Maybe In Another Life

Not a lot of people would know this, but it's always been my childhood dream to fly, but along the way, I personally made a choice to take up motorcycling instead of skydiving in the onset of my riding years.

Before my interest in motorcycling, I had already known that I was going to try skydiving, with the sole intent of eventually owning a wingsuit. Circa early to mid-2000's was when wingsuit really started to pick up some steam as an off-shoot of skydiving, and I had seen this is the closest thing I could do to actual human flight; it was never going to be enough for me to be flying something (i.e. a plane), I had to be the one flying.

I remember (then) having learned that to be allowed to own and operate a wingsuit, one must be a certified skydiver first, then have amassed over 500 jumps. I knew this and was intent on making that a goal. I had had a taste of what it was like to jump off a plane about two miles from the Earth, and reach terminal speeds as I plummeted, though strapped to a certified skydiver. Since that first jump, I had made a promise never to jump off a plane again strapped to anyone or anything.



Of course, right around the same time was when my interest in motorcycling begun and almost simultaneously erupted. It was a different kind of flying, but I was flying. While one can argue that piloting a motorcycle is a lot closer to piloting a plane than driving a car would, the reason that I feel a sense of flying on a motorcycle is because I am not strapped onto a bucket seat, inside a protective cage, just as you would be in a plane. Furthermore, unlike a plane and a car, every physical movement of every part of my body on a motorcycle dictates the way the motorcycle would move, just as a bird does, or how it would be in a wingsuit.

But I couldn't take up two inherently dangerous activities; it's already more than enough to worry my loved ones with either one, much less both. So I took up motorcycling, because the way I saw it, while flying a lot closer to ground, I wasn't plummeting towards it like I would in a wingsuit.

All's well that end's well, and at the very least I've kept my singular promise I made to myself about skydiving. I've never jumped off a plane again, because I wouldn't be able to do it by myself.

Rest assured though, it's not for a lack of desire.

150mph in a 1/4 of a Mile

This is easily one of my favorite moments in 2012. :)

My friend Rob held a dyno day in his shop this weekend, and though I went and trucked my bike with only the intent of displaying it, it didn't take long until we wheeled it on the dyno to do three runs of a 1/4 mile drag simulation. It was my first time doing it, though the video is my second run of three after my phone fell on its back when I tried to record the first time out.

I didn't post the fastest time in a 1/4 mile, or even had the best reaction time from a dead stop, but by that time in the video, I had posted the highest top speed of 146mph in a 1/4 mile, so I was hoping to crack 150mph. I told Rob this, and after sharing a laugh, he looks me in the eye and tells me that I "might not be able to manage it" with my bike.

First run was 148.430mph.
Second run was 149.990mph.
The third and final run was 150.585mph.

Hell yeah.

I Have Too Many Anniversaries

Labor Day weekend a year ago resulted in this, when after having my bike custom-painted, I drop it on a pile of rocks and scratched up the whole of the right side panels. Obviously, I've since had it repainted, but I won't let that damn road have the last word.

So this Labor Day weekend, it was time to go back.

To ride well, you must eat well.

 I'm thinking of making this a Labor Day weekend tradition, to make the 90-mile trek northward on the freeway towards Healdsburg, and visitng Skaggs Spring Road, and my old friend Rockpile Road.

 

It's not two photos cropped together; the road really does
become a dirt road right in the middle of the corner.

 Last year, I wasn't able to take a photo of the site, so that was part of the reason I wanted to go back. This time around, it was also enlightening to see how far we had to ride over the dirt before I was able to come to a stop, and how amazingly I was able to still steer the bike as the dirt road continued to curve ahead. More miraculously, I'm glad that we did not ride straight through and over the ravine to the left; it would've been a very long way down.

Like with all mistakes you survive, you can only laugh when you revisit it.

And I will continue to have the last laugh for every year that I revisit Rockpile Road.