Moto Blogger

I've upkept this blog for over half a decade now, though I've been blogging for longer than that. Like I always have, I do this mainly for me, because I am the nostalgic type to want to read about my previous adventures from time to time. Like I wrote on a previous entry, it's always good to look back (or down) as you move forward (and up) to not forget where you came from and how you got to where you are. This will always remain the purpose for why I blog. So I remain to be the first and foremost audience for everything I write. In fact, I don't even know if anybody, or how many even gander at this blog.

Regardless, I wouldn't at all mind to be getting paid while doing it.

Riderzlaw.com recently added me to their roster of Northern California motorcycle bloggers; a collection of moto writers who submit their entries to Riderzlaw.com's website and their motorcycle blog section. I am effectively being paid to write about what I love to do, which is to ride. It was never my intention or dream to be able to say that, but I don't fail to recognize how this isn't something that everyone can lay claim to, especially with bloggers. The ratio of bloggers who get paid to do so against bloggers who want to be paid to do so must be so disproportionate, that I am appreciative to have been allowed this opportunity even if it only so casually happened.

I guess the power of the pen when pushed by one's passion can sometimes work wonders. :)

The Brass Knuckle

In 2008, I bought my dream bike - a 2000 Aprilia RSV Mille. I had never seen a bike look the way it does, and to my surprise, it rode and sounded every bit like the dream that I thought it would.

When I lost the bike in late-2008 following an on-track collision with another rider, I ended up replacing it with my 2002 Yamaha R1, a bike that I myself wrote I would NOT be in love with.

"I'm not saying I don't like the R1 nor think it's a fantastic machine, all I'm saying is that I don't think I'll be running to the garage at random times of the day just to ogle at it anymore…it will be liberating to just ride the machine and enjoy it." - Me, September 2008 

 

So much for that; I ended up building the R1 into my rolling homage to today's Superbikes. It's become the bike that I am eyeing to retire in my living room. 

 

So I've owned my dream bike, and I've built the bike of my dreams.
So what about this late-90's British street fighter?

My first chance at owning one came by finding a Craigslist ad for it that was well-below what its private party value should've been. It turned out to have substantial DMV back fees to go along with it. I ate the costs, as I was able to recoup a lot of it back from selling the ton of spare parts that came with the sale anyway, so it ended up being one of those steal-of-a-deals for me in the end!

But the bike, oh, let me tell you. It quickly became a favorite of mine to ride. I even wrote a mini-review about it; I had never done that for ANY of my bikes!

"I'm thoroughly convinced that there is no more perfect real-world engine than a triple. (It) is a real gem. The whole gearbox feels like ONE gear in how consistent each gear's characteristic and torque output is…and because of its flat torque curve, the bike thinks it's in a drag race in any gear every time you shift - you feel all that torque, no matter where you are in the powerband. It's omnipresent." - Me, May 2011

The core of any good brass knuckle.

If my RSV Mille and R1 are my diamonds in all the bikes I've owned, then the Speed Triple is the brass knuckle;  just as nice to get your hands on, but ultimately more useful in urban assaults.

 

I ended up trading in the Speed Triple for premium parts for my R1 that I NEVER thought I'd be able to get my hands on. I have no regrets about having done that, but I'm not going to lie - I really liked that Speed Triple and enjoyed the heck out of riding it.

Well, wouldn't you know it; lightning struck twice.

Last week, I picked up another one for $500, after the owner said that on his way to work that morning, the transmission just gave out. After racking up over 40,000 miles in his ownership, he didn’t want to bother having to sort it out, hence his price. I just happened to be the lucky one to respond to his ad first, so that very night, I picked it up.

I’m even luckier to have a friend who is a master motorcycle mechanic at his own shop (Evolution Motorcycles), where the bike now sits so that I can get myself back to urban assaulting with it.

I can't wait to rock the brass knuckle again.

Mitigation

What is the most effective method of mitigating riding risk?

Not riding at all.

But if you're like me, that's not an option. Not when you've found no other visceral vice and soulful salvation like twisting the throttle on a two-wheeled machine. So we accept that this is of a dangerous sport, of a lifestyle on borrowed time that stretches and thins out as dictated by our very own decisions. We could completely shun the risk - it is what it is and its price is what we pay to play. Or we accept that it's there, but we mitigate it, to wrestle some control over its chaos even if just on our side of the battle out in the world.

When I started riding over seven years ago, I rode year round for at least a couple of years through all four California seasons; through the long days of summer, through the early nights of fall and winter. I rode the bike as much as I could to and from work, and as a weekend recreational rider. If it was raining, I was that guy that wrapped my socked feet in plastic bags before slipping them in my boots (until I bought proper rain boots) to and from my work commute. I was that guy that packed a clear and smoked visor, to swap as needed when the night set earlier (smoked visor said “daylight use only” – it said!). When it got really cold to ride, it simply meant I didn't need coffee to wake up in the morning, thanks to the wind chill. California has year-long riding seasons; all four climates are perfectly fine for riding because its extreme temperatures, be it cold or warm, are hardly extreme compared to other parts of the world.

So I rode year round, all for the sake of riding year round. Then I stopped. Just like that.

When your morning commute looks like your evening commute,
the odds are stacking up against you.

I stopped riding to and from work late fall and through winter, when daylight was shorter and rain was more prevalent. I didn’t stop because I had an incident during these times of the year, or because it made for an extremely uncomfortable riding experience.  I just realized that it made riding riskier. It stacked the odds even more when it was already stacked to begin with; it was already hard enough for other motorists to see us in broad daylight, let alone in the dark. Then when you throw in the rain, well, all bets are off.

I didn’t mind moto-commuting year round, but I wanted to ride for many years to come, and so I felt that if I didn’t NEED to stack the odds against me, that maybe I shouldn’t. Mitigate, I figured. I do my time in my car commuting to work a quarter of the year – the riskier quarter of the year – and I ensure longevity in this lifestyle I practically devote my life to.

My battery tender does double time 'round this time of year.

When Daylight Savings Time ends, that's when my yearly self-preservation begins. This is about that time of the year when I put the bike(s) on a battery-tender. This is when I start to think more about riding than I do actual riding (also when I fire up the PS2 to play Tourist Trophy!). This is the time of the year when there is some absence that starts in me. But you know what they say about absence, right?

It simply makes the heart grow fonder.
And I am very fond of riding.

So I mitigate.