Naked Bikes and Wacky Wall Decor

Before we set out on our motorcycle ride to El Granada yesterday morning, I suggested to Don that we change the name of our bike gang from the Safety First Bike Club (as I've been calling it) to the "Naked Bike Gang" because that is the only thing our motorcycles have in common. His is an elegant Italian bike that looks like it should be in the Smithsonian. Mine is a dual sport that looks like it should be bouncing over moguls on a dirt trail. (I just consulted Wikipedia and a "naked bike" is defined as a bike that is stripped down to its most fundamental parts.)

Although we were fully clothed, I did make a spectacle of myself very early in the ride by dropping my bike at the corner of 25th and Geary. Not sure what threw me off balance from a dead stop, but I was trying to open my face mask without taking my left hand off the clutch. Don gallantly pulled into a driveway and got my bike upright. No damage this time thanks to my new hand guards.

The trip to El Granada was so quick (about 25 minutes), that we kept going down the coast to Half Moon Bay, up over the hill on 92 and down Canada Road to Buck's Restaurant in Woodside. It was fun to introduce Don to a bit of Silicon Valley culture. Woodside is home to people like Apple CEO Steve Jobs and Oracle CEO Larry Ellison and this restaurant is a wacky museum of oddball art and collectibles hanging from every inch of ceiling and wallspace -- blimps, surfboard, squash racket, a case of harmonicas, 6 foot Statue of Liberty...and wall to wall green alligator carpeting. Legend has it that this is a meeting place for tech industry entrepreneurs and venture capitalists, but they must have put us in the kid section, because I didn't see any deals going down. After our breakfast of burritos and home fries, I took backroads back to SF and Don hopped on 92 back to the East Bay.

Strangely enough, the Buck's menu was titled Naked Lunch options...

"Brake In" Period

I asked Don to take a look at some black goo that was seeping from my motorcycle at the rate of one drop per ride. He diagnosed it as grease from the kickstand and not a problem, but thought the chain seemed loose and I should take the bike in for adjustments. While there (Mission Motorcycles in Daly City), I asked if hand guards would cut down on the frost bite I was experiencing on early morning rides. Thicker gloves for my birthday had not made a difference. Four hours later -- the chain tightening had been estimated at 15 minutes -- I left with a properly adjusted chain, new front brake pads, and WARM HANDS! The hand guards were not designed for my bike (although the color was a good match), so I gather the guys in the back room enjoyed kludging a solution.

Four hours is a long time to spend pacing between the showroom and the service center, but I heard some interesting stories -- about trucks backing into parked bikes, a motorcycle cop who spent his days and nights patrolling the projects on a dual sport that was a larger version of mine, a guy with a large bandage on his bald head, another guy with his arm in a sling and a damaged bike outside ... hardly anyone seemed there for an oil change or a tune up. Meanwhile, an overhead TV showed stunt riders doing handstands and other tricks while spinning their bikes with the front wheel in the air.

I bring my bike to Mission Motorcycles because the people are so friendly. They describe themselves as bike enthusiasts, and it shows. I always feel a bit intimidated pulling away after getting the bike serviced. It's not like a car dealership where you can anonymously drive off. There are always a few biker dudes smoking out front as you put on your gear and prepare to ride off. Inevitably, something trips me up and someone has to offer advice or assistance. This time the bike wouldn't start because the kill switch was off... And so begins my second year in the saddle.