Kudos
Kudos to all those who work hard to do a great job and succeed in doing it; for the product of their toil makes the lives of many of us so much better.
I went on a “training ride” today for a couple of reasons. First was to plot out a 400 mile route through territory strange to me, on back roads, dotted with many little towns to see just how long it really takes to travel that distance. Second, I wanted to find out how my body holds up to that kind of distance on the bike. I did two 350+ days back to back a couple of weeks ago but this will be my first 400 miler.
The route took me into the Allegheny State Forest in northwestern Pennsylvania through a myriad of little towns, up through Erie and on down, back to Solon. One thing I did not count on but am glad happened was it rained for six of the eight hours it took to complete the route. That was unplanned training for the big trip. Not that I have not ridden in the rain before, just that I have not ridden in rain for THAT long!!
All is well that ends well and I made it through the ride with no incidents, save stalling the bike under the seemingly critical behold of what appeared to be a native in one of those little towns as he filled up his snazzy late-model Ford Mustang. At first I was a little embarrassed but then I thought that if that was the worst thing that happened to me today then it was a good day.
I wore my jade pendant given to keep me safe and it looks like it did its job well. Kudos to jade.
On to the rest of the kudos. First to the person who thought up welcome centers along freeways just across the border. I stopped to don my warmer gloves and add a layer of socks to keep my toes moderately warm and decided to check the map so that I could get an idea of how many miles I still had to travel on interstate 80 before dropping off on 66 North towards the Allegheny State Forest.
Um, hmmm, like, there’s no friggin’ map in the saddle bag!! Oh, the good old Rand McNally sitting on the kitchen table, the one that I kept telling myself not to forget. Great place for it, doofus. Had I not been wearing my helmet, a dope slap would have been entirely appropriate. Not to worry, I had dutifully written down the turn-by-turn directions and put them in the map holder on the tank bag so all I had to do was remain vigilant so as not to miss my turns but do so without the knowledge of the markers that preceded the turns.
Oh well, I swung one heavily booted and well socked foot over the bike, thumbed the starter button and pointed the bike down the freeway. As soon as I merged it started to rain. Harrumph!! Just half an hour into my ride and the rain starts!! No worries, I am on the freeway so I should be fine. The rain lets up just as I enter Pennsylvania and just a few miles in there is a welcome center so I pull in to empty the old bladder and, hopefully, acquire a map.
There is a very nice gentleman at the desk and when I ask for a map of the state he points to a holder with prominent signage stating “Free Map”. Kudos to him and the organization that employs him. I thank him, take one and head out to the bike. (I was thoughtful enough to leave out the part about visiting the restroom – which happened to be very clean, though!) No need to share any business about a good thorough shake to make sure no dribbles get on my gear.
On getting to the bike I learn two things. First, the map is excellent and provides the perfect amount of information for a fully informed jaunt through the state. Second, the map holder (A pocket with a clear plastic top, right on top of the tank bag, which sits on top of the gas tank, into which you insert a map, face up, so that you can refer to it without having to stop and dig it out.) is sized such that a standard map can be inserted with two folds open. Two folds on the map is about two hours worth of riding if your route is a circuitous one on back roads.
Good deal, also, though it is heavily overcast, it is not raining. I bundle up and head out on the road. And, just as before, as soon as I am up to speed, the rain starts up and this time it is rather heavy. I press on, hoping that the rain gear will perform as advertised. This is not the first time I have taken this gear out in the rain. It has kept me dry in the past but each of those times, though the rain was torrential, was less than an hour. I have several hours ahead of me but I am glad to know that I am good for at least half an hour.
As I speed along at a good eight or so above the limit I am waiting for the first leak to spring. An hour on the freeway and I am still dry. I turn off the freeway onto 66 North, heading towards the forest, hoping to drive through many tight turns and see beautiful vistas. Well, that part of the ride disappoints. The forest is beautiful for sure, but, because you are, well, driving through a forest, you cannot see the forest for the trees. It is a peaceful passage but having had the expectation of ridges and valleys, streams and waterfalls it was a bit of a let-down.
I see lots and lots of little ATV’s and dirt bikes on trailers behind large Chevy trucks hauled to the plethora of trails that crisscross the forest.
By this time I have given up on any of my gear leaking and my attention is taken up by the RV with a car in tow that is traveling ten to fifteen miles an hour UNDER the speed limit. I work my way through the line of cars until I am in a group of Harleys directly behind the RV. Even though there were ample opportunities to do so, the road captain (the person on the lead bike) does not pass the RV and this makes things kind of tricky because there is no easy way to pass even a small group of motorcycles, especially not on a winding road so I just chill and fall in line. Going into a valley the road widens such that there is about a lane and a half and the RV snugs up to the edge and lets the bikes by. Unfortunately the road captain only speeds up to the speed limit and we trudge along – in the rain, no less. Thank goodness I am dry!!
Counting the time behind the RV, one agonizing hour ends when the Harleys pull, without signaling, into a church parking lot. That was a little unusual because they signaled every other turn. Maybe they didn’t want those of us behind them to know that they were going to church! It was a dangerous turn because it was left across traffic immediately after a sharp right hander so the tail of traffic behind them, with me at the lead, had to brake hard and swerve. With THAT over, I settled into my pace and made quick work of losing headlights in my mirrors.
The town, who’s name absolutely refused to stick in my mind, where I had planned to stop for lunch turns out to be much like the others along the route. Big enough to warrant a dot on the map but small enough to bring the speed limit down to only 35 and not the urban 25. Earlier in the day I amused myself with thoughts of pulling into a little shack by the roadside and enjoying a hearty home style meal made largely of local produce. Whatever eateries there are in these towns have been closed down and replaced by a counter adjacent to the cashier at the local filling station serving up see-through slices of meat probably processed many states away on bread that was baked at a bakery nowhere near here. Not what I want to ingest on a cold rainy day. I am looking for a steaming bowl of soup and a good, hot meal.
I thought I should stop for gas but the meter shows that I have a hundred miles to empty. I don’t believe it because that would mean that I would get three hundred out of this tank when the normal is about 240 or 250. But, Warren is about 40 miles west so I press on, empty stomach and emptying tank and more rain.
On the way I pass by a reservoir on the Allegheny River behind the Kinzua dam that has filled the valley in a most picturesque way. There is a turn off for a scenic overlook, the first of the day, so, even though the warning light is flashing and telling me that there is only enough gas for twenty-some miles I go for the overlook which is supposed to be a mile up the little road. About a mile and a half later I give up and turn back for Warren because I have not seen a gas station for a good hour and I have no intention of running out of gas in the middle of the Allegheny National Forest.
Back on the road, I get stuck behind a Taurus doing 35 in a 55 on a double yellow centerline!!! Cripes almighty!! It is a nice road with easy undulations and long curves that would be easy, even for me, even in the rain at 70. After about 15 minutes I pass in a dip just so that I can get to enjoy a little of the road. Just in time!! I get about three miles of fun before turning off for Warren and some grub for both me and the machine.
Though this is oil country, I have little trust for little independent gas stations so I plod through town until I see a Citgo station. I was hoping for Shell but the warning light is blinking rather insistently and I have no intent of passing this up and having to pull a U-turn, possibly getting pulled over by a less-than-amused deputy.
As I am learning to get used to, a guy comes up, compliments the bike and starts talking about his own (which is firmly garaged on this rainy day). I let him ramble on for a few minutes and when he pauses at what seems like an appropriate point to interject with a question I ask him about a couple of good riding roads and then get to the subject that is really on my mind – where can I get a good hot meal? He directs me to a restaurant that he says is the only place in town to get a decent meal and with a firm shake of hands we say our fare-thee-wells and part ways.
The restaurant is right where he said it would be and, yup, you guessed it ....... two hundred yards from a Shell station!! Whodathunkit?!?! I scurry inside while it is not raining, peruse the menu and order a pasta dish and the soup of the day.
What they called soup came first. I am not sure what it was but soup it was NOT!!! A sticky coagulation of yellow semi-fluid goop masquerading as cheese but definitely looking and tasting like nothing that would come out of a self-respecting cow; suspending green objects so far removed from the broccoli they were supposed to be that they actually fit with the concoction that steamed below my nose. Not wanting to disrupt anything I ate in silence and even offered a hearty compliment when jovially asked how I liked my soup – my main dish had not arrived and I did not want to put it in jeopardy. The main dish was named European pasta but I think I could give Europe a cavity search and still not find a dish like that. Not that it was bad, just that the recipe seemed to have lost its European roots on the voyage over the great Atlantic Ocean.
I go outside and, yup, it is raining again. I pull the bike under the drop-off point in front of the restaurant to cinch up my rain gear for the last pull home. I have decided to get off the back roads and get on interstate 90 up by Erie. That will be about thirty miles in the rain so I head on out.
It rains on and off – more on than off for the ride up to Erie and clears up as I approach the freeway. Once on the super slab there is not a drop of rain and the temperature is climbing as the sun threatens to come out. Crossing over into Ohio it seems like it just might clear up. I pull into the welcome rest stop and pick up a free map. Nice folks in there but the map sucks.
When I get outside the weather is improving and I think about switching to the fingerless gloves but err on the side of caution. It is at this point that I realize I have ridden for six hours in the rain without getting wet!!!
Kudos to First Gear found at http://www.firstgear.com/ . They make awesome riding gear. I have their Kilimanjaro long jacket with a liner and the Extremetex pants. Both are comfortable and both keep the rain out.
Kudos to Olympia and their Wind-tex insulated leather glove. I don’t think they are officially rain gear but they kept my hands warm and dry.
Kudos to whoever makes the boots for Harley Davidson brand. I ordered and wear a pair that was advertised as waterproof motorcycling boots and they certainly kept my feet dry!!
Most of all, kudos to BMW for building such an awesome bike in the R1200RT. With all the rain, I experienced not one single electrical problem. The hard case saddle bags and trunk worked as advertised and kept all the contents dry and the tank bag did the same, keeping the rain off my phone, map and all the other goodies I have stowed away in there.
Good people working hard to produce great products that do what they are supposed to do. I love it.
Anyway, it was a successful training ride. I now know that I should have no worries about riding for extended periods of time in the rain. I also know that, other than my still tender behind, the design of the bike makes a 400 mile day a relative breeze. So, as I look at the coming week with daily mileages in the 350 – 450 range and one day over a thousand, I know that the time and distance will not be a problem. Now, if only the weather can cooperate once I am in the mountains so that I can at least see the peaks.
No matter! I will go and whatever the road brings it will bring but ride I shall.
I went on a “training ride” today for a couple of reasons. First was to plot out a 400 mile route through territory strange to me, on back roads, dotted with many little towns to see just how long it really takes to travel that distance. Second, I wanted to find out how my body holds up to that kind of distance on the bike. I did two 350+ days back to back a couple of weeks ago but this will be my first 400 miler.
The route took me into the Allegheny State Forest in northwestern Pennsylvania through a myriad of little towns, up through Erie and on down, back to Solon. One thing I did not count on but am glad happened was it rained for six of the eight hours it took to complete the route. That was unplanned training for the big trip. Not that I have not ridden in the rain before, just that I have not ridden in rain for THAT long!!
All is well that ends well and I made it through the ride with no incidents, save stalling the bike under the seemingly critical behold of what appeared to be a native in one of those little towns as he filled up his snazzy late-model Ford Mustang. At first I was a little embarrassed but then I thought that if that was the worst thing that happened to me today then it was a good day.
I wore my jade pendant given to keep me safe and it looks like it did its job well. Kudos to jade.
On to the rest of the kudos. First to the person who thought up welcome centers along freeways just across the border. I stopped to don my warmer gloves and add a layer of socks to keep my toes moderately warm and decided to check the map so that I could get an idea of how many miles I still had to travel on interstate 80 before dropping off on 66 North towards the Allegheny State Forest.
Um, hmmm, like, there’s no friggin’ map in the saddle bag!! Oh, the good old Rand McNally sitting on the kitchen table, the one that I kept telling myself not to forget. Great place for it, doofus. Had I not been wearing my helmet, a dope slap would have been entirely appropriate. Not to worry, I had dutifully written down the turn-by-turn directions and put them in the map holder on the tank bag so all I had to do was remain vigilant so as not to miss my turns but do so without the knowledge of the markers that preceded the turns.
Oh well, I swung one heavily booted and well socked foot over the bike, thumbed the starter button and pointed the bike down the freeway. As soon as I merged it started to rain. Harrumph!! Just half an hour into my ride and the rain starts!! No worries, I am on the freeway so I should be fine. The rain lets up just as I enter Pennsylvania and just a few miles in there is a welcome center so I pull in to empty the old bladder and, hopefully, acquire a map.
There is a very nice gentleman at the desk and when I ask for a map of the state he points to a holder with prominent signage stating “Free Map”. Kudos to him and the organization that employs him. I thank him, take one and head out to the bike. (I was thoughtful enough to leave out the part about visiting the restroom – which happened to be very clean, though!) No need to share any business about a good thorough shake to make sure no dribbles get on my gear.
On getting to the bike I learn two things. First, the map is excellent and provides the perfect amount of information for a fully informed jaunt through the state. Second, the map holder (A pocket with a clear plastic top, right on top of the tank bag, which sits on top of the gas tank, into which you insert a map, face up, so that you can refer to it without having to stop and dig it out.) is sized such that a standard map can be inserted with two folds open. Two folds on the map is about two hours worth of riding if your route is a circuitous one on back roads.
Good deal, also, though it is heavily overcast, it is not raining. I bundle up and head out on the road. And, just as before, as soon as I am up to speed, the rain starts up and this time it is rather heavy. I press on, hoping that the rain gear will perform as advertised. This is not the first time I have taken this gear out in the rain. It has kept me dry in the past but each of those times, though the rain was torrential, was less than an hour. I have several hours ahead of me but I am glad to know that I am good for at least half an hour.
As I speed along at a good eight or so above the limit I am waiting for the first leak to spring. An hour on the freeway and I am still dry. I turn off the freeway onto 66 North, heading towards the forest, hoping to drive through many tight turns and see beautiful vistas. Well, that part of the ride disappoints. The forest is beautiful for sure, but, because you are, well, driving through a forest, you cannot see the forest for the trees. It is a peaceful passage but having had the expectation of ridges and valleys, streams and waterfalls it was a bit of a let-down.
I see lots and lots of little ATV’s and dirt bikes on trailers behind large Chevy trucks hauled to the plethora of trails that crisscross the forest.
By this time I have given up on any of my gear leaking and my attention is taken up by the RV with a car in tow that is traveling ten to fifteen miles an hour UNDER the speed limit. I work my way through the line of cars until I am in a group of Harleys directly behind the RV. Even though there were ample opportunities to do so, the road captain (the person on the lead bike) does not pass the RV and this makes things kind of tricky because there is no easy way to pass even a small group of motorcycles, especially not on a winding road so I just chill and fall in line. Going into a valley the road widens such that there is about a lane and a half and the RV snugs up to the edge and lets the bikes by. Unfortunately the road captain only speeds up to the speed limit and we trudge along – in the rain, no less. Thank goodness I am dry!!
Counting the time behind the RV, one agonizing hour ends when the Harleys pull, without signaling, into a church parking lot. That was a little unusual because they signaled every other turn. Maybe they didn’t want those of us behind them to know that they were going to church! It was a dangerous turn because it was left across traffic immediately after a sharp right hander so the tail of traffic behind them, with me at the lead, had to brake hard and swerve. With THAT over, I settled into my pace and made quick work of losing headlights in my mirrors.
The town, who’s name absolutely refused to stick in my mind, where I had planned to stop for lunch turns out to be much like the others along the route. Big enough to warrant a dot on the map but small enough to bring the speed limit down to only 35 and not the urban 25. Earlier in the day I amused myself with thoughts of pulling into a little shack by the roadside and enjoying a hearty home style meal made largely of local produce. Whatever eateries there are in these towns have been closed down and replaced by a counter adjacent to the cashier at the local filling station serving up see-through slices of meat probably processed many states away on bread that was baked at a bakery nowhere near here. Not what I want to ingest on a cold rainy day. I am looking for a steaming bowl of soup and a good, hot meal.
I thought I should stop for gas but the meter shows that I have a hundred miles to empty. I don’t believe it because that would mean that I would get three hundred out of this tank when the normal is about 240 or 250. But, Warren is about 40 miles west so I press on, empty stomach and emptying tank and more rain.
On the way I pass by a reservoir on the Allegheny River behind the Kinzua dam that has filled the valley in a most picturesque way. There is a turn off for a scenic overlook, the first of the day, so, even though the warning light is flashing and telling me that there is only enough gas for twenty-some miles I go for the overlook which is supposed to be a mile up the little road. About a mile and a half later I give up and turn back for Warren because I have not seen a gas station for a good hour and I have no intention of running out of gas in the middle of the Allegheny National Forest.
Back on the road, I get stuck behind a Taurus doing 35 in a 55 on a double yellow centerline!!! Cripes almighty!! It is a nice road with easy undulations and long curves that would be easy, even for me, even in the rain at 70. After about 15 minutes I pass in a dip just so that I can get to enjoy a little of the road. Just in time!! I get about three miles of fun before turning off for Warren and some grub for both me and the machine.
Though this is oil country, I have little trust for little independent gas stations so I plod through town until I see a Citgo station. I was hoping for Shell but the warning light is blinking rather insistently and I have no intent of passing this up and having to pull a U-turn, possibly getting pulled over by a less-than-amused deputy.
As I am learning to get used to, a guy comes up, compliments the bike and starts talking about his own (which is firmly garaged on this rainy day). I let him ramble on for a few minutes and when he pauses at what seems like an appropriate point to interject with a question I ask him about a couple of good riding roads and then get to the subject that is really on my mind – where can I get a good hot meal? He directs me to a restaurant that he says is the only place in town to get a decent meal and with a firm shake of hands we say our fare-thee-wells and part ways.
The restaurant is right where he said it would be and, yup, you guessed it ....... two hundred yards from a Shell station!! Whodathunkit?!?! I scurry inside while it is not raining, peruse the menu and order a pasta dish and the soup of the day.
What they called soup came first. I am not sure what it was but soup it was NOT!!! A sticky coagulation of yellow semi-fluid goop masquerading as cheese but definitely looking and tasting like nothing that would come out of a self-respecting cow; suspending green objects so far removed from the broccoli they were supposed to be that they actually fit with the concoction that steamed below my nose. Not wanting to disrupt anything I ate in silence and even offered a hearty compliment when jovially asked how I liked my soup – my main dish had not arrived and I did not want to put it in jeopardy. The main dish was named European pasta but I think I could give Europe a cavity search and still not find a dish like that. Not that it was bad, just that the recipe seemed to have lost its European roots on the voyage over the great Atlantic Ocean.
I go outside and, yup, it is raining again. I pull the bike under the drop-off point in front of the restaurant to cinch up my rain gear for the last pull home. I have decided to get off the back roads and get on interstate 90 up by Erie. That will be about thirty miles in the rain so I head on out.
It rains on and off – more on than off for the ride up to Erie and clears up as I approach the freeway. Once on the super slab there is not a drop of rain and the temperature is climbing as the sun threatens to come out. Crossing over into Ohio it seems like it just might clear up. I pull into the welcome rest stop and pick up a free map. Nice folks in there but the map sucks.
When I get outside the weather is improving and I think about switching to the fingerless gloves but err on the side of caution. It is at this point that I realize I have ridden for six hours in the rain without getting wet!!!
Kudos to First Gear found at http://www.firstgear.com/ . They make awesome riding gear. I have their Kilimanjaro long jacket with a liner and the Extremetex pants. Both are comfortable and both keep the rain out.
Kudos to Olympia and their Wind-tex insulated leather glove. I don’t think they are officially rain gear but they kept my hands warm and dry.
Kudos to whoever makes the boots for Harley Davidson brand. I ordered and wear a pair that was advertised as waterproof motorcycling boots and they certainly kept my feet dry!!
Most of all, kudos to BMW for building such an awesome bike in the R1200RT. With all the rain, I experienced not one single electrical problem. The hard case saddle bags and trunk worked as advertised and kept all the contents dry and the tank bag did the same, keeping the rain off my phone, map and all the other goodies I have stowed away in there.
Good people working hard to produce great products that do what they are supposed to do. I love it.
Anyway, it was a successful training ride. I now know that I should have no worries about riding for extended periods of time in the rain. I also know that, other than my still tender behind, the design of the bike makes a 400 mile day a relative breeze. So, as I look at the coming week with daily mileages in the 350 – 450 range and one day over a thousand, I know that the time and distance will not be a problem. Now, if only the weather can cooperate once I am in the mountains so that I can at least see the peaks.
No matter! I will go and whatever the road brings it will bring but ride I shall.
posted by Bongo | 11:01 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home