The Beginning.

 That's me riding my older brother's Honda 50.  Mind you, it's back in the 70's when I had hair.  That Honda was the first "motorcycle" that I ever rode and once I was old enough, and my parents found a helmet that would fit around my hair, I rode that thing into the ground.  I loved it.  Motorized exploration.  I have no idea why I look like my Aunt Bobbie in the picture, though.  Very strange indeed.

Now, this is MY first motorcycle.  It's a Kawasaki KD 80.  Apparently me and Huckleberry Fin, better known as Josh, were taking it apart just to take it apart.  It's the only picture I could find of the bike.  I have told my wife this, so I guess I can tell you too, I have never had more fun doing anything in my life as I had riding with Huckleberry.  We would get off the school bus, get home as quickly as possible, and meet to go riding.  We rode like some mix between hardcore explorers and motocross stars ...it was amazingly fun.  When the sun was at the top of the pine trees we knew we had to head home to get there by dinner.  No one would want to miss my mom's dinner, not even for motorcycling.  Apparently, she also ironed creases in my blue jeans ...how uncool is that!

Cold ...just plain cold.

It's been almost three weeks ...three weeks!  I haven't ridden my motorcycle since my slip on the ice  ...'cus I don't want to die.  It's been in the 20's every day since then.  When will this snow and ice melt?!  And, we're supposed to get more snow this afternoon.

OK, I know, a white Christmas will be nice.   I totally agree.  It's just that I feel like a kid who got the coolest gift in the world for Christmas, but he isn't allowed to play with it.  Look at it, sure.  Put a new fender on it, OK.  But ride it, NOPE.

Helmet, in the closet.  Tourmaster jacket, closet.  Motorcycle boots, closet.  Insulated coveralls, closet.  Motorcycle, shivering out in the snow.

Me, feeling like a kid who can't play with his favorite toy.

...Oh, and Merry Christmas to ya!

I New-Coked my fender!

Ginger and I were listening to NPR.  It was some sort of word show.  A guy called in as asked what he should call an upgrade that actually made things worse.  They came up with several, but "New-Coked" was my favorite.

I New-Coked my fender.  The KLR fender gets a bad rap because while it's good at catching mud and water, it's also good at catching wind ...especially on the highway.  So, folks tend to get new fenders.  But a few brave (cheap) folks try to modify their existing fender.  That's me ...brave (cheap).

So, below is my fender in original condition:

...and belower is my New-Coked fender:

OK, so the good part is that it made a huge difference on the highway ...didn't get blown around nearly as much.  It was actually quite nice.  And I took it out in the woods through some major mud/water holes ...huge.  I got virtually no water/mud on me from the front wheel.  That was my fear, that while it was good on the highway it would would not longer be good at ...well ...being a fender.  It passed the test!

Yesterday though, I had the privilege of riding through a couple of wet spots on the road going about 40mph ...muddy droplets covered my visor ...a lot ...a whole lot  ...hard to see.  Like, somehow the water/mud took a very direct route to my face ...not a good thing.  Apparently, my New-Coked fender works well as a fender at really low speeds ...but not so  much at faster speeds. 

Yep, I New-Coked my fender.  Time for a new one.  I think I'll buy one this time.

Ice 2, Ken 0

I think it was Josh's idea.  There we were in front of the Safeway.  In front of us a sheet of ice where the parking lot had frozen.  A rare find in Rocky Mount, NC.  I figure we were about 14.  Our goal: to see if it was possible to ride a bike on a sheet of ice.  Verdict: Nope.

At 14 I pretty much could do anything I tried.  I was a skinny kid, but fast, strong, and bullet proof.  I think I lasted about 2 seconds ...and I went down hard!  I figured that would be the last time I tried to ride on ice with only two wheels.  Turns out I was wrong.  But I did wait 29 years ...that's pretty good, huh?

I wanted to test my cold weather gear today.  I had my new boots (which I am slowly getting used to.), a new pair of insulated coveralls (the kind people work in), and my new jacket (a rock'n Tourmaster Transition 2).  They worked beautifully, never got cold at all.  I figured I would ride out to the forest service road behind Pondapas Pond and practice shifting with my new boots.  I read online that everyone struggles when they first start riding with stiffer boots.   It definitely is not easy for me.

What I did not expect was to find sheets of ice on the forest service road ...but, none-the-less there they were.  At first I was in denial about it.  I figure there was enough gravel for me to get traction on.  But, the further I went the more icy the road became.  So, I decided to bail.

Turned my 350 pound motorcycle around (not so easy on a one lane icy road).  I headed back out the way I came in.  I was just putt putting and SHAMOWZY! my bike did a 180 degree turn in an instant ending up on it's side.  I picked it up fast, like someone would see me or something.  The picture above it right after the slide and fall.My bike had been laying on it's side on the darker path beside my bike in the picture ...completely ice ...slick as something really slick.

Of course now I had to turn around again ...on ice ...in one lane ...without dropping the bike again.  I succeeded and drove white knuckled out to the paved road.  Whew.  Every ride is an adventure and a learning experience ...I love it!

Me rock'n my new jacket!

The Boots

For Christmas, I got some "dual sport" boots (Yes, I know it's not Christmas yet ...that's just how we roll around here.)  Dual Sport boots are basically motocross boots with a lug sole ...then they are called ATV or dual sport boots.  Anyway, I got me some.

I was very excited about them.  I wore them to bed the first night I had them  ...or I wanted to anyway, Ginger put her foot down on that one.  Silly girl.  She gets like that sometimes.

I did wear them around the house.  Felt like Herman Munster (too young to know Herman Munster?  ...grrr).  These things are big ole clod-hoppers.  Clunk, Clunk, Clunk, Clunk ...you are NOT wearing those to bed!

So, today was my first chance to ride with my new motorcycle boots.  Until this point I have been wearing hiking boots  ...comfy, but I had already twisted my ankle catching my heavy bike.  These new boots are very supportive and protective - they are very cool.

Out to my bike.  Clunk, Clunk, Clunk, Clunk ...listen ...listen ...hmm, nobody here to give me a hard time!  Not that she would have.  This is their purpose after all ...apparently they are NOT sleeping boots.  Who knew.

First thing I noticed was that it was sort of different shifting gears with these clod-hoppers - especially up shifting.  But, hey, they're new ...got to be broken in ya know.  Down the driveway and I'm off to Ellet Valley.  It does not take me long - 10 seconds maybe, that's not long - to notice that shifting was going to be an issue ...and I have cars around me.  Not full on traffic, but still - cars.

I did feel much safer and supported in the boots.  But, I felt like I was learning how to ride a motorcycle again.   Click ...ptrrrr, Click ...ptrrrrr, Click ....WHEEEEEE,  minor freak out, Click ...ptrrrrrr,  whew.

...and so it went.  I know I will get used to them.  Thousands of people ride in boots like this.  I emailed one of my friends in Atlanta that rides motocross and asked his advice.   Haven't heard back yet.  He will probably be nice, but inside he'll be thinking "Advice?  Yeah, don't be a baby!  Suck it up."  ...or maybe not, it's hard to tell.

The Dream ...The Plan

The tingling we feel when we contemplate waking up and living 

our dreams we can label either "fear" or "excitement". 

If we call it fear, we tend to find reasons not to go any farther.  

If we call it excitement, we turn it into the energy to move forward.

John-Roger

That dotted red line.  Excitement.  5000 miles.  95% of it on dirt.  My dream.  My plan.

I'm 43.  In all reality I am about halfway done with my life.  Time to get off my ass and do the kind of things that I have always wanted to do, but somehow "doing the right thing" has always gotten in the way.  In May of 2011 I will not be doing the "right" thing ...nope, I'll be on my motorcycle heading west on the Trans America Trail (TAT).  My dream.  My plan.

From Tennessee to Oregon ...on my KLR ...on the dirt  ...living the dream.  I wish I could leave today, but I would freeze to death.  It's in the 20's today here in the mountains of Virginia.  That's OK, I really do need some time to plan and save up some cashola. 

Everyone needs a "thing".  This is my thing for now.  After this, hopefully I will have a new thing.  Having a thing makes everything else in life feel easier.  I know what I am working for. 

That's all for now.  I just wanted to go public with my dream, my plan.  I hope today, if you feel that tingling, I hope it feels like excitement.

Ken and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance ...and blogging.

This started out as simply Ken and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. ...and it was going swimmingly.  Typed a good bit.  Read it over.  Sounded OK.  Wouldn't save.  Crapola.  Continued to not save.  Had to bail and start again.  Makes me so happy  ...so happy.

My headlight and tail light were out per my previous post.  I wasn't getting far on my own, so I enlisted the help of my peeps at KLRforum.net  I must say, they are quite helpful, and pretty polite, even if you ask dumb questions.

Anyway, today it was in the 20's ...and no, I do not have a garage (damn it!).  So, there I stood drinking hot chocolate trying to maintain some semblance of warmth as I took various parts of my motorcycle off. Side panels ...off.   Seat ...off.  Fairing ...off.  Thing around the headlight ...off.  Thing under the instrument panel ...off.  Bright light switch ...off.

I was informed under the seat I would find two fuses.  Checked them ...fine.  I was advised to check the connections ...fine.  I was advised to check the switches ...fine, ...I think.  I was advised to trace the wiring from battery to the lights ...what?  Use the diagram from Bigcee ...don't know if things are fine because to me it looked like colored spaghetti.

(wife just called me to dinner ...fine)

OK, just finished dinner and a movie.  Back to the story.  It started snowing.

So, I packed up all my stuff, put the cover on and came inside.  I figured I'd call Greg, the guy I bought the bike from.  Maybe he would have a clue for me ...he did ...a big clue.  Turns out the two fuses that I checked were not THE two fuses that one is supposed to find under the seat (who knew?).  Apparently the two fuses that I checked were added by Greg for other stuff ...GPS and whatnot.

So, out in the snow, I found THE two fuses ...one blown of course.  Mystery solved.  As a bonus I learned a little about my bike, how to take it somewhat apart, and where the stinking fuses are. A good day all in all.  Oh yeah, we got out Christmas tree today.

Always an Adventure

When the sun hit the tops of the trees.  That's how we knew when it was time to head home.  We'd usually been riding since we got off the school bus.  We rode for hours.  It was great.  I can remember many times coming home with wind chapped faces and hands numb from the cold.  Not that winter was long.  This was eastern North Cacalacky.  But we rode no matter what.  It was always an adventure.  It was 1980.

My fingers were numb again.  I just had not dressed for the cold.  It didn't seem that cold when I left home.  I mean cold, but not numb fingers cold.  Once I got up to Mountain Lake and in the shade of the trees... brrr.  It was getting late in the day and I decided to cut my trip a little short and get home so I could warm up, which by the way took a hot bath and hot chocolate just to get me back to near normal ...I was still cold.  To add a littel adventure to the trip, apparently the fuse for my headlight and tail light blew.  No headlight.  No tail light.  Turn signals worked fine as did the brake light.  The sun was at the top of the trees and setting fast.  It was a little nerve racking as I rode the 20 minutes of highway feeling very invisible in the dusk of sunset without lights and not feeling my fingers anymore.  It is always an adventure.  It was 2010 ...it was yesterday.

It's a little hard to see, but that's a frozen puddle.  The first ice I have seen this season.  I knew it was cold, but I was pretty surprised to see all the frozen puddles.

Leo before and after the videos

Leo, my motorcycle (named such by my wife), is a mountain goat ...Leo, not my wife.  I made that clear right?  Boy, I hope so.  In this case I mean moutain goat as a supreme compliment ...none-the-less, I have never met a woman who want's to be called a mountain goat.  My bike is a mountain goat in that it will go anywhere  ...I found out today ...by accident.  hee hee!

So, the videos.  They're a little boring.  The first one is at the beginning of my off road ride.  The last one is at the end of the off road ride.  I just wanted to give my friends and family a glimpse of what I do in my spare time.  But today it's what happened in the middle of my ride that made if fun ...scary ...stressful ...awesome. 

I got lost again.  Thought I was on one squiggly line on my gazeteer, and I was on another squiggly line... dag-nab-it!  But, my lack of orienteering skills lead to a pretty cool adventure.  I was not entirely sure I would make it through ...at least not with Leo.  I mean it wasn't a "Hey ya'll, watch this" kinda of thing, but it wasn't too far off.

Shad.  Shad was in my motorcycle safety course a couple of months ago.  Where does one get a name like Shad?  I do not know, but a couple of weeks ago Ginger and I saw another Shad working at Panera.  So, obviously it's not that strange of a name.  It's just that in my 43 years I have never known, or even met, a Shad.  I told Shad I wanted to ride my motorcycle up to Butt Mountain ...seriously, it's called Butt Mountain.  I guess they were fresh out of names or maybe just tired when they named it.  Anyway, Shad told me that he would not advise trying to ride the jeep trail up to Butt Mountain.  He takes his 4x4 up there some time.  He said there are some huge mud holes.  He said that the water came up over his hood in one of them.  He didn't seem like a liar.  I figured I would just not take the Jeep trail.

Today I took the Jeep trail down from Butt Mountain.  It was intense.  I was lost, though for the greater part of the time I did not know I was lost.  In fact I was rather confident that I knew exactly where I was.  I did not know.

If there were two mud holes there where 50.  I've never seen anything like it.  It was made all the more scary by the thought of water deep enough to wash over Shad's hood.  "Hey ya'll, watch this".  If I could get around them I did, but some there was just no way to get around.  By mud holes I mean they covered the road side to side and some were 20 to 30 feet long.  The funny thing is the only time I went in truly deep water I didn't even know it was there.  I was avoiding a giant mud hole, riding to the side as much as I could.  I spotted strange, perfectly flat place covered with leaves right in front of me, but didn't think too much about it ...I was avoiding something much bigger.  Then I hit the flat spot ...the 2 1/2 foot deep water hole covered with floating leaves.  My entire front wheel disappeared ...as did my feet.  I hit the gas ..hard.  I know some people are "In case of emergency, hit the brakes" kind of folks (my wife for one), but I am definitely an "In case of emergency, hit the gas" person.  Now it does lead to some "Hey ya'll, watch this" moments, I'll admit.  But for the most part it works out well for me.


For over an hour my ride consisted of dodging, or going through, giant mud holes and riding on insanely rocky ground.  Like I said it was stressful at times, but that's part of why it was awesome.  The videos are pretty boring.  They are the calm before and after the storm.  Hopefully they will be somewhat enjoyable.  See ya next time!

The case of the flying case.

See that case behind my bike?  It came with the bike but I had not been using it.  Today I thought it might come in handy.  I could put some of my colder weather stuff in there ...my camera ....tripod too.

I couldn't have been happier that I had it.  About a mile into the forest service road I was getting pretty cold because the trees were blocking the sun ...brrr.  But, hey, I have my winter gloves and a balaclava in my case ,...my little trunk.

Stopped.  Dismounted.  Turned.  Reached.  Cussed.

It was gone!  Like gone!  It was nowhere in sight and it was most definitely not on my bike.  I remember reading in a forum about a guy loosing his trunk ...talked about it being plastic and never hearing it hit the road.  What a schmuck!  Who could lose a ...trunk?  Err ... me.

I got to thinking.  I do that in these situations.  I got to thinking that I was going about 45mph for a while on the gravel road.  If it fell off then it could be ANYWHERE!  Look how round that sucker it.  I really thought it might be gone ..really gone.  Like so far off the road that only the squirrel, skunks, and deer would see it.

Turned around.  Putt Putted.  Standing up.  Looking around.  Still Cussing.

About a half mile back I found it sitting on the side of the road all neat like.  There was a truck behind me when I came in.  They probably set it there ...giggling.  Nice gigglers though.  They could have jacked it, camera and all.  Nice gigglers.

I would love to say that was that.  But that was not that.  The lock mechanism in the trunk was broken.  I only had one little strap.  I did the best I could to secure it on to the bike.  I kept reaching back to touch it while I was riding to make sure it was still there.  I passed a different truck going the opposite way.  I could have sworn the people inside were giggling ..just a little.  Bizarre.

I stopped again.  This time to mess with my ipod that I listen to once I'm on the dirt road.  Turned to my left ...no trunk!!!!  Turned to my right and there it was hanging off the side of my bike from the strap.

What to do now?  I didn't want to cut my trip short.  I knew the thing wasn't going to stay on with one strap ...and I only had one short strap.

Needed a solution.  Had a belt.  Took it off.  Little more cussing.

  

Then I had a really good ride, got a little lost, felt like I was 14 again.

Anyone remember my Kawasaki KD 80?

I do.

an Old Car - a Trailor Home - a Gun

Can you see the moon?  It was beautiful tonight.   That's why I stopped - I thought I'd get a picture of the bike with the moon in the background.  The picture - as always - doesn't do it justice.  That little white circle up in the sky is the moon ...looked better in real life.

So, there I was taking pictures along the side of the road when I saw an old car out of the corner of my eye.  Didn't think much of it at first.  Then I heard a voice.  I looked up and the young guy was sticking his head out the window of his 1970's era car yelling at me.  Well, not yelling at me.  More like loudly trying to communicate with me.  With my helmet on I could not hear what he was saying.  Took the helmet off and kinda had that "Dude, your ruining my moment with the moon" feeling ...you know the one.

Then I thought to myself "Hey, pull your head out of you ass and listen to the guy!"  I was thinking that maybe he had something interesting to say.  I mean he didn't seem menacing or anything.

"You want to ride up to the top of the mountain? ...you'll get a better picture up there"  At this point I figured either this guy is really nice to strangers ...or I am about to die like a character in a bad Deliverance knock off.  Common sense said to say "thanks, but no thanks! ..preciate it though".  What I said was more like "Err ...umm ...welll ...yeah, maybe." he said to come on up if I wanted to.

He drove up to a driveway and disappeared up a hill.  After a few minutes, I figured what the hell, and headed up his drive way ...past multiple "No Trespassing"  and "Posted" signs welcoming me to the property.  The driveway was sort of gravel, but it looked more like coal cinders, it was totally black.  I am not sure what I was expecting, but when I got to the top of the hill I saw that the driveway dropped back down to an old trailer home ...old ...real old ...Deliverance-esque in stature.  Beside it was parked the 1970's era car, a four wheeler, and various odds and ends strewn around.  But no dude.

I was just about to turn around and head out when out walked the dude ...with a rifle in his hand.  Oh my God, is this really happening?  I've had a good old boy point a rifle at me once before - didn't really care for it so much.  At least this guy, the dude, was not pointing it at me.  But it was none-the-less a little surreal.  I can't really give you a real feeling of what the dude's place really looked like.  Let's just say his lovely estate was a great example of a southern stereotype in the flesh.  I felt like I was watching a movie ...or more like I was in a movie.  Strange feeling.

Then he waved at me.  Hmm ...he's still friendly.  For a moment I had thought that he hadn't recognized me as the guy with the green motorcycle that he spoke to 3 minutes prior.  But, really, how many big green dual sports does this guy see in a day.  He remembered me.

Put his rifle in the gun rack on his four wheeler and drove it up to where I was waiting ...umm ...to be shot and killed.  But, alas, it was not to be.  They guy, the dude, was really nice.  I mean he didn't say much, but he said I could follow home up to the top of the mountain because a picture of my bike in the woods would look better.  So, he took off on his four wheeler and me on my KLR.  It got steep and rutty fast ...and I beeped my little horn and bailed.  Turned around.  Left.  The trail was just too steep and rutted for me - having just stared riding a month ago after a 30 year break, I figured I was making a good decision.  Also, the sun was setting.

I do kinda wonder how it looked from the top of the mountain ...and just for the record, the dude was just being friendly in a "out in the country" kind of way.  The only place I was in danger was in my head.  My head can be a scary place.

Short People

My wife is thinking about buying a new car.  Maybe a Honda Element.  Let's say she found a used one that looked good and went out to see it.  The owner showed her around the car and even started it up.  Then she made an offer and the seller accepted ...no test drive.  The car never even moved.


Let's say that she then had it delivered.  The seller showed up with the car on a trailer.  Rolled the car off the trailer and turned the key ...nothing.  The seller is red faced and say he has no idea why it won't start ...it's never done this before.  But imagine that my wife takes it anyway.  The seller push starts it - at least the engine runs - and drives it up the drive way.  Turns off the engine and tried to restart it ...nothing. So, she says "OK, I'll take it."


...it would be crazy, right?


But, that's exactly how I bought my motorcycle.  I really boiled down to two things:  I felt like it was a good bike and I'm short.  I mean, not real short.  I'm about 5'9" ...not real short.  But, I am KLR 650 short.  It's a tall f''n bike. I climbed up on it and my feet didn't touch the ground.  I mean not even on my tippee toes ...nothing.  Couldn't exactly test drive it ...and I was to embarrassed to say "Err... could you ride it and let me watch?"


...and what about it not starting when he delivered it.  That really happened.  It was actually kind of funny.  The seller was very embarrassed.  It was a little surreal.  But I bought I motorcycle that I had never ridden and that didn't even start.


It was just a dead battery.  Worked like a charm after I charged it up. And, I love the bike.


I'm short.  Not real short.  5'9".  But I had to lower my KLR 650 2 inches so that I could ride it.  That meant my kickstand was now too long.  So, I cut it off, welded a nut to it, and created a new foot.  Picture below:

If your interested in how I made it go to:
http://www.klr650.net/forums/showthread.php?t=86456

Umm ...that's all I have to say about that.

First Drop + dogs

 I hear everyone eventually drops their bike, especially if they ride off road.  I'm not sure it's true.  It sounds like one of those things made up by the few that actually drop their bikes.  I dropped mine.

I headed down a dirt road in Ellet Vally.  Just Exploring.  Ended up it was not very long and dead ended into a driveway with a house up on a hill.  So ... time to turn around.  For some reason - maybe it's not just me, maybe - for some reason I have a hard time turning around slowly in a tight space.  Like one lane gravel road kind of tight.  Not terrible, just tight.

Anyway, I stopped to think about the whole process.  About that time I noticed that there were two large dogs barreling down the hill toward me barking their heads off ...great.  With my newly introduced shorter time frame in mind, I gave it a little gas, let the clutch out and made about a quarter turn.  Now I am perpendicular to the gravel road ...and the barking nutballs have covered about half the space between the house and me.

Stopping is what did it.  Ever stopped perpendicular to a hill.   Ever noticed that the ground is now much farther away on the downhill side ...well if not, it is.  Here's the thing - at best I am on my tippy toes when I am sitting on my KLR, which by the way I have lowered about 2 inches from stock.  Now, stopped, with dogs getting closer, I got to go!  I let off the clutch, go about two inches and grab the brake.  Why? ...couldn't tell ya.  I just did.  This lined me up with the cosmos in such a way that my relationship with gravity - usually my friend - turned on me and left me with my bike now tilted down hill.  It took a while before my foot hit the ground.

When my foot finally hit the ground my bike was at what felt like a 45 degree angle - maybe it wasn't that bad, but that's what it felt like.  I hold the bike up from the downhill side, the dogs are still coming, I am too short (or too weak ...dang!) to life the bike back up.  I tried.  Even strained my low back a little - joy.  But it did not budge.  I decided the only thing I could do is lay the bike down and start from scratch.  So, I did.

The dogs arrived.  My heart was pounding in my chest.  I had no plan.  To my great relief, the dogs where more hecklers that biters.  They stayed about 10 feet away and barked their heads off like they meant to eat me - but they stayed put.  I really wasn't trying to call their bluff.  I was just short ...and maybe a little weak. (Joining Crossfit next week ...seriously, I am)

I saw the humor in this as it was happening.  I imagined some evil 13 year old looking out his window, trying to catch his breath because he was laughing too hard - watching his dogs give me the Wallengivens treatment.  How do I know the 13 year old's last name was Wallengivens? ...I don't.  Just kinda sounds funny.  I get pretty creative when my only means of escape is a 350lb motorcycle laying on it's side with two big, loud, barking-ass dogs on the opposite side ...very creative.  I should bring a notebook on my rides from now on ... or one of those mini-cassette recorders - except now I think they are probably digital recorders.  I remember eight tracks.  Do you remember eight tracks.  My uncle Corky gave us an eight track of "A Nod is as Good as a Wink to a Blind Horse" by America.  My dad looked at it like "What's this hippie crap", though he didn't say it - he didn't have to.  It was the 70's after all.

I lived.  Got the bike up and drove away.  Barking-ass dogs in the mirrors.

First Ride ...Scary!

Yep, that's me.  On my 2006 Kawasaki KLR 650.  A gift from my wife ..yes, fellas, I said a gift from my wife.  I was about to go on my first legal road ride.  I had just finished my motorcycle safety class at New River Community College about 30 minutes before this picture ...which in Virginia, makes you street legal for 30 days.

So, the last motorcycle I owned was also a Kawasaki.  It had knobbies, but not turn signals.  I was 14.  It was a KD 80, a dirt bike.  That was, let's see... 29 years ago.

You might think, given that I haven't owned a motorcycle in 29 years, that I would just poke around the neighborhood.  That would make sense.  It would be safe.  But here's the problem.  I wanted to ride on the forest service roads behind Mountain Lake ( ...yes, Dirty Dancing was filmed there ...nobody puts Baby in the corner! ...sorry.).  That's about 20 minutes away from my house ...20 minutes of highway.

I left my house ...so far, so good.  I spent about 3 minutes riding around in a Virginia Tech parking lot ...so far, so good.  Then straight out to the highway ...holy mother of God!

First of all, it was WAY louder than I was expecting.  Not the bike, but the wind ...crazy loud.  It was also a very windy day.  I was getting blown around like a ragdoll ...or really it was more like an incredilbly stiff human on a rag-bike.  I was going all over the place!  And, I don't know if you know this, but there are cars on the highway ...cars!  Big metal boxes flying past me (yes, they were passing me ...I was gripping the throttle so tight it wouldn't turn very far ...good God.)  This was just not what you do 10 minutes into your first ride on the road ...really, you just don't.

So, I bailed and pulled over.  That would have been reasonable ... if it was true.  Nope, I kept going.  My heart was pounding in my chest.  I actually felt as though I was going to fly off into the air at any moment ...I'm sure it happens all the time.  I mean I've never actually seen someone take off like a kite from the seat of their motorcycle.  But, I feel like it must happen all the time.   Most people don't hold on nearly as tight as I was holding on.  That's the only thing that kept me from going completely airborn.  If I had loosened up even a little ...if I would have let the least bit of blood back into my knuckles I would have been a goner ... a goner I tell you!

Later, when I was home ...still ...quiet ...fingers aching ...I read in an online forum about riding the KLR in the wind.  Even experienced riders seemed to have had a fright on really windy days.   What the hell was I doing out there!  A fright indeed.

I did make it to the forest service roads.  I was a little tired from holding every muscle in my body as tight as it would go for 20 minutes.  But, once on the gravel roads it was fantastic ...like I was 14 again.  It's funny, the bike is much more unstable on dirt and gravel.  You can feel it wiggling and shimmying around under you.  It freaks some people out.  When I finally hit the gravel road there was a couple on Harleys about 50 feet down the road.  50 feet was enough, they were turning around to get back to the safety of the pavement.   Safety?  Pavement?  Not so much for me, thank you.

After an amazing ride through the mountain forest, I had to head home ...if there was a word that somehow conveyed shaking, I would use it here.  I took and incredibly long way home, but I did avoid the highway.  The back roads were actually beautiful and enjoyable.

My first ride I got to experience joy like I was 14 again and terror like almost puking in my helmet kind of terror.  The fun kind!