I put 5500 miles on the Blast last year and explored a good chunk of three states. But I haven’t spent the time to write about all of those great rides. Much to catch up on, but tech stuff first.

So, now I’ve got some decisions to make.  The cost of the custom rack is reasonable no matter which number it turns out to be closer to. The question is: how long am I going to keep the bike? I love the Blast. It’s so much fun to ride, but I know that eventually I’m going to want a bigger bike. The Blast just isn’t long enough to carry clothing, camping gear and my photo equipment. And truth be told, I really like the Triumph Bonneville. I’m probably a good enough rider already to be comfortable with the Bonnie now. But, it’s twice the price of the Blast, so I’d not have much money after making payments. If I did buy a Bonneville, I’d still need to spend money on luggage racks, although there are off the shelf options. Plus, I’d want things like engine guards and highway pegs.

The main competitor for my motorcycling money is training. There’s the experienced rider course, the Women’s Riding School, Lee Parks Total Control, a dirt riding couse, maybe a cheap dirt bike for my own practice. Turns out riders with dirt experience are substantially under represented in motorcycle accident statistics. Since I don’t want to become a statistic myself, I want to know whatever it is that dirt riders know that keeps them out of accidents. And considering the kinds of “roads” I keep finding myself on, dirt experience is certainly transferable to the kind of riding I seem to do.

It’s going to be a difficult decision. I’ve always believed that tools don’t make the craftsman. And a skilled craftsman can make art with any tool available. But jobs are always easier when you match the tool, the job and the craftsman. I’ve matched the camera to me the budding photographer. While I can’t currently push the limits of the D200, and I may never do so, it’s comfortable for me, and never gets in my way. The limits are all mine. The Blast is just a ton of fun, but I’ve got a sense already what it’s limits are. The Bonneville looks to be the motorcycle equivalent of a prosumer SLR.

Decisions, decisions, decisions.

With the taller seat, it felt like a whole new bike. The seat is a bit hard, but the height feels pretty good. I think it really will solve the leg cramping problem. It’s gonna take some time to get used to it. It felt more like six inches than two. But I’m still flat footed at the lights.  I am glad that the Blast has a low center of gravity. But it’ll probably take a few hundred miles to get used to it.

So, since the bike is getting to be more what I want, the luggage problem really needs to be solved.  After looking at lots of Bonnie’s, the solo seat really caught my eye.  And I got to thinking that this sort of thing might be possible with the Blast. Take off the tail piece and you can get to the tail frame underneath. I’d need to have somebody fabricate some kind of new tail piece, but since I’d be getting the back of the stock seat cut off and rebuilt, what would be some more custom work. But as I spent a long time staring at the bike, a cheaper solution occurred to me.  I already own a lockable, waterproof hard case. It just isn’t a motorcycle case. The question has now become, how can I attach Pelican cases to the bike.  The first thing to do was to find a top loading Pelican case for the saddle bags. They make exactly 1 size of top loading cases. It’s about the same size as the 1500 case that I use for my camera stuff. The 1430 top loading case is deeper. But what would it look like on either side of the Blast? One cheap and easy way to find out. Camera, tripod, Photoshop.

I didn’t actually check the dimensions very carefully until this morning. I was mostly too impressed with my faked up boxes. The one I got completely wrong is the width of the side cases. I vastly underestimated it.  What I’ve got in the picture is about all the wider I want the cases to be. So, I spent a good bit of time rethinking the whole project. I looked at all sorts of cases: Givi E21’s, and Hepco-Becker Straykers both caught my eye. Both they both quickly run into serious money, and I’d still have to find someone to modify racks meant for other bikes. The only thing that would make these classy cases worthwhile is that I could then use them on any bike I purchased in the future. All I’d need to do would be to buy the racks for the new bike. But I’m still not ready to drop $500 plus to get cases right now. So back to the problem at hand; can I get Pelican cases to work?

While searching out more info on the Straykers, I wound up back on TriumphRat.net. Lo and behold, I’m not the first person to think of Pelican cases for a cheap solution to the lockable, waterproof cases. CatDaddy came up with super cheap brackets to hook 1400’s to the Bonneville. So, back to Pelican.com. While the top opening box is out, side opening cases might just do the trick. 1450’s are 14.5 liters of capacity, with outer dimensions of 16″x13″x6.9″, for $65 each at CaseClub. And I could even get Yellow! Seahorse has some competing cases. The most attractive one is the SE-520, which is just a little smaller at 13 liters, 14.9″x12.1″x6.8″. Just the case alone is $48, but they come with an option of locks on the latches. This would keep the cases looking a little less cheesy, because I wouldn’t need padlocks. $76 also at CaseClub.com. And as CatDaddy has done, all I really need is nuts and bolts, and a bent and drilled bit of 1″x1/8″ strapping.

For a top case, I can also run a couple of straps over the passenger seat and mount Givi’s E-250 universal adapter plate, and get a really nice trunk. Or in the short term, I could just buy some other giant Pelican, or Seahorse case to use as a hard tail box.

The problem with side opening saddle bags is that when you open them, the stuff will fall out. Pelican actually has some overpriced soft bags that fit the 1450. But I think screwing cargo netting into the cases will solve that problem much more cheaply. With all the holes I’d be putting into the cases, I might be compromising the waterproof quality of them. I think rubber gaskets and silicone sealant should solve that problem. The hard cases would give me plenty of room to put on new reflectors, or if I get ambitious, LEDs. I’d lose the place for my current helmet lock, but there’s plenty of room to hook up a new one.

But one remarkable shop I stopped at, the salesman asked me, “Why do you want a new bike? The Blast is a great bike for you.” Not exactly the way to sell motorcycles, but an excellent attitude. I had a ready answer. After 200 miles, I feel pretty cramped. Actually, after about 100. And it’s really hard to haul much stuff on the bike. Since I like longer distance riding, both of these are an issue. The salesman had no easy answers for me, but I know by now that easy answers don’t exist.

I’ve been spending some on-line time over at TriumphRat.net. Lots of information in the twins forums, and I’ve been dreaming and drooling. But even if I bought a Bonny, I’d still have to spend a fair amount of scratch fitting it out. While I would be instantly granted room to stretch, the storage would still need to be addressed. There are plenty of options, but nothing cheap.

The only thing for it is to see what I can do to make my joyous little Blast, a bit more comfortable and functional. Firstly, I had a brainstorm to solve the helmet lock problem, both immediately and cheaply. It’s so very old school, and I’m kicking myself for not thinking of it sooner. Yes, there is a place to put a helmet lock under the seat of the Blast. Just not a “Helmet Lock.” Home Depot to the rescue.

I seem to recall this being a fairly common sight 20-25 years ago. Just your regular old padlock hanging under the seat. It’s out of the way enough that I can leave it there all the time.

OK, just one more. It doesn’t really show the lock, but it does show off the pretty lines of the bike.

I’ve ordered the standard seat from the dealership and it should arrive this week. I’m hoping the 2 extra inches will alleviate the legs cramping problem. I think I’ll still be able to back the bike up with the taller seat. It will also be a nice stepping stone for when I do go bigger. I can start zeroing in on my seat height limit.

And I added a bit a pure farkle. When looking around in the doo dads aisle, I found a small clock. It’s really just a small, waterproof pocket watch with  stickum on the back instead of a fob attachment. I don’t always remember to wear my watch, and when I do, it’s still a bit difficult to see when riding. Trying  to get the watch to peak out enough from under my jacket sleeve was starting to be a recipe for disaster. Too much time with my eyes off the road.  Now it’s just a quick glance away.

So, I’ve got some basic problems now sorted out. I no longer have to carry my helmet around with me everywhere I go. (I can’t believe it took me 2 months to think of a padlock. That’s the problem with the internet. With all that wonderful information at your fingertips, you can spend forever looking for a specific solution, instead of being forced to just use your brain.) Hopefully, two more inches will be significant in the comfort department. And I can see what time it is without killing myself.

Now, if I can only solve the problem of dry lockable storage! My tail bag is great, and it came through the torrential downpour with flying colors. But, it’s starting to fill with things I should always carry: rain gear, warmer kit bits, maps, tools, lens cleaner, water, etc. When I take my camera along, (and I always want my camera along) it’s really stuffed. Saddle bags are the best solution, but tricky to fit ones of useful size. And they still wouldn’t offer much deterrent to theft. Locking hard cases are the way to go if at all possible.

The internet is also a good thing. No, I didn’t find a pre-made solution, but all that time spent looking at 37 pages of pictures of Bonnevilles, most customized in some way, got the juices flowing.  Stayed tuned for more. . . .

So, the main purpose of this trip, was to discover Princeton, MA.  The first part of the trip was on familiar roads. Groton, Harvard, and Still River are familiar and enjoyable.  I nice warm up to get me in the groove. But once I crossed 117, I went beyond the fields I know. (With apologies to Lord Dunsany.) I had my directions memorized through Five Corners, and was pretty comfortable that I’d memorized them to Route 62. Once I got to a numbered road, I hoped it would be reasonably well marked, and so navigation wouldn’t take up too much of my concentration. And it proved to be so. But it was a bit tricky in places, and I didn’t get to look around very much.  I’ll have to make this trip again, as what I saw was intriguing.

But  all too soon I was out of town and headed to some challenging areas. I wanted to keep the trip as rural as possible so, I quickly left 68 to avoid Gardner.  (And since I got a bit turned around in Gardner earlier on the week, I wasn’t keen to repeat it.) As I turned off 62 onto 68, I had a BWM F650 GS pull up beside me. It felt like an omen. And about 5 minutes later, I was beginning to wish I was riding it. Now the road from Hubbardston to Westminster was fine. It was in pretty good shape and decently wide. And it was wonderfully scenic. The Mare Meadow Reservoir definitely deserves some photographic exploration. There are good places to pull off on this road, as it is used by fishermen.

There were probably some shops to stop at in Westminster, but the weather was beginning to concern me some, so I just kept on. I’d been watching the beginnings of thunderheads, and it seemed like I was circling one. But I wasn’t so worried that I felt I needed to bag the trip and hit Rt 2 and home.  The leg to Ashburnham was fine.  I only needed quick glances at my directions, and I was making good time. Once there I had to keep my eyes peeled for my next turn, the eerily names River Styx Rd. And aptly enough, the road went straight to hell.  Once it became Russell Hill Rd the road bed smoothed out, but the road is narrow with blind turns, with sand and gravel on the inner curves and low spots. A technical and challenging ride. Got dreaming about that BMW again. Before leaving Russell Hill Rd, I passed a house with a sign proclaiming it the John Adams Homestead. Which, it turns out, is a Bed and Breakfast with 3 rooms.

Here’s where my route begins to deviate from the map above. I crossed Rindge Rd to Richardson Rd. I would have felt more comfortable on a mountain bike than a motorcycle. The posted speed limit dips to 15mph, and I wasn’t arguing. This isn’t a two lane road. Traffic flows both directions, but it isn’t two lanes. I eventually worked my way over to 31, crossed it, got over to New West Townsend Rd, and had to do a U-turn to head north. I wanted to see another stretch of Willard Brook State Park. It was fine as a park, but no where near as fun as the twisties on 119.   But I didn’t just want to head to 119 for the quick trip home, so I headed back south on Lunenburg Rd.  I missed my turn for Old City Rd (sign was difficult to see,) so I had to turn around and a light misty rain had started. It wasn’t horribly dark and the mist was very innocuous. But I was in an area where I didn’t have a clear view of the sky. If I could have seen what was coming, I’d have beaten a very hasty path home. I made the planned turn onto Tyler Rd, and the misty rain stopped. I began to have more signage difficulties, as things weren’t marked terribly clearly. I’d also not spent much time memorizing this bit. I’m so close to home, how could I get seriously lost? I’d quickly find familiar territory.

Well, instead of turning left onto S Row, as was clearly written in my directions, I turned right. Dyslexia? Bad signage? Who knows, but now I’m headed in the wrong direction looking for a road I won’t find. And now it starts to rain. Not a drizzle or mist, it’s looking like it’s going to be serious. I start making the most logical turns I can, based on where I think I am. (I’m well aware that I’m lost at this point.) And it’s DARK. I want my sunglasses off NOW, but I can’t find anywhere to pull off. Finally, I come to the intersection of whatever road I’m on, Townsend Harbor Rd and Mulpus. I pull off onto the non-existent shoulder at the stop sign. Zip up and seal the jacket. Waterproof doesn’t do you any good when it’s only snapped and open at the collar. I pull the rain cover over the tail bag, and think briefly about putting my rain pants on. But cars are coming up at the intersection, and there ain’t much room. Why bother anyway considering how wet my leathers already are? (It’s now bucketing down!)

Now which way? Townsend Harbor was where I was headed, but it doesn’t feel right. My inner compass is telling me Malpus. I go with my gut, Malpus it is. Before I take off, I remember to take off my shades, but I’ve got no place to put them.  I hook them on the cargo net that has been holding my (now soggy) directions on the tank. I don’t expect to ever see them again. But by now the lightning has started and it’s scary. There’s no shelter anywhere, nothing but tall trees lining shoulderless residential roads. I need to get out of here. Malpus is now flooding in many areas, and I ride into water that flows over the tops of my feet. Then I come out to a main drag. Left? Right? Where am I anyway? Left feels like north. Left. The road is better but the lightning is coming fast and furious. I still need shelter now! Did that sign say 225? Where? Longley, Lawton, yes! The old mill is minutes away! Just one careful turn through the river now flowing over the railroad tracks and I’m safe.

Of course, now the rain lets up and the lightning is less. I call home to say I’m safe, and find out the cat is MIA, the wind blew open the door, and the rain has soaked the carpet below the open windows. Sigh. I figure I’ll hang about for a bit longer to get my head straight before I get back on when I look west. Evil looking clouds, we are not done yet! Gotta run back under cover for round two, and it’s worse. Lighting is almost non-stop. It strikes some where very close by. I heard it, but I didn’t see where. The mill generator kicks in, but while it’s only 10ft away, it hardly adds to the din.  After an hour hanging out in the underpass, I figure it’s finally safe enough to manage the 20 min ride I have left to get home. The road is covered with leaves and twigs, some sticks. Then 1/2 mile from where I hid out, I find the lightning strike. Or maybe strikes. It looks like a whole section of pines just exploded. The road is impassable even for a little motorcycle for about 200 yrds. I can barely see the police lights on the other side. (There aren’t any on mine.)

After choosing the most likely to be passable alternate route home, I get there. The cat beat me back and for once didn’t object to being towelled off. Me neither. Still glad I took my MSF course in the rain. I was worried about a lot of things. But how the bike would handle the wet was never one of them.

These are two things I’ve wanted to do ever since I can remember. So, that’s the simple answer. I don’t know when exactly I got bitten by these two bugs, but I am certain it was before the age of 12 for both.

A motorcycle was really a natural step up from my bicycle. While good exercise, and the only transportation under my control for many years, my bike was my vehicle for escape and exploration. But my legs could only carry me so many miles in one day, and I’ve always wanted to know what’s around that bend, down that dirt road, or over that rise.  So, I would dream of the day when I had a motorcycle to take me farther. And then I’d dream of loading it up with a sleeping bag and extra clothes to go farther still.

Living where snow is an issue 3, 4, or in a bad year, 5 months of the year, a motorcycle must be a second vehicle. And when I could barely afford to keep a car on the road, a second vehicle was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Those who knew me in my salad days could argue successfully, that I didn’t really keep a car on the road. (My past self asserts, “Hey, they always passed inspection!” They were safe one or two weeks a year, or every 18 months if I could get away with it.) So, for years I had to satisfy the wanderlust with trips in a car or truck. Now, there are advantages to exploring from a car. I can chuck whatever I might ever possibly need into it,  without worrying about volume or even organizing. A car can be slept in without a tent or a sleeping bag and the doors lock. You can haul even more stuff with a truck, and toss a mattress in the back to really stretch out.

But the exploring isn’t as satisfying somehow. I don’t feel nearly as connected to the environment I’m travelling through when I’m surrounded by a safety cage. The ability to carry anything I might need means I don’t have to plan so much. With all the resources with me, I don’t have to live off the land, so to speak. It’s a Zen thing. On two wheels, you have to remain solidly in the Here and the Now. Four wheels allows you to be a little bit lazy. You can check the map while moving, eat, drink and listen to the radio. But on two wheels, you have to be aware and deliberate. And there’s so little between you and the environment. So the desire for a motorcycle remained.

My other way of exploring the world is with a camera. With the camera, I must really see what’s around me to capture the feeling of what my mind perceives.  Sometimes, I must explore to find a way to capture and communicate the beauty I see.  And sometimes the exploration is just to see what’s there more deeply or in a new way.

Exploring the highways and byways of New England searching for photographs by car is even trickier than in my home state of New York. The roadways of Massachusetts are generally narrow, with a sad lack of shoulders and ditches, and trees perilously close to the road. There isn’t a whole lot of room to pull off the road when you spot that  must-be-captured scene at just that golden moment. This makes a motorcycle a practical vehicle for the photographic explorer. But it does also make for more challenging motorcycling.

So, I’m off to explore. I’m not in search of the heart-stopping vista. The beautiful, the unique and the sublime can be found in the everyday and the ordinary. It may just be around the next bend. Sometimes I’m even lucky enough to find it.

]]> http://mkhayes.novatux.net/2008/06/motorcycling-and-photography-how-do-these-go-together/feed 0 http://mkhayes.novatux.net/2008/05/my-first-bike http://mkhayes.novatux.net/2008/05/my-first-bike#comments Tue, 06 May 2008 21:11:50 +0000 MK http://mkhayes.novatux.net/2008/05/06/my-first-bike/ I did a little searching before I took the BRC classes, to see what was possible. I’d originally hoped for small and cheap, like $1000 for a 250cc. But I quickly discovered I wouldn’t find such a thing anywhere but the roadside. And since I know beans about bikes at this point, it would be a pig in a poke. My new price point suddenly jumped to 3 or 4 grand. Maybe used, maybe new. I sat on a bunch of bikes to see what might fit and what felt comfortable. I was terribly disappointed to discover that a bike I have loved from afar was a no go instantly. The air cleaner hits me in the knee. Bummer as I’ve liked the look of Honda Shadows for years. Turns out this isn’t an uncommon problem.  The Harley’s did the same thing.  But the trip to the Harley shop got me turned on to Buells. I’d read about them some years back, but they’d slipped off my radar. So, my pre-class poking around got me two candidates: the Suzuki S40, a cruiser style bike, and the Buell Blast, a standard bike that looks like a sport bike.

After passing the class, I spent another day looking everywhere I hadn’t previously been. I was briefly, but seriously, tempted by the Triumph Bonneville. Very, very sweet! But it’s beyond my budget and a bit too big for a first bike. I’d rather have a standard than a cruiser.  So in the and there was only one bike for me. I bought a leftover brand new ‘07 Buell Blast.

No insurance and no registration, so I had to drive it home in the back of my pickup truck.

Sunday morning I applied what I’d learned the previous day and was dressed warmer and drier. Despite my best intentions not to spend another day with Irene, she was a touchy little bitch, I got her again anyway. And somehow for the first exercise of the day I wound up first in line, and it was the dreaded figure 8. I did everything bad possible except drop the bike. All confidence gained the day before, gone first thing. I thought about giving up a number of times throughout the day, but decided I’d keep at it until they asked me to leave. But during an early break, I was hanging out in the shipping container that the bikes are stored in with a couple of classmates. They said I was much improved from the day before. At first I thought they were kidding, but they were serious, and it helped me get through and concentrate on what I should be learning. We got some practise time toward the end of the morning. Quick stops and maybe figure 8’s. We were given a choice which we would do, with the admonition that figure 8’s are parking lot flash, where quick stops will save your life. I decided to let fate decide for me. After I’d done the first quick stop, if the 8 box was empty I go, but if it was full I’d do a quick stop. I did one perfect figure 8, to the applause of my classmates.  I was only able to pull it off because I told myself no one would be looking. But it was great anyway.

When it came time for the test, the rain finally stopped, and it warmed up a bit. All our moods lightened, and we spared some laughing sympathy for the classes who got the opposite weather than we did. How awful to do all your learning and practise in sunny weather, then have it rain for the test. I tested last, and as I sat watching my classmates go through their paces, I told myself there was no way I could pass, and that was fine. I’d take the test, so I’d know exactly what to prepare for. I really didn’t think I could pass, every time I did an exercise the instructors had one comment or another. But walking away was pointless when I’d come so far. I pooched the figure 8, of course, but, hey I did a perfect one earlier in the day and that was enough for me. And then as it turns out, I only lost one other point on the rest of the test. I earned my license!  Now to search for a bike.

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