This morning started fantastic! The rain is gone for today, which is a blessing because I have to get new tires for my softail. The air is fresh and crisp and cool. It's still a short sleeved ridin' day and will head to the 80s this afternoon. Traffic is still light compared to the horrendous back ups that highway 27 normally is.
My local shop opens at 11:00 a.m. which is really worse than bankers hours, but I reckon it works for them. Evil and Bart, two of Sebring's finest mechanics. Getting tires is kind of like pulling teeth. It feels good after it is over, but during the process, it's torturous. Since I'm on the bike, I must rely on a ride to go anywhere while my tires are being changed. One of the nice ladies at Starbucks offered to pick me up, and ride me back to Starbucks to wait it out, which is very nice of her. There's a local watering hole right next door which I normally wait at, but today I'm not doing it. Nope. I'm staying straight, might want to go for a nice long ride afterwards.
I've been walking daily for lunch at work, usually around 1.9 miles in 30 minutes. Sometimes when you are without a ride, like I will be as my bike is being worked on, you feel kind of stuck for transportation. Sometimes we forget that as long as we have two working legs, we are never without transportation. I measured out the distance from the bike shop to Starbucks, and it is around 2 miles, pretty close to what I do for lunch daily. Have backpack, have MacBook Pro, can travel. I'm actually looking forward to it. There's an Olive Garden, a Ruby Tuesdays, and a host of other options to kill some time. There's just no limit to my options! The only down side to walking along the busy highway are the crazy drivers all in a big hurry to go nowhere. There are no bike paths, no sidewalks really to speak of, you are pretty naked out there. Most of the people in the hustle bustle race to get where they are going will think you are homeless. Why else would you be walking? Most normal people jump in their SUVs just to go across the street, right?
Well, I am doing my part to conserve and have fun at the same time. Ride motorcycles, ride bicycles and walk. That's right, walk. It's good for you and you might even get a chance to see more of the world around you that you never noticed before. After breaking my leg last year, walking is something many of us take for granted until we lose that ability. Never forget those who sacrificed and will never walk again. Many are in wheelchairs and have prothesis to help them. Also remember that they are the lucky ones who made it home. Walk in their honor. As you walk down the road, give thanks for your freedoms and your health. They can be taken away in an instant. Life is precious.
Just as Nancy sings, "These boots are made for walkin'..."
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Shiny Side Up
Got back last night after a long round about trip to Daytona and elsewhere. I left early with just my phone, backpack, gloves and leather jacket. The thing about Central Florida is that it can be very cool in the early morning and then get drastically much hotter by 10 in the morning. It's good policy to always wear leather and a helmet in case of a spill. If you've never been down, I'm happy for you. Odds are, that the more and longer you ride, you may go down. It's a calculated risk bikers take.
I started out riding to my regular coffee joint. Starbucks! There is actually a mom and pop coffee shop that I have been recommended to try. It's hard to beat the price and service I get at the world wide chain which claims to benefit the environment by going "green." Had to check in with the regular dudes and dudettes who frequent the place. Immediately upon entry, Rachel asked, "I thought you were headed to Daytona?" which sounded to me more like, "Why the hell aren't you headed to Daytona?" I'm on my way. Can I have a coffee first before I fight with droves of tourists and northerners down for the weather and who seem as though they will never leave? Anyway, I'm friends with many of them. There are not too many Florida natives left.
What a beautiful ride, that is until I hit Interstate 4. It's Saturday morning, perfect weather for getting out and gathering the family for a ride in the minivan to Disney World, Universal Studios, and many of the unlimited attractions available for those who scrimped and saved so their kids could see Mickey, Minnie and Donald. I almost feel just like them. Heading to what started as a motorcycle race on the beach, which has now become a yearly gathering of hundreds of thousands of motorcycling folks of every nationality, color, creed, sexual orientation, financial status, political affiliation, and any other category you could label them. Basically they, we, are all bikers. It's a unifying brother and sisterhood that only those who ride can understand. Hence the saying, "You'd have to be a biker to understand." True dat.
70 to 75 miles per hour is normal for I-4, even though the speed limit on parts of it is 55. I hang with other bikers as to create a kind of block for idiot cage drivers who weave in and out tailgating everyone. This is when we pray. Dear Lord please let me arrive safely and without any major incidents. Also, I promise to do right and live a better life, just let me please get there. That was definitely the worst of the ride there.
Bikes were everywhere. I can honestly say, that I have never before seen that many bikes in my life. I've been to other rallies, but this is the grand daddy of them all. Having not been to Sturgis, I can't say which is the biggest, although Daytona advertises itself to be the largest. Who cares. With that many bikes, I'm praying that all of us make it through it safely. On the way home I saw an ambulance headed that way lights flashing. Of course the entire county is taken over by bikes. It's a good thing and I'm headed back in a few days.
I love the custom bikes and saw just about every conceivable creation imaginable. The new Indians were impressive and have me wanting one. My dad rode Indians back in the day and has countless stories of racing with Harleys and of course blowing them away due his mechanical prowess. Bored out pistons from Canada and improvements to the transmission are some of his modifications. I should write them down before it is all lost. Stroker Bud. They raced on the beach. He owned a Daytona racer and we talked about wishing he still owned it. It would be a museum piece.
After walking up and down checking out the venders, I came to a T-shirt vender which had some really cool looking shirts and very graphic biker type of sayings. I didn't spend much, 25 dollars on cut-off vest that boldly proclaims, "Ride It Like You Stole It" with a seductive young lady laying on the seat. Hell yes! I'm wearing it now! The only other things I purchased were a a couple pairs of clear and shaded riding glasses--cheap. For lunch I ordered Italian sausage with peppers and onions on what I would call a loaf of bread, and a bottle of water. Nine dollars. Steep, but the meal was huge. Bikers do everything big!
I had to ride down to Main St. which is the very heart of Daytona bike week. Thousands of motorcycles lined the streets on both sides with absolutely no parking. Not one spot when I rode through. I wanted to ride through anyway to see the people there. It was packed like sardines at a rock concert except there was the constant roar of big twins cranking and revving engines. It was awesome. I've been in the famous Boot Hill Saloon with a biker bro having beers a while ago, but not during bike week. I was there in the summer and it was still pretty lively. Nothing like yesterday though. It was an experience and I definitely want to go back to do it again.
It turned hot with the sun shining down on the event, and the cool breeze from riding kept me on the bike. I rode back over the bridge to US 1 and headed south, just cruising along and riding side by side with hundreds of bikes just cruising. What a camaraderie. I made the mistake of heading into Orlando on the way back just to see my old stomping grounds and the campground where I lived while going to school there. The traffic was nightmarish and there was very few bikes. I saw maybe three in Orange County. Not bike friendly.
Well, Mimi, my softail, got me back in one piece. She performed flawlessly and I got back last night without incident. That was really fun. What an experience. I'm so thankful for the freedom to do what I enjoy. I'm so thankful.
Ride safe brothers and sisters, shiny side up.
I started out riding to my regular coffee joint. Starbucks! There is actually a mom and pop coffee shop that I have been recommended to try. It's hard to beat the price and service I get at the world wide chain which claims to benefit the environment by going "green." Had to check in with the regular dudes and dudettes who frequent the place. Immediately upon entry, Rachel asked, "I thought you were headed to Daytona?" which sounded to me more like, "Why the hell aren't you headed to Daytona?" I'm on my way. Can I have a coffee first before I fight with droves of tourists and northerners down for the weather and who seem as though they will never leave? Anyway, I'm friends with many of them. There are not too many Florida natives left.
What a beautiful ride, that is until I hit Interstate 4. It's Saturday morning, perfect weather for getting out and gathering the family for a ride in the minivan to Disney World, Universal Studios, and many of the unlimited attractions available for those who scrimped and saved so their kids could see Mickey, Minnie and Donald. I almost feel just like them. Heading to what started as a motorcycle race on the beach, which has now become a yearly gathering of hundreds of thousands of motorcycling folks of every nationality, color, creed, sexual orientation, financial status, political affiliation, and any other category you could label them. Basically they, we, are all bikers. It's a unifying brother and sisterhood that only those who ride can understand. Hence the saying, "You'd have to be a biker to understand." True dat.
70 to 75 miles per hour is normal for I-4, even though the speed limit on parts of it is 55. I hang with other bikers as to create a kind of block for idiot cage drivers who weave in and out tailgating everyone. This is when we pray. Dear Lord please let me arrive safely and without any major incidents. Also, I promise to do right and live a better life, just let me please get there. That was definitely the worst of the ride there.
Bikes were everywhere. I can honestly say, that I have never before seen that many bikes in my life. I've been to other rallies, but this is the grand daddy of them all. Having not been to Sturgis, I can't say which is the biggest, although Daytona advertises itself to be the largest. Who cares. With that many bikes, I'm praying that all of us make it through it safely. On the way home I saw an ambulance headed that way lights flashing. Of course the entire county is taken over by bikes. It's a good thing and I'm headed back in a few days.
I love the custom bikes and saw just about every conceivable creation imaginable. The new Indians were impressive and have me wanting one. My dad rode Indians back in the day and has countless stories of racing with Harleys and of course blowing them away due his mechanical prowess. Bored out pistons from Canada and improvements to the transmission are some of his modifications. I should write them down before it is all lost. Stroker Bud. They raced on the beach. He owned a Daytona racer and we talked about wishing he still owned it. It would be a museum piece.
After walking up and down checking out the venders, I came to a T-shirt vender which had some really cool looking shirts and very graphic biker type of sayings. I didn't spend much, 25 dollars on cut-off vest that boldly proclaims, "Ride It Like You Stole It" with a seductive young lady laying on the seat. Hell yes! I'm wearing it now! The only other things I purchased were a a couple pairs of clear and shaded riding glasses--cheap. For lunch I ordered Italian sausage with peppers and onions on what I would call a loaf of bread, and a bottle of water. Nine dollars. Steep, but the meal was huge. Bikers do everything big!
I had to ride down to Main St. which is the very heart of Daytona bike week. Thousands of motorcycles lined the streets on both sides with absolutely no parking. Not one spot when I rode through. I wanted to ride through anyway to see the people there. It was packed like sardines at a rock concert except there was the constant roar of big twins cranking and revving engines. It was awesome. I've been in the famous Boot Hill Saloon with a biker bro having beers a while ago, but not during bike week. I was there in the summer and it was still pretty lively. Nothing like yesterday though. It was an experience and I definitely want to go back to do it again.
It turned hot with the sun shining down on the event, and the cool breeze from riding kept me on the bike. I rode back over the bridge to US 1 and headed south, just cruising along and riding side by side with hundreds of bikes just cruising. What a camaraderie. I made the mistake of heading into Orlando on the way back just to see my old stomping grounds and the campground where I lived while going to school there. The traffic was nightmarish and there was very few bikes. I saw maybe three in Orange County. Not bike friendly.
Well, Mimi, my softail, got me back in one piece. She performed flawlessly and I got back last night without incident. That was really fun. What an experience. I'm so thankful for the freedom to do what I enjoy. I'm so thankful.
Ride safe brothers and sisters, shiny side up.
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