Let's Try This Again

When I dropped my bike on a bed of rocks over half a year ago, and after dropping off the rashed panels at Bob's paint shop to be re-done, I finally have them back!

No complaints; it's always a good thing when you have to wait for your pieces because your friends' businesses have had a lot of work. That's never really a bad thing!

Man. So much has changed in the time I waited for the repaint!

Besides, all's well that ends well. Got it all back together and ready, just in time to be displayed at this Sunday's annual awareness walk for TAAF. :)

The Final Push

I think Belle's on her last trimester at this point for Stella. Right? Which means I should probably wrap up everything I ever planned or wanted to do on the R1 before she gets here.

Right?

Well, not quite...

I've been unbolting and bolting shit on my R1 for a better part of four years now. It's been an adventure on its own to be scouring the net - Craigslist, eBay, eBay UK, online forums, etc. - trying to find aftermarket parts for my 10-year old bike; either a used bit of unobtanium kit, or a new part that's been sitting in some moto shop's shelf in the last ten years, collecting dust. Apart from that, it's been (eventually) fun to make things that aren't supposed to work on your bike, work on your bike. For that, I thank my good friend Rob for his continued support and willingness to frankenstein whatever I want frankensteined on my bike. For example, if it weren't for him, I would've long dropped nearly $5000 for a race swingarm made for my bike, instead of paying him a couple of hundred here and there to make a regular one look like a race swingarm.

If I was Danny Ocean, Rob would be my Rusty Ryan.

Without his help, I couldn't have molded my bike to be what I always imagine it to be.

  

The latest bits to go on the bike:

Samco Sport Silicone Hose Kit.

So will I ever be done with this bike?

I don't know, and I don't typically think about it. I will say this though: I am at a point now that after four years of modifying the bike, it would be easier for me to list what remains original in the bike, rather than list what I've upgraded.

So what's with the title to this entry?

It has nothing to do with Stella, actually. Rather, I have a tentative plan to retire this bike at 50,000 miles and/or the end of this year (odometer is currently at 45k miles). I've sculpted this bike into a form that I cannot get tired of looking at, and so with that comes the feeling of wanting to preserve it the way it is, removing it from the riding risks I take every day on the street, or the track.

So the point in time between now and the end of the year or hitting 50k miles is akin to sleeping it off; we'll see how I really feel once I the mark(s).

Until then, I better keep plugging away at the damn thing.

 "Love. You can learn all the math in the universe, but you take a boat in the air you don't love, she'll shake you off just as sure as the turning of worlds. Love keeps her in the air when she oughta fall down, tells you she's hurting 'fore she keens. Makes her a home."

- Mal, Serenity (2005)

P.S.

This Sunday is the 7th Annual Awarness Walk for TAAF, so the couple of panels I had repainted should be done no later by then. I can't wait to have my bike "whole" again. It's been too long!

Overachiever

My sister, that is.

Her first crack at fundraising for TAAF, and she's 700% over the goal she set as of this post. A week an a half until this year's annual walk for TAAF, and I'm wondering if she'll hit the 1000% mark.



I'm very proud, suffice it to say. :)

Sometimes the Rebound Sticks

In basketball, it's not always a game-winning field goal that stamps the victory. Sometimes it's a turnover or a steal.

And sometimes, it's just the good old rebound.



My R1 - the rebound bike - after first picking it up
nearly four years ago.

   I've never denied that for all the rewarding experiences I've had with my R1 - undoubtedly the most out of all the bikes I've ever owned - that this bike was just a rebound. To quote myself from three and a half years ago:

"I absolutely loved (the Aprilia), which is actually a good reason why I won't have another one so soon. I remember random times during the day when I would come out to my garage to do nothing but simply look at it. Really. I couldn't get enough of that bike, whether on it or off it. It was borderline unhealthy (though harmless), and while I'm not exactly complaining, I've realized that I'm ultimately better off moving into another machine that doesn't evoke such zaniness from me."

Oh, how we speak so soon...


Happy Birthday, you large piece of inanimate object!


The birthday bike's tasty treat;
a six-layered carbon fiber slice of pie with epoxy resin filling!
The R1 turned ten years old last month, literally, and in putting in the latest bit of rare aftermarket part I could find for this dinosaur, it struck me again at how much I've transformed this bike physically and emotionally. Its emotional value is two-part, more understandably anchored by having transformed it into a moving billboard for TAAF. But before, during, and beyond becoming a tool to help raise awareness for TAAF, my incessant tendency to pull and plug bits and pieces (ok, some are LARGE pieces) into and on this damn thing almost surreptitiously turned itself into something far more valuable than what my Aprilia ever was to me.

I wanted to replace the Aprilia with a bike that I would no longer catch myself staring at in the garage during random times of the day, and yet that's exactly what I continue to do with the R1. The difference is that the Aprilia came to me already in a manner that I wanted.

I had to turn the R1 to the bike that I've always wanted.

That to me, I think, is what really outweighs the Aprilia in value. I may not have wanted to replace my Aprilia with another when I lost it, but truth is, I could've; there continues to be plenty more of that bike around for me to get.

But this bike, the R1?

Through time, effort, patience, and creativity, I will not find another bike just like it.



So sometimes, that last rebound you get will win it for you, so you should hold on to it, forever.

Need more proof?

Just ask my wife what her last rebound got her.

If you love something enough, they never really get old.

 

The Calm Before the Storm

And the storm's name is "Stella."


I know, it's been awfully quiet around here in this part of cyberspace. Don't let that fool you though; it's been quite the opposite in this side of the practical world. Since popping the bun in the oven, Belle and I have just been going through the formalities of first-time expecting parents, complete with plane trips to the other coast to visit her family.


This adventure's been going at full-tilt, and we're only past five months into a projected 18-years of it - you know - until Stella legally emancipates. (Of course, if she turns out anything like her mother, then our adventure will have to continue until she gets married!)

A lot of people that I know are predicting that once Stella's here, things are gonna have to change; i.e., riding my motorcycles. I'd argue, but what do I really know until I'm a parent. I will say this though; nobody warned me of the anxiety.

It's not the negatively-connotated sense of the word; I'm just really anxious for the baby to be born. This web journal is a testament of sorts to the spirit of adventure I've had, how I'm always up to something and the very next adventure. But right now, it's not quite the same. I'm just anxious to meet Stella, and everything else that used to be worth an endeavor just doesn't elicit any kind of excitement at this point. I'm turning thirty years old by the end of the month, for Christ's sake, and I can't even be bothered to be excited about that.

I remember going skydiving for the first time (fitting to this analogy, Belle was with me). The worst part of that day was the airpline ride to the jump height. Not the night before when you're trying to rest for the jump; not the car drive from your house to the airfield; not the precautionary presentations; not when you've suited up and walking to the plane; not even when you've jumped off, and plummeting to the ground at terminal velocity. It's when you're actually sitting in that small plane knowing you just left the ground to jump out two miles above it. Those were the longest few minutes of my life. That's when everything just seems to halt and won't get to the next step sooner than you would've wanted.

It's the waiting that drives people crazy sometimes.

Waiting for the storm doesn't help much in preparing yourself for a situation that you cannot really prepare for.

Until it's arrived.


From what I've been told, the forecast in the East Coast calls for a "storm" too. :)

The Flint and the Iron

Five to six years of riding video I've accumulated, between the street and track, whittled down to just over ten minutes of a musical trip down memory lane.

Honestly, I don't know which I'm more passionate about; riding, or editing videos. :)

Bun. In the Oven.

Understandably, around this time of every new year I already have something brewing. So not surprisingly, here's another adventure brewing for 2012 (and onwards!).

See it brewing live:


Hey, at least this time out, it REALLY is an adventure for myself, Belle, and Rusty! :)