Last Day/ First Day

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Well, the old year has passed, and a new year is upon us.  Did you get a chance to get out on the roads or trails yesterday or today? 

The weather cooperated, and I was able to get out for a short time both days.  It was cool: about 41 degrees to start on both days, and a little windy today, but were certainly rideable conditions.

Both days, I meandered around near the intersection of US-178 and SC-11.  That is where the Holly Springs Country Store is located, a favorite place for bikers of all variety to gather, plan rides, and chew the fat.

Alas, not one biker was there either day, and I passed by there four times. 

I continued west on US-178 to visit Sassafras Mountain, the highest point in South Carolina.  I have been there many times, but this time, the gate was open that leads to the actual highest point.

A closer view:

Naturally, I had to go up there.  They have placed a plaque that shows where the highest point is, and a bench to rest on.  Trails lead off in at least two directions for the hardy ones who hike the mountains.  A maintenance worker was busy on the cell tower that is located here. 

The road, however, was covered with wet leaves, and was quite slippery. 

I gingerly used my back brake to edge back down the slippery slope that is surprisingly steep under those conditions. 

The gravel parking lot is the place to park to walk out on the overlook platform whose design I have been critical of.

The platform is still ugly, and is rusting and rotting away despite the designer's claim that it is a long-lived structure.  They have already had to brace it so it doesn't wobble. 

For some reason, vandals have attacked the sign leading to the overlook.  This is about the third one that I know of.

Someone has beat it up pretty badly, but look at the back:

They used a chain saw to cut through all of the lumber holding the sign to the post.  Nevertheless, they still couldn't get it to come off.  Why would somebody want it that badly?

After a look from the platform, I mount up again and make my way back down toward Rocky Bottom on US-178.

Before I reach 178, I meander onto Glady Fork and East Fork Roads, then to just south of Rosman, NC.  I hit US-178 again and turn east and go down the slope, heading again for Rocky Bottom and to the Holly Springs Store beyond.  That means that I pass through the place where the photographer Patrick Welsh takes pictures of passing traffic. 

On these curves: 

I suppose I am faster through here today than I was back in 2009 when he snapped my picture, but I don't watch the speedo when I am negotiating curves, so I don't know for certain!

I get home after only around 100 miles, but it has been fun to be out on the last day of the year. 


Today, the first day of January, I was fortunate to slip out for a few more hours of seat time.  I went up to SC-11 again, but this time to Table Rock State Park, another place I have been many times before. 

I get glimpses of it from the roads on my way there.  Like this:

A little closer:

And as close as you can get, while still on the road.

You can hike to the top of Table Rock, but it is an elevation change of over 2400 feet in 3-1/2 miles, so your pacemaker had better be in good shape to make it. 

After I leave the park, I return to Pickens South Carolina, a small town that you go through to get to the mountains.  I run the Perfect Curve again, maybe a few miles per hour faster than the time I wrote about it. 

Neither today nor yesterday do I see many others out on two wheels.  Only two yesterday and one today, not counting the single lone bicyclists I saw, one each day. 

I do a little low speed practice on a cul-de-sac near home, then put the bike away for the new years day dinner my wife has prepared.  Today, I only went about 79 miles, but it is great to start off the year this way. 

Have a good and prosperous new year. 

Ride with you again soon.

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Christmas Blessings

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It is that time of year when we think of cool weather, gift giving, family time, and a few days off from the workaday world.  For those of us who live in warmer climates, it could be that we can sneak out for a few miles on the roads or in the woods on our scooters. 

All good, these things. 

There is one more thing about this season, though that is paramount.  The reason for our celebrating in the first place.  It is the birth of Jesus Christ around 2000 years ago.  Christ is God's son and his teachings are fundamental to our lives now, and into eternity. 

It is at this special time of year, that we would do well to hear the Christmas story once again.

The prophet Isaiah wrote about the coming of Jesus to earth about seven hundred years beforehand:

For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given: and The Government shall be upon His Shoulder: and His Name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The Mighty GOD, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.
Of the increase of His Government and peace there shall be no end, upon the Throne of David, and upon His Kingdom, to order it, and to establish it with judgment and with justice from henceforth even for ever. The zeal of the LORD of Hosts will perform this. 

Luke wrote of the birth about thirty years after Jesus' death:

And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with Child. And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.

And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling clothes, and laid Him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the LORD came upon them, and the glory of the LORD shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the LORD. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the Babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into Heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the LORD hath made known unto us. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the Babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this Child. And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them. And when eight days were accomplished for the circumcising of the Child, His Name was called JESUS, which was so named of the angel before He was conceived in the womb.

Around thirty-three years after Jesus' birth, he was killed by crucifixion, laid in a borrowed tomb for three days, then arose from death.  He was seen by multitudes here on earth after that. 

If you don't know Jesus Christ as your living savior, then find a church that preaches from the Bible, and where they believe that it is the inerrant word recorded by writers inspired by God.

They can explain the wonder of the birth of Jesus Christ and what it means to you and me. All you have to do to go to heaven after you die is to believe what happened to Him, and to ask Jesus to be your savior. 

Merry Christmas to all, and happy riding in the new year.

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Here is a bit of inspiration for you, by a group of ordinary people.

40,000 Milestone

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....News Flash!....

I made motorcycle history a couple of weekends ago.  You won't see it in the papers or elsewhere online.  Only right here on Bucky's Ride Blog, can you find out the whole story.

Here's the scoop: I've ridden the motorcycle 40,000 miles since I bought it.  [Wow, what a story, Bucky.] 

You may recall that back in May of 2011, I wrote about having ridden it 25,000 miles, and before that, in April of 2009, I wrote about another milestone, 10,000 miles, at that time.

This 40,000 mile mark has come sooner than I ever imagined it would.   In fact, there have been times that I wondered whether it would happen at all.  Well, it has, I am pleased to say.  When I got the bug, my friends and family certainly were shocked to know that I was interested in riding, but one fellow at work, Jeff, a former rider, encouraged me.  Then, some others like Ryan helped me further. 

Thank you, sirs, for that assistance and encouragement. 

Remember that this is my first real motorcycle, not counting the old minibike I had when I was a teenager, so I have ridden only this motorcycle all that way.  And there have been very few long-mileage days in there, the longest being a trek into northern Georgia with an accomplished rider, Stretch, on a cool day in February of 2007.  That was all of 259 miles, some of which was at elevations high enough that there was ice on the rock outcroppings beside the road.  

Stretch was kind enough to ask me to tag along with a small group, and was also patient with my slow pace.   He was on an FZ1 at the time, but is riding a dualsport bike now, exploring gravel roads and trails within a few hundred miles of here.  And I hear he toys with the sportbike riders on the twisty roads when he is out riding this bike.  (By the way, he gets his name because he is a very tall guy.  Stretch -- get it?) 

My 25,000 mile mark was passed in a pastoral setting not far from home; one of those old country roads where the trees occasionally meet overhead, forming a canopy. 

Right here:

The 40,000 mile mark occurred at a place that was not so picturesque, I'm afraid.  It happened in front of the local landfill, close to where I had the encounter with Big Bird a while back. 

This present occasion was commemorated with the following pictures. 

The countryside nearby: 

The landfill sign as proof of location:

Beautiful spot, isn't it?  ...Well, the sign is nice, anyway. 

The time in the afternoon of the auspicious event:

I bought my bike in September of 2007, so I have owned it about seventy-four months. That is around 540 miles per month on the average, but during this last year I have logged about 75 miles per month less than the average.  Real life intrudes more into motorcycle life lately, I guess. 

I have never ridden another bike, though I have sat on a few at motorcycle shows and in dealers, and I spent an hour on a dirt bike once.  Some of my friends encourage me to look at a cruiser next, since I am getting so "up in age," according to them.  (Funny, I didn't notice that.)  Maybe, but I seem to have become accustomed to the riding position on this bike, and it would be hard to change.  I think a dualsport might be a nice addition, since it would better handle the gravel roads I have sometimes traveled on the 650R. 

I ride year around, thanks to the mild weather here in South Carolina, and that helps maintain what riding skills I have.  If I had to abandon the bike all winter, I would need to relearn much more every spring, I am sure. 

The bike has performed well over its life in my stable thus far, but I do note that a motorcycle is not an inexpensive thing to own.

Tires are high, even though I get very good mileage from most of them. I have spent $1200 (about $0.03/mile), including mounting with wheels off the bike, for 3 front and 4 rear tires so far.  One rear tire was punctured on my trek on the gravel Musterground Road.  So for the fronts that is a range of 9-12,000 miles for each tire, and for the rears, 12-14,000 miles each.  You more aggressive riders use up tires much faster than I do. Frugal, I am, and not very aggressive in riding. 

Maintenance and repair expenses have not been cheap either, amounting to some $670 ($0.016/mile) over the life of the bike; And, I have performed all of the labor myself.  Farkle and accessories have been $400 ($0.01/mile).

All together, that is about $0.056/mile, not including gas or insurance. 

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By the way, while I was out making motorcycle history, my wife was at a church craft fair (didn't they used to call them bazaars?), selling some knitted items she had made.  There were dish cloths, and fuzzy ladies' scarves [fuzzy ladies??], and some of those pillows for the ring bearer at a wedding so he doesn't lose the precious symbols of the union, ...

Lucia Paul Design

...and a couple of Christmas wreaths made from all sorts of stuff bought at the local Hobby Lobby.  She has been working on these things for weeks ahead of time to have enough to sell. 

Here are her display tables:

Quite the artisan, she.

Some views of the other ladies' work, and some shoppers:

I think I'll keep my bride; she's a good 'un. 

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Back to the day's ride for a second.  On my way to the record, I rode from home up SC-28 and SC-107 (on a route similar to this ride) to the Wigington Byway going toward Whitewater Falls, and stopped at the overlook on the Byway. 

The view was breathtakingly..................................absent!

The fog was so heavy I could not see a thing.

It usually looks like this over there beyond the concrete:

February 2012

I then rode with four-way flashers on for several miles until I got to a slightly lower elevation again. 

SC-130 from the falls down to SC-11 was an enjoyable series of sweepers, as usual. 


So, lets plan to meet again when I reach, say, 50,000 miles.  At the current rate, that will be on August 30, 2015.  Mark your calendar. 

I'll meet you at the landfill with fly swatter in hand. 


...I still wonder how far I rode that little minibike.

Definitions:

farkle -- accessory; generally accepted to mean a combination of "function" and "sparkle"
bazaar -- a sale in aid of charity, esp. of miscellaneous secondhand or handmade articles

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Give Thanks

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From The Bikers' Den

That couple on the bike may be having some difficulty carrying home the leftovers from a grand Thanksgiving spread.  

Did you ever stop to think how fortunate we are to have the meal, let alone the extras? 

This is the time of year for us to be thankful for the bounty of blessings we have in these United States.  God has blessed us richly.

Freedom from Want
Norman Rockwell, 1943

Give Him your thanks today for all you have, for all our country has, and for all it was established to stand for. 
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Old Folks, Pianos, and Bucky

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On occasion, I like to have a little fun with my appearance as a typical motorcycle rider when I am around "normal" people. 

Now, "typical" is probably not a good way of putting it.

The usual stereotype of a bad biker is one of black chaps and a slant-zip jacket over a sleeveless shirt, with maybe a bandanna, a colors vest, a few chains, and some tattoos in conspicuous places. 

Or, it could be a kid on a too-high-powered sportbike wearing cargo shorts and a tee shirt, perhaps with a back protector over the tee (for safety). 

How about that Gold Wing rider with his drink holders and space enough to carry a complete closet full of clothes and a mechanic's tool chest just in case? 

Well, I have to admit that we bikers, especially the ones dressed for the road, look a little odd when we are not riding, but still in our getup around non-biker people.  On occasion, I have stopped at a take-out restaurant or other retail establishment and had folks give me the eye for the way I am dressed.  Not very many make a comment, surprisingly, and even if they do, the comments are often flippant: "'fraid of fallin' off that thing?" or "Ya' look like ya' just stepped off the Starship Enterprise."  

And, when I buy gas, I don't like to waste time taking off my gloves so I can unbuckle my helmet to go in and pay for my purchase.  So, I go in with the full regalia, credit card in hand, and fork it over to the clerk who no-doubt is wondering if I am about to rob him and take off at high speed with his money. 

There is one other situation where I have a little more fun.  You know that I play the piano, and that I tickle the ivories with mostly old popular tunes -- from the early twentieth century into the sixties.  They come from sheet music I have collected over the years, and from my mimicking some of the songs on my hoard of player piano rolls. 

I also play a lot of old-favorite hymns. 

There are several nursing and assisted living homes that periodically ask me to come and play for their residents.  After all, I may be one of the only people still playing tunes that their parents grew up with or that they, themselves enjoyed when they were young. 

I sometimes ride the bike on the days I play for them, a pack on my back filled with music books.  When I get there, it is easier to leave everything -- helmet, gloves, backpack, etc. -- on rather than try to carry it all in my arms separately.  I've done it both ways, and I usually drop something along the way if I take everything off first.

And that is where my fun begins. 

As I walk in the door and to the room with the piano, which is sometimes quite a ways away from the entrance, the residents look agape, wondering whether they are seeing things that don't really exist. 

And some are ready to defend themselves against the likes of me.

The staff of the home thinks an alien has invaded from outer space for sure, and place their hand on the phone in case they need to call in the Men in Black -- or more. 

Little kids visiting grandmas and grandpas often ask me if I am a Power Ranger. 

I am, I tell them -- the Silver one.


I think I see in the eyes of some of the men a glimmer of memories of days gone by, maybe when they rode a now-ancient motorcycle cross country on a shoestring.  Or they remember trying to impress the young ladies with their style and daring. They might be reliving that time in their past through me today. 

Students of Scott Sr. High School
Westwood, PA

I get a kick out of giving them something to talk about the next day over lunch or supper, too.  "...you know, Mabel, that young man with the odd clothes, who came and played the piano for us last night?  Well, I've never seen anything like it...." 

SuperStock photo

Often times, I banter with the audience.  I kid, and tease, or explain something interesting about the numbers I play.  I bring up the importance of God, country, and family, and the very real potential of our losing our freedoms of religion and speech if we don't pass down our values to young people. 

Sometimes I jokingly tell them that there will be rides on the back of my motorcycle after I am through playing. 

One summer evening, a spry lady actually followed me out to the bike, expecting to get her ride right then and there.  I had to explain that I could not give her a ride that night, but maybe the next time I came around.  Well, the next time I came around, about six weeks later, she asked first thing if I were going to give her the ride she missed last time!  I had to decline again, but she remembers to this day that I owe her one. 


There is something else. 

A few of the people in these places are in pretty bad shape.  Life has become less full for them.  Some are no longer the people they once were, and they might not realize as much about what is going on around them any more.  Their eyes have become dim, and their bodies frail. 

I sometimes wonder to myself whether they will really get anything out of some guy pounding on a piano. 

And I would be wrong if I thought they didn't. 

Getty Collection

It is amazing to me.  Some who appear to be quite unresponsive seem to be moved by the music.  The hymns, especially, are still familiar to them, learned long ago.  They may remember the words of every verse, and they sing along with my playing.  Despite their foggy memories of things that happened just yesterday, they still remember the old things. 

I was at first surprised by this.  Then I became moved.  I am encouraged by them.  I play my heart out for them.

And I know that I should never forget that my meager God-given talents are to be shared freely.

I hope someone comes to see me and play for me when I am long past my prime.  It might bring back a misty distant memory or two I have made. 

Do something for someone else today. You will get more out of it than you might think. 
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New Skid Lid

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When I started riding a motorcycle back in 2007, I was in my 5th decade of life.  I wished to prolong that as best I could, so I made sure I had the proper protective gear.  I never ride without a full leather suit, motorcycle-specific gloves and boots, and a full-face helmet.

I even wore one to the MSF beginner class I took: 

I wore this used helmet for a few weeks until I bought the new one.  It is now relegated to being a photo frame in my office.

Since my noggin a very important part of me, I looked over the reviews carefully when I bought my first helmet and found that the Scorpion EXO-700 was highly rated and reasonably priced.  I went to the local dealer and tried one on for fit.  I wore it for about 20 minutes n the store to make sure there were no pressure points.  I got some odd looks from other customers, but that is the penalty you pay to make sure you are not buying something that won't fit properly.  I decided that it was fine, so I made the purchase.

I bought light silver color because it matches well the silver on the bike, and blends with my usual riding suit colors.  

That lid now has almost 40,000 miles on it, over a little more than six years and some 536 rides.

By the way, that Fieldsheer suit was an early purchase in the quest to learn to ride a motorcycle.  I actually bought it at a pawn shop more than ten (!) years before I got a motorcycle.

What can I say?  It was a really good deal.  It was just luck that the motorcycle I bought was silver to match it. 

[How do you know all those statistics you quoted above, Bucky?]

I'm afraid I am compulsive about keeping track of when and where I ride and how far.  In fact, I can also tell you that the average ride length is 74 miles, and I have put in about 6500 miles per year, since the beginning.  That includes a lot of short jaunts to work and back, and usually just one longer ride on the weekends.  An advantage of keeping track of all this data is that I can look back and refresh my feeble memory on whether a route was a good one, what there is to see there, and whether I wrote (or might write) about it on these pages. It also helps when I am out riding to remember where any future tag game pictures were taken. 

Practical, eh? 

Now, back to the gear discussion.

They say that a helmet should be replaced when it is between five and seven years old.  Certainly the soft foam comfort padding inside deteriorates, so that is one reason to chuck it.  And it can get kind of nasty from all the sweat, even though you can remove and wash it in the Scorpion.  Indeed, my helmet had a new set of foam installed under warranty when it was three years old.  The covering over the foam had become cracked and was peeling off.  The denser protective foam is also said to deteriorate.  I don't want to find out whether it has done so by putting it to a test, so I sally forth to find a replacement helmet.

The old:

 

These days, my shopping is in large part on the Internet, though I almost always look locally too. 

There are so many helmet manufacturers and models to pick from, and the prices range from bargain-basement $59.95 to hundreds of dollars.  I think my head is worth more than 60 bucks, so I look a little higher. 


So, what did I pick for the replacement?  See for yourself.  Here is a picture of the new helmet in its box: 

Scorpion EXO-700! 

They give you this pretty bag to protect it:

[OK, Bucky, don't tell me...]

And here is a side-by-side photo of my old and new helmets.

[C'mon, let's see it!]

OK.  Here it is:

Yes, I admit it.  I bought the identical helmet.  Bike Bandit had them on sale for $102, so I decided to buy another one before they phase them out.  

That eye staring out of half of the face shield is intended to demonstrate its fog-proof coating.

It doesn't really work when it is cold outside.  The only thing I have found that really works to keep the shield and your glasses from fogging is the Foggy Respro neoprene insert that covers your nose and mouth.  It attaches to the inside of the helmet with Velcro.

I put my new helmet on my head to test the fit, and immediately notice the difference between it and my old helmet.  This one is TIGHT.  Has my head swelled up in just six years?

No, my original was tight too when I first got it.  In fact, if you watch your face and scalp through the face shield opening while you move the helmet, the skin should follow the helmet.  Like this.  If it doesn't, then the helmet may be too big.  You don't want it moving around. 

I hope this one gives me another 40,000 miles of safe use, and so I can continue to look snazzy with my color-coordinated look.

 [Makes us all goose bumps, Bucky.  ...NOT.]

Ride safe and wear ATGATT.

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