Fog City

It was supposed to be a beautiful day on Saturday, and I knew it would be, if only I could make it through the fog and up to Skyline where I was meeting Alix to see her "new" 2005 Ninja 250, which had been lovingly souped-up for racing by its previous owner.

The fog was so thick in San Francisco that pedestrians I passed on Sunset Blvd. were huddled under umbrellas as they waited for the bus. Water was dripping off my helmet, which I wore visor up so I could see out. I did not feel safe at freeway speeds on the slick roads and without a visor, so I slowly made my way down Mission Street through Daly City, which becomes El Camino. Eventually (in Millbrae) the sun burned through the fog and started to dry out my leather jacket. The ride through the Redwoods was great once I turned off 35, which was already backing up with traffic heading for the pumpkin patches in Halfmoon Bay

Visiting Alice's Restaurant, the biker hangout on Skyline Boulevard, was quite an experience with Alix because she likes to stir things up. Never mind that the regulars who frequent the parking lot across from Alice's were decked out in full leather regalia and had elaborately decorated Harleys with 5X the horsepower. She would say, "How do you like my bike?" and you could see them momentarily at a loss for words before quickly warming to her obvious enthusiasm for her new sport.

Goodbye Dali

It was time for my 4,000 mile motorcycle service, so I used the occasion to have my brake lever replaced. After gently dropping the bike twice (during what has literally been the bike's break-in period), the lever had become so curved it was difficult to reach. Don, a glass-half-full kind of guy, described it as something out of Dali. My new brake lever is less artistic, but more functional, and I took two city rides yesterday to celebrate the easy riding -- one of the rides was around Lake Merced where Ty will be competing today in his third cross-country meet.

Noticing all the barriers blocking streets in our neighborhood, I realized that the Nike Women's Marathon/Half Marathon would be passing nearby so I walked out early on Sunday morning hoping to see Amber in her first race since Cole and Wilson were born in mid July(?!?). There she was among the elite runners (about 8 miles into the race at 8 AM), looking fit and joyful as she chugged up the hill through Seacliff on her way to Ocean Beach.

Alice's Restaurant

The "Safety First" Biker Gang (Don and I) rode to lunch at the famous biker hangout in the Redwoods made famous by the Arlo Guthrie song from the 60s "You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant..."

After a very blustery Saturday night, the weather was crisp and clear on Sunday morning as we set out on our adventure. The journey took us along the beach, through Daly City and Pacifica, along the reservoir and golf course in Hillsborough (my usual work route), but then into the redwoods after a brief stint on 92 toward Halfmoon Bay. This popular biker route was remarkably clear during our ride -- possibly because there was a 49er football game that afternoon -- so the only real challenge was avoiding tree branches that had fallen during the windy night.

We pulled into the biker lot at noon and walked across to the restaurant in our biker "armor." It's nice to go to a restaurant where almost everyone is wearing variations on the same fashion theme and sharing the picnic benches with their helmets. This is actually a family friendly biker joint that doesn't take itself too seriously -- menu items include things like Redneck Benedict and hamburgers named after different bike manufacturers. Don was disappointed that they didn't have an Aprilia burger. I later heard from Henry that Harleys park in front of the restaurant and "other" bikes park across the street. We were in compliance, but only because the Harley side was on an incline that didn't look suitable for parking.

This was our longest trip so far -- 80 miles round trip for me, which is exactly my work commute. I got back to SF in time to catch a few acts at the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass event -- a huge concert in Golden Gate Park that is put on for free every year by banjo loving billionaire Warren Hellman. I also got to hear a few sets on Saturday because Ty's soccer game was in the polo field near one of the concert stages.

Completely Okay

Last week I logged over 350 miles on my motorcycle -- riding to work 4 days out of 5, which is a new record. You would think that practice would make me more perfect, but while meandering through a new neighborhood this morning (the Upper Haight), I dropped the bike -- while traveling zero miles an hour -- at the corner of Java and Masonic. There was a blind corner to my left and a downhill stretch to my right. As I was cautiously easing out for a right turn, a car came around the blind corner. I put on the brakes to let it go by and realized too late that the bike was leaning over too far to the right.

There did not appear to be any damage to the bike, but I was struggling to get it upright on the slight incline when a mother of two young boys (watching from across the street) asked if I could use some help. Without a moment's hesitation, I said "Yes!" After making sure that the younger boy didn't follow her into the street, she walked over and helped me hoist it up and asked if I was okay. I said I was "completely OK," just inexperienced as a rider. I felt glad for the boys that they had a Mom who so readily helped strangers and only slightly embarrassed as I rode off into the fog and overheard the older boy asking his Mom, "Was she completely OK?"

Cheeky Birds and Falling Bikes

The wind was still whistling through the trees on Sunday morning, but I braved the Golden Gate Bridge and 7 miles of 101 North for our second "bikers brunch." Our destination was Guaymas, on the waterfront in Tiburon. (Also popular with cheeky birds that swooped in for tortilla chips at the tables nearest the water.)



The ride out -- with Don riding along as "wingman" -- was pleasantly uneventful. Riding back, I slowed down when I saw brake lights up ahead and started scanning the road to see what was causing the delay. Suddenly I saw two tangled racing bikes in the fast lane and two frantic guys crossing four lanes of traffic to retrieve them. The bikes had apparently fallen out the back of a truck that was parked on the side of the road. More evidence that it's not possible to worry about the actual thing that you might need to deal with on the road -- in this case, dodging a flying 10-speed (or are they 20-speeds now?)

Wicked Wind

It's been a foggy summer in SF, but last week there were three days when it was clear enough to ride my motorcycle to work.

I have to make the decision at 6 am, when it's still dark outside, so the question is whether I can see the moon overhead. If yes, it's clear enough to ride. The only problem with this decision tree is that it doesn't take into account the wind, which was keeping the sky clear of clouds, I guess, but making it challenging to steer. Especially at high speeds on the freeway. At one point, the front tire did a weird shimmy and I decided to take surface streets the rest of the way to work so I could face the wind at slower speeds.

Making a virtue of necessity, I took El Camino Real the rest of the way to Palo Alto. (El Camino Real is the famous 600-mile road that connects 21 misssions in California and runs all the way from SF to Palo Alto -- with stop lights every few blocks and speed limit of 35 mph when traffic allows.) On the return trip, I took El Camino from Black Mountain Road, where my usual route feeds onto the freeway, to San Franciso and discovered that El Camino becomes Mission Boulevard. It added 30 minutes to my commute, but I survived to consult my motorcycle book about riding in the wind.

I was relieved to find that the shimmy was not a problem with my motorcycle. As the author described it: "When riding through crosswinds, you may get some strange feedback from the front wheel..." The proper response, he says, is to "concentrate on countersteering to make the motorcycle go in whatever direction you wish, and let the tires swerve around under you."

Yikes.

After dinner on the evening of the windy ride, we watched a documentary about the making of four Broadway musicals (Wicked, Caroline or Change, Taboo, and Avenue Q). The star of Caroline or Change shared a favorite quote: "Things always works out in the end, so if things aren't working out, it's not the end." Maybe I should think about that when I'm riding through wind.

The Bottom Line

After 3 months and 1600 miles in the saddle, I invested in some real motorcycle pants – something friends had been urging me to do by sharing stories of accidents where the right material in the right place saved serious injury. (In one story, a rider is saved from abrasion by his thick wallet – which wore away, along with the pocket of his jeans, except for the leather side nearest his bottom.)

My new pants (Alpinestar Street Cargo) aren’t leather, but they are made of a space-age material that claims to offer better protection than jeans. More importantly, they have an ingenious design that replaces the saggy seat characteristic of motorcycle pants with a stretch waistband in back covered by stylish panel of material that blends in with the rest of the pants. This means you can bend over while riding without showing your backside. They look like cargo pants but have heavy duty armor in the knee/shin area, which is removable for washing.

Catch a Wave

Being a conscientious new rider, I was aware that my bike was due for a chain lube. I understand that this is something one can do on one's own, but I was apprehensive about doing it wrong or buying the wrong goop, so I asked Henry to assist. (Deborah quipped that I had gone from novice to Navas.)

I collected some important new information in the course of the visit. Henry lives on a hill and he told me to turn the front tire uphill when parking on an incline. Apparently the bike can roll off the kickstand if it is pointed downhill... So much to learn.

I have ridden to work a few times since the time I dropped the bike in the parking lot. One time I stayed on the freeway all the way and it was faster and easier than my usual scenic route. I still encounter plenty of challenges -- just this morning the bike skidded as I went around a corner near home because of wet ground from morning fog -- but I must be getting more confident because I am starting to notice "the wave" you get from fellow motorcyclists -- and even take my left hand off the handle (briefly) to wave back. Wondering about the significance of different waves, I found some funny YouTube videos on the subject. Apparently there is no wrong way to wave, but some techniques seem more sophisticated than others...

Stop, Drop, and Roll

Yesterday's biking challenge was getting my 250 pound vehicle upright after dropping it in the parking lot at work.

The ride to work had been uneventful and I was backing into a parking spot; bike in neutral, engine still running. I'm not sure what happened to upset the bike's equilibrium, but it started to fall over to the right and all I could do was try to ease it down so it would crash from a lower height.

The bike was still running from its prone position, so I turned it off, got it upright, and began to assess the damage (relieved that no one was in the parking lot at 7AM to witness my mishap). I noticed that the mirror was loose, the brake lever was curved in a new shape, and there was fluid of some kind on the ground. I didn't see a leak, so I hoped the fluid had escaped in some natural way from the bike being sideways for a few seconds with the motor running. I took it for a test drive around the parking lot to see if the brake still worked. All good except the mirror, which couldn't be tightened by hand...

I consulted with Henry by email and decided it was safe to ride as far as the Honda place where I bought the bike two months ago. A friendly mechanic named Murray tightened the mirror and said the brake lever would work OK if I didn't mind the new shape.

Another learning experience: When I set off to get my bike repaired, I forgot to switch the fuel lever from OFF to RUN and learned that the bike will run for a few blocks before the engine dies. Fortunately I was able to turn into a parking lot when I felt the bike start to lose power and I figured out the problem fairly quickly -- after worrying for a few seconds that the loss of power resulted from damage in the fall...

All went smoothly during the ride home, but I decided to drive to work today to allow time for all the lessons to sink in.

Blow, winds

Yesterday's riding challenge was Highway 101 on the way to work and 20mph winds on the way home.

Seeking to avoid fog on the coast, I joined the early morning rush hour stream down Oak in SF and merged with freeway traffic at Octavia. The speed limit is a sensible 45 or 50 through South San Francisco, so my main challenge was keeping an eye on merging traffic and not freaking out as cars whizzed past me on both sides. At 380, I cut over to my familiar route on the reservoir roads that run along 280.

Riding home I was enjoying the warm temperature when I began to feel a strong headwind and occasional gusts from the west. I began to wonder how this would feel on the freeway when I would be traveling at higher speeds ... Then I noticed fog along the coast and decided to stay on 280 instead of taking the foggy Pacifica loop. Between the wind and the rush hour traffic returning to SF, it was another educational ride and I spent some time reading about "dang wind" in my riding book...

Fog Fest

Rode to work again today. The fog was so thick from SF to Pacifica that I had to stop several times to wipe the condensation from my glasses. Eventually, I took my glasses off and rode with the face shield up because it was the only way I could see where I was going.

This time the freeway was the easy part of my commute because it was the only stretch where the fog lifted and the sun shone through.

Mission Motorcycles

Six weeks after buying the motorcycle (slightly used with 134 miles on it), it was time for the 600 mile "break-in service." I debated whether to take it back to the wonderful dealership where I got the bike (Mountain View), but the location was inconvenient -- near work but not near enough to get to and from work while the bike was being serviced. Golden Gate Cycles was the most convenient location -- and I felt like I owed them some business after researching different types of Dual Sport models in their showroom -- but Yelp (online) reviews were terrible. Story after story of inflated prices and impersonal service. The last place I considered had everything going for it -- reasonably close to home, positive word of mouth, adoring online reviews -- but I had scouted the location by car and was worried about navigating the hills and busy intersection surrounding the shop. Buoyed up by my ride to work, I decided I could handle this new challenge, so I made an appointment at Mission Motorcycles for Saturday morning (yesterday).

Rain was predicted, but didn't fall beyond the mist level during my ride along the beach to Daly City at 9AM. I pulled up to the Service Entrance as the mechanics were rolling several bikes out of the shop and into a line on the street, facing outward. (I later figured out their system, I think. Bikes facing out are waiting to be service. Bikes facing in are done.) A friendly mechanic greeted me by name and indicated by gesture that I should add my bike to the line. I haven't had much practice backing in, so he helped by pushing the front of the bike back for the last few (slightly uphill feet) to the curb.

I left most of my gear at the shop -- they have a rack where you can leave your helmet, gloves, etc. -- but left my kneepads and shin guards on during the walk to the bus stop. This turned out to be a good thing because I slipped on a metal manhole cover during my walk. One more example that you can't plan for every dangerous situation... but my armour protected me from a skinned knee.

I have no way of judging the skill of the mechanics at Mission Motorcycles -- the bike was running great before and after the service -- but the customer service was great. No up-sell during the checkout. Just some friendly advice that I should turn the fuel line OFF between rides -- something they advised during my motorcycle class but that JT said was unnecessary. I should have asked how they knew that I wasn't doing that, but the fact that they correctly surmised it made me think that it somehow was affecting the mechanics. Need to ask my more experienced rider friends about that... The final nice touch is that they turned my bike outwards while I was paying for the service so I could gracefully ride away without muscling it into position (there is no "reverse" on a motorcycle).

The Mosquito Has Landed

Rain is predicted for the weekend, so I decided to take advantage of the last sunny day of the week to ride the motorcycle (aka "Mosquito") to work.

It was exhilarating to cruise down Highway 1 past Ocean Beach and onto Highway 35 South knowing I wouldn’t be heading back until the end of the day. Not many cars on the road at 6 AM, when I set out, so I didn’t feel like I was slowing anyone down as I barely maintained the speed limit (which varied from 35 to 55) on 35. Sooner than I expected, and without much warning, 35 fed onto 280 and I was sailing along in the slow lane between 60 and 65. I tried to remember Don’s guidance about maintaining a loose grip on the handlebars to avoid the “sail” effect as I floated down the freeway stream. I was happy to take the Black Mountain Road exit and return to scenic 35 as it wound around the reservoir. At 92 I took a left onto Canada Road with the feeling I was on the home stretch.

The most challenging stretch came after Whiskey Hill Road (the transition from Woodside, where Canada Road ends, to Sand Hill Road) when I had to face commute traffic and blinding 7AM sun. I am actually looking forward to the return trip when temperatures should be 10 or 20 degrees warmer.

First Road Trip

Today was the biggest challenge yet -- a trip across Golden Gate Bridge to the Marin Headlands, a hilly area just across the bridge that is popular with hikers, cyclers, hawks, and other bikers.

I would not have braved the bridge (yet) without Don, a more experienced biker who has a wonderful blend of caution, confidence, and zest for adventure. He also has a spectacular and rare bike (the Aprilia Shiver) that dazzles everyone we encounter, including the two Harley riders we met at the first scenic lookout point.

The round trip was only 21 miles (for me), but it felt like traveling to another world. There were many spectacular views of the city, but the most dramatic scene/moment was heading down Hawk Hill, a steep one-way road that led down to Fort Barry and Point Bonita Lighthouse. Along the way, Don was flagged down by a cyclist who had a flat tire and needed to convey a message to his friend at the bottom of the hill who had a bike pump. I'm not sure how they could spot the Good Samaritan behind the full-face helmet, but he obliged.

There were so many new experiences during this ride: merging with freeway traffic, going through a toll booth (not easy to fish for money with gloved hands and armored jacket), waiting our turn at a one-lane tunnel that changes directions every 5 minutes, but the best part was being part of a "gang" -- knowing that someone else is experiencing the same sights, smells, crosswinds, views, and dealing in their own way with the same gravel, potholes, speed bumps, stalled buses, and oblivious golf carts that suddenly pull into the road.

We celebrated with lunch at Angelina's, which I now consider my "biker hangout," and started plotting the next ride.

Leader of the pack

First bridge crossing!

Scenic Route

Today's motorcycle challenge was a ride down Market Street, from the vicinity of Union Square to the Ferry Building. I have walked this route and remembered many historic and picturesque sights (like Lotta's Fountain, where survivors and civic-minded others gather every year on April 19th to remember the 1906 Earthquake). Today I discovered that it's not a great driving route -- even at 6AM. One lane is reserved for buses. The other lane was required to turn right at 1st Street, so I never made it to the Ferry Building. Oh well, another notch on my motorcycle belt. I returned home via Mission Street, then right on 9th past the Civic Center.

My mid-week (pre-work) rides are much shorter, but this week I traveled through the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood one morning and another day discovered a great route: down 25th Avenue, right on Camino del Mar and into the Presidio where the road gently curves along the hillside with views of the Golden Gate Bridge. Veer right on Kobbe, left on Park and wind downhill to Crissy Field, past the pet cemetery and right on "Old Mason." It's hard to describe the exact route back because there are one way streets and parking lots and dead-ends as you wind your way past old canons, through the barracks and past the Officer's Club, but eventually you find your way to Moraga, then follow signs to the Arguello Gate. This leads up a gently curving road back to familiar territory of the Richmond.

Sunday Driver

Today's riding challenge was the freeway. My modest goal was to drive down 19th Avenue (a busy street) and to stay on it as it becomes 280. One advantage to this route is that there is no merging with freeway traffic. Just a gradually increasing speed limit 30 - 35 - 45 - 65 and the realization that I just passed the last opportunity to turn right onto a surface street.

I never achieved 65 mph, but I did make it to a respectable 60. The wind was not whistling through my hair -- what with the helmet -- but I could tell I was moving fast from the way my helmet strap slapped against my jacket. (The strap was fastened, but the end wasn't snapped. Not an issue at my usual speeds...)

I got off at the Pacifica (Hwy 1) exit, which involved some lane changes, and doubled back on 35 North to the Great Highway, my familiar beach route. It was all very exhilarating. My total mileage for the morning was 31 -- a new single ride record and duration of ride was 90 minutes, another single ride record.

I was disappointed that this motorcycle didn't have a fun name like Rebel or Bandit or Eliminator, so I have dubbed it "The Mosquito." This is not meant to imply anything negative. It just looks like a mosquito to me and maybe I am hoping that when people hear the buzzing they will get out of the way!

Neighborhood Tally: Another riding goal is to ride through every SF neighborhood. On Saturday morning I rode along the waterfront from Pier 39 to Pier 14 then circled back past Telegraph Hill, North Beach, Chinatown, Pacific Heights to home.

In the Dark

I changed my routine today. Instead of riding the motorcycle after work, when I'm travel weary from my commute, I decided to ride before work. It was 5:30 AM and I decided to venture out to The Marina via Park Presidio/Highway 1. This involved passing through a tunnel (a first), down a grooved road at 45 mph (another first), through "Cow Hollow," and up over a steep hill to get back to familiar territory. Before any of that, I had to get the bike started.

Normally it starts right up, so I was surprised when I pulled out the choke, pushed in the starter, and it tried and failed to catch. I went inside to consult the owner's guide and it suddenly dawned on me that I had forgotten to set the engine cut-off switch to run. (In my motorcycle class, the teacher had us use the engine cut-off switch to turn off the bike. I understand from talking to JT and Don that this is not standard practice, but I am still figuring out my standard practice.)

I tried again, but this time the engine didn't even turn over. I mentally reviewed the startup sequence: bike in neutral (or clutch in), cut-off switch in run position, ignition on, push starter button... then it dawned on me that the kickstand was down. (As a safety precaution the kickstand has to be up when the motor is running.)

After all the drama of starting the bike, the ride was uneventful and I was relaxed enough to notice the sound of birds singing as I came up and over the steep hill on Divisidero.

Counter Intuitive

South of San Francisco State University, west of 19th Avenue, and east of Lake Merced and Harding Park Golf Club is an apartment complex called Park Merced. I discovered this neighborhood after cruising down 19th Avenue on my motorcycle and deciding I better get off before it turned into 280. (I was going to describe Park Merced as a sleepy little neighborhood, but all neighborhoods are sleepy at 6:30 AM, my preferred practice time.)

Park Merced would be an unremarkable neighborhood except that it was on the curving streets behind this apartment complex that I finally got the idea of countersteering. This is a case where it's easier done than said.

My strategy for building proficiency is to tackle a different neighborhood on each ride. So far, I have passed through: the Richmond, the Sunset, Seacliff, Golden Gate Park, Laurel Village, Presidio, Upper Haight, down California Street to the Financial District, and Highway 1 to Daly City. I have stalled the bike and had to restart on a steep hill in the Sunset, driven over a curb entering a gas station near home, started in 2nd gear a few times, tried to start in neutral a few times, but so far so good staying upright.

Fast food and slow rides

Mom was visiting from Boise this weekend and we celebrated her birthday with scenic walks and many foods off her usual healthy regimen -- chile relleno at Tia Margarita on Friday, Jack in the Box tacos for Saturday lunch, clam pizza (Ty's idea) on Saturday night, and corned beef and cabbage on Sunday.

Still enjoying the new bike. I took a few longer rides this weekend (through Golden Gate Park out to the beach and back) and practiced figure 8s in the city's most scenic parking lot outside the Legion of Honor. I also practiced filling the gas tank. It took one gallon, counting the drops that spilled on the gas tank while I was mastering the technique.

Thanks to Mom, I am highly visible and well armored. Here she is modeling the new jacket.

Jumpy

I've been riding the new bike after work to get in some extra practice time. This is not the ideal time to practice because of busy roads and impatient drivers on their way home from work. I almost decided against evening practice when I had trouble with jerky transitions between gears on Monday. Imagine my happiness when a co-worker explained that dirt bikes (and hybrids like mine) are supposed to be a bit "jumpy." This was confirmed by a review I found online. To quote the experts (in an otherwise favorable review): "Backing off the throttle is nearly impossible to do smoothly and picking up the gas is only slightly easier to control." Far from giving me buyer's remorse, this review gave me new rider's relief.

Knowing I wasn't doing something wrong completely transformed my enjoyment of the ride. I had a blast on Wednesday and ventured onto Geary for the first time. No mishaps -- except for sliding downhill for a few feet when I tried to start from a stop sign in neutral...

First Ride and More Small Bursts

My new motorcycle arrived at 10:30 am yesterday -- driven up from Sunnyvale by JT, the biker friend of Henry's. He talked me through some bike basics -- making it all seem a lot simpler than the explanation in the owner manual and the safety class. Like the masked man in Lone Ranger episodes, he probably would have been happy to ride off into the sunset (sunrise) with nothing more than my thanks, but he needed a way to get back to Sunnyvale, so I bought him a cup of Angelina's coffee and a raisan cookie (his modest selection from the array of goodies) and collected more cycling lore while I drove him home.

Rain was threatening by the time I got back to SF, but I was eager/nervous about my first ride and decided to head out into the mist. As usual, the things I had worried about were not the things I needed to worry about. The bike was not all that difficult to balance and maneuver. I did have trouble accelerating and braking smoothly. I can see that this will get easier with practice and I have a perfect practice area within a few blocks of home. For my first ride, I wound through the ritzy Sea Cliff neighborhood overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge and up to the Legion of Honor. Today I'm hoping to take a ride through the Presidio, another beautiful and low traffic area near home.

On the subject of small bursts, Ty and I went to a San Jose Earthquakes soccer game last night with Rain and Sally. We almost backed out when we discovered that it was an open stadium under threatening clouds, but Ty urged us to go for it. Rain convinced the guy at the ticket booth to upgrade our $20 tickets to $40 tickets at midfield. Between that and finding street parking, we saved $100. That small burst made up for getting soaked by the rain that fell off and on throughout the game. The Earthquakes lost to the New England Revolutionaries (1-0), but I had forgotten the fun of being at a live sports event. We all enjoyed stomping our feet during corner kicks to create an earthquake effect in the stands.

Small Bursts and Perfect Strangers

In Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout, the title character distinguishes between Big Bursts (like weddings, births, etc.) and Small Bursts (everyday events that are sustaining in different ways). I will have to go back to the book to see exactly what she says about them, but it got me thinking about the bursts in my life. Here is one I shared with book club:

After eating an austere lunch of cottage cheese and carrots I decided to treat myself to a bag of Fritos from the vending machine at work. Unfortunately, my bag snagged on the mechanism, trembling there out of reach. I gave the machine a few tentative shoves to no avail. I was about to convince myself that it was all for the best (healthwise) when a stranger saw my dilemma and gleefully rocked the machine until the bag dropped free. Hell’s bells, as Olive would say. This episode improved my outlook for the whole afternoon.

Olive did not mention medium bursts, but I will have to start a category like that for having my new/used motorcycle discovered, test-driven, and delivered to me this Saturday by JT, the perfect stranger.

The Deed is Done

Here's how it came down... Once I decided on the type of bike I liked, Henry put me in touch with a friend (JT) who knows bikes. JT found a barely used Honda CRF 230 (dual sport) at a trusted dealership in Sunnyvale. A deal was struck. The dealership being far from home, JT is driving it to SF this Saturday -- taking a route that could someday be my commute: Page Mill to 35 to Highway 1.

Note the sleek European styling and blazing red color. Watch out world.



Nice review on MotorcycleUSA.com

Testing, Testing

Last Thursday I took myself down to the DMV and got my M1 (motorcycle) license. Because I had already taken and passed the rider safety course, this involved handing over $28, taking an eye test, getting my photo taken, taking an abbreviated form of the standard (class c) written test and a separate written test focusing on motorcycle riding. I wish they had let me keep a copy of the motorcycle test so I could share more precisely, because some of the questions were quite bizarre. For example, one question asked about the penalty for speeding away when instructed to pull over by a police officer and killing a pedestrian during the chase scene.

The next step is actually getting a motorcycle and getting some riding experience -- initially in parking lots and low traffic areas like the Presidio -- so I can answer people's questions about where/when/how I'm planning to ride it. My hope is that I will eventually feel confident enough to ride it to work one or two days a week -- taking the long way (highway 1 along Ocean Beach, through the forest along skyline and back to civilization down Page Mill road). Another goal would be to cross the Golden Gate Bridge, where the speed limit is a sensible 45 mph, for drives to Pt. Reyes.

I found a wonderful site for beginning riders and after researching bike reviews on that and other sites I find that I am leaning (note how biking lingo is creeping into my everday speech) toward the bikes in the Dual Purpose category. I made a list of the leading contenders -- Suzuki DR200SE, Kawasaki 250SF, Yamaha TW200 and Honda CRF 230 -- and highlighted phrases that appealed to me, like "pretty forgiving, don't worry about dropping this motorcycle, nearly indestructible, perfect for a new rider, phenomenal gas mileage." Then Adrienne and I went to Golden Gate Cycles to see the bikes in person. Unlike racing bikes that force you to bend over to reach the handlebars or cruiser bikes that encourage a laid back posture, the Dual Purpose bikes, which the sales guy described as "motards," encourage what I would describe as an athletic/alert posture. I was surprised and happy to find that I could reach the ground comfortably on all the models, even the Kawasaki, which listed a seat height of 34.8".

It is hard not to take color into account when choosing a bike. The best looking bike (to me) was the Suzuki (see below) . This one had a sleek black color. The colorful bikes are more visible and therefore likely to be safer. There is a flourescent color known as "Kawasaki green" that is hard to miss. The Honda was red and the Yamaha was blue -- the best match for the helmet I bought for the safety class -- but otherwise not as stylish because of fatter tires (need to research pros and cons of that).

As much as I love the sales experience at Golden Gate Cycles -- after a few minutes in the shop Adrienne was talking about getting a scooter for herself -- I would like to find a used bike on Craigslist. Leading contenders are the Suzuki (most comfortable) and Kawasaki (most exciting and clearly the sales guy's favorite). Shopping saga to be continued...

Uneasy Rider

I have already shared this information with my motorcycle mentors, but for the record…

I am still processing the riding portion of my motorcycle class, which took place last weekend. On the positive side, I passed the evaluation. Conditions on Sunday were bad – continuous light rain – but it was interesting to discover that there was no obvious loss of control/traction, at least at the speeds we were traveling (up to 20 mph). The negative aspect of the class was the instructor’s teaching style. He was a Vietnam vet whose behavior was almost a caricature of a domineering drill sergeant.

This made a physically and mentally challenging experience also an emotionally challenging experience. One guy -- the other beginner -- dropped out of the class after Saturday. I made it through most of the class without being the subject of the trainer's negative attention until we were doing a task that required braking on a curve. I learned the hard way that you need to get out of the lean/straighten out the bike before applying the front brake and "dropped the bike."

We (the bike and I) must have stopped abruptly and the bike, already leaning left, continued its descent. I quickly judged that I couldn’t get it upright and bailed to the left, skinning my left knee slightly and bruising my right shin on the brake pedal as that leg came over.

I am trying to remember that one reason for taking the course was to challenge myself. It has been a long time since I was scared to the point of trembling. I was the last in our group to go through each evaluation exercise and my hand was literally shaking on the throttle as I waited my turn, causing the engine to rev if I didn’t hold it off the handle. Between that and lack of confidence in my hand braking skill, the last hour was nerve wracking.

Stay tuned for the next installment: applying for a motorcycle license and acquiring a motorcycle (perhaps from a person who went through this whole process and decided it was a crazy idea).

Living dangerously

So far, so good. I took the classroom portion of my Basic (Motorcycle) Riding Course last night and got 100% on the written test. Some skills – like acing multiple choice tests – improve with age.

I have been so nervous about the riding part of the class, that I forgot to worry about walking into a classroom where I was likely to be the only woman and the only person over 50. Actually, there was one other woman in our class – but she was young and knew enough about motorcycles to have her future bike in mind (a “Monster”) – but the average age was 20- something and everyone seemed to have some riding experience.

The instructor was an ex-Army guy with a gruff manner but a genuine interest in what we were doing in the class. As an ice breaker, we were supposed to introduce each other – with information about what type of bike we intended to buy/ride and what our motivation was for taking the class. Most people were planning to get sports bikes. I was the only person who mentioned a scooter as a possibility. I did this apologetically and the instructor launched into a funny story about being passed on the freeway by a souped-up scooter. This set the tone of inclusivity, although I did pick up a lot of information about biker proclivities. The training film showed people on “cruisers” riding with people on “sport bikes.” Instructor Bill said this would not happen in real life. Just as he said we would never see Harley Davidsons and Japanese bikes on the same ride. I also learned the meaning of T-Bone, High Side, and other ways to wipe out. Despite all, I am looking forward to the riding class this weekend. The class is held rain or shine and rain is predicted for both days.

(While verifying that I had the term "high side" correct -- I was remembering "high rise" -- I discovered an interesting article on How to Crash, a calm discussion about things like standing on the pegs just before impact to improve your odds of sailing over the car instead of into it.)