Spring Riding in Colorado!

Left Hand Canyon--September, 2013

The state of Colorado experienced record rains and horrible flooding in September last year. The photo above is one I posted shortly following the floods, showing where the swollen river had washed away the road in Lefthand Canyon. Roads in the flood areas were temporarily repaired and open prior to Christmas, and work has continued to improve and repair the communities ravaged by the flooding.

A couple of weeks ago, I took a break from the kitchen remodel I am currently working on, and went out for a ride. My original thought was to head up north to Ft. Collins and ride around the back roads, but I found myself riding through Boulder, heading towards Lyons instead. As I passed the town of Crestview, I began wondering how the small towns were coming along, and I made a left at Lefthand Canyon Dr.

I stopped at Buckingham Park to take a walk, and was amazed to see what heights the river had reached, and the damage it had done. Healthy trees, 60' tall with trunks 18" or more in diameter, had been ripped from the ground. Concrete bridges lie crumbled, and metal structures are twisted grotesquely, revealing nature's strength. The power of swiftly flowing water was evident everywhere.

Road crews were working non-stop, as many parts of the road are temporary gravel or hard pack dirt. Many homes along the river's banks are in ruin, or partially so. Some houses lay half open to the elements; whole rooms or floors have been washed away. It was almost as if one could peer into them as one would a doll house.

I slowly rode through Jamestown, and headed out to Highway 72 via James Canyon Drive and Overland Road. Only as James Canyon Drive crested its highest point and turned into the dirt road that was Overland, did it occur to me that I had no map, had never ridden those roads, and don't carry GPS. After the brief thought that I might get myself lost, I continued on, figuring I could always turn around and ride back out the way I had ridden in.

There was no need for turning around, however, as I came out exactly where I expected to on the Peak to Peak highway. I turned right at highway 7 and rode one of my favorite pieces of highway into Lyons. Have I mentioned this before--I LOVE that short piece of road. Big long sweeping curves with a moderate speed limit that keeps a rider in a lean for almost the whole road.

Pulling into town, i saw that parts of Lyons which lie along the river looked much the same as the Jamestown area. Houses were wrecked, others had large piles of belongings lying along the roads. There is a huge effort to clean up, and restore life to normal, so I stopped at Oskar Blues to have some lunch and support the community. It was a beautiful day, and long after I was finished I sat out on the deck enjoying the warm sunshine.

---------------------------

That ride was so lovely, and such a welcome break from the non-stop work on the kitchen, that a week and a half later I insisted that Josh and I stop work early on a Saturday, and take a ride somewhere--anywhere--with our friend Doug Sager. We met Doug at work when we first moved to Colorado, and about a year later he left to travel the world with Cirque d'Soleil's Verekai. Before he left, in the summer of 2008, he and Josh went on their first motorbike road trip--a trip that would inspire each following road trip in the summers to come.

Doug returned to the states at the end of March after working the winter Olympic Games and Paralympic Games. He stayed with us for about a month, before leaving again to head to Vegas to join the Rod Stewart tour. (Uh huh, that guy is till touring!)

We set out on a warm, sunny afternoon, and headed into the hills. I rode my GS, Josh rode his V-Strom, and Doug rode his Honda Shadow 1100. We headed into the foothills (stopping so I could put another layer on--80 degrees in Denver does not mean 80 degrees in the mountains!) and spent a couple of hours riding familiar twisty roads with gorgeous scenery. Colorado is really one of the most beautiful places to ride.

Josh and our friend Doug Sager in front of Tommyknocker Brew Pub, Idaho Springs, CO.

We stopped for a bite in Idaho Springs at the Tommyknocker Brew Pub--I had to have the nachos! For some inexplicable reason, I am drawn to ridiculously high-piled plates of chips, beans, salsa, and cheese--mmmmmmmm....

As we sat chatting, out the window I noticed a couple walking across the street, as though to come in. They made a quick detour to look at the bikes, then came into the restaurant. As I watched them, I wondered which bike he was looking at, or if he was just pondering the sight of two dual sports and a cruiser, all obviously traveling together. When the couple came in, the man noticed us and our gear and came over to the table.

"Who is riding the BMW?"

Somewhat surprised, I said I was. He smiled a big, broad smile and punched me affectionately in the shoulder, saying, "Keep on riding!"

Josh and Doug sat stunned as they walked away. I started laughing and they joined in. Eventually the guy came back to the table to inform us that the V-Strom was pretty cool too. Doug pouted, and we laughed even harder. That guy, and the ride of course, made my day.

We left Idaho Springs with me in the lead, fueling up the cruiser just in case, and rode the highway that takes people to the Mt. Evans road. That is another stunningly beautiful road to ride, full of fun twists and turns. It was blissfully empty of cars for which I was thankful as we headed down the backside into Bergen Park. It was clear that although it was 80 degrees--Spring--in Denver, it was still winter up there. The roads were still heavily sanded through the corners for snow, and in some places,the snow came so far out into the road that our lane was down to being less than 3' wide.

As we dropped further down the mountain, the temperature again warmed, and we turned to head through Evergreen and Morrison and on to home. It was a great day, and I was so happy to finally get a chance to ride with my friend Doug before he headed out, once again, to live his rock 'n roll lifestyle.

 

Posted with Blogsy

Maintenance Woes and Rewards

As far as motorbiking is concerned, anyone who rides knows the rewards of maintenance. A bike that purrs along smoothly, turns without hassle or force, and money-saving gas mileage are a couple reasons to keep on top of it. Sometimes work needing to be done is expensive and sometimes it's time-consuming. Those two things suck, but sometimes it is just worth it for someone like me (less than mechanically inclined...) to try to find someone to whom I can throw money at and have the job well done.

I think someone re-used an old crush washer....

So here is where I get to the heart of this post--the intense frustration of ferreting out a good mechanic, and winding up with garbage work for a large payment. Last summer in San Diego, I knew I needed some work done so I asked around to find out who had a BMW mechanic he liked. I was given the name of someone located out in Santee, and when I looked him up online, it looked like he had loads of experience and customers.

I set up a time to drop the bike off--before his shop opened I got there, left it, and dropped the keys in the mail slot--and waited to get a call telling me what needed to be done beyond what I had asked for, and the estimate. I had asked for several things to be done including changing the front tube in my tire (it was constantly leaking), changing out my headlamp which had just gone out, and an oil change. The truth is that I am capable of doing all those things, but when I live way from home and don't have my full garage, it is much more economical to have someone else do it. At that time, I had also started to have some issues with my acceleration, and I guessed I probably needed my valves adjusted. This was something beyond my capabilities, so I took the bike in.

In the afternoon I got a call from the owner of the shop, and he listed what needed to be done, including all the stuff I asked for and valve adjustments. He also told me there was a leak between my oil and coolant and I had some of each in places it didn't belong. Crap. Ok, that was going to be expensive, but that was not what bothered me about that call. The owner spoke to me in such a condescending manner. I finally said that I was relatively new to motorcycling, and though I didn't know much about maintenance, I was trying to learn as I went. When he got done lecturing me on how long I should go between valve adjustments, he finished by saying, "...and it looks like someone has been riding this in the dirt."

Well, no shit.

This was where I lost my patience and in a very pissy tone of voice, I explained that in the past two and a half years since I had gotten the bike, I (that's right, little ol' me) had put 25,000 miles on it and had ridden to Alaska, finishing out the previous summer by taking the bike off pavement and riding jeep trails--you know, in the dirt-- and finishing out the winter by riding through a couple of snowstorms as well.

His tone of voice changed and he lost some of the condescension with which he had previously been speaking.

I okayed all the work, but that conversation should have made me take my bike back and just go to the dealer.

I got the bike back, and it felt a lot better. I was pretty happy with it, but about a week later, I noticed my front tire was low. I filled it, rode off to work, and forgot about it for about a week...when I discovered it was a little low again. I filled it, feeling frustrated, went to work and forgot about it again. A few days later I left work at lunch on the bike to go pay the mechanic for work I was having done on my truck. My tire felt low again, and when I got to the shop, I bent to look at it and found oil EVERYWHERE.

I called the mechanic and he said DON'T RIDE IT! I loaded it up in my newly repaired truck, and hauled it out to Santee again. When the bike mechanic called, he apologized and said there had been a mis-seated gasket and a loose hose clamp--no charge of course because it was their fault.

I picked the bike up the next day, and left San Diego to return to Denver, bike safely in the bed of the truck.

Since I have returned, I have also replaced my front tube--in my panic about the oil leak I failed to ask them to repair the tire they didn't the first time but charged me for--and changed my oil, finding some troubling things. I had noticed a small leak in the drain plug (did they use a new crush washer or just use the old one...?) and when I attempted to pull the filter cover off, I saw that the screws had been over tightened and one of the screw holes was cracked.

Since I have done the work on my bike, my front tire has stopped leaking, and so has my oil. I suppose these are not big problems, but what has me completely frustrated is wondering, in the wake of all this crappy work--on some remarkable simple and routine things--what the real work on my valves, brakes and oil/coolant situation is like.

I forked over $1100.00 for that work--which I had to pay for in cash because the owner is too cheap to pay credit card fees. Aargh! And I was treated like a stupid little girl!!

On the flip side of this issue stands Peak Performance--the shop in Lakewood next to Let It Ride. I have found them to be reliable, fair, and completely unpretentious. And...I am completely capable of doing some of my own maintenance. The only problem is it takes away from my riding time....

For right now, having changed my oil, front tube, and air filter, my bike is purring like a kitten. Spring has arrived--time to ride!

 

Posted with Blogsy

Seamus Raphael O'Bryan

I suppose somewhere in the back of my mind I've known that this day would come. The motorcycling world, my motorcycling world to be more specific, would lose someone precious and dear. Three weeks ago, on the morning of January 31, we lost our brother, Seamus O'Bryan.

I had the good fortune to meet Seamus for the first time a little more than 14 years ago, at The University of Arizona. Two years later, we both left, me having earned a degree, and Seamus moving on to other things. He would later return and finish out his degree in theater education, but prove that he was destined for a much wider variety of life than theater alone could provide.

Seamus, a native of Phoenix, wanted to learn to sail tall ships, and found himself on board the Alvei, a ship that circled the South Pacific, often ferrying people and supplies for an organization called Project MARC (medical assistance to remote communities). He eventually joined the group and helped bring clean water, doctors, and women's clinics to remote areas desperately in need of these things. Not long after the devastating earthquake in Haiti, Seamus found himself there in the middle of it all, giving his time and skills to help those who needed it most.

Seamus was involved with Project MARC for a number of years, during which time he would find himself back in the states working in theater to finance his volunteering. In 2008, as did most of the free world, Seamus and I reconnected on Facebook. We played a little catch up, and this past April, we wound up in the same city at the same time, working for the same company.

As this summer's work ramped up, we figured out how to do many of the things we enjoyed together, on the one day off a week when our schedules would overlap. We climbed, went to the shooting range, went to the archery range, sailed, and rode our motorcycles everywhere. His motorcycle was his only form of transportation, which works a lot better in San Diego than in most other places in the country, and we took them everywhere--we rode down into Baja one Mexico Monday, making it the third country I had been to on my bike.

We made quite the pair when we would pull up somewhere, Seamus on his shiny Honda Shadow 750, and me on my beat up BMW F650GS. I laughed often at how big my bike looked next to his, but our bikes suited us well. We traded a couple of times over the summer, but in the end, we were always happy to get back to our own.

 

In December, a couple of months after I returned to Denver, I got a call from Seamus. We chatted for a while before he had to go in for his work call. He excitedly told me about an upcoming trip he would be heading out on with his buddy Peter from Australia. Peter was coming out to the states and the plan was that Seamus would line up a bike and gear, and the two of them would ride part of the pacific coast and into Arizona right after the Christmas show at The Old Globe closed.

This would be his first real road trip on the bike, and I regularly got updates and pictures of the bike and gear, and reports on the need to get started on the trip so he would stop spending money on stuff for the trip. That made me laugh, as I know that feeling all too well.

 

Peter Newbigin and Seamus O'Bryan on their January 2014 road trip.

It looks like a quick fix was needed and successfully implemented.

The guys had a great trip, and I was looking forward to hearing the details. Seamus went right into tech rehearsals after returning, and I was in the middle of tech also. I sent him a quick note the day after my kickstand fell off, and my bike took a dirt nap at the gas station. I could hear the laughter in his response message, and we promised to catch back up after we opened our shows.

Early in the morning on January 31, the day after opening his show, a man in a Cadillac turned left in front of Seamus as he was driving down University Ave in San Diego. In an instant, this amazing human being was taken from us, leaving an emptiness that, right now, seems impossible to fill.

 

---------------------------

 

As I read over what I have written above, it seems a horribly hollow description of my friend. It would be impossible to tell his story in anything less than something the size of a Michener novel.

The last few days, we have had funeral and memorial services. As with any event of this type, we all had our times of being terribly sad. But, when we could see through the sadness for a few moments, we have also been able to tell our stories and laugh like crazy. Who else could I possibly have been sitting with in a sailor bar, and turned in surprise when someone walking by caught her peg leg on the ratty carpet, fallen, and not spilled a drop of her whiskey?

Yup, that happened. That and so much more. At his memorial in Phoenix, his mother spoke with more grace than I could have imagined was possible to possess at a moment like that. She reminded us that in the end, Seamus's life was not really cut short. He lived more in his 32 years than most will live in 80.

At the beautiful memorial service in San Diego, hosted by The Old Globe Theater and The LaJolla Playhouse, I was asked to speak and tell an uplifting story or two. It was hard to choose! I told a couple of sailing stories as sailing had brought many of the 300+ people there that night together. At the end, I told part of this last story.

Before I left San Diego in September to return home to Denver, Seamus helped me run some errands to load my bike and get new tires for my truck. As we sat stopped at an intersection, I silently ran through everything I still needed to accomplish feeling more and more stressed as I added it all up. Suddenly I feel the truck shaking violently and I look over to see Seamus dancing as wildly with his upper body as he could.

"Intersection Dance!"

I didn't play along. He kept at it until I smiled, then finally started laughing and doing my own little dance. A week after Seamus's accident, I walked into my garage and looked at my bikes. I hadn't realized until that moment that I had been avoiding doing so. Last weekend, I got on my big bike, went out and put 180 miles on in the sunshine of the day. As I rode down 85 through Brighton, I had to stop at a traffic signal. It was a long light. A fun song came on, and I threw my arms into the air and did an intersection dance, much to the amusement (I like to think) of those around me. Thank you for that, Seamus.

 

For Seamus Raphael O'Bryan

5 June 1981 - 31 January 2014

"...and I'll see you someday in Fiddler's Green."

 

Posted with Blogsy

Taz--aka The Tasmanian Dirt Devil

The past week has been beautiful in Denver and I have been able to return to daily commuting on the bike, and even a short ride, south and east, this past Saturday. Mostly I've been riding my big bike, but Monday I had to switch to the new little dirt bike.

Saturday's ride saw a stretch of easy dirt with some mud--my boots and pants had mud splattered on them when we got home--but everything else was pavement.

 

It was cold! This is the biggest reason I haven't been taking the little bike out. It is below freezing every morning when I leave for work, and I really like using my grip heaters and electric gloves. You can see the still built-up piles of snow in the pic above. It has been sunny, but heading east of town onto the high plains, one gains altitude and the temps drop. Brrrrrr.....

Sunday, the day after the 150 mile ride, I had to go to first dress rehearsal for Hamlet. I left at four, and on the way home, I stopped to fill up my gas tank. I pulled into the gas station, killed the engine, dropped the kickstand, and got off my bike. As I walked around the back of the bike, pulling my gloves off, I noticed movement in my peripheral vision, and turned in time to watch 450lbs of BMW slam to the ground. For a moment, I just stood there, staring unbelievably at my motorcycle lying on its side.

Wtf?

Oh god, how many people just saw that?

This is really fucking embarrassing.

And there lay my bike, mocking me.

Then, as I looked closer, I saw a hunk of black metal lying about 2 feet away from my bike. It was my kickstand.

Fuck.

So I take my helmet off, set it next to the pump, and move around to pick my bike up, thinking "Ok, here's the test as to whether or not you are capable of picking the damn thing up on your own."

As I put my back to my bike, squat down grabbing handlebars and back bar, and start to lift, one of the women at the station yelled, "Can you do that by yourself!?!" I told her I didn't know, I had never had to before. I got it about halfway up, stopped to take a breath, and by that time she had gotten to me and helped me muscle it the rest of the way up. Another woman had arrived at about the same time. I put the bike on it's center stand, and thanked them both. (In my head, I thanked them and told the two men who just watched the whole thing that they were ASSHOLES!)

I wasn't sure what to do at this point. Usually when something goes wrong with my bike, I look at it, poke at it, and pretend I know what I'm looking at and poking at. Then I leave it alone overnight and hope the problem goes away. If it doesn't, I take it to some who CAN look at it and poke at it, and actually know what they're doing. I know my limitations.

But I didn't have that luxury here. I got down on the ground, looked at the whole assembly where my kickstand belonged, and realized there was NO bolt and no springs. I looked all around the bike. Nothing. I don't know where they went, but they were gone. So then I wonder if the bike will think the kickstand is down if I start it and try to put it in gear. That would suck--I wouldn't even be able to ride it home. So I tested that--started it and put it into gear. It stayed running so I thought that was a small victory.

While it was upright, and at the gas station, I put gas in the tank, hoping that in the process, one of the three people I had tried calling would call me back. Oh...no such luck. We can't be bothered when we're cheering for the Broncos....

So now I have gas and I know I can get the bike home. My next big problem is that although I can get my bike down off the center stand, I'm not sure I can hold it upright and balanced, and throw a leg over without dropping it again. This may seem ridiculous to other (read: male) riders, but please keep in mind that I barely get my toes down on my bike (its not easy being a small woman in a large man's motorcycling world!), and there was a good possibility I was going to hurt myself. In the meantime, a guy in a truck had pulled up next to me and he was gassing up. He kept staring--it's a thing, guys do it when they see girls on bikes--and I thought I could ask him to help me. My pride just wouldn't let me. Nope. Be a big girl, handle your own bike, and go home.

And in the end I did. I made it home safely, got the stupid thing into the garage and up on it's center stand, and have been riding Taz to work everyday. I've ordered the parts to fix Thumper, and they should be here soon--Just in time for the temps to drop and more snow to come. Sigh....

Anyway, I was not laughing at the time, but I can laugh about it now. My shoulders were sore from picking up 450 lbs. of bike, but I am secure in the knowledge that I can do it if I need to. And...I have a back-up bike! That's the best!

 

Posted with Blogsy

Colorado Front Range Tag-O-Rama

When I first joined the ADV Rider forum, a little more than a year ago, there was so much to look at and so much to read about. Eventually, I checked out all the local threads in the Rockies regional posts, and I happened upon one called Colorado Front Range Tag-O-Rama. It is a photo tag game played within certain boundaries on our front range. It's an area, approximately, from Ft. Collins to Pueblo, before the snow starts to the west, and somewhere out on the plains to the east.

I thought it sounded like a fun game to play. The first person picks a location, hopefully with some historical or cultural interest and take a picture of their bike in front of it. Then the game is on. Everyone tries to figure out where the location is, get there and "grab" the "tag" by replicating the picture with his or her own bike. The first person to do so and get it posted wins that tag and gets to choose the next location.

Although I read about it a year and a half ago, I didn't start playing until about a month ago. But now I'm hooked, and I love the hunt, even if I can't get to the tag in time.

 

The aerial turbine in Rollinsville was the first tag I grabbed. However, I had to ride to Nederland in order to post it, as I had no cell service in Rollinsville, all the while hoping no one else had sniped it.

This was my first tag I posted--his name is Sun Spot and I felt it represented me fairly well as it was a piece of public art, and a dog! He resides in the parking lot at the new Denver Animal Shelter and can be glimpsed from I-25 if you know where to look.

The second tag I grabbed was after daylight savings time ended, so I had to get it in the dark. This is the Wings Over The Rockies museum in the Lowry district of Denver, a former Air Force Base.

My next post was downtown, right down the street from the theaters. The artist is David Choe, and the building behind where I am standing to take this picture also has some of his work on it.

 

I have Googled and located several other tags, but have not been able to make it in time. However, last Thursday night, one of the players tagged The Walnut Room, a local eatery, and it was determined it should wind up being a group grab for lunch. So, not long after I started playing, I got to meet six other players at lunch. Now, being something of an introvert, this is not always easy for me. I don't do well in large crowds of people, and really have a hard time walking into groups of people I don't know at all. My worst fears were realized as I walked up to the animated table full of (male) motorbike riders, introduced myself, and sat down to complete silence. Oh god! It was awful and awkward. Nothing like a girl to bring an entire table full of men to abrupt and complete silence. THIS is why I am terrified to try new things!

So, I asked who everyone was, they introduced themselves, and silence returned. Eventually, smaller conversations started again, and it became more comfortable. One of the other players asked what I do for the Denver Center and as it turns out, he is the Technical Director for the Lone Tree Arts Center, and had been trying to find out who Powered Productions Llc. was, after seeing our company's name listed in the Central City Opera program. We got a good laugh out of what a small world it is, and he gave me his card, telling me he needed some scenery built.

In the end I met some nice people, did a little networking, and it was a nice lunch. I left feeling much happier and calmer than when I showed up. And THIS is why I sometimes bite the bullet and try new things!

As to why I was "calmer" than when I showed up, well, that is a whole other story that had nothing to do with me feeling anxious about going to meet a new group of people. When I left the shop and walked out to my motorcycle, I found that someone had stolen my tank bag, and Josh's as well. We spent about half an hour watching video footage of the loading dock, and two assholes working together ripped us off. There was nothing of high value in either bag, and nothing of any value to the two douche bags who stole them. However, as I have added up the costs of what was in there, along with the costs of the bags, it's about a $600 loss.

My sense of good feelings towards human beings as a whole took a nose dive that day also. That seemed to be a greater loss. But then, something good happened. I sent a message to the Tag-O-Rama group explaining what had happened, not sure that I would make it to lunch in time, or at all, and throughout the course of the day, I got messages of support from people in the group. I even got a message from one guy, who was not at lunch, saying that he had plenty of tank bags if I needed to borrow one until I replaced mine. I don't know this guy, haven't met him, but that offer made me smile and helped restore some of my faith in humanity.

I found out another parking area got hit later that night, and now have nothing on my bike that can't be completely locked down. Tank bags, with their four dog clips, will now be only for long rides--no longer a commuter bag. Nothing in that bag couldn't be replaced, so that's a plus. Going to head up to the Wolfman store and get a new bag soon--yeah, a shopping trip!

My two favorites pictures with that bag. It went to Alaska with me and rode the trails in the San Juan mountains too. So sad....

 

Posted with Blogsy

Where have I been?

It seems as though it has been forever since I posted something new. I have been riding, just not a whole lot. There is, of course, the daily commute. It's somewhat boring, and full of distracted drivers, but it keeps me on my toes and constantly reinforces my defensive driving/riding skills.

The day after the first snow of the season, I took a ride into the foothills. I took roads that have all been mentioned here numerous times, but was caught off guard by the cold factor. Having just returned from summer weather in San Diego, I was unready for the abrupt change to winter temps, particularly going up into the mountains. I stopped in the post office parking lot in Blackhawk to take off my pants and zip the quilted liner in. Boy was I glad I had leggings on that day (though after the deluge of Facebook articles claiming leggings are not pants, I must apologize to drivers on 119 for having to witness my ass in leggings as I got everything together--sorry!), but I was sorely missing my heavy jacket and electric gloves.

 

The aspens were turning, and Golden Gate Canyon was a lovely ride that day.

 

Roads were still closed for repairs after the massive flooding that happened in September, so I put few miles on that day. They were lovely miles, however, riding in the bright sunshine, snow lining the roads, and aspens just turning to gold.

Later in October, we received an invite to a dual sport event hosted by Rampart Rider and Fay Myers Motorsports. It was small, limited to the first 30 or so people, but it was a fun day of riding. Dan and Mary Predovich hosted the group at their home outside of Sedalia, welcoming us with coffee on their deck. Fay Myers had 4 or 5 people there, setting up courses, handing out SWAG, and talking about riding, checklists, and general motorcycle maintenance.

As people were arriving, a new BMW 700GS pulled up with panniers that looked strangely familiar. When the rider got off and removed her helmet, I recognized Sherrie, a woman I met and rode with in Silverton with the RMAR. It was great to see her and catch up, but I was horrified to find out the reason I recognized the boxes and not the bike was that a jeep had hit her head-on on a trail going about 30 mph. Her bike was totaled, but she miraculously came out of it only with sprained wrists. Amazing woman that she is, she went out and ordered herself another bike and kept going.

We had a great day of riding the off-road course, lunch, and a skills competition following lunch. Dave from Fay Myers judged the skills competition which included three challenges: weaving through cones as slowly as possible, picking up tennis balls off the top of cones, and tossing hula hoops over cones. These types of challenges are often done at events, but we were doing them off-road and uphill. No smooth asphalt for us! There were originally two competitive groups: smaller engine dirt/trail bikes, and larger cc dual sports. In the end, the Fay Myers group found an extra gift card (the competition prizes) and added a third breakdown--the women's group. I won the women's group! But, in all fairness, there were only three of us, and only Sherrie and I actually competed in all the events. I had a blast though!

 

Me with my gift card prize from Fay Myers! It was a gorgeous, warm sunny day. If we weren't on the bikes, we stripped down to as little clothing as we could. Fay Myers provided burgers and potato salad for lunch, and we all had a great day!

Mary Predovich, one of our hosts, on her little Honda. Many thanks to Dan and Mary for hosting!

Part of the GS contingent. It also included my 650, Sherrie's 700, and another guy's 1200. The bikes ran the gamut, from little 100s to giant 1200s--I watched a guy catch air off a berm on a Triumph Tiger 800. I was impressed by everyone's riding abilities!

 

 

The trick with the tennis balls was not dropping them after you grabbed them. It subtracted from your score each time.

 

We were supposed to be getting together again, the same group minus the Fay Myers guys, and riding in the meadow again last weekend. Sadly, the (In)Accurate Pinpoint Weather people forecasted bad weather that day, so it was cancelled. FYI--the weather was gorgeous that day. I raked leaves.

 

Posted with Blogsy

Yamaha XT225--the newest family member!

Who has two thumbs and a new dirt bike?

Yup! This girl!

I have been searching for a small dirt/trail bike for more than a year--since I went off-road for a weekend with the Rocky Mountain Adventure Riders (RMAR) last July. I had a grand time, but learned that weekend that if I wanted to be self-sufficient, I needed a smaller bike. Smaller in engine size and smaller in over all physical size. And although the GS is made to be a dual sport bike, having a bike specifically made with this type of riding in mind would help me greatly in learning the basics, and improving the skills I found I already had.

The "Shortypants--we are short women and this is what we ride" thread on ADVRider was immensely helpful. It is more than 50 pages long, and packed with info on bikes, modifications, likes, dislikes and ridiculously inspiring photos. These women can ride!!!

After reading through the whole thread, I made a short list of bikes on a post-it that has travelled with me for about 8 months in my work bag. These were the top favorites, for different reasons and for different riders, that I thought could work well for me. This summer I started sitting on bikes in dealerships and seeing how they felt. I was not, however, going to buy a brand new bike.

There are two reasons for this.

1) (and this is pretty big) $$$. I knew I would be looking at selling the Red Devil and using that money towards a new bike. It is 33 years old, and though its a great bike, it is not in original condition. It would not cover the cost of a new bike, so I needed to keep my budget fairly low.

2) I will drop this bike. A lot. I'm pretty sure that if I get myself a brand new bike, I will ride it so gingerly and carefully so as to not scratch or dent it, that it will defeat the purpose of getting a bike to learn on. I think I would probably cry the first time I dented a brand new bike--no lie.

So, Craigslist it is. After months of looking, both here in Colorado and in California where I spent six months of my summer, I bought a bike from a guy just outside of Sedalia, CO. I met Steve in front of Bud's Bar (he was on his 650 V-Strom) and followed him to his home. He pulled the bike out of the garage and the first thing I thought was, "Crap, its bigger than I thought it would be!"

I looked it over, got my gear on and he started it up. That's when I looked at him and said, "Oh, the one thing I didn't do before you started it was throw a leg over to make sure I could touch the ground." We both laughed, but I wasn't laughing on the inside....

I got my leg over and couldn't put even my toe on the ground on the other side. But the bike was light and the suspension squishy and I was feeling brave. I pushed up and the bike got upright and settled just enough for me to put toes on the ground! Success! I got the kickstand up and took off. I was glad that by the time I returned, he had gone back inside: I knew I had the goofiest grin on my face! What a fun bike!

 

We got all of the paperwork out of the way, Steve helped me load it up, and I drove off with that same goofy grin on my face, windows down, music loud, wind blowing my hair, having a great time! It was now about 1:30 in the afternoon, and I realized I hadn't eaten all day--I was starving! On my way back through Sedalia, I decided to stop and eat at The Sedalia Grill. I had ridden past it many times, seen loads of motorbikes there, but never stopped. I went in, ordered wings and a Coors Light, and sent messages to everyone I knew who would care about the new bike.

In the parking lot at The Sedalia Grill. Motorbikes of every variety were parked there, and by the time I left, several trucks loaded with dirt bikes were parked next to mine. I felt like I was part of the club!

I get to go home early from work today--we are super slow--so I'll be heading to the DMV to title and register it. The picture below is the current line-up, but room in the garage is super tight. I'm going to sell the little Honda this month if I can, but I will miss her!

I know she doesn't look like at XT--they are usually white with blue/grey graphics. The first owner of the bike put an aftermarket Clarke tank on her (4.2 gallons) and painted the bike to match. Steve admitted to me that he had put a couple scratches on her, and quite honestly I'm thankful for them. I won't be worried about keeping her in pristine condition--that's not what she's for anyway!

L-R: Nalla, Louise, The Red Devil, ?, and Thumper the Ice Queen. Gonna need a name for the new one.... (Look at that big 21" front wheel on the Yamaha!)

 

Posted with Blogsy