My First Biker Chick Ride!

I met a bunch of biker chicks back in spring, but so far I hadn't ridden with any. There is one, however, right in my office building.

Lynda rides a big black Harley, which I hadn't seen parked downstairs all year. But this week she invited me to come riding at lunchtime on Friday. How exciting! My first biker chick buddy!

I told her I don't usually go out to lunch, but figured we could do whatever. When I asked later in an e-mail where we were going, I should have made sure to clarify things a bit.

I went down to meet her in her department and saw that she had already had her lunch ... so I guess Chinese was out.

No big deal. I don't get real hungry when I'm excited anyway. She just wanted to spend an hour riding, and she was on a tight schedule, because in her department they have to punch in and punch out. So that's what she did, after tucking her miles of luxurious blond locks up into her half-helmet and pulling on her harness boots.

Our first stop was the ABC Harley-Davidson in Waterford Township, where she wanted to pick up some literature about events in the area. Along the way we had to contend with a student driver (how annoying ... I don't know ANY of THOSE!) who was in the left lane with a right-turn signal on, but too timid to change lanes. People were passing on the right, and finally Lynda did, too. She's impatient, she explained when we got to the Harley dealer.

After that, she said I could lead the way because she didn't know the area well. So I headed down Pontiac Lake Road, picturing in my head a not-too-long way back to the office. But I'm not good with directions -- I can read a map, but didn't have one handy -- and the road ended before I found what I was looking for. After some debate about which direction to turn, we were moving toward the office, but on unfamiliar roads.

Pretty soon I managed to get us into a construction zone and another road I was seeking was closed. Uh-oh. She's looking at her watch, and I'm hoping I don't piss off this nice lady who I don't know very well.

Just before we got to the intersection of Elizabeth Lake Road and M-59, she said she knew where she was again. I told her we can go straight down Elizabeth and get back to work. But as I sailed through a yellow light and she got in the right turn lane, I saw that we had a parting of the ways. I pulled over at a bank and waited, hoping she'd go straight, but when I saw her turn I figured I'd better skee-daddle. Now it was my goal to beat her back to the office!

By the time I had stopped to apply my keycard at the gate, she was zooming up behind me and through the other gate.

She had JUST made it in time. Four minutes to spare.
My co-worker, Shaun Byron, took our picture with our bikes on the loading dock.

I hope she'll trust me to go again sometime. Next time I'll consult a map.

Linda with her Harley, me and my Shadow

Ride Smart 2010 Conference

Want to ride the SMARTER way?

An organization called SMARTER (Skilled Motorcyclist Associations — Responsible, Trained and Educated Riders) is hosting a weekend conference for 200 participants on Saturday, Sept. 11, in Mount Pleasant.

According to the organization, Michigan has experienced a 25 percent rise in motorcycle related fatalities since 2004 -- a total of 671 people killed. Motorcycle-related fatalities now account for approximately 13 percent of all motor vehicle fatalities, yet motorcycle registrations account for only about 5 percent of all motor vehicle registrations. Addressing motorcycle-related fatalities has become a national priority for the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration. In response, Michigan will host the first of its kind motorcyclist safety conference. This conference will be open to the public and will cover topic areas such as helmets/protective gear, safety technology, rider skill development resources, long ride planning and RiderCoach instructor training development and it will feature a panel of motorcycle experts from around the country to share the best ways to improve riding skills.

The conference includes book signings, vendors, lunch, snacks and prizes plus presentations by author William Murphy; Ray Ochs, director of training systems for the Motorcycle Safety Foundation; Pat Hahn, author and Public Information and Education Coordinator for the Minnesota Motorcycle Safety Center; and  Ken Condon, writer and columnist at Motorcycle Consumer News.

It runs from about 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. and costs $20 for SMARTER members, $40 for nonmembers if registered by Friday, July 30; or $35 for members/$45 for nonmembers after. Comfort Inn Hotel & Suites in Mount Pleasant, which is hosting the conference, is offering rooms for $89. Call (989) 772-4000 to reserve a room, and mention the conference.


You can register for the conference here. There is a small convenience fee for registering online, but you can use a credit card or PayPal account.

 For more info and agenda updates, visit www.smarter-usa.org, or call Jason Hamblen at (517) 241-2533 or e-mail hamblenj@michigan.gov.

Expressway to Your Heart

I-696 photo by Scott Steeves

Some people can't drive on expressways. I work with a girl who drives miles out of her way to avoid them. I don't get that. When I first learned to drive a car, I loved the expressway. It's straight, fast and everybody's going the same way. Simple, easy. I grew up just off I-96, which opened when I was in eighth grade, and rode my bicycle on it before it was open to automobiles. We used to climb up under the bridges and smoke cigarettes. I am a highway child.

But on my motorcycle, it's been uncomfortable territory. We usually ride side roads, where the scenery is better and the ride's more relaxed.

Yesterday I debated whether to ride my bike to work because my mother-in-law was going into the hospital and I wasn't sure about driving across town from my office in Pontiac to Providence-Southfield. I'm just not used to urban traffic. That old doubt was creeping in. I decided not to decide till morning.

When I woke, I sat up in bed and meditated on it. I asked for guidance, and opened my mind to the answer. It was: "Take the bike. Enjoy it while you can. Be free of worry. It is a burden you do not need." I realized when the weather grows cold and wet I'd regret that missed opportunity.

So I decided to go with the flow.
And it all flowed nicely. The weather was perfect, and I got to work exactly on time.

At end of day, I came downstairs with a map I'd printed just in case, slipped it into my map pocket and affixed it to my tank. I started up the engine and put on my gear for the road. A woman from another department stopped to admire my bike and complimented me: "You're a brave woman," she said.

"I worked at it!" I replied.

The trip to the hospital was good. I felt like a pro. I had said my road prayer: "Make the way safe five miles ahead of me, five miles behind, five miles to the right of me and five miles to the left. Make me an oasis of peace and calm on the road." And it worked, too. Other drivers seemed to give me extra space. At one point a traffic light changed about 40 feet ahead of me, and I decided to stop rather than blow through the yellow. Two cars sped by -- one on either side -- but almost mystically, there was NO vehicle behind to threaten my safety.

When I arrived, the parking lot attendant invited me to park my bike up on a sidewalk -- one of the perks of motorcycling. Ironman met me by the door and we visited with his sisters, father and mother, whose operation was delayed till late in the evening. But before she was even taken to surgery, the sun began sinking and I thought about driving home 35 miles through unfamiliar cities in the dark. "I better get home," I told my husband, who was determined to stay till his mom was out of the operating room. He offered some advice about roads to take, and I considered the time it would take.

I consulted my map again and realized the only sensible thing to do was to take the freeway.

So I backtracked toward the I-696 expressway, but found I could not turn left where I'd turned in the other direction an hour earlier. It was getting darker ... don't panic, I thought. Everything's going to be OK. I turned around in a gas station, but then my hair was getting in my eyes, annoying me. Damn.

I tried to tuck back the unruly hair, but couldn't find the headband I always wear under my helmet. Double damn. So I sat, engine running, in the driveway of a gas station on Greenfield and pulled off my helmet. The hair fell completely apart. Breathe, girl, don't let it unnerve you. I twisted it up again, put the headband back over it, tucked in the hair, pulled on the helmet and gloves ... looked to my left. Traffic coming. Breathe. No rush. Better to get home safe than fast...

When the lane was clear, I accelerated toward I-696, talking myself into it. I am well trained. I am competent, I'm a big girl, I can do this.

Another "Michigan Turn" -- a boulevard turn to me -- and one more light to wait through. I started to move toward the on-ramp when the light turned green, but a couple of pedestrians were strolling across the freeway ramp entrance. OK, OK ... take your time. In a moment I was accelerating to 65 miles per hour, down onto the freeway. And then I saw my sign: It was another motorcyclist traveling the expressway in the right lane, only going 65 in a 70 zone; no hurry, no worry. I smiled. It gave me confidence just to see him, and I realized that if I had not had to stop and adjust my fly-away hair, I would have missed it.

The ride was courage-building. I sat forward to let my arms bend more and ride lightly over the bumps, not hold the bike in a death grip. My speed ranged from 60-75 mph, and a construction-lane shift with its unnerving rumble strip actually felt better under the bike tires than with my car.

The sunset was spectacular.
Still working on that bravery thing.

Cycle Fest at the Dome

From The Oakland Press:

Motorcycle fest coming to Silverdome

By ERIC KNAPP

Special to The Oakland Press

A motorcyclist launches over a ramp at a past motorcycle event at the Silverdome. The stadium has formerly been home to many different motorcycle and monster truck events and will be the site of the Midwest Motorcycle Fest from July 29 until August 1. (Photo contributed)

Motorcyclists from all over Michigan, in addition to those from the Midwest and Canada, will come together at the Midwest Motorcycle Fest running Thursday, July 29, through Sunday, Aug. 1, at the Pontiac Silverdome.

“We’re looking to bring a major motorcycle event to Michigan,” said event co-organizer Greg Aherns. “Nearly one-third of registered motorcycle owners in the state of Michigan are from Oakland County and the five counties surrounding it.”

With a large amount of cycle enthusiasts in and around Oakland County, Aherns said the Silverdome seems to be the ideal venue to hold the motorcycle event. Matt Flynn, another event co-organizer, added that the size of the newly rejuvenated Silverdome makes it the perfect venue.

“The Silverdome sits on 127 acres, has seating for over 80,000 and is located in the middle of the most populous area of Michigan,” said Flynn. “Plus Ohio, Indiana, Illinois and Ontario, Canada all the way to Toronto are within reach. The new Silverdome ownership has been tremendously accommodating and we’re looking forward to a fantastic event.”

The motorcycle fest will feature a wide variety of activities including charitable rides, contests, races, a fireworks shows, church services, billiards tournaments, stunt bike shows, psychic and tarot card readings, poker tournaments and a long list of musical performances.

Seventh-season “American Idol” finalist Amanda Overmyer will perform on the main stage at 8:30 p.m. Friday and Saturday, July 30 and 31. Country music performer David Alan Coe will perform on the main stage at 10 p.m. Friday, July 30.

An official kick-start party will begin shortly after 9 p.m. Thursday, July 29. The box office will sell tickets from 8 a.m. to midnight July 30-31, and again from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. Aug. 1.

If you go

Tickets are available for purchase at www.silverdometickets.com/motorcyclefest.html. The Silverdome is at 1200 Featherstone Road, Pontiac, Michigan 48342. For more information on the Midwest Motorcycle Fest, visit www.midwestmotorcyclefest.com. Sponsorship, entertainer and vendor opportunities are available. Contact matt@midwestmotorcyclefest.com.

Just A-Ridin' in the Rain

Well, I'm no longer a virgin. Today I rode home in the rain.

I took the day off from work to go to the Ann Arbor Art Fairs, and even though the forecast said chance of thunderstorms, it looked pretty safe when we went out. Shortly after we had dinner at Cottage Inn, the artists started closing up their booths, and so I asked if the fair was closing up for the night. It was only 5:30. No, I was told, but The Storm was heading this way in about an hour.

So we hustled back to where we'd parked the bikes in Kerrytown and before I even got there, the rain was starting to fall.

"We have two choices," Ironman said. "We can head out now, or we can go over here and have coffee and wait and see." So we did a little of both. We went to Sweetwaters, where we ordered a couple of iced mochas and a weather report. "Tornado warning till 10 p.m." the nice barista said. "It's coming this way from Milford, but I don't know where that is." Uh oh. That's our direction home. So we sipped our mochas kind of fast and hit the road.

I'd already ridden in the rain back in my first rider course, but that was only 10-18 mph ... and I fell down. I was determined to make sure that wouldn't happen again. We took it slow at first, and as luck would have it, the rain let up quite a bit about halfway home.

It wasn't cold, but we were soaked to the skin within minutes. Before we'd even made it out of town it was clear I'd freeze in the breeze without a windproof layer, so I stopped on a side road and put on the liner under my mesh jacket. That was just enough to keep my torso warm the rest of the way.

One thing that felt odd -- we had to stow our Cardo bluetooth receivers to ensure they wouldn't be damaged in the rain. So we had to shout back and forth and use signals to communicate. How last millennium!

 We ran into a bunch of rush hour traffic on the way back, so I got to practice my "slow race" skills -- first gear, foot on the brake, goosing the throttle, clutch in the friction zone. I was right proud of myself, too!

By the time we got home, I was positively buoyant. Who's afraid of a little rain?

The Importance of Training

Not everybody who rides a motorcycle gets good training. Some practice in parking lots and take the test from a testing agency.

I didn't want to do that. The Basic Rider Course didn't cost any more than the test alone -- other than the time it takes, of course -- but it gave me something much more valuable than a license. It gave me skills and a bit of wisdom. And don't underestimate the value of fellowship with people who care; that's priceless.

One student in my class last weekend already had a motorcycle and endorsement for four years. He took the class strictly to get a lower insurance rate. At the end of the class, RiderCoach Ozzie advised us to call up our insurance companies and tell them we had taken a "motorcycle safety course" -- NOT a "basic rider course." He said they might not give discounts for the BRC, but many do give discounts for safety courses.

For some people, the BRC is the end of their training. From the Motorcycle Safety Foundation's point of view, the BRC is just the beginning.

Ozzie said he makes a point of learning something every time he goes out. And he made a point of showing off his skills in that tricky figure-8 box we had to learn. He took out his big ol' full-dress Harley Classic and tooled it around that tight configuration with panache. I was so taken with the sight and sound of it, for a moment, I confess, I could not listen to my own RiderCoach.

At the end of class, Ozzie reminded us that whoever you surround yourself with is the kind of rider you'll become -- whether that's someone who rides smart or someone who drives three miles from bar to bar.

He encouraged us to come back and take more advanced training classes -- which still cost only $25. Such a bargain! I'd like to do that next summer, and bring along my Ironman, who lately has been saying he'd like to do it. He's one of those who learned from an uncle in a parking lot back in the '70s. More advanced courses teach many of the same skills we learned last weekend, but you bring your own bike and expand your abilities.


Support Rider Classes
Something else Ozzie asked us to do -- and I encourage ALL riders to do this -- is consider calling or writing to Oakland Community College to thank the administration for hosting the rider course. He said neighbors have complained about the noise (NOISE? From a bunch of 125 Hondas??) and so there was a lot of debate about having them. He said OCC used to host eight classes a year, and this year there were only three at the Orchard Ridge Campus in Farmington Hills.

This alarmed me. So as soon as I got home from class on Sunday I wrote a letter -- but like in the James Taylor song, I wasn't sure who to send it to. I called OCC till I found the facilities director, and told him I wanted to thank the college for this important service. Later I got a call back from the Dean of Academic and Student Services, Timothy Walter, thanking me for supporting the classes. You can email him yourself at TLWALTER@oaklandcc.edu. He said the classes are a high priority at OCC, and he seemed concerned about passage of the millage renewal for the college on Aug. 3.

"Assuming the vote to continue supporting OCC as the county so generously has over the past decades occurs in early August, I can promise you that Motorcycle Safety will be a high priority course at OCC through community education," he wrote in an email back. So, if you live in Oakland County, support the millage Aug. 3. It won't cost you any more, but it could save a life.

I told him in my letter about an incident my sister-in-law shared the night my class started. She said a friend of hers just lost her 20-year-old son in a motorcycle accident when he took out a bike that was in bad repair. The throttle became stuck, he lost control, ran into some mailboxes and died.

This should not have happened. My first thought, of course, was as my cousin George once told me: Pull in the clutch and it becomes a bicycle. That bike can't run away with you if you cut power to the rear wheel.

If that boy had been trained properly, he would be alive today.

While sitting at the Secretary of State's office waiting to get my endorsement on Monday, I re-read a cycle safety booklet put out by the Motorcycle Safety Foundation some years ago -- a pdf of the booklet is available here.

That booklet reminded me of another thing that boy could have done -- he could have merely flipped the engine cut-off switch next to his thumb, on the right handlebar. That would have shut it off immediately. In fact, that is how I was taught in class to turn off the motorcycle.

These are the kinds of things we learn in our riding class. How to stay safe.

I cannot stress it enough:
GO GET TRAINING!

Flying Solo

Hard(ly) at work when I'd rather be riding!

My first ride to work on my Shadow was terrific. I've been driving that road for 21 years, so it was familiar except for the mode of transport. Traffic wasn't real heavy, but I took it cautiously just the same.

One thing that happened was new. Heading through a roundabout I've driven several times already, I took it a bit faster and deeper than before and scraped a footpeg for the first time. That did throw me off for a moment -- as I was warned it might. I straightened up a bit, then laughed at myself.

When I got to work, I was all nonchalant-like when people noticed the helmet, and when they said, "Is THAT your BIKE??" Inside I was grinning ear to ear. Of course, I left the helmet on my desk on purpose in case someone might not get the hint.

Then, Doug Bauman, our staff videographer, made a little promo video to post on The Oakland Press website. Here is is. I hope you like it.

Ride to Work Day (Part II)

A month ago, when I was plotting my first ride to work on "Ride to Work Day" in July, I discovered that somebody had moved the day to June. Just to spite me, I'm sure, because I was ALL set to ride in July, two days after getting the license I was then sure that I would have by now.

Well, now I have it, and I'm a-ridin'!

So I'll stick out my tongue and thumb my nose at you calendar watchers and say, "RIDE TO WORK TODAY ANYWAY!"

Legal and Independent

Finally, I am a legally licensed and insured motorcyclist.

I should be ecstatic -- I worked so hard for it. But there's also an element of letdown. I've been so focused on my goal for the past four months, and now that it's happened ... now what? This reminds me of the importance of having goals, because they motivate me and give me energy to keep striving.

There will be plenty of new goals ahead, I'm sure. And I still have a LOT more to share about things I learned in class.

But let me finish with licensing technicalities. Yesterday, I went to the Secretary of State as planned, had my picture taken (no, not with helmet hair!) and requested a new license with my "CY" endorsement on it. Since I'd already taken the written test and paid the $13 licensing fee for a temporary permit, I did not expect that when I returned with my blue rider course completion card I'd be asked to pay ANOTHER $9 for the change of status.

I wanted to be angry at first -- I failed to ask when I got my permit whether the state would soak me later for additional fees. But then I decided to take it in stride. After all, the two months of riding on the road was worth the nine bucks. It ensured that I would be steady on the bike and pass my test. Besides, I could easily have spent that much on a couple of venti mocha frappucinos at Starbucks.

When the woman at SOS handed back my license, stapled to the temporary CY endorsement, she said, "Your new license will be mailed to you. You're now free to ride independently."

Independently! That felt good!

An unlicensed rider cannot insure her bike, so I next had to get my name put on the motorcycle insurance I had arranged in my husband's name. I called Progressive. I forgot our account number, but the man on the phone (Darn! It wasn't Flo!) was very nice and patient. He added my name to the policy, asked a few questions and noted that I had passed a motorcycle safety course. He said that's good for a three-year discount on insurance. And he told me that rather than increasing the fee with two riders on the policy, we'll be getting a $14 refund. How about THAT?

Legal, insured and independent.

Tomorrow I plan to ride my bike to work -- by myself -- for the first time. That was my goal, too, to ride it to work by July. Unless I wake up dead tomorrow, you bet I will fulfill that goal.

Happy Karma Day!

Well after all these many months of practicing and praying, I finally got it. I passed my basic rider class!

And if I hadn't put my foot down just before the last offset cone, I would have gotten a PERFECT score on the Michigan Motorcycle Operator Safety Test. Ain't that a kick in the head?

Tomorrow I plan to go to the Secretary of State on my lunch break from work and get my motorcycle endorsement.

I was so excited to pass that I forgot to ask a few things before I left. I wanted to know how many in my class passed the test, and how many women were in it. It seemed like a good group overall, and I wondered what the difference was. Weather was good, if hot -- that might be a factor. Or perhaps it had to do with the time of year. Who knows?

This class was smaller than my prior two. I counted about 10 women among 40 students. At least two of them did not pass -- two with whom I'd gotten friendly. One was retaking the class for the second time and scored a little better than I did on my second try, but not good enough to get her endorsement. She looked so sad when she left ... I truly hope she comes back. The other, who was not in my immediate group, told me she dumped the bike at test time (as I had my first time) and was disqualified. I empathized with both of them.

There really is more to say about the experience, but right now, despite my happy dance, I'm pooped. When I got home, I took a shower and ordered pizza to celebrate. Now I'm gonna sit down and watch "Mad Men" all night, because my spirit is stoked ... but my body's exhausted.

Third Time's the Charm

This weekend, I'm taking the Basic Rider Course for my third (and final!) time.

The reason I say "final" is one of the following:

1. I believe I'm gonna pass this time.
2. I'm psyching myself into success.
3. Can't take it anymore!
4. All of the above.

First time I took the class, in April, I was so excited I told everybody. And yet I knew I was shaky on that bike and might not make it. After failing that first miserable attempt, I lacked confidence to make a big deal of my second try, in May. But the second time out -- even though I didn't pass the second, crucial road test -- I did feel confident on that bike by test time.

It began to feel natural. So natural that driving home that day I had the instinct to pull in the clutch on my car when I stopped at a red light. "The engine will stall if I don't!" was my brief thought. Silly me. My car's automatic.

In the two months since that last course, I've practiced my figure eights and clutch/rear brake control for slow-speed driving. I've now ridden more than 1,300 miles on my Honda Shadow Aero 750, and I feel so much better in turns and slow-speed maneuvers.

One thing I haven't done on my Shadow is practice the cone weave on a range. In the test, I scored points on my cone weave -- points are BAD -- missing one cone and hitting another. This nagged at me, so I looked it up online. There's a cool site I found with tips and advice for motorcyclists, the Motorcycle Assistant, with videos and detailed instructions. I watched the video demonstration for the offset cone-weave to see where my mistakes were.



In May, I spent the night before the test in meditation, practicing the U-turn in my head. Come test time next day, I nailed it. Visualizing and really feeling the turn in my mind helped tremendously. Believing I can do it made the difference.

So this time I will focus on intently on those cones. I'm going into class to listen, watch and practice with humbleness, keeping open my eyes and ears.

This time, I'm not worried. I will do it, as I did my once-impossible U-turn: Head up, eyes focused on where I want to go, clutch in the friction zone, keep on the throttle, rear brake as needed for stability, turn the wheel and let the bike lean. Nothing to it.

I'm not afraid anymore.

Uneasy Rider

Motorcycles wouldn't be popular if there weren't an element of danger.That's why people climb mountains, and skydive, right?

Often, the risk isn't with the rider, but the morons in cages who don't pay attention, who ride our fenders and don't give bikers the respect they deserve.

They say every biker either has crashed or hasn't crashed YET. Had a couple myself -- knock wood, may those be it for me.

The worst was when a deer jumped out of trees and landed right on our front fender. My hubby tried his best to keep it on the road, but even though we were only traveling about 35 mph, we went down. That event scared me plenty. I had flashbacks for months whenever we went out on the bike.

Every biker knows about road rash; that doesn't begin to describe the damage inflicted in even minor crashes.

Nobody goes riding expecting not to come home again. And on a motorcycle, any crash could be your last.

When I bought my bike, I didn't tell my oldest sister until the day we brought it home. She put her fists on her hips and through gritted teeth hissed, "You didn't TELL me you bought a motorcycle."

"I knew what you'd say," I replied.

"Yes, you knew what I'd say! I work with head-injury patients. Do you know how they got that way??!"

"They didn't wear their helmet."

Life is fraught with risk. What if a plane crashes through my roof and kills me in my bed? I can't live my life in fear.

We do our best to reduce the risks. We get training. We ride within our skills, and practice to extend those skills.


I know family and friends are concerned about my welfare. But do they HAVE to start the conversation with the co-worker who snapped her femur in two -- and the cousin who will never be the same again after his near-fatal accident?

Yeah -- I worked with a guy who rode around a tight mountain curve straight into the hood of an oncoming car and spent the next six months with a halo screwed into his skull. As far as I know, he never rode again.

So why do millions of Americans persist on two-wheeled ambulation?
Because it's the closest thing to flying without leaving the ground.

The Spirituality of Motorcycling

About a year ago, I went back to school with the idea of changing careers. I thought I was being guided on this path, but at times it felt like I was dragging a lead weight uphill.

A friend who was planning to move to another state and get married said she knew she was doing God's will because everything fell into place for her. If that's so, I reasoned, why is my journey so difficult?

I do believe in a higher power that will help me find my way if I ask for guidance and listen for the answer.

After a particularly trying semester in a basic chemistry course, I needed a break. Another friend, frustrated with my whining, said, "Why go to school? Why not just ENJOY your life??"

Enjoy? Now there's a concept.

When the idea hit me this spring to take the basic motorcycle safety course, things really fell into place for me. People came to my aid  and supported my efforts. Little coincidences began popping into view. A bike I love appeared at exactly the amount I had saved in my bank account. It seemed that I was flowing with the tao.

I thought I would buy my bike, pass my rider test and get out on the road -- Instant Motorcycle Mama.

But that didn't happen. Again I encountered problems, some in my body, some in my mind. In the beginning, I struggled to get even an hour on the bike without fatigue causing risk to my life and limbs. I dealt with crashes, bruises, sore wrists, fear and hesitation.

I was set back when I fell and was disqualified in my motorcycle class. The learning curve was steeper than I expected. Fear got in the way of my joy.

See, I'm the kind of person who likes to do things at which I succeed, and avoid the things I don't do well. Failure feels less like a challenge than a nagging reminder that I'm "not good enough."

I wondered about those people who just jump on and ride. What's different about them? And what's wrong with me?

It didn't help when some suggested that maybe I should give it up and be content to ride on the back of my husband's bike. Nope. I did not want to give up.

My life flows better when I can see the spirituality in each situation. So I had to remind myself not to compare. I'm not those other people; I'm a unique individual, on this Earth to experience my OWN life and my OWN circumstances.

So what if it takes me longer? How well will I ride next year if I don't work at it now?

Expectations are resentments in the making, and I cannot afford to harbor resentment. I must practice compassion with myself so that I can practice it with my fellows.

Now I see the spirituality of motorcycling. It is teaching me patience, persistence and faith. I need to look at what I want and not at the obstacles. I need to believe I can do this and -- best of all -- that if I act boldly, great powers will come to my aid.

That's the spirituality of motorcycling. It's a beautiful thing.

Knee Slappers

My knees are vulnerable. My mom has bad knees, my sister's make very colorful noises when she climbs stairs, and mine turned to Rice Krispies a few years ago when I somehow tore cartilage in there. Don't even know how I did it.

But I do know when I was about 6, I fell on the playground and embedded a stone between the skin and patella (kneecap) and had to have a doctor remove it. I still have the scar. And about eight years ago, when a crazed deer jumped onto our front fender, I went down on that same knee -- OUCH! -- and tore it open down to the ligament. Not fun.

Hey, I can take a hint! Knee armor would be a real good idea when I ride.

In fact, on one forum I read, a poster commented that most people don't realize hands and knees are the most commonly injured body parts, even in minor motorcycle accidents. Yepper, I can attest to that. In addition to my knee, that crash tore a neat hole in my very expensive Kevlar gloves. But not my hand.

I decided the knees need attention.

So I started searching the Internet for some comfortable knee guards to wear when I ride my bike. I didn't know much about this, because none of the road riders I know wear them. Most of what I found was geared to motocross racing. Sliders, designed for actually scraping the pavement -- ON PURPOSE! -- and long, hard plastic things that ride up the thigh and down the shin.

I don't want to be the bionic biker -- just safe.
There are also armored riding pants you can buy, but I wasn't looking to invest that much buckage.

I found this review on WebBike World:

"The Thor knee guards appear to offer very good protection for the few extra seconds of time it takes to put them on and the initial cost is only $24.95. Considering the potential to avoid or reduce injuries to the knee, the cost in money and time involved in using the Quadrant knee guards make them an excellent value."

The Thor Quadtrants have "patella donuts" that surround each kneecap, and they cover the shins, too.

Like my boots, I wanted to try them on before spending good money on something that may not work for me. But after reading that review, I was convinced 25 bucks was worth the risk. So I ordered a pair from the Motorcycle Superstore. It was a great experience, too. I ordered them on a Monday and received them on Wednesday. Now THAT is service.

What's even better, these babies are comfortable strapped over my jeans and do not scratch the bike. They have a teeny bit of venting for breathability, and I haven't noticed excessive heat, even on warm days. I dressed them up with reflective pinstriping and they actually look quite sporty.

I wore them to my second rider course and my coach, who knew me from my prior wipe-outs, came over and kicked me in the armored shin. "What's this?" he asked, obviously amused.

"I don't get hurt when I wear them," I said. "It's like carrying an umbrella -- it won't rain."

And you know something? Once I forgot them and bruised up my shin pretty good. But I haven't been bruised once while wearing them.

My husband says they're "sexy." But I think he's just being sarcastic.

Nic browses in an antique shop while wearing her sexy knee guards.

McBiker Poker Run

The Oakland Press has this story today. I'm thinking I need to meet Ron Finch!

Poker run benefits Ronald McDonald House

WATERFORD TWP. — People driving by the McDonald’s restaurant on Highland Road in Waterford Township might do a double-take this week when they see a giant-size motorcycle sculpture out front in honor of the upcoming McBiker McDonald’s 12th Annual Poker Run.

The Sunday, July 11 event is to support the Ronald McDonald Houses of Ann Arbor and Detroit. The run — a 75-mile round trip ride through some of southeast Michigan’s best motorcycle roads — attracts an average of 400 motorcyclists every year.

Registration is 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. at the McBiker McDonald’s located at 5854 Highland Road. Cost is $20 a person and includes an after-party and barbecue with live music, raffles and prizes at ABC Harley-Davidson at 4405 Highland Road in Waterford Township. The restaurant is owned by Peter Donaghue. The Ronald McDonald Houses provide a home away from home for families of children who are seriously ill and hospitalized nearby.

That big orange bike — 12 feet high and approximately 15 feet long — tips the scales at 1,000 pounds. Creator Ron Finch, a Pontiac resident and owner of Finch’s Custom Styled Cycles, Inc., took five years to build the sculpture. The engine is made from large, round disks Finch found. The wheels and gas tank were taken from a tractor. The leather seat and handgrips were specially made. The headlight is made from an old-fashioned salon hair dryer. Fire can shoot from the exhaust pipe.

The motorcycle sculpture will be on display at the McBiker McDonald’s until noon Sunday, July 11. Anyone interested in a photo seated on the motorcycle must first ask McDonald’s managers or crew for assistance.

To learn more about the McBiker McDonald’s 12th Annual Poker Run, contact “McPete” at 248-933-0545.

— Staff writer Carol Hopkins

Ron Finch sits on his giant sculpted motorcycle 
in front of McDonald's.

Steaming Hot Fourth

Where did you go on your Fourth of July weekend?

On our long weekend, we rode about 325 miles in 85-95 degree heat, to the west side of the state. In celebration of the holiday, I pinned a small American flag to my rear bag.

We stopped frequently for drinks and snacks, as well as gasoline and to fill up my tires, which seem to have a slow leak. But riding in that kind of heat and humidity takes it out of you. I found myself getting crabby and tired faster than I should have.

I decided I need a cup holder on my handlebars. Ironman has one, and the lucky dog got to sip icewater all along the road, while I dreamed about the warm water just out of reach in my bag.

We took state highways and county roads. Along the way we encountered stop-and-go traffic (always annoying, but especially in the heat), one pickup driver who didn't bother to stop and wait for his turn at a four-way stop and two roadblocks for small-town parades (we got a little lost on a detour, but isn't that part of the fun of motorcycling?).

We also drove on many kinds of road surfaces. Mostly paved, some gravel, but the most interesting were freshly pressed steaming blacktop (kind of slick); a stretch where the road had been chewed off (groovy and bumpy); a section with stretchmarks of patching tar melting in the sun (slick and tending to redirect tires); and the worst conditions of all, sandy two-track.
 

"I hate sand," Ironman said after I'd dragged him into yet another dead-end, looking for a hiking trail.

We managed to get out of it without either of us dropping a bike.

"But what an adventure!" I shouted with joy once we were on our way.

I did drop mine on its side one time as I was starting into turn left on gravel and a car sailed into our path around a blind curve. I hit the front brake and skidded sideways. That was a bummer, but nobody hurt.

On the plus side of the scale, I did pull at least one perfect U-turn without putting a foot down on one of several turnbacks. ("Oops! Wrong way ... sorry!")

We rode across the state to Saugatuck, one of our favorite places for Fourth of July fun. It's known as Saugatuck/Douglas, because the two cities are only two miles apart, and share a police department. It's an artist colony, with galleries, shops, excellent restaurants and live music, as well as being a haven for gay couples. We rode the chain ferry, pulled across the Kalamazoo River by a hand crank, and walked to Oval Beach, on Lake Michigan, where families were happily sunning, swimming and building sand castles. We got cool water and sand in our water shoes, then walked back, carefully choosing the shady side of the road.

There was a parade Sunday afternoon, for which we had a nice, shaded roadside view from the seat of Ironman's Vulcan Nomad, and we sat in the grass by the Coral Gables that evening to watch fireworks over the busy Kalamazoo River.

(Video to come!)

Although it would have been good practice, I'm sure, to drive in the overflowing tourist traffic in Saugatuck, I made the choice to park my bike at our motel in Douglas and ride two-up into town. I can't drive after dark on my permit anyway, and it just seemed less hassle maneuvering around the place and parking.

I did do something new on my bike, though. On the way home, we drove past a road we needed to take and the quickest way back was to jump on the freeway, something we usually avoid. It was my first time driving a motorcycle on the freeway, and I have to say, I didn't love it.

It wasn't the speed that bothered me, but the wicked wind. We only went a few miles. My bike weighs a little more than 500 pounds, which I thought would be enough, but I still felt as if I were being battered. I was glad to get off and back down to 55 mph.

See ya!

Ride for Independence

What does Independence mean to you?

To our nation's forefathers, it meant freedom from interference by distant, tyrannical rulership. The Declaration of Independence states that all "men" (ahem ... and of course, WOMEN) are endowed by their Creator with certain "unalienable rights ... among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

Note that the Declaration doesn't say anything about a right to BE happy -- only a right to pursue it.

To some, independence means not relying on others for assistance and support. That sounds like a lonely existence to me. I believe we were put on this planet to help one another. That is interdependence, and I think it's essential to a full human life. Helping others gives me a sense of purpose. Living without it would not be a happy existence for me.

Another meaning of independence is not looking to others for one's opinions or for guidance in conduct. That is difficult for most of us to do in a society. We bend to peer pressure. We look to our political leaders, our religious ministers, our teachers and our friends and family to help us form an understanding of our world. But our Creator has given us minds with which to think for ourselves, and free will in which to take action. Deep inside, we know the truth, if we let ourselves see it.

Sometimes I find my mind closing when I get stuck in a rut, hearing and seeing the same things day after day. Traveling opens up my outer view as well as  my inner one. It clears the fog between my ears and gives me new perspective. The ability to see things with fresh eyes is a miracle.

Try it for yourself this Independence Day weekend. Get out on the road, open your horizons -- free your mind and your butt will follow.

Now, get on your bike and ride.