so clean on that cold, pure air. And I love to lay my hand on the jugs, to warm them, and feel her heart beating. Yes, John, pure letchery.

Next time, I will post Ken Bateman's short story/poem The Handle of a Pump. Ken is a real talent that most of you have not been exposed to yet. He is our resident poet and his works encompass all manner of his experiences, not just riding. Still, I love the way he captured the events that unfolded around all of us and feel that his viewpoint is so different than my own, I wondered if my eyes were even open. So, stay tuned for that, published here with his permission.

That's all for now. It's late and I am fading fast. As the overly protective father of a teen, I am awaiting his imminent arrival and the juxtaposition of my head and pillow, that will soon follow.

Good night and a low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

PS - Phil, thanks for your kind words. If you want to start a Joe Rocket Fan Club, that's fine by me. Or, just pass along the link to anyone else you think will enjoy it. Looking forward to future rides with you.

Un-Lead-ed

2008-08-13T21:31:00.020-04:00

Hello everyone and welcome to the beginning of the end. Yep, now that the Sturgis ride is history, I guess I’ll be shutting this puppy down. No need to talk about ride preparation, etc., now that it’s history. That, plus the season is dwindling to a wet and crummy close.

I’m sure that each and every one of us who made this ride over the past two weeks has his own opinion of the ride. I’ll admit that there were parts of it that I enjoyed more than others but, overall, it was a great experience. All in all, I put @ 5,300 miles on my bike. I had good intentions of tracking mileage, taking good notes and a lot more photos but, the reality is that we went there to ride and ride we did.

Our trip began on Saturday, July 26th. We met at about 7AM at Joey’s Diner (AKA the Shiny Diner), on 101A in Amherst. Given that I was the only Amherst resident on this trip, I arrived first, eager to get going, only to wait outside waiting for the diner to open. I guess in sleepy little Amherst, there’s no call for a diner to be open any earlier. We had agreed that we’d make an effort to start the day with a collegial meal. After coffees and juices were put done to, we set off heading West on 101 towards Vermont.

Vermont turned out to be the slowest portion of our whole journey. As we attempted to wend our way westward, by avoiding the superhighways through rural Vermont, we soon found ourselves trapped behind slow motor-homes and deep in traffic. It felt like we were moving at 40 mph for hours. Eventually we broke free of the traffic and hit the interstate. Our destination was London, Ontario, nearly 600 miles up the road.

Not wanting to disappoint our fearless leader, we pressed on to our destination, arriving late in London. We found a rather forlorn looking motel, on the strip (across from the beer store) being run by a nice Indian family. It had a rugged appeal and a cadre of down-on-their luck residents. It was disturbing to see these folks living in these temporary quarters as they made an effort to get their lives back on track. Taxis came and went, one poor soul riding his bicycle back to his room for the night before carefully locking it away. The only other tourists seemed to be the couple in the room sandwiched between our two. After a late dinner, we ended the warm night sitting on the sidewalk in front of the rooms. I realized later that John was leaning against the couple’s door as we carried on a loud, animated, beer-infused conversation. When they later emerged, to smoke their post-coital cigarettes, I looked away, embarrassed, assuming that we forced them to moderate their rambunctious carnal yearnings.

The following day, we compared notes on who snored and who didn’t, made a quick breakfast at a Tim Horton’s, a gas stop and pressed on. Our target at the end of the day was at least as far as Muskegon, MI, to the car ferry. During our earlier planning sessions, it was agreed that the ferry was an excellent alternative (Thanks Joe!) to the 300 additional miles, stress and traffic that we would endure by riding south around the bottom of the lake and through the city of Chicago. We also agreed that we wanted to cast our fate to the winds, not knowing exactly when we would arrive in Muskegon or which ferry we might take. So, we boldly set forth sans reservations, hardened bikers that we are. I guess we thought that it was early enough prior to Sturgis, as if that were the only use for the ferry. To our chagrin, we were informed that the ferry was booked and there were no available slots. But, we could wait 2+ hours and see if we could go standby. We waited.

We used the time to dash off to lunch and then return to wait in the hot sun. By then, Ken’s broken toes had started to vex him and he was off in search of shade and a loosened motorcycle boot. Ken had walked into an invisible chair leg in the unfamiliar motel room the previous night. He smashed two of his middle toes good and they were most likely broken or fractured.

We waited a long time and watched as the 12 other motorcycles passed us losers in the lot. In the final moments, it was down to us, two cars and a large truck. I tried to encourage the purser to load us according to size but, without a reasonable bribe, all decisions were left up to the ship’s captain. We watched as they loaded the two cars and called for the truck. We sat there diminished and hopeless and considered the prospect of a long, hot ride ahead through Chicago-land traffic. But wait! What’s this? The big lug of a truck (who boldly displayed his chrome-plated bumper testicles) was a skosh too large to fit the last spot on the boat. Happier words were never heard than when the captain loudly announced “Remove that truck and load those motorcycles.” Whew! We greedily boarded ship and tackled the task of strapping down our scooters, all the while as the ship got underway. We clambered up the stairs, last on board only to find nary a seat to be had out of the wind or sun.

Two and one-half windblown hours later, we docked in Milwaukee, an hour earlier (thanks to the time zone change) and made fast for Madison, WI. Once again, we pushed ourselves hard to go the extra miles, even when we didn’t quite feel up to it. We found a Motel 6 and met Chad Lovett, our new friend and personal H-D technician. He heard us arrive and bounded out to greet us, with the enthusiasm of a Yellow Lab puppy. We had already spied his gorgeous matte finish Blue Street Glide, a beauty of a bagger. He introduced himself and offered to check the fault codes on the Hogs. He inspected John’s bike so quickly, that John thought I had been joking about Chad’s diagnostics. Chad, at 24 years of age, seemed knowledgeable about Harleys but a little shy and short of social courage. He hinted at joining us ever so slightly that it almost went over all of our heads. I finally said to Jerry “I think he wants to ride with us.” He did. He was riding solo from Ohio to Sturgis to spend two weeks working for the Rapid City H-D dealership during the rally crunch. He professed to be leaving at 6:30 AM and we told him we’d “see him then” and the next morning as we made our preparations to depart, he popped his head out of his room window and said he’d be right down. Well, we took young Chad under our collective wing and he was our Harley good luck charm against mechanical failure.

We rode all that next day, our third day together and our first whole day with Chad. Suffice to say that his bike was fast and he loved to let it run. We made short work of the roads from Madison, WI to Mitchell, SD. After a false start, we all agreed that a motel with a swimming pool sounded grand. Soon, the bikes were unloaded and we were sipping cold beers poolside. We had several each and decided to order pizza from the local emporium. When they arrived, we had just enough time to slam them down, watch a bit of a movie and finish the beer. A thunderstorm lit up the night sky and blew about our bike covers.

Our fourth day dawned lazily and we had a robust breakfast that took longer than expected. We rode hard and fast to deliver young Chad to his new temporary work assignment at Rapid City Harley-Davidson, stopping first to detour through the Badlands via Rte 240. We bade him good-bye and wished him well, knowing that our next week would be a lot more fun than the 12-hour work days ahead of him. Somehow though, I thought, that Chad would find his bliss (did I mention the proffered photos of his fiancé?).

We arrived at Recreational Springs campground late in the day to be greeted by “Poppa Joe”. I wish I had taken a photo of Poppa ‘cause the truth is stranger than fiction. Before us stood a Good Ol’ Boy, Texas drawl and all, with a Mohawk haircut and dressed in surgical scrubs. To say he was a vision is an understatement. He was a character out of a bad ‘80’s Sci-Fi movie. He greeted us enthusiastically and Ken held him to his promise of our first beer free. After a long ride across the barren plains, it sealed the deal.

He advised us as to the best tent site available and he did not lie. We took over a large shady area high on a knoll above the campground. Soon our tents were up and our gear was down and we were off to Lead (rhymes with LEED) for supplies (read beer). Our site was situated high in the Black Hills, at an altitude of over 6,000 feet. The road from the highway, near Sturgis, was a steady climb, sawing back and forth like a corkscrew had carved the road out of that rock. The advantage of the altitude was the temperature difference from Sturgis, a good 10-15 degrees cooler here in Lead.

Come Wednesday, we commenced to riding the local roads. I confess to not knowing what order in which we did these but we rode Spearfish Canyon Road several times, we did the Iron Mountain road and saw Mt. Rushmore. At Rushmore, I was looking the wrong way and missed it, prompting Jerry to make a hasty U-turn that earned us the scorn of a whole slew of park rangers. They ungraciously showed us the exit and when I stopped to remove my jacket, they swooped in on us again squawking about charging us for parking, just because I got off my bike in their parking lot. There’s a word for women like that.

We rode West into Wyoming, my favorite scenery and roads. The swoopy roads were devoid of other traffic and we attacked them on imaginary strafing runs, pulling left, right and left again. I could not get enough of those roads and the peaceful wide-open spaces.

We saw the Devil’s Tower, made famous by Richard Dreyfus and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, a movie of my generation. It stood out in the sky, seen for miles. We couldn’t believe how large it loomed above us as we sat in the shade at its base and munched hastily made homemade sandwiches. Climbers disappeared from view, only to reappear as tiny specks of color on the gray-green monolith.

We rode through a herd of buffalo in Custer National State park and I found myself alone in the midst of the herd, the largest bull I’d ever seen looking over his shoulder at me. Keep movin’ big fella, nothing to see here! We saw evidence of wild fires and their devastation and deforestation. We rode by the Sitting Bull monument and marveled at the vision and fortitude a project like that takes.

We took a side trip to the town of Spearfish, SD to find a solution to Kenny’s aching toes. Not a lot of retail out there if you consider that we had to ride about 30 minutes from Lead to find a shoe store. After he selected a very comfortable and suitably granola-y pair of Keen’s, we wandered to the local coffee shop, Common Grounds. Parked outside was a Suzuki Hayabusa, the world’s fastest production motorcycle. After I got my coffee, I said hello to the young man and inquired if that was his bike. “Yes” came the reply, in an Australian accent. He told me where he was from and when I asked if he was here for the rally he replied that, no, he wasn’t but was simply riding across the United States, for his second time. What? Here was this kid, riding solo, on a high-speed run, coast-to-coast on the hottest, biggest sport-bike you can buy. It made an impression on me that was to stay with me for days.

Our Sturgis experience was probably atypical, due to our choice of location. Had we wanted to be in the mosh pit that is Sturgis during rally week, we should have stayed there in Sturgis. Being in Lead limited our evening activities. After we’d dined or cooked our dinner at the campsite, quaffed a few root beers, no one was of the mind that riding at night, where the deer and antelope play, to be a judicious decision. So, we largely stayed put at night. Plus, after a full day of riding, most of us were tired, dirty, smelly, sweaty, grimy, funky, grouchy, sloppy, sore, sunburned, etc., etc. You get the idea. And it seemed that almost every night we needed to run to the local supermarket to re-stock the larder. So, our evenings were spent mostly looking for a place to sit, drink beer until the sun fell and stumble about in the dark. We weren’t able to have a campfire due to the recent spate of forest fires in the area. All of the campgrounds had been forced to limit any cooking to covered grills. Still, we found some other lighting solutions and managed pretty well.

Come Friday night, we were of a mind to get to Sturgis for “the show”. That is, the bikes, the babes, the funky customs and the girls too fat for their outfits. One of us was well on the way to a hangover and wisely decided to stand guard at the camp. His pay was the balance of our beer, metered at a rate of four per hour. The rest of us rode into town for a two hour “shore leave”. We saw a bevy of attractive waitresses who served us our manly pink lemonades. We returned to camp to find our mate unable to rise from his chair but well within the reach of the cooler. “I had twelve beers” he muttered over and over. Yes, we know. I tried to sleep, but the tent was too warm indoors and I eventually acquiesced to the cooler night air and an offer of a nightcap. Well, the schnapps turned into two and then a beer and before long, it was 2:30 AM and sleep came easily.

I forgot to mention that one morning I was attacked by a giant 30-40 pound turkey. It seems our host was raising these birds and when they weren’t scouring our site for scraps, they were shitting all over the bathrooms. The staff didn’t make too much of an effort to contain these filthy creatures or to clean up after them much. Cleaning and sanitation seemed to be low on the priority list.

After a couple of mornings of waiting for Jerry’s fresh-brewed coffee, I realized it was easier to walk down the hill to get a cup at the restaurant, with all the free cream and sugar I wanted. Well, the Tom was following a campground employee in a golf cart when I crossed its path. Like a magnet, he turned and started to follow me. I was still full of piss and vinegar and I assumed (wrongly) that he would lose interest once I got too far away from his pen. Nope. So, I tried to shoo the old boy away, waving a foot at him in a threatening manner. I even gave him some of my best tough-talk. “Go on, get the fugouddaheah”. Nothing. Actually, he got agitated and threw open his wings and puffed himself up to his full size. Pretty impressive, actually, when your eyes are mere slits and you still need a cup of Joe to get you started. So, what you do you do when your threat fails to elicit the necessary response? You start walking faster, away from this demented Thanksgiving dinner. He gave chase. I sped my walk; he flapped his wings to keep up. Now I am running at a good clip with this squawking, nasty, ugly, beaked bastard in hot pursuit. I get to the front door, only to find it locked. A friendly face quickly unlocked the door and let me in. He had witnessed the bird’s behavior and said, “Yep, we’re gonna have to hit him on the head soon. He’s getting mighty bold. We’re afraid he’s gonna peck some young kid”. Well, so it wasn’t just me, then.

Saturday night’s entertainment was worth what we paid for it, not much. The site brought in a band and they were pretty good. Doc was drinking margarita’s out of a Sprite bottle, I was smuggling Jaeger in a Miller can. Doc is the only person I have ever seen dance and eat a hamburger at the same time. I was impressed by how willing his dance partner seemed despite his masticating and twirling.

The old gal that Kenny referred to in his Poem/Short Story, A Handle of the Pump, was pretty smashed before she joined the paid help on the stage. It seems that alcohol didn’t just lower her inhibitions, it obliterated them. “Manny”, her poor husband, did his best to keep her in hand but alas, the demon was in her and she strutted, kicked and whirled like a dervish, despite her hard landings off-stage. The band played until late, we raided the campsite for one or two last drinks and then made the rounds to say goodnight. A late night and an early morning followed.

Sunday’s weather forecast for the coming day was dismal. Thunderstorms were predicted, hail and all manner of bedlam. The only thing the weather channel left out was fire and brimstone. The thought of sitting through a storm like that in my nylon fortress was too much. That’s it. On the spot, I decided I was leaving. I guess I had been thinking about it since I had gotten to the point of having felt like I had ridden as much as I as I had wanted to, expressing this thought to Jerry a day or two earlier. The other issue was that of traveling back through Canada again, which proved to be more of a pain in the ass on this trip than on any other. I had never felt like Canada was too far apart or too different from the US but on this ride, it just seemed to be too much effort.

Customs isn’t too bad but waiting for Customs is a drag. Sitting in endless traffic and stop/start, stop/start is crap. Bikes should get expedited, don’t you think? The monetary exchange was the biggest bitch. I guess I really hadn’t given it much thought before we left and Jerry was the only one to carry Can-cash on him. He was kind enough to dole out a couple of dollars (loonies and toonies) here and there and we suffered the exchange rate on the dinner and motel. I wasn’t up for that again.

So, I plotted a course, due East, south of Chicago, through Indianapolis and headed out at 11:30 AM. A bad time of day to get going and a bad frame of mind to be riding in, thanks to the Jaeger and lack of sleep. It’s my own fault for running out of gas 134 miles outside of Sturgis. I was not paying attention to the odometer as I should have been. That and someone futzed with my reserve valve. On our trip west, we had done very high speeds (speed limit is 75, so 85 mph is nothing out there) and had run for @ two hours between stops. Well, I’ve always said my bike gets 140 miles to a tank and another 10-20 on reserve. Not this time, bucko! So, there I was, dead on the side of the road without help. Fortunately I had signed up for Mo-Tow in advance of the trip and called in my issue. Once they were able to locate me in that giant state, they had a truck dispatched to me with fuel. After a ninety minute delay, I made it to Oacoma, SD that night and was happy to find dinner and a comfortable room. They even allowed me to park my bike in the lobby, a first and last occurrence, I am sure.

The ride home was largely uneventful, with the exception of the weather. The Deep South was suffering extreme high temperatures and some of that found its way to the Midwest. But, the beauty of that solo ride was that I had no one else to answer to. No other gas stops to make but my own. I was pleased that I could ride 2,000+ miles solo and not have any ill effects or additional issues other than the unplanned gas stop in South Dakota.

From Oacoma, I bore due East, into a heat wave blanketing the Midwest. In Iowa, I suffered through temps of 102 degrees. I rigidly held fast to my commitment to wear gear when riding on highways so my jeans were soaked through with sweat, sticking to me and my shirt was continuously doused with fresh, cool water in an effort to stay comfortable through evaporation. Um, well, almost. I had to stop every hour now to drink, loosen clothing, etc.

From South Dakota I headed to Des Moines then to Terre Haute, IN then Erie, PA, on to Ithaca, NY where I met my family, so we could take our son on a college tour. The morning I left Terre Haute, it felt like I had walked into a steam bath, fully dressed. The humidity was near 100% and the temperatures hovered near 90 early in the AM. In Iowa, the day prior, I had to stop every hour to cool off, drink and rest. It slowed me down considerably.

We stayed in Syracuse that night, Thursday of the second week, with the intention of my touring Syracuse University with them on Friday. On the one hour trip from Ithaca to Syracuse, the skies opened up and I got soaked in yet another thunderstorm. It was only in the last 15-20 minutes of our trip but wet is wet. The forecast for Friday was similar, midday showers with severe thunderstorms in the PM. I was not about to ride home in the dark and wet, so I punched out early, skipping the tour. I met another storm on the way, East of Syracuse, waited a bit and I arrived home Friday afternoon, just about 3PM.

All in all, I put over 5,000 miles on the scooter. I have to say that the best investment in this trip, other than the bike itself, was the Mustang Seat. I never got tired or uncomfortable. At one point on the ride out, we stopped to decide if we should press on. Chad announced that “he still had some ass left” and we all found that highly amusing. Thanks to the Mustang seat, I had all kinds of ass left! Jerry had told me to tell the Mustang folks that I wanted a 1,000 mile-a-day seat and that is indeed what I got. I’m very tempted to try an Iron Butt (1,000 miles in 24 hours) if I can find just one other rider to do it with.

I know I am leaving out details. Like the prairie dogs that surrounded Devil’s Tower. The wild mules or donkeys (only John could be sure) in Custer State Park. The unbearably hot temperatures in Sturgis, when our campsite was so much more comfortable, just a scant 20 miles up the winding canyon road. The god-awful John Deere “motorcycle” that raced up and down Main Street Sturgis. The trike with ground effects and a full-blown funny car wing. The lake that we stopped at, following the harrowing ride through The Needles. The nice folks from Minnesota, Chris and Reno (and Reno’s Dad) the wild young 24-yr old moto superstar on the Yamaha R6. The masseuse, the (dancing) girls for hire, Tinkerbell, the staff of Rec Springs, all seemingly southern in this remote northern outpost. The bad tattoos and a wise decision not to entrust this Tabula Rasa to some open all-night makeshift tattoo parlor, which backed up to the men’s showers. All in all, it was a scene, not always a pretty one.

I regret not seeing any of the concerts but we were all in agreement that we weren’t too interested in re-locating to join the teeming herd at the Buffalo Chip campground. Then again, we were torn between Kid Rock and KISS, even though I’d have skipped KISS, having seen them once before. I’m happy that the trade-off allowed me to spend time with my family, my son who I’d been apart from for almost a full six weeks.

The choice of bike was perfect for this ride, outfitted as it was. The backrest and the sheepskin and crash-bar mounted foot-pegs all worked in concert to provide me with the ultimate in cruiser comfort. I loved how the V-twin just chugged along on those long, hot stretches of highway. It droned on and on, mile after mile, neither hiccupping nor causing any concern. It just worked like it was supposed to. My sedate pace almost had me hypnotized by the sound of the motor. Of all the things I carried and didn’t use, the iPod was the biggest waste. I didn’t need it as I played my own music in my head or listened to my thoughts.

I met some great people on this ride, some whose names I never got. I was approached time and again by friendly people who were curious to know where I was going or where I had been. Some were riders who could appreciate the freedom that a trip like this brings. Others were wishing they could trade places with me, even if only for a few miles.

I guess this trip turned out to be a study in contrasts. Hot/cold, group/solo, fast/slow. When I had one, I wanted the other. Perhaps my solo homeward journey allowed me to miss my family and friends all the more and to look forward to being together with them again. I suspect there will be a lot more solo riding in my future. It’s good to know you can depend on your friends, it’s even better to know you can depend on yourself.

I don’t know if this marks the end of my writing career. I suspect not. While approaching heat stroke on the ride home, I had a lot of funny ideas. Or, they seemed funny at the time, to my parched mind. So I’ll leave you with this. If you enjoy my mindless ramblings and want to continue the saga, go to my new blog at www.watchingmytoenailsgrow.com. It’s a different topic entirely but I think you’ll enjoy it. For now,

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

At long last, it's here!

2008-07-25T10:03:00.002-04:00

We had a little celebration last night for the Sturgis riders, AKA The Stumbleweeds. We ate way too much but it was all terrific. Today, I feel like a big blob. I think I'll eat lightly today and tonight so I'm don't carry any unneeded baggage.

In 21 hours, we pull out and point it West. Hard to believe and I still have a lot of last minute preparations to do. I didn't want to wait until the last minute to pack my bike but, guess what? I did. So, as soon as I can comfortably bolt work, I'll get crackin'.

All right then. This is me signing off for a couple of weeks. When I jump back on, I will have tall tales and photographic evidence.

See you when we return.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

6-5-4-3-2-1 BLAST-OFF!

2008-07-19T16:42:00.007-04:00

By this time next week, I'll be pointed West. It feels like the night before Christmas, my birthday and several other things all rolled into one. The excitement builds.

Today I shopped for some last minute toiletry items, all miniature, to save room in my kit. Boy that adds up fast! I guess the convenience fee was more than I expected. Maybe I should leave some of this crap home. Probably the most expensive was my meds. Not that I am "on" anything per se, but at my age, I need allergy pills, zantac, Motrin, etc. to make my days a bit more peaceful. No, NO VIAGRA! It's all good, in the wood department, thank you. [See, you guys always think I GO THERE but now, I need to make these pre-emptive strikes before you comment. Feh!]

Some new Teva's rounded out my purchases today. Our resident gypsy poet swears by cool feet and pony tails. I wonder if he has any magic for our ride?

Last weekend we camped, if you saw last week's post and I got to try my little portable sling stool. Not bad but with no back rest you really can't relax in it. I'll swing by the Rapid City Wal Mart and buy a camping chair and worry about it on the way home.

Jerry stopped by tonight to borry our hatchet and dropped off a couple of ears of kern. Local kern. Can't wait for dinner. Will have that and some fresh mozzarella, tomato and basil. Mmmmm!

He's practically giddy now that his Hog has just been serviced. Whoa! Hold on. I mean he just got his bike back from getting service.

I trust our trip across America will end better than theirs did...

There are last minute preparations that need to take place this week. It's sort of nice that my teen-aged son is away right now otherwise, I would feel like I am ignoring him as I scurry about. My spouse understands and we've had plenty of free time together this month. Trips to the fabric store, etc. Good times, good times.

The Honda saddlebags lost some snaps. I hate these bags when I compare them to what I had. My biggest issue, as I've ranted before, is the they aren't watertight. The fact that these expensive Honda Accessories lost all of the snaps on one side just pisses me off. Of course, I am out of warranty on them. Now, I will try to get them fixed locally, if possible, before Saturday. I may add some Velcro front and back to help keep them closed.

So, I've started to pile shit up, in a sort of staging area. I've really got to think about how I am going to fit all this. Jerry packed enough clothes for a week and I guess I will do the same. I have a very strong feeling that I will endure two weeks of soggy jeans and smelly tee shirts. I have some very large ziploc bags that I will start to load clothing into. All of my camping gear is already in place.

It's the little details that I am worrying about. Duct tape, electrical tape. Kleenex as emergency TP. Batteries, my visor tint strip, if I can find it and my Therma-rest sling to make it into a chair, also MIA.

My new tires are on and the 8,000 mile service done. Fresh plugs and oil and a valve adjustment to boot. I used that as an excuse to ride to Hampton Beach solo on Tuesday night and had a perfect moment. I arrived at the beach by 7PM with the sun just beginning to set. There was a Beach Boys cover band on stage playing beach oldies. I had a bite of pizza and a bottle of water before pointing it home and racing across 101, blinded by the setting sun. Still, it was a very good ride.

Here's a shot from my phone's camera:

Sorry for the scattershot babble. I have lots to do an no time to edit, except on the fly. You can follow me on Twitter.com or just keep an eye on the Twitter link at the top of the blog. You should be able to see 2-3 posts before they drop off.

I'll take copious notes and shoot more pix and post it all in a post-ride blog post. That one will take me some time!

For now, ride safe and wish us well. I wish you were all joining us on this ride but, maybe another year? It only took us about 5 years of planning! Ha-ha!

I'll try to Tweet at least once a day, more if my phone charger can keep up. Until then.........

A low, slow wave (on my way to Sturgis),

Joe Rocket

Time & Space (both in short supply)

2008-07-10T22:19:00.002-04:00

Two weeks to go and I am prepping for a short ride and overnight camping trip as a shakedown to see how I can manage to pack two weeks worth of camping gear onto one shrinking motorcycle. Hmm.

An initial assessment of the huge pile of gear required for a night or two has me concerned as to how best lash this all in place, without losing it on the highway.
Stupidly, I keep amassing junk that I think I can use. Tonight, it was a portable table. Not sure I need this or can even use it but, I was at Wal-Mart and it was less than a cup of Starbucks coffee!

Wait until Jerry sees the $1.88 inflatable raft I bought for him to coast his butt down the Pemigewasset! I bet it lasts all of five minutes, or less time than it will take him to blow it up, with lung power.

I successfully tested Twitpic today and will use that to post interesting phone-pix that I can easily and readily upload photos on the fly. I'll Tweet and TwitPic along the way.

That's it for now...my beer's getting warm!

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

The Countdown has begun!

2008-07-02T21:36:00.005-04:00

Well folks, we're inside of 30 days until blast off and we're getting amped for the trip. At this point we are doing anything and everything we can to stay healthy, get our bikes and gear in order and make any last minute adjustments. I know the clock is ticking and I don't feel fully prepared yet. Little things like XXL rubber gloves for all rainy day long rides. Some of this stuff I can get locally but others I need to order. Today I bought a pair of AlpineStar 101 boots to have an alternative to my high Sidi's. I should have those within the week.

The bike is going in for a valve job (8,000 miles) next week and a fresh set of donuts. I have just over 7K+ on this original set of Dunlops and I expect I'd need a new set by the time we got to Sturgis, hardly the place to line-up to buy fresh rubber.

I've had three great days of riding this week, if you count my junket down to Rehoboth, MA last Saturday for Potsie's 50th birthday celebration. That ride was ALL highway and I made great time. Yes, I got off to a slow start, having to stop in Nashua at a Dunkins' to pee. I didn't think I could hold it for five more minutes, let alone another 2:15! But, once "the pause that refreshes" was taken care of, I ripped right along.

Traffic on 128 and 95 South suck MOST of the time. Coming home was much quicker. There I was, farting along at 75 mph in the center lane when an H-D bagger passes going 85-90. Well, we all know that there is safety in numbers so I cracked it wide and caught up, hanging back a safe and respectful distance. It certainly made the ride home more interesting!

I was lucky all week in dodging the rain drops. Now that I have this nice rain suit, I hate to take it/them out of their perfectly folded bags. Silly, yes, but I'm not pulling over, pulling them out, putting it on for just a few drops. I can put up with soggy clothes closer to home. Each day we've enjoyed a few summer showers, today while the sun shined. These quickly pass, along with the ominous rumbles of thunder. I saw a NICE bolt of lightning strike in Milford by South River Road as I gassed up at the Penguin Mart (no, no penguins for sale there!).

Tomorrow looks like another great day to wheel the bike out and enjoy the air. As it will be July 3rd, our orifice closes early tomorrow, for the Independence Day holiday. Have you noticed that no one calls it Independence Day anymore? Everyone's running about wishing me a Happy 4th of July. To me, it loses the original meaning of this day. It's as if I wished you a Merry December 25th. It's just not the same. People suck.

Once again, I got crap for not writing. I wrote last week but it was pure dreck and after an hour of re-writing I said "F it" and pushed the Delete key. Sometimes you just have to do that. Start over. The only theme that I did want to salvage was that of goalsetting

The thought had occurred to me that the four of us going to Sturgis this year (Führer, Poet, "Doc" - only for his own anonymity, and Rocket) would not be going if not for Ken's putting a metaphorical tent stake in the ground and stating (in no uncertain terms) that "We are going to Sturgis in 2008." What he did was the first step in good goalsetting. He defined the goal. He gave us a target. He gave us a date. He gave us the time to think about it, to plan for it and in many ways, to take some of the many small steps necessary to make this a reality.

I realize that this is the primary reason that the four of us (AKA "The Stumbleweeds") are going to Sturgis this year. If he had simply said that we were going next year, we never would have gone. So much was accomplished in the intervening years that made this goal achievable. Let me start with the obvious, for which this blog is named.

In 2007, I bought the VTX 1300R with Sturgis in mind. I bought all new camping gear, with Sturgis in mind. Etc., etc., etc. Since the start of last year I have been acquiring, spreading out my purchases, mentally preparing for this trip. A friend asked if my wife had a problem with me taking two weeks to go on a solo journey. The answer is no. She, as I, recognize this as a unique opportunity. I won't repeat it soon or maybe ever. Who knows. For you, the case may be that you need to warm up your honey for a getaway like this.

If you want do anything, set the goal and begin planning. Setting the goal is so much more important than even the planning as you may opt to be flexible in your plan. For us, this means no reservations and letting the miles add up where they may. As Poet says, this is when adventure happens.

Click on the link in the title and go read about goalsetting. Create your own "bucket list" of things you want to do and get on the road to accomplishing those goals. Maybe, for fun, in the future (post-trip) I'll publish my own bucket list here. What's on your list?

Or, click on the comments button and submit your thoughts. If they're clean enough, I'll publish in an upcoming blog. Only a couple more posts to go before we leave. Perhaps I can squeeze in one or two, at most. I'll do my best to take copious notes during my trip and to shoot lots of pictures. I fear that when I return, the first couple of posts will be filled with nothing other than pictures of topless, tattooed biker chicks. Well, so be it.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

"Go West, Young Man!"

2008-06-19T06:41:00.005-04:00

That famous quote has long been incorrectly attributed to former Amherst, NH resident Horace Greeley.

We had a planning meeting this past Tuesday night and took Joe Regan's advice to take the ferry 'cross the lake, thereby skipping The Windy City. For those interested in joining us, here's our route:

View Larger Map

For some unknown reason, the small map you see here does not show our ferry trip across Lake Michigan. If you click on the link that says "view larger map", it does. Hmm, maybe that means it will come down to a coin flip.

Presently, we're torn between making ferry reservations and casting our fate (along with our cell phones) to the wind. We'll see.

The new Mustang seat is a joy to my buns. I had no idea that it would resolve the suspension issues I thought I had. The new seat is made from such thick, dense foam that it soaks up almost all of the road shock on rough surfaces. That, along with the extra-wide seat and back rest, give me a very comfortable ride. I haven't had it on any long rides yet but I suspect that the back rest will be its saving grace.

The new lights work well too. I was a little leery of going with the OEM Honda lights but, they were the only ones that would fit around the Honda 'shield. Or, I would have had to go with caliper lights, with no guarantee of service. The lights throw out just enough additional light to make rural riding that much more safe. No more unseen road hazards (like that dead lump of porcupine we hit one night outside of Manchester, coming home from Hampton Beach).

Anyway, I think I have most of my gear now. I need to get some additional bungees in case my load needs to be restrained. You can't just dump your load all over the highway now! My Joe Rocket Phoenix jacket will keep me cool and looking cool, along with the TechWick gear from EMS.

I'm ready for a test-ride soon and may make a run north soon, loaded for bear, to squeeze in a practice camping trip. I'll need to make sure I have all I want to pack on the Sturgis ride, sans the extra clothes, in an attempt to balance the load.

Come five short weeks from now, I'm outta here. Gotto go now, I have plenty of real work ahead of me and I need to finish a very important work presentation for next week. I'll be thinking of this trip the whole time.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Slow Your Roll

2008-06-15T08:29:00.012-04:00

I'm tempted to write that headline with an exclamation point but that's the old me. I see this article as less of an admonition and more of a statement. I'll explain, as I've been thinking of this topic, at least peripherally, for a little while.

A couple of weeks ago, I heard about a new beverage being sold in Southern states called Drank. It's a play on words for the hip hop drink of grape soda and alcohol. Seems that the hip hop stars of today need to mellow out a bit, to keep from shooting one another.

Last week, I brought my bike in for service and had my teenager follow me to the dealership, for a ride home. I noticed how cautiously, carefully and S-L-O-W-L-Y he drove, in comparison to my riding style. Several times I had to wait for him to catch up. That's when it dawned on me. What's my hurry? Maybe we all need to slow down or Slow our Roll?

For years, I've tried to do anything and everything as fast as I can. Somehow I saw that as a sign of efficiency/quality. I've always felt superior to slow thinkers, slow drivers, slow service providers. What a dick! I'll admit to a need for speed and there is nothing more exhilarating, to me, than blasting down an open stretch of road. But what I'm referring to is the feeling of the need to get somewhere as fast as possible, especially when you're boxed in on the interstate with thousands of other vehicles. And we've all seen the uber-idiots in their Mercedes, or other high-end sedans, self-importantly speeding down the highway for no apparent reason. I don't want to be that guy.

I spoke to an old friend this week about my pending ride to Sturgis. He's made this journey several times and is a font of good information. He reflected on one ride when they had started the journey with a nearly 700 mile day. On the last day of their ride out, they found that they only had 200 miles to cover. He said that they made a point of stopping frequently to enjoy the view, explore and just relish the beauty of their environs. Sounds like this is a good philosophy for everyday living.

Working in New York City will do this to you. For years, I adopted the fast walk, the rush-rush mentality of "get it down quicker" and rushed through my everyday life. I couldn't wait to get up, get out, get to work, get it done and rush home. Whew! I'm tired just thinking of how I used to live. I've been in NH nearly 10 years and the realization has finally dawned on me that I'm losing my old habits. Sure, some of it is age, maturity, call it what you will.

I can remember actually running through the halls of Newport News (where I was a Production Manager). Back when I was called "The Kid" by the likes of Bill Willett, our CEO. I can't imagine what a tool they must have thought I was, those men, then the age of me now, watching me tearing around the building. It's not like I was getting paid by the job. But I was an eager beaver, the "little bulldog" racing about, working on the Penske file. See what I mean?

I'm glad this dawned on me before the Sturgis trip. I want to soak it all in, document my ride, shoot lots of photos and take a lot of notes. I've decided to not blog during the ride as I don't want to lug a laptop to worry about losing or damaging. I want to travel lighter, physically and mentally. This could be a turning point in my life, a life-changing experience, if I allow it to be or, if I don't speed past it on the highway. I plan to slow down, chew slowly and savor the experience.

Maybe this could become a more than a personal lifestyle choice. I could take a cue from Arlo Guthrie's famous song Alice's Restaurant, and start a movement. It could be called the Slow Down for Progress Movement and all you have to do to participate is to sit still. We'll bring back sit-ins, Transcendental Meditation and Tai Chi. And maybe we can all finally learn to surf, legalize marijuana and rediscover the Grateful Dead. Yeah, I'm gonna do this.

They say that if you knew you only had 24 hours to live, you would live your life differently. We all took note of the death of journalist Tim Russert, who died suddenly at age 58 of a massive heart attack. I wonder how he might have spent that day differently, had he known it was his last.

Take a cue from this. Slow down, smell the roses (or the lilacs and the occasional manure truck). This is your only life. Don't rush through, just to get to the end.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

I've never done this before!

2008-06-12T09:58:00.002-04:00

Hi,

I'm doing a quick post from work to tell you my initial impressions of the Mustang seat and the lightbar I added to my bike yesterday.

Holy cow. What a difference an aftermarket seat makes. I had put a Corbin on my Ninja, stupidly just before I sold it but, this makes my current bike a whole different bike. All of the road bumps that I felt are gone. The new seat soaks up all that shock. The back rest is superb and is fully adjustable. I sit higher and now have a perfect view over my windscreen.

The lights are cool too. I was making my way home last night around 9, coming down a very dark, tree-lined street. The auxiliary lights hit the pavement about 15-18 feet dead-center in the road. You can see everything in front of your front wheel. I don’t know how I did without these.

I'll give a full report later after I've had a chance to put some miles on.

Today is a good day to skip work and ride. What are doing reading this then?

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Email

2008-06-05T06:43:00.005-04:00

I love the headlines from Spammers. I wish I could do that as a career. How much fun would it be to sit in a room all day writing ridiculous headlines for atrocious and dubious products/companies? You know, I'm thinking there are comfy couches and an espresso machine, laptops and WiFi. Oh wait, that's college.

AOL does a good job of blocking SPAM (along with a good amount of legitimate mail) but one got through today that made me chuckle:

"Why some people never let ED spoil their life. Here is there secret." First of all, who's ED? What if your name was Ed and now you have this limp dink affliction named after you? Well, the headline led to a cartoon which reminded me that I need to work on my song.

A few weeks back I traveled to Orlando for biz. I managed to squeeze in a little time for fun and had one day to visit with Hughie and get out on his new boat. The weather in Orlando is always sunny and warm. That is, until you just have ONE day to go boating. Then it rains like a Mother-F'er but only after you gone to all the trouble to get the boat out onto the lake. I'll spare you all of the details but two.

I'm driving(?) the boat at pretty high speed on an empty lake when the rain hit. It started gradually and I gunned the engine trying to get out from under the storm cloud. The harder it rained the faster I went. Soon, the rain was blinding me, stinging my face as we attempted to hide behind the short windshield. The rain came at us sideways and I eventually cut the engine before I ran it aground or killed a kayaker. We stopped and put up the small "bikini" top, about as big as one on a Jeep, for a modicum of shelter from the downpour.

Later in the day, the heavens opened up yet again, more fiercely than before. By now, my god-daughter had joined us to get some skiing in. The three us huddled as best we could, under the dash, when eventually a long stream of water ran off the top and down the back of my shorts. It was at that moment I knew I had to write a Country song entitled "It's Raining Down the Crack of my Ass".

Listen, I have to go to work now (you remember work, don't you?) but I'll return soon to post about motorcycling. My new seat arrived and I need to dodge some rain in the next few days to get my bike serviced, light bar installed, etc. I'll comment on the new Mustang seat as soon as I can. I still need a bike cover and one or two more things.

Have a great day.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Dry goods

2008-05-28T20:29:00.010-04:00

I sure miss the waterproof Givi bags that I had purchased for my previous bike, the Honda VFR. They were designed to custom match that bike when it was last re-designed for the 2002 model year. The leather bags on the VTX are no comparison. A light rain, a mist, an exhalation and everything inside is now wet.

Of course, these bags were never meant to hold off a deluge. Conventional wisdom is that, when it rains, bikers duck for cover. Usually under a convenient overpass where they can have a smoke and meet new friends. I guess that's old school because I've only had to do that one time in my life. The occasion was my first bike trip to Nova Scotia and we got caught somewhere south of Portland, ME, with nary a bridge in sight. By the time we found one, my brakes were so wet, they failed, causing me to use my feet as outriggers to keep my Ninja upright. Yikes! Scared the crap outta me but earned me points with the "hardcores" for not dropping it.

With a two week trip on the near horizon, I needed a better solution to keep my tightie whities dry. No, not Monkey Butt powder, even though I will bring that along. I'm talking about dry bags. Good old compression sack-type dry bags like one uses when kayaking. I sauntered, strolled, stepped (I did NOT sashay) over to EMS today to see what they offered. It's very convenient having their store adjacent to my office building, which makes them a "preferred" vendor. They had four different types/brands to offer and I almost settled on the wide-top ones that looked like a perfect fit for my side bags. Problem is, they just didn't look waterproof enough.

If you have 100 miles to go before bed and it's raining like a mother, guess what? So, I bought the very heavy-duty vinyl coated bags and will wrestle them in and out, as needed. I haven't decided what's going where yet but, my tour pack (thanks to Klimas' Almost New store) has a good cover and I presume my bed-roll and most of my clothes will be stored there. No idea how much I'll be able to fit on my bike until we do a dry-run.

I may have to utilize the "Jerry" method. This involves packing all of your crappiest, rattiest old underwear and T's and tossing them out along the way, once they begin to stink. You therby arrive home bearing a lighter load than with which you departed, with the exception of the DSB. We're shooting for a camping trip soon so this will give me a chance to load and unload my bike a few times as I try to cram all this junk into the limited space I have available. I know I've said this before but, I'm afraid all this stuff I'm buying for this trip is going to sit it out on the floor of the garage! I don't want to look like this guy:

Anyhow, I'll report back on my predicament once we get a date set for our first camping trip. I'm going to try to bring it all (with the exception of two weeks worth of clothing).

For the faint of heart, I hope you didn't get too offended (or aroused) by that mannikin above (yes, look closer).

Also, I will report back on the "MUST HAVE" list soon. I had some good feedback so far but can always use more. Please click on the comment link at the end of this post and send me a comment or your suggestions for the thing or things you don't ride without. My favorite, so far, was from Pinkie, who recommended bringing your own TP along on a long ride. Or, barring that, I suppose I can always "borrow" a old shirt from Jerry...Peace out everyone and

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Live Free and Die

2008-05-22T18:46:00.004-04:00

Just a quick post tonight on the merits of wearing a helmet.

New Hampshire is one of the few states that allow motorcyclists to ride without a helmet. A few members of our little band of hooligans occasionally ride lidless, when the spirit moves them. No one comments or rags them about this. WTF, we're all adults.

I got word today that Box had an accident on Sunday that totalled his ride. He's okay and he credits this to his choice of wearing a helmet that day.

It seems that he was following a panel or box truck on Rt. 101 Sunday afternoon at around 4 PM. It was a sunny day and he was returning from a ride west of here. As the truck slowed to make a turn, Box throttled back and reduced his speed as well.

From the side-street, presumably the one the truck was turning into, some cager decided that this was his perfect opportunity to run the stop sign and enter onto the main road. As he cut across Box's lane, he panicked and stopped. Box leaned it hard to the right but he didn't make it all the way around him. He hit the car broadside, flew over the bars and smacked his head three times on his way across the top of this car, landing on his back.

His comments verbatim: "A helmet might not save your life at 80 mph, but it just might save your life at 30-40 mph". How insightful.

I was thinking of this as I rode home tonight. Up ahead, I saw a car approaching from a side street on my right and wondered what the driver had in mind. As I approached her, I watched as she breezed past the stop sign and looked to her right. Huh? Shouldn't she have looked left towards me, assuming she was just about ready to pull out? What ever happened to Left-right-left? Look twice, lady, and save a life!

I was past her before she had a chance to gaze left. I relaxed a bit and released the grip I had on the brake lever. Another close call.

Please be careful out there, ride defensively, wear a hat. All that. These people are trying to kill you.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

PS - Do yourself a favor a click on the blog link above.

Yeah, I know.

2008-05-21T21:03:00.005-04:00

Zero. Zip. Nada. That's what you've gotten from me in the past ten days. Zilch.

Yeah, I know. You're busy too. And you expect me to rise above the crap I deal with on a regular basis and tell you something good. Hmmph!

Last Saturday was a great day to ride and a few of us made it over to Naults in Manchestie for their Open House. It was supposed to launch at 10AM with food, prizes and a live band (Mama Kicks). We arrived around 11:30 expecting to see it in full swing, coming to a head, such as it were. Nope. The early morning rains must have put a damper on Mama's scamper cause they were nowhere to be seen. Nor was the food vendor. Ah, what now? We examined all of the new and used product and Bosco tried to get me to upgrade to the VTX 1800 from Honda. Um. Hmm. Nice bike but not this year. Maybe not ever.

Finally the band arrived, the food started to cook, we all grabbed our FREE Naults/Honda t-shirts (Jerry and Jay will use theirs to polish their bikes, no doubt...). When we'd had our fill of laying about on a beautiful day, the band decided to finally play and we made our exit to Blowin' Smoke to enjoy a heater and some good conversation. We parted company soon after and made our way home. A short ride, a free meal and some wind in our hair and sun on our faces. Some more than others.

Sunday I fell out of bed before 5AM and raced to the airport for a dash to Orlando, FL, ostensibly for business but mixed with some pleasure too. Friend Hugh relocated two years ago to sunny Winter Garden for his career and has since enjoyed the sun and fun. Recently he purchased his first boat, a very nice ski boat, to be used on the many lakes in his area. We had a little time on the boat Sun/Mon and then it was time to work.

I donned the suit and tie and crafted my best trade show sincere smile. Unfortunately, the show was lightly attended and my smile fell on deaf eyes. Bleh. At least I got see some cronies from the "good old days" in NY. The guys were in rare form and I laugh when I think of one's comment about how Afghanis "don't respect women like we do". Shortly thereafter, we met the buxom cocktail waitress and the irony of that comment was as apparent as her mighty cleavage.

My last-flight-out on Southwest was delayed in-bound due to heavy weather in the Atlanta region. We boarded for Manchester at 10:30 PM and flew into the teeth of the storm. Folks, it nearly became a Vomit Comet. Urp! People were green. We pitched and rolled and I swear I heard prayin'. Maybe it was me. We made it through, landing at 1:15 AM, checked bags retrieved and in the door at 2:15 AM. More bleh.

Today felt a bit like a hangover. After a healthy start, my energy waned as the day passed slowly. And here we are again.

This weekend is Memorial Day and I will do my best to honor the Veterans and those who have died in their service to this country. The weather is going to be perfect for a ride or three days worth of rides. I'm going to try to squeeze in a couple of short ones, in between my other commitments, familial and otherwise.

Have a safe and happy weekend and get out there and ride. I'll be back soon with more of the misadventures of Joe Rocket. Sturgis is about 9 weeks away and I really need to get a jump on some of the shit I've been putting off. Hope to see you on the road.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Happy Mother's Day!

2008-05-11T18:45:00.008-04:00

Hello everyone and Happy Mother's Day to all the Moms out there. I saw a few Moms today and a whole lot of bikes out on the road. We had a "pitcher" perfect day for our ride. The temps were a little cool early on but the rising sun warmed us nicely and we sped along enjoying the bright sunshine.

Our destination was Pitcher Mountain in Stafford, NH. I'd hiked this in the past and found it to be a fairly quiet destination. The guys huffed and puffed while the gals strode along at a quicker pace. Once at the top, we enjoyed our packed lunches, along with the 360 degree panorama. The swarming blackflies that we had encountered at the base lot were less bothersome at the peak, thanks to a steady breeze.

Here are a few shots I took from the summit:

Admittedly, not the best shots I've ever taken, or taken from this location, but the color was low and everything still looks brown and lifeless. If you click on these pix you will get a better resolution, making them easier to see.

We split up on the way down. Some, pausing to stop at the door-less outhouse; others taking the more direct route down. Matt, Bill and Richard sped towards home while the rest of us headed north for a bit before following suit.

All in all, a nice day, breezing along the back roads of NH. It sure beat yard work!!!

A low, slow wave (to your mother),

Joe Rocket

What a difference a week makes!

2008-05-10T01:20:00.006-04:00

168 little hours....Sorry to paraphrase Phoebe Snow but, what a difference a week makes. The leaves popped, the grass is growing, the rain has stopped (for now) and the temps are climbing. Suddenly I feel some enthusiasm for the potential of this riding season. Or maybe that's just the pollen affecting my brain.

Admittedly, it's been pretty crappy here, weather-wise. This weekend could be the start of something BIG. This weekend is Mother's Day and the weather on Sunday looks to be good. Hopefully the forecast will hold. Did you remember Ma or your children's mother? If you're good to her, maybe she will let you ride on Sunday.

It was another crazy week for me, what with a trip down to New York City and all. Last week it was a two-day run to Rochester, so this week's trip paled in comparison. Still, sitting on yer ass, speeding down the highway to the Nexus of the East Coast Universe is stressful. Thankfully I had my Tom Tom Rider, affectionately known to us as "Chad", along for the ride. Nary a missed step, except for user error, when I programmed my destination as E. 30th Street instead of E. 39th Street. Oops! But I caught my error minutes before I would have reached my erroneous destination and it was a minor delay.

This was a business trip that turned into an opportunity to see some old friends. I won't bore you with all the details but I parlayed one cancelled meeting into an opportunity to see some buddies. If you know me, then you should know that I don't give up easily on friends. I'm as loyal as an old dog (yes, I'll admit to having sniffed a crotch or two!). I'm glad I was able to see people that I like, with whom I've shared good times.

Tonight I saw another, in downtown Milford. She is a sweet, older woman who befriended my wife years ago when they worked together. She has a heart of gold and every time we see her, I light up. She is such a good person, so full of love and compassion. I want to find an appropriate way to show her how much she means to me. People like her are in very short supply and need to be cherished.

Sorry to go off on a tangent but, it's late and I should be sleeping. I could almost go for a nice, hot pot of coffee but it's nearly 3AM.

Anyway, as I was saying, the weather's improved, I have a day of riding planned and I'm getting excited about the season, again. I think I've been on two rides so far this year and, if you read last week's missive, am not commuting to work on the bike, either. But I'm pumped about this weekend and can't wait to get out in the wind and sun. I'm sure that I will want to order that new seat. I also need a bike cover for the trip and am considering one of those mini covers that just cover the top half of the bike. It would roll-up a lot smaller and I am starting to get concerned about how much I can pack on the scooter.

So, come Monday, I'll be on the phone ordering a new seat, a bike cover and maybe a few other necessities. Catalogs are starting to pile up around here. I've decided to "rough it" on my current bike rather than shoot for the new bike, the FJR 1300. There's something to be said for riding all the way to Sturgis and, doing it less than "perfectly equipped" will add to the level of adventure. Just wait until I try to pack all my crap on this bike and I realize I have to leave half of it at home! I figger I can get by for two weeks on two pairs of jeans, five t-shirts, a pair of 'dwares and some socks. And just maybe some body spray to cover the funk.

I'll try to write an update following Sunday's ride. The late hour is taking it's toll on my mental processes and I'm slowing down. I just realized that I wasted 10 minutes looking for a dumb photo to add to this post. Yeah, I thought it was funny and then lost all my momentum. Right now I need to crawl back into some sweet dreams and let my mind unwind.

I've got more trips planned for next week and am looking forward to the first one I can pull off on my bike. With gas prices rising again, even motorcycling is getting expensive. A friend remarked on the cost of her recent fill-up, which shocked her. I'm sure it was an all-time high for her. Biker chicks rock. Girls with tats rule. Biker chicks with tats just make me drool. See? My mind is turning to mush. I gotta go.

A low, sleepy wave,

Joe Rocket

Life Behind 'Bars

2008-05-04T06:57:00.006-04:00

Editorial note: The gas prices below were corrected following my initial posting. Kudos go to "Eagle Eye" Shane, for his aggressive proof-reading and fact-finding style....

Dear readers and riders,

Another hectic week has passed and my work and writing have suffered, as a result. I'm numb from the pace and know that the next few weeks will bring more of the same. I enjoyed a short work week as a result of two personal days out of the office. Thursday/Friday saw us dashing across MASS and NY states in the car.

After two days of highway driving, I can tell you that I would prefer to avoid the blandness of the interstates as much as possible on our Sturgis ride. The sterility and sameness will make any highway riding a boring part of the trip. Perhaps it's just the industrial Northeast that looks this way or, will it suck until we get West of Chicago?

On the Mass pike, we got boxed in by a long line of tractor trailers who hogged both lanes for a good 10-15 miles. As a result, our average speed through that section was probably 50 mph. Eventually we were able to pass and break free of the congestion but none of those 18-wheelers were about to pull over for a car trying to go 75-80. There's no way they would have moved over for a motorcyclist.

Traffic overall, was heavy for this trip. And gas prices outside of NH were astonishing. Unless you were willing to purchase the no-name brand gasoline, expect to pay close to $4/gallon. We stopped on the NY State Thruway and I refused to put in more than $10 (at $3.75/gal.), enough to get us to our destination. When we reached Rochester, the price was worse, at $3.87/gal. for my preferred Mobil brand. WTF????? That's $.40 more per gallon than we pay here. And I thought we had it bad already!

Today is another wash-out for riding. As I write this, sitting on the couch and watching my favorite Italian princess Giada DeLaurentis cook (and jiggle), the rain outside is pouring down. This is the remnant of the Midwest storm that trounced Arkansas. The realization set in yesterday that this season is going to be a short one. That is, unless we see warm weather all the way through November. With less than 90 days until we depart for Sturgis, I'm hesitant to service my bike or even make the purchases I'd planned to customize it for the ride.

The folks at Mustang Seat offer a 30-day return policy but I can't even imagine getting out more than a few times, in that amount of time, at this point in the season. Even if the weather cooperated, I've been driving a co-worker (who lost her license) to and from work. This wasn't a concern through the winter months but now I'm ready to ride on the occasional nice day. But I can't, thanks to her. She tends to dress in shorts or skirts and open toe shoes/sandals. Plus, she doesn't own a helmet and my old one won't fit. I'm trying to gently encourage her to find other options but I think they are very limited. So, all the miles I put on my bike last year commuting to work, won't happen this year.

So, here I am, not riding for fun or work, thanks to the vagaries of the weather and personal obligations. So much for being a nice guy.

I'm off to NYC this week to meet with, among others, Martha Stewart. Well, I don't know if we will get to meet the domestic diva herself, but I have a meeting with her minions. After that, a quick trip to Orlando, before month's end, for a trade show.

I'm afraid that riding season will "sneak up" on me. It's here but it's not here, y'know? And then, if we're lucky, it will be sunny and warm (or hot) every day and I won't be ready for it. So, what to do? Soldier on, I guess and make preparations to get to Sturgis. We have a planning meeting soon for the four horsemen. Perhaps we can negotiate route planning and come up with an alternative to the current direct (interstates) route.

In preparation for the trip, I'm getting a physical this month. Yes, I'm seeing my cute doctor again and will let her investigate every orifice. I want a clean bill of health for the trip. The weight issue has stagnated and I need to start exercising. I wish that Poet would send me his workout regimen as his results have been transforming. I don't know that I have the wherewithal to get up at 4AM and head outdoors for a long walk/jog/run. But I have to do something. I've plateaued and I'm back to all of my bad (eating) habits. You know, beer, chips...Today will be my last day of freedom and I will attempt to get back on the good foot. Tomorrow.

I'm hoping that some of the readers from other states will comment on their current riding conditions. I'm fortunate that readers have stumbled across (StumbleUpon) this blog and have read it. I'd like feedback from riders outside of New England. How is it in California? Texas? How about Arizona? How is the riding there, this time of the year? I'm hoping that within five years, I can find a new home, with better weather which will allow me to ride year-round or close to year-round. I know a lot of us think about this, so let me know what you are experiencing and your favorite local riding spot.

My apologies for the gloominess. It's a weather thing. See me when the barometer is rising and we'll tear up some asphalt together. Oh yeah, and Happy Cinqo de Mayo!

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Speed vs. Comfort (or What best represents me?)

2008-04-26T21:47:00.005-04:00

Hi kiddies. Just a short post as it's late on a dull Saturday night and I've decided to have a nightcap and listen to some tunes. It's funny how dark some of the music of our youth is. I guess it depends on who you are and "when" your youth was. A little Alice Cooper is wafting from the speakers. Some of you may be of the Pat Boone generation while others are more firmly in the Ramones/Iggy Pop/Sex Pistols/Tubes vein, like me. And, if you're younger than me well, F off then!

I found time today to take another look at the FJR 1300 and I plan to take it for a test ride this week. The issue here is, what's more important, Speed or Comfort? Better half commented on the fixed riding position with my feet tucked back on the pegs. This is contrary to my roomy floorboards and Kuryakyn billet pegs, which allow me to lie back and watch the road from an almost reclined position.

Two totally different bikes (VTX versus the FJR) with different attitudes. It comes down to speed, comfort, niceties like a fuel gauge, ABS brakes and a power adjustable windscreen. Hmm. I like the goodies. I like the technology built into the Yamaha and I know I would be ripping power wheelies with a pocket full of lead.

I'll admit that the VTX is perfect for 90% of the riding that I do, which is backroads. The biggest shortfall is on the highway. Maybe it comes down to finances; what I'm willing to invest in the VTX in the short term, to fix what I see as shortcomings as opposed to what it would cost to me get out of my bike and step up to a new ride.

Or maybe it comes down to identity. Do I really see myself as a cruiser guy? I don't know that I ever have. Jesus Christ! What do I do with all this black leather??????

I'll give you a ride report later in the week. I'm going to head out tomorrow with my favorite biker granny to see if we can find some sweet roads and a few laughs. Tires? Smoke 'em if you got 'em.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Perfect riding day

2008-04-19T17:20:00.012-04:00

Today was a perfect day to ride. Sunny, warm, dry, the kind of day you could pack on the miles...But I didn't ride today. Today I was a suburban slave: raking, mulching, washing, fixing, charging, seeding. Ah, the joy of home ownership!

Lucky for me, I have friends who are kind enough to rub in the fact that they were riding today and I was not. This morning at 11:15, bent over the mulch pile we all heard it. At first, it sounded like a distant plane. As it got closer my wife made some comment about a train, even though the nearest tracks are a mile or more away. And then I instantly knew what it was. A large group of motorcycles, headed our way.

As they roared around the corner to our street, I smiled a big grin as the insidious leader of this foray, Ultra Bosco cruised up the street bearing a smug, smarmy smile. I waved to some, flipped off others and laughed out loud as the bikes continued to pile into our neighborhood. I lost count after a while. It seemed like everyone in the club made it out today for a ride.

After they rounded the cul de sac the leader of this fiasco pulled up at the end of my driveway. They enjoyed the fact that I was hard at work, sweating in the warm sun. My son ran into the house for my camera so I'll post the few shots I took here.

New friends-

Old friends-

New riders with new bikes:

All of them sparkling prettily in the spring sunshine...

I hope you all had a great ride today. I'm considering having a bumper sticker made that says "My other bike is a rake." Well, we gotta do what we gotta do. When the lawn comes in and the gardens are in full bloom, I'll have my biker friends over to enjoy the fruits of our labors. And you know what? No matter how bad I ache tomorrow when I wake, I'm pulling on my boots and hitting the open road.

This is going to be a great season, a great year. I'm excited that we have new friends to join us as we explore every nook and granny in New England. I'll see you out there my friends.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

THEY'RE COMING TO TAKE AWAY, HA-HA!

2008-04-10T06:43:00.004-04:00

If it doesn't get nice here soon, I'm going to FLIP OUT!

Okay, I realize that when men come from the "funny farm" they don't arrive in a short bus. More likely an ambulance. But I saw this in Nova Scotia last summer and still think it's funny. Funnier than an ambulance.

So who's daft now? Go ask Pat Joller in California.

A low, slow wave on a Thursday morning, on the way to a wet weekend...

Joe Rocket

Slooooow start!

2008-04-07T21:34:00.005-04:00

All,

I feel listless, tired and uninspired. I've got little to say, for once! The slow start to the season is bringing me down. Last week, we had a small taste of what it means to ride again and then nothing at all this past weekend, due mostly to the temps, the drizzle and familial obligations. Ah yes! The never-ending battle between the "real world" (family, yard work, chores, etc.) and the open road (smooth roads, fast curves, scenic by-ways, flirtatious bar wenches). Come on! Permit me just a few indulgences!

On a whim, I stopped at the Yamaha dealer tonight on the way home from work, to see if they had the FJR 1300. I just wanted to SEE it. Our local shop is small and has limited inventory and I almost didn't go the 1/4 mile out of my way, on the assumption that they would not have this bike in stock. Well, they did. It was there, all glossy, shiny black in it's newness. The side (hard) bags were not on yet and they had a sold sign on it. Boo! Hiss.

After I raped it with my eyes, the sales guy asked me if I needed anything. A towel for the drool, I suppose (or Crumpet's spanky hanky!). To my happy surprise, it was not sold, the sign was there to protect it from errant feet and the inevitable scuff marks. He pulled it forward for me and I carefully swung a leg over it. Aahh! You know that moment of relief, when you get to sit after standing for a long while? This was like that. A nearly audible sigh escaped my lips.

Wow. Very nice. I didn't bother to ask the kid to run through the specs. I saw most of these online and know this is a killer bike. It looks big, in person, bigger than I expected. I was surprised by the protruding dual, stainless steel exhaust cans. I suppose they are hidden when the hard bags are in place. But, after having a bike with underseat exhaust, anything else looks like ancient history. I wonder how far you can lean this thing? I'd like to see that test in a bike mag!

It has a low seat that I can easily touch down (flat-footed) from, given my 30" inseam. Shorter guys will need smaller bikes, sorry. I would guess this bike is good for riders 5'10" and above.

I felt guilty and didn't tarry. I didn't want to fall in love with it, even though it was too late for that. I just had to "steal a kiss" and be on my way. Perhaps if I were in a better place and could take the hit on my new bike, I'd trade. I don't know. Now I feel all mixed up inside.

I want comfort on my trip this year but I think that I may have the slowest bike in our little foursome. I miss the speed that I got out of my VFR, which was reasonably quick, for a middleweight sport/tourer. Yes, it was a bit uncomfortable on long trips, but this bike is different. Big, roomy, comfortable, adjustable seat, power adjustable windscreen, 1300cc of inline four power, all 145 horses and ABS to haul them to a halt. Fast. Black. Naughty. God, I feel dirty! Like I just cheated on my bike with another bike. This is the bike my mother warned me about...

More to come, and many sleepless nights as I ponder the possibilities. Yes, Pinkie, I called you for a reason. Time to upgrade to a nice,(almost)new VTX 1300. It's been ridden slowly (sort of) and well-cared for. Call me.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

50 Ways to Save Your Life

2008-04-04T07:23:00.002-04:00

Folks,

I don't normally "cut and paste" but I haven't posted all week and I saw this and thought it was a useful reminder. Most of you "cruiser dudes" probably don't read MotorCyclist magazine anyway, due to it's focus mostly on sportier bikes...

Enjoy -

Joe Rocket

50 Ways to Save Your Life
We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit. --Aristotle
writer: The Motorcyclist Staff

The best bike in the world is scrap--or soon will be--unless you learn how to use it. The most powerful piece of high-performance hardware is between your ears. To help you program it with the right information, we've assembled 50 potentially lifesaving bits of street savvy. Some you'll know, some you won't. All are worth remembering, because when it comes to riding motorcycles on the street, the people over at the Motorcycle Safety Foundation (www.msf-usa.org) have the right idea with their tagline: The more you know, the better it gets.

1. Assume you're invisible
Because to a lot of drivers, you are. Never make a move based on the assumption that another driver sees you, even if you've just made eye contact. Bikes don't always register in the four-wheel mind.

2. Be considerate
The consequences of strafing the jerk du jour or cutting him off start out bad and get worse. Pretend it was your grandma and think again.

3. Dress for the crash, not the pool or the prom
Sure, Joaquin's Fish Tacos is a 5-minute trip, but nobody plans to eat pavement. Modern mesh gear means 100-degree heat is no excuse for a T-shirt and board shorts.

4. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst
Assume that car across the intersection will turn across your bow when the light goes green, with or without a turn signal.

5. Leave your ego at home
The only people who really care if you were faster on the freeway will be the officer and the judge.

6. Pay attention
Yes, there is a half-naked girl on the billboard. That shock does feels squishy. Meanwhile, you could be drifting toward Big Trouble. Focus.

7. Mirrors only show you part of the picture
Never change direction without turning your head to make sure the coast really is clear.

Mirrors only show you part of the picture.
8. Be patient
Always take another second or three before you pull out to pass, ride away from a curb or into freeway traffic from an on-ramp. It's what you don't see that gets you. That extra look could save your butt.

9. Watch your closing speed
Passing cars at twice their speed or changing lanes to shoot past a row of stopped cars is just asking for trouble.

10. Beware the verge and the merge
A lot of nasty surprises end up on the sides of the road: empty McDonald's bags, nails, TV antennas, ladders, you name it. Watch for potentially troublesome debris on both sides of the road.

11. Left-turning cars remain a leading killer of motorcyclists
Don't assume someone will wait for you to dart through the intersection. They're trying to beat the light, too.

12. Beware of cars running traffic lights
The first few seconds after a signal light changes are the most perilous. Look both ways before barging into an intersection.

13. Check your mirrors
Do it every time you change lanes, slow down or stop. Be ready to move if another vehicle is about to occupy the space you'd planned to use.

Scan 12 seconds ahead for potential trouble.
14. Mind the gap
Remember Driver's Ed? One second's worth of distance per 10 mph is the old rule of thumb. Better still, scan the next 12 seconds ahead for potential trouble.

15. Beware of tuner cars
They're quick and their drivers tend to be aggressive. Don't assume you've beaten one away from a light or outpaced it in traffic and change lanes without looking. You could end up as a Nissan hood ornament.

16. Excessive entrance speed hurts
It's the leading cause of single-bike accidents on twisty roads and racetracks. In Slow, Out Fast is the old adage, and it still works. Dialing up corner speed is safer than scrubbing it off.

17. Don't trust that deer whistle
Ungulates and other feral beasts prowl at dawn and dusk, so heed those big yellow signs. If you're riding in a target-rich environment, slow down and watch the shoulders.

18. Learn to use both brakes
The front does most of your stopping, but a little rear brake on corner entry can calm a nervous chassis.

19. Keep the front brake covered--always
Save a single second of reaction time at 60 mph and you can stop 88 feet shorter. Think about that.

20. Look where you want to go
Use the miracle of target fixation to your advantage. The motorcycle goes where you look, so focus on the solution instead of the problem.

Check your mirrors every time you change lanes.
21. Keep your eyes moving
Traffic is always shifting, so keep scanning for potential trouble. Don't lock your eyes on any one thing for too long unless you're actually dealing with trouble.

22. Think before you act
Careful whipping around that Camry going 7 mph in a 25-mph zone or you could end up with your head in the driver's side door when he turns into the driveway right in front of you.

23. Raise your gaze
It's too late to do anything about the 20 feet immediately in front of your fender, so scan the road far enough ahead to see trouble and change trajectory.

24. Get your mind right in the driveway
Most accidents happen during the first 15 minutes of a ride, below 40 mph, near an intersection or driveway. Yes, that could be your driveway.

25. Come to a full stop at that next stop sign
Put a foot down. Look again. Anything less forces a snap decision with no time to spot potential trouble.

26. Never dive into a gap in stalled traffic
Cars may have stopped for a reason, and you may not be able to see why until it's too late to do anything about it.

27. Don't saddle up more than you can handle
If you weigh 95 pounds, avoid that 795-pound cruiser. If you're 5-foot-5, forget those towering adventure-tourers.

Stay in your comfort zone riding with a group.
28. Watch for car doors opening in traffic
And smacking a car that's swerving around some goofball's open door is just as painful.

29. Don't get in an intersection rut
Watch for a two-way stop after a string of four-way intersections. If you expect cross-traffic to stop, there could be a painful surprise when it doesn't.

30. Stay in your comfort zone when you're with a group
Riding over your head is a good way to end up in the ditch. Any bunch worth riding with will have a rendezvous point where you'll be able to link up again.

31. Give your eyes some time to adjust
A minute or two of low light heading from a well-lighted garage onto dark streets is a good thing. Otherwise, you're essentially flying blind for the first mile or so.

32. Master the slow U-turn
Practice. Park your butt on the outside edge of the seat and lean the bike into the turn, using your body as a counterweight as you pivot around the rear wheel.

33. Who put a stop sign at the top of this hill?
Don't panic. Use the rear brake to keep from rolling back down. Use Mr. Throttle and Mr. Clutch normally--and smoothly--to pull away.

34. If it looks slippery, assume it is
A patch of suspicious pavement could be just about anything. Butter Flavor Crisco? Gravel? Mobil 1? Or maybe it's nothing. Better to slow down for nothing than go on your head.

35. Bang! A blowout! Now what?
No sudden moves. The motorcycle isn't happy, so be prepared to apply a little calming muscle to maintain course. Ease back the throttle, brake gingerly with the good wheel and pull over very smoothly to the shoulder. Big sigh.

Hedge your bets at intersections.
36. Drops on the faceshield?
It's raining. Lightly misted pavement can be slipperier than when it's been rinsed by a downpour, and you never know how much grip there is. Apply maximum-level concentration, caution and smoothness.

37. Emotions in check?
To paraphrase Mr. Ice Cube, chickity-check yoself before you wreck yoself. Emotions are as powerful as any drug, so take inventory every time you saddle up. If you're mad, sad, exhausted or anxious, stay put.

38. Wear good gear
Wear stuff that fits you and the weather. If you're too hot or too cold or fighting with a jacket that binds across the shoulders, you're dangerous. It's that simple.

39. Leave the iPod at home
You won't hear that cement truck in time with Spinal Tap cranked to 11, but they might like your headphones in intensive care.

40. Learn to swerve
Be able to do two tight turns in quick succession. Flick left around the bag of briquettes, then right back to your original trajectory. The bike will follow your eyes, so look at the way around, not the briquettes. Now practice till it's a reflex.

41. Be smooth at low speeds
Take some angst out, especially of slow-speed maneuvers, with a bit of rear brake. It adds a welcome bit of stability by minimizing unwelcome weight transfer and potentially bothersome driveline lash.

42. Flashing is good for you
Turn signals get your attention by flashing, right? So a few easy taps on the pedal or lever before stopping makes your brake light more eye-catching to trailing traffic.

43. Intersections are scary, so hedge your bets
Put another vehicle between your bike and the possibility of someone running the stop sign/red light on your right and you cut your chances of getting nailed in half.

44. Tune your peripheral vision
Pick a point near the center of that wall over there. Now scan as far as you can by moving your attention, not your gaze. The more you can see without turning your head, the sooner you can react to trouble.

Everything is harder to see after dark.
45. All alone at a light that won't turn green?
Put as much motorcycle as possible directly above the sensor wire--usually buried in the pavement beneath you and located by a round or square pattern behind the limit line. If the light still won't change, try putting your kickstand down, right on the wire. You should be on your way in seconds.

46. Every-thing is harder to see after dark
Adjust your headlights, Carry a clear faceshield and have your game all the way on after dark, especially during commuter hours.

47. Don't troll next to--or right behind--Mr. Peterbilt
If one of those 18 retreads blows up--which they do with some regularity--it de-treads, and that can be ugly. Unless you like dodging huge chunks of flying rubber, keep your distance.

48. Take the panic out of panic stops
Develop an intimate relationship with your front brake. Seek out some safe, open pavement. Starting slowly, find that fine line between maximum braking and a locked wheel, and then do it again, and again.

49. Make your tires right
None of this stuff matters unless your skins are right. Don't take 'em for granted. Make sure pressure is spot-on every time you ride. Check for cuts, nails and other junk they might have picked up, as well as general wear.

50. Take a deep breath
Count to 10. Visualize whirled peas. Forgetting some clown's 80-mph indiscretion beats running the risk of ruining your life, or ending it. -MC

Thanks, but I'm not ready yet!

2008-03-31T20:42:00.005-04:00

My younger brother had a heart attack a week ago today. At age 47, he is too young for this sort of nonsense. In retrospect, his age was a big advantage in his surviving this medical crisis. I'm not going to go into the causes of his illness but I do know that one factor was stress.

As we spoke tonight, I laughingly blurted out that it was time for him to get a motorcycle. He agreed that life was short and that maybe he would look into this. After I hung up the phone, I realized this is exactly what he needs to alleviate some of the stress in his life.

Another friend, an old friend, a good man, is in the process of getting a divorce. His world has been turned upside down and he struggles to keep his family together while being forced to sell his home, so he can pay off his cheating wife. He too, is at a crossroads in his life. A motorcycle is just what he needs to meet a better class of people.

They say you never see a motorcycle parked outside a shrink's office. I'd bet there's some truth to that.

We are the free, the feral, the untamed, the unwashed. But we're also eloquent, thoughtful, generous, kind and considerate. I'd do anything for my brothers and I know they would always be there for me too.

It's important to me to have the time, the freedom and the free will to go where I want, when I want and with whom I want. I need a little inner space to be myself, to explore this side of me. I can be domesticated but I can't be tamed. Call that anti-social if you will, I prefer to think of it in terms of being in touch with one's id, devoid of the social niceties and political repression foisted upon us by pressure groups trying to force conformity and their own world-view.

I have goals and dreams which are mostly about living my life the way I decide to. I want my life to be memorable, to me and others around me. I want to laugh with my friends and have fun.

Life's too short to settle for a crappy one. I'm going to ride as long as I can, knowing that this lifestyle is a healthy part of who I am.

Follow your dreams..."'cause if you don't know where you're going, any road will take you there".

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

First ride, 2008

2008-03-30T20:42:00.008-04:00

The Open Road Beckons.......

First ride 2008: Impressions

Sunny, cold
Tires low
Manny & Jay
Bad drivers elicit thrown crackers
Snow melting, falling through sunny sky
Frost heaves 6, front fork 0
Bump, thump, Whoa!
Hang on.
Loud pipes, growly twin
Old friends, new acquaintances
Twisty, turny river road
Snowy fields glisten
Warm sun, cold hands
Tom Turkey napping
Hot coffee, spicy chili
No gas
Late for Whizzer, Bye Jay
Stop for smoke
Purple haze
Hurry, now late!
Gas, home
Hidden smile
Repeat as necessary.

Damn Sexy

2008-03-29T08:20:00.006-04:00

I don't care what you think, I still say this bike is DAMN SEXY!

Are you listening?

2008-03-29T08:20:00.002-04:00

I'm just wondering if anyone has used the FineTune application that sits on the left side there (go ahead, scroll down to look). If you click on it, you can listen to a playlist I picked out just for you (yes YOU). See? You don't think I do anything for you but I do.

Anyway, there's two different playlists there and I was about to add a third one when I realized I CAN'T REMEMBER ANOTHER PASSWORD! Holy shit. I don't know why I need so damn many passwords. Every friggin' site has its own protocol. Is it six letters and a number or eight letters. My brain RAM is full. I'm going to start carving these into the top of my desk at home. If you break into my house, you can have all the crap on my PC. How's that? Jesus!

So, this may be the end of playlists or I'll have to start over with FineTune. I like this program because it's (say it with me) FREE. I actually found songs there that I can't BUY on iTunes. Hmm. So, I'll try again or, get some vitamins or whatever will help me unclog my brain.

Also, I think we might ride (oh yeah, this is a motorcycle blog, innit?) tomorrow, Sunday. It is forecast to be in the high 40's and it will be warm enough to pull the cover off and put all the parts back together today. I'm going to try to rendezvous with Jerry midday. Not sure who else has their scooter out yet, besides Manny.

So, here we go. Back on two wheels again. Jeez, I sure hope everything still fits...

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

A sturdy stool

2008-03-26T21:14:00.007-04:00

Yes folks, at my age, all I want out of life is a good sturdy stool!

This is a shameless plug for a product I bought today at EMS. It's called the Tri-light stool and it is manufactured in Orono, Maine. If you click on the title (tired of hearing that YET?) it will take you to the manufacturer's site.

I was looking at some triangular seated camp seats, or stools, last year at EMS. They were too large to pack on the bike and I didn't like the way that third section snuck up on me, if you know what I mean. The guys in the crowd certainly will. It was a bit like riding a Western saddle.

Anyway, I was goofing off during the day yesterday and I wandered next door to EMS. I saw this small collapsible camp stool and had to have it. My only trepidation was the weight limit (200 lbs) but, I tested it and it did not groan audibly once. The legs are tubular steel and it has a nylon connector in the middle.

Here are a couple of shots I just took. That pica stick (who can tell me what it's used for?) has measurements up to 12" but the overall length is closer to 13".

I know that I can drop this into my saddlebags or bungee it to any part of the bike for a trip. It's light and durable and it will keep me off the ground. The next shot here is the opened stool. It is very easy to deploy.

The absolute best part of this nifty little camping chair is the price. I bought this for $20 at EMS. I grabbed the only one in stock but I bet you can find it online. The mfr. also offers links to retailers so poke around until you find it.

I'll do a test evaluation after its first real use. My teenager predicts that I will forget that it doesn't have a back and I will tumble ass over tea kettle. We'll see.

Stay tuned for more EXCITING product reviews.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

The advantages of deerskin

2008-03-23T18:11:00.004-04:00

Click on the title to visit Lee Parks Design web site. Lee is a friend of a former co-worker and he was kind enough to spend time on the phone with me a few years back as I was trying to get ideas for self-employment. I haven't made that leap yet but his advice has stayed with me and I truly believe I am moving closer to that goal.

Check out his gloves and stuff. They make the nicest deerskin riding gloves for motorcyclists. I see that he will be at Americade this year and maybe, if time permits, we can finally meet in person.

Maybe I can get a new pair of gloves to go with this stylin' chapeau....

Here's that link again, for the anonymous user who can't follow directions:

http://www.leeparksdesign.com

Now go get yourself some deer hide.

Joe Rocket

Happy Easter/Pulpit Rock Hike

2008-03-23T13:37:00.011-04:00

From Wiki:

A rock formation called Pulpit Rock (originally the Devil's Pulpit), is located in the northwest part of the town on New Boston Road and is the feature of the town-owned Pulpit Rock Conservation Area.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
We managed a short hike today as the man-child has been working since early this AM. We were so THRILLED when his alarm went off at 5:30 AM, an hour earlier than planned. The whole family was up and we two got out of bed to find out what was going on.

After a groggy start and much coffee, we dragged off in search of adventure. The parking lot at Pulpit Rock Conservation area was glassy with ice and it made for a fun start to our hike. The trails to the waterfalls were mostly packed granular but there was a good amount of ice on them as well.

The bridges that traverse the many small streams were covered with 2+ feet of snow, worn to a narrow, icy ridge. How comforting to stroll across these and know that a good soaking is only a misstep away. Somehow, I managed not to fall in.

We made our way to the falls and enjoyed the solitude and quiet whooshing sounds of the water in motion. There were lots of icicles and ice-covered rocks. A few spots of sun shone in so I could capture these:

It's almost time to roll the motorcycle out of the garage and fire it up for the first time of the season. It's been on a charger all winter and, as I sit here writing this, the thought occurs to me that I have not seen the key to the VTX since I covered it! I sure hope I didn't leave it in the ignition. Most likely in one my jackets. Ah well, it will turn up.

Anyway, the weather is slowly turning warmer and more and more riders/bikers are being spotted out and about (oot and aboot). Yesterday, it was a BMW K1200S rider on a bumblebee yellow and black model pulling out not far from Second Wind BMW. I'm sure he was either test-riding or stopping in for a bit of gear.

Friend Manny "claims" to have had his Harley-Davidson V-Rod (AKA The MAN-Rod) out for a 30 mile jaunt recently. He also reminds everyone he knows that, "Yes, it is for sale." It's just one bike in his collection...

Apologies to the friends who attended this month's T3 (Third Thirty Thursday) event which took place this past week. I was returning from a road trip and arrived too late to join you. But I was there in spirit, even if my sad, solo dinner that night came courtesy of a road-side Taco Bell instead of a higher quality mexican restaurant. I heard about the band but no one mentioned the food. Was it that bad? Was Shorty's better than the new Casa Blanca restaurant? I'd like to know and will endeavor to get there soon, mariachis or not.

That's all I have for today. The season should be starting soon and I will have something motorcycle related to write about again. It's been a long winter but spring is officially here, even if it doesn't look much like it, from my vantage point. I'm looking forward to riding again, lots of new roads, some camping, lots of fun and time spent on the road with you, my fellow riders. It looks like it will reach 50 degrees here by 4/1 but then we have some April showers to contend with. Are you getting wet?

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Tow job

2008-03-17T19:46:00.003-04:00

I mentioned this in an earlier blog but I'll mention it again as I think it is important and a great value. Get a towing option for your bike this year. I know there are several different ones out there and some of you may be covered by your car insurance or AAA.

If you are a member of AMA (and why wouldn't you be?) the cost for MoTow is $25/year. Short money for peace of mind. Yes, I got responses back from several who have, or think they have, better policies. Great. Good. As long as you have one.

I don't anticipate any problems on the way to Sturgis this year but I DO plan to anticipate them (all) in advance. Good planning = POM (peace of mind).

And I promise not to go all "hinky" on my riding partners but rather to "go with the flow", as long as the flow is @ 80 MPH.

The new issue (April) of the AMA mag The American Motorcyclist arrived today with 99 riding tips. Can't wait to devour this issue. Get your own free subscription (and that membership) at http://www.amadirectlink.com/

This weeks rain will devour the snow. A rider was spotted in Milford this weekend. Was it you?

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

S'no Problem!

2008-03-15T08:22:00.007-04:00

Maybe we should all just trade our bikes in for snowmobiles and call it a day.

Happy Saturday, or at least it is while I am writing this post. Another weekend, another snow storm. This is like the itch you can't scratch. We are so close to the start of the season here and yet, the snow contines to pile up.

I was in Boston for a good part of the week, attending a work conference. I ended the week with lunch at a small Italian restaurant. Within minutes of sitting, I heard the familar rumble of a V-twin. I looked up and there was Burly Earl, astride his white (WTF?) H-D. A few minutes later a sport bike. A few more and here comes a BMW Dual Sport. I swear, by moving south by 20 miles, we could extend our riding season by a few months!

Click on the link above (in title) to see a very cool video and potentially the solution to our problem. As I sit here and wonder how others cope with the same problem, I allowed Mr. Google (just Goog, to me) find me some answers. Here are a few of the pictures I found:

Thank goodness there are enough insane people in this world to keep it interesting.

That's all I have for today. I just wanted to share the link and these photos. I'm going to turn my attention to the latest issue of MotorCyclist magazine (www.motorcyclistonline.com) and a nice, hot cup of coffee.

Enjoy your weekend and don't hurt yourself shoveling!

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Best source of music for My G-G-Generation

2008-03-11T20:24:00.003-04:00

If you are of a "certain age" (and you know who you are) then you will appreciate this site I am about to lay on you: http://concerts.wolfgangsvault.com/

Wolfgangs Vault (www.wolfgangsvault.com) is the brainchild of Bill Graham,the pre-eminent concert promoter of the 60's and 70's. From the site:

Wolfgang was Bill Graham, the man whose genius for bringing performer and audience together shaped the rock concert as we have come to know it. Born Wolfgang Grajonca in Berlin in 1931, he escaped Nazi Germany to grow up in a foster home in the Bronx and anglicized his name at the age of 18. Bill Graham, who would come to be known as the midwife of the modern rock concert, was smart and forward-thinking, an opportunist and a listener, fair and ferociously demanding, and he remembered his roots: in the 1980s he opened a small San Francisco club and named it Wolfgang's.

This site allows one to stream live concert audio from some of the best live rock shows of that period.

It's free, just give them your email address and a password and you're in. You can thank me for this later.

Joe Rocket

Let's Go Tripping!

2008-03-08T14:41:00.008-05:00

Road tripping, that is. Man, I can't wait. I can almost taste the smell (?) of exhaust, gasoline and rubber. Today's downpour is eating away at the huge snowbanks and washing off the roadways. I'd settle for another few days of this if it meant I could ride by this weekend.

My little roadtrip to CT and NY this past week put me in the mood. I saw more than a few guys out on their scooters. The temps were in the low 50's and I was heartened by the sunny days and clean roads. The trip was fraught with frustration but had some high points as well.

For one, I was out of the office, which is always a good thing. I like to travel and feel quite claustrophobic when I get stuck in the office on a regular basis. I intend to fix this!

The frustration lies in working on a project, facing hurdle after hurdle, finally to run into a brick wall at the end. I had to do some fast adjustment to the situation (road hazard!) and move on. I was a tad PO'd but I've since moved on. Some of that anger was borne out of fear and disillusionment but I recovered and am moving down the road.

I tossed the the question out last to see who would be the first to get their bike on the road this year and several took this as a challenge. Maybe tomorrow will be the day. I need to check the weather, pull the charger off and put the stock seat back on. Of course, when I tore this all apart late last year, I put bolts all over the place. I sure hope I can find all the parts!

The roads here are a mess, with deep fissures in the pavement, large upheavals of tar, thanks to the frost "heavies" and sand everywhere. If I do get out soon, it will be a short, slow ride.

Here's a shot of me and my buddies, taken last year:

Yeah, we look great in tight leathers!

Okay, so that's not really us and we ride more traditional cruiser-style bikes these days. But that shot gives me hope for a long riding career and many more miles behind me.

It's about time to start planning some of the early rides of the season. Shorter, closer to home and definitely in a southerly direction. I guess we missed Daytona Bike Week again. I'll have to save that for another year. What else is coming up? Is there a big ride happening soon in the Mid-Atlantic states? Hatteras??? Let me know if you hear of anything good and I'll post it here.

It is supposed to hit high 40's to low 50's here by late this week. So, maybe a week from today, I'll be out there, on the road again ("...I just can't wait to get on the road again..."). I guess Willie was right. Nothing better than that unfettered freedom that you find only on the road, away from your worries, cares and problems.

I'm long overdue for some two-wheeled therapy.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

This is what it's all about...Sturgis

2008-03-02T18:11:00.005-05:00

I'm feelin' a bit "unda the weathah", under by about four feet of snow! By now, I had hoped to be telling you about some upcoming rides but the local weatherman is not cooperating. I have a friend working over there at WMUR now and I may need to have him lean on the "weather-boys" a little bit...

But fear not, Spring is on its way. The Vernal Equinox is less than three weeks away. The weather this week is trending warmer with some "In like a lion" rainfall to help wash away the snow. I'm doing some traveling this week so I will be able to check out some of the states just south of us. I'll report back on any bikes spotted. I did hear one sport bike in the Boston area tearing down the highway but I was parked out of sight of the road and couldn't make out what it was. It sounded like an inline four, though.

I have a whole list of stuff to talk about but, it seems too soon. I can't wait for the season to start so I can post some ride reports and photos, interspersed with my trip plans. I can't wait for the start of camping season too, so I can test drive all my new gear. I hope to be able to share those gear reviews with you all.

On the commercial side of things, the Google ads on this site are there as a curiousity. If you see an interesting ad, click on it and go see what they have to offer. Since November, I think I "earned" a grand total of $7 (I'm rich!) but I didn't bother to fill out a tax ID form so I'm not getting that in any event or, until I do so.

I put the hyperlink to the Official Sturgis Rally in the title (just click on the title headline) so you can see what we have in store for us. I think that the official countdown is 154 days (from today) but, we plan to leave in advance of that date so we leave in about 20 weeks or so. I am sure we will do a lot of riding before then.

Last night, I flipped through the Kuryakyn Metric catalog for some billet and chrome goodies. Lots of nice stuff in here and it pays to spend the extra dough if you plan to keep your bike for a while. You can download the 2008 catalog right from their site. Here's the link to their home page: http://www.kuryakyn.com/index.asp. At the very least, I want to add a light bar from them.

The seat has been picked out but I'll hold off on that purchase until I can put it on the bike and properly test it.

On a positive work note, my company has decided that "dress down" is the new standard of work wear, which means I can wear jeans and riding boots to work every day, should I choose to. That will give me a little more flexibility and should allow me to ride the scooter to work most days. It's a PITA to throw outer gear over work clothes and to bring shoes, etc. This will be a nice benefit, come spring.

I guess that's all for today folks. I'm not much in the mood, I have a work assignment hanging over my head, that I've been dabbling at all afternoon, and I can't quite get psyched yet about the start of the season. The locals here know that after snow comes mud season, followed by road repair (for all the potholes and damage from frost heaves). Somewhere around June the DPW will get around to sweeping all of the sand off the roads, that they dumped all winter.

For the guys and gals in my crew, don't forget about T3 on 3/20. We'll have this at a new venue this month so make sure you read the emails on Yahoo or look at Da Flugel's calendar. I'll see you soon.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Southport and "The Habbah"

2008-02-24T08:36:00.011-05:00

I realize this is not going to be a motorcycle post but, with the 6-8" of snow we got Fri./Sat., winter is still here.

Yesterday we returned from a quick visit to Boothbay Harbor, affectionately known to us as "The Habbah" (you have to cover your mouth in your best "Password [game show] impression", when you say it) and Southport Island. For our friends who have visited with us here at "Lillian's" on Southport Island, ME, this is a shot from the parking lot of the Southport Yacht Club, at Cosy Harbor.

We made a quick trip north to visit family and enjoy the solitude of a summer destination in the dead of winter. The trip up on Friday night was white-knuckle, at times, thanks to the on and off driving snow. AWD makes a big difference and I wouldn't trade the Subaru at a time like that!

Saturday dawned sunny and bright from the new-fallen snow. After a quick breakfast, we headed up to Boothbay Harbor. The ride was easy and we got there in about an hour. We poked around BBH and Boothbay aimlessly and docked at The Ebbtide for lunch. After a sturdy serving of hamburger, fries and coffee, we noodled over to Southport to see the changes to Lillian's, at the hands of her new owner.

Not much to see, from the outside, and we didn't want to leave footprint evidence in the snow. The house has been gutted on the inside and all of the interior walls, with the exception of structural supports, have been removed. The Cozy Nook had scaffolding in front, and on the roof, and it appears to be getting a new roof.

We dubbed over to Christmas Cove road and eventually to Cosy Harbor, where this shot was taken. We ended our visit to Southport with a stop at the General store for a chocolate treat to fuel the 3-hour ride home. The roads were clear and dry, making the return trip pleasant.

Will share more news when next I see you,

Joe Rocket

Seasonal warm-up, re-learning good habits

2008-02-17T22:12:00.006-05:00

Kids, ignore the pending snow. Hunker down this weekend and read/brush up on your riding skills.

As we approach the start of a new season (at least for those of us who do not enjoy a 12-month riding season) it makes sense to refresh ourselves on the basics of good riding. There's nothing as harrowing as riding with a bad rider and it is equally comforting to ride with a group whose riding style is known to you.

I'll never forget the profound embarrassment the first time I overtook a group member in the same lane. We were heading to the beach, me the second guy in the left lane. The rider in front of me spotted a state trooper and eased off his throttle. Without the benefit of a brake or hand signal, I missed the fact that he was decelerating and blew right past him in the lane! I'm sure I scared the crap out of him and it was a mistake I would not repeat. Thank goodness we were riding in a staggered formation.

As much as I enjoy seeing a nice tight group of bikes in formation heading down a road, I hate to be crowded. It's funny to see people fight for last position in a group ride. It seems that few want to lead or have the skills for it. There are all types of articles on riding in groups available on the internet. As we approach the start of our (Northeast) riding season, it behooves us all to read this and refresh ourselves on some of the "Rules of the Road." The link above (hyper-link in blog title) will take you to the MSF Quick Tips page about Group Riding.

I have a couple of habits that I think are borne out of experience. Each year we add a few riders to our group and until I've seen you ride, I don't want to be anywhere near you. On back roads, without a breakdown lane, I don't stagger. I want, and own, the whole damn road. Don't creep up on me as I toodle down a pretty country road, enjoying the view. That's why I'm here!

At a rest stop, if we stop for gas, top off your tank. I don't want to stop 50 miles down the road for you to now get gas. Show up for a ride on time, with your gas tank full and your bladder empty. Too much coffee or OJ before a ride is not conducive to putting miles behind you. Make sure you've checked the air pressure in your tires too. Unless you are running with Nitrogen in your tires, there is a constant loss of air pressure.

When I first started riding in groups, I was told "Never run into the guy in front of you!" Good advice. Equally important too, no matter where you are in the formation, is to watch out for the rider behind you. If the lead rider (or other riders) start to pull away from you, speeding up to catch them will only strand the people behind you. Slow down a bit and let the distance increase in front of you. The riders ahead should get the message and reduce their speed, as well.

Plan for tolls, carry an EZ Pass, coins or plan to have one rider pay for all the bikes. You'll all get through the tolls together as opposed to scattering a dozen bikes across two or more lanes, improving the odds of getting punted by a car. Or, if you can't do that, pull over beyond the toll and re-form your group.

Ride with your high beam on in the daylight UNLESS you're in a group. No need to blind the folks in front of you. Have a sweeper rider maintain a position at the rear to catch stragglers. This should be an experienced rider who knows the route and can reach other riders in the event of a breakdown.

Have a plan, use good hand signals (see MSF link) and have fun. That's all for now. I'm sure once we start our season I'll see a few things that will set me off and will report on them here.

For now, don't forget to cancel those turn signals following a turn and start planning for a safe riding season.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Great Rides

2008-02-17T18:44:00.005-05:00

Hello guys and gals, it's your old friend Joe Rocket here with an update of your second favorite motorcycle blog. It's been a week since my last confession, so give me a few "R Faddahs" and Hail Marys and I'm good.

The bike show last weekend was a letdown. If you read my previous post, you know why. I'm not going to dwell on that now. Riding season is almost upon us and you can sense the excitement building. The days are getting longer which equals more sun. More sun = less snow and ice. There are actually bare patches in the driveway! It's been a long cruel winter.

So much preparation to do for the Sturgis ride. I'll discuss them in greater detail once I get the bike out and off to the shop. There are a few add-ons that will need to happen this year to provide for a more comfortable, and safer, ride.

I know recently I asked you to provide comments with your best and most necessary gear. Bear with me as I figure out how to get a comments section live so you can post your contibutions right to this blog. If you want to email me, send to joerocketmc@yahoo.com. Today, I want to discuss great rides.

What makes a great ride? Is it the road, the destination, the riders, the bike? I think it can be all of these things and more. I can think of rides that turned south after one day, thanks to unpredictable weather. In retrospect, I still cherish the memories of those days.

We had a ride last summer to Errol, NH to camp at the Bull Moose Lodge. We had a great night but, on the return trip, the weather headed "South" along with us. It rained so hard, we had to slow considerably. Well, all except K & D, who putted happily along on their Road King. What is the wettest you have ever been? That's how wet we got, some of us without proper rain gear, some of me too dumb to use it.

When I reflect on that day, I'm still happy that we had that experience. We were in a bad situation but not a dangerous one. We all got home a bit soggy and prune-y but, so what. A hot bath and we were good as new. We can laugh about the time we came through "The Notches" in a driving rain and survived it. And I learned from the experience.

I learned to put the rain gear on when everyone else does because your textile suit isn't as waterproof as it USED to be. I learned that my favorite female rider is pretty good on her scooter and does not need me to worry about her like an older brother. She can take care of herself.

We had a similar ride, a couple of summers back, to Quebec. The ride up was great, the start of a 4-day excursion around the higher terrain and coastal areas. We got as far as Quebec City at the end of Day 1, made camp, found a great local restaurant, quaffed a beer or two along with dinner, before heading back to our site. The day dawned for me at 4AM, when I rolled over in my tent and put my arm down in a puddle. The rain was so hard, it had flooded the sodden camp site. (Some say that water ran down the open periscope of my play tent.) Nothing could keep the water out of my tent as "a river ran through it." I huddled on my air mattress for a couple of hours before wandering out into the light and rain.

With bad weather forecast for the next three days, most of us headed home again, in torrential rain. An emergency repair needed to be effected on one of the bikes, an hour into the ride. We found shelter, made the fix and rode eventually into dry weather. That is STILL one of my favorite trips!

Other great rides include multiple trips to Nova Scotia. Either in a group or solo, both had their high points. On the first trip, it was a new experience and I enjoyed the camraderie of my mates and enjoyed many new vistas. On my second trip, I did it solo and reveled in the accomplishment, the perfect highways, the speed and the long hours I was able to put in, to keep my taut schedule.

Great rides happen when you make them. For me, a great ride entails riding new roads, visiting new places, sharing these events with good friends. Good company, in concert with good food and drink help, as does a longer than normal ride. Running to the store to get bread is not a great ride! An overnight adds to the enjoyment as this is when you can relax and spend quality time with people with whom you have something in common.

If you click on the blog title above, it will take you to a site for NH Great Rides. Check it out and give some of these a spin. If you don't live in the New England area, there are other links on that site for your state. Instead of riding in circles, try a new destination, outside your local area and you'll understand what I mean. I know we can't take off EVERY weekend to do this kind of riding but, if you sprinkle enough of these types of overnights (and longer trips) into your plan for the coming year, you'll be able to look back at the previous riding season and smile all the way through the cold or rainy winter months. Ride it while you can!

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket