To my lovely Jeep this afternoon, struggling in the confuse-a-cat traffic at the intersection of Dean and Atwells, who thought it appropriate to yell out the window “fuck you!” when I scooted between the gridlock…shoulda thought about that initial purchase, eh?! Haha!
My favorite bier in the world is now available in the USA: Why Andech’s Doppelbock Dunkel is nectar of the gods
Best fucking beer in the world.
I had a freakin’ BLAST today. Great people, great route, and great weather.
- jgormley for leading a really fun ride (yeah, leading sucks)
- CBejbl for hiking the DR Little up a hill when he wouldn’t start after a failed bumpstart (thanks drewha)
- Bikenstitches for suggesting the battery connection was off (well, actually, CBejbl’s idea ), and
- drewha for wrenches
All in all — five bikes — perfectly sized group
WR250, DR 350, TE610, F650 Dakar, 690 Enduro
All the pics (unedited)
Meet-up at the Dunkin’ Donuts – imagine my surprise when I arrived and akarob was there on the mighty KTM 990 ADV. And then xjake. They both showed up to say ‘hi’ but went off their own ways.
Already doing bike repair in the DD parking lot — someone forgot some screws
Swamp Meadow Bridge, Fostah, RowDylin’
Highest Point in Rhode Island, Jerimoth Hill (Fostah) — I think drewha got a nosebleed
Pulling out the paper map — this can’t be good
I love this picture. CBejbl looking badass with his KTM 690 Enduro
We had to turn around after following our fearless leader. “This trail shows as going through on the GPS.” Yeah, no.
Fun in the woods! At least the kids are being safe. I couldn’t tell if it was used and placed neatly back in the package, or someone left the woods very, very frustrated
Nice dude on a Dizzer (yellow is the fastest color) from West Wawa stopped where the DR Little wouldn’t start.
Braaap Braaaaaaap. jgormley gets to try CBejbl’s 690 Enduro.
My turn. I look hawt in orange
Do not follow this man. drewha leading us up the creek without a paddle.
CBejbl, drewha, Bikenstitches
Major shoutout to Bikenstitches for riding the big pig F650 Dakar today.
Part of the posse — drewha & Bikenstitches
It never looks as dramatic in the pics
WTF? We need to ride UP this.
All I could think as the Jeep was heading down is what the F are THEY thinking? We were lined up like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (plus a girl) facing them, and yet they still drove down.
Everyone made it up with no drops, no stops, no help needed. Even me. I don’t know how I got out of my own head.
FU RIDEM. This is the DEM’s idea of ruining a nice dirt road.
Bikenstitches was behind me, nailing all the puddles. And then I looked, no Bikenstitches. I figured he had a bit of a struggle with the thick sand, and sure ’nuff. drewha went back to help. I would have, but I’m usually more of a burden than assistance.
No harm, no foul. Who needs turn signals in New England?
A concerned CBejbl
Would you like bacon with that hoagie?
Sand damage — that’ll duct tape right up
Road-worthy requirements in B-ville are pretty lax. This pulled in AFTER we saw an ATV pulling a trailer down the main street.
Oh, and a special message to the RIDEM: Fuck you!
“You can’t ride those in here!”
“Huh? Licensed, registered, insured.”
“Oh, I’m used to illegal dirt bikes.”
Do you seriously think I would ride up to you, Rangerman, if I was on an off-road only bike? Whadd’ya think, I’m a morAn? See these amber things? And this small, rectangular metal thing with numbers on it? Go F yerself. You’re standing between me and a nice bathroom.
Seriously nice ride today. I can’t wait for the BBA this coming weekend
We had our first motorcycle fatality of 2014 in Rhode Island on Friday evening. I spent some time looking at the Google street view of the location and just couldn’t figure out what happened (22 year old on a GSX-R that he purchased in March of this year, at least that’s what I sussed out from his Facebook profile). The street surface looked smooth and the stretch of road looked straight. It was bothering me enough to make it the aim of my ride this evening (after stopping at the Aldi, the credit union and the house to drop off the groceries).
Now, it is well-known by those who know me that I am hopeless when it comes to trying to figure out how to get from point A to point B without intensely studying a map and writing very specific directions. But for some reason, I decided to just wing it.
And here’s the crazy thing. I actually found the street. I had never been there, a street that parallels I-95. I kept coming upon dead-end after dead-end as the highway was cutting off the surface streets. But I persevered and kept heading in what I thought would make the most sense. For once, I was actually right. I couldn’t believe it when I was stopped at a red light, and felt like I should make a left, when I spotted the street sign. I found it!
I rode down the street a ways and spotted the accident scene easily as a makeshift memorial had been set up (I don’t get these roadside candle and flower tributes, but it did make it easy to find). I wanted to continue on the street to see where it went, so I rode on. It got kind of creepy with gates and fences everywhere. There was a dirt road that paralleled the railroad tracks but I couldn’t figure out a way to get to it as the river was inbetween where I was and the tracks.
At one point I stopped and walked down into what appeared to be a spot where people dump crap and found two rib cages. There was a bunch of rope and a couple of 5 gallon plastic pails. I think I know what I found, but I don’t really want to think about it. It kinda creeped me out.
It was getting to be about dusk so I turned back up the road and tried to ride it thinking like a 22 year old guy on a Gixxer. Naturally I wasn’t very successful in this endeavor. I still don’t get it. There was a slight turn to the road before the place where he hit the pole, but it was so much before I can’t see how an over-correction would have gotten him into the pole. The only thing I can think is he lost control earlier, looked up and saw the pole, and target-fixated. Nothing else makes sense. It’s just so sad. If only he had gone off the road 5 feet earlier or later, he’d probably still be here as it was a huge lawn.
I continued along the street until I came upon a bridge over I-95. I had no idea where I’d wind up, but I swung a left and rode down the parallel street on the opposite side. Lots of little kids out, riding bikes, playing. At least three gave me a thumbs-up. At what point do little boys go from thinking scooters are cool to scooters being, ahem, not cool.
Astonishingly, I eventually wound up on a street where I knew where I was. It was as if I somehow acquired a sense of direction overnight. I still don’t know how I figured out how to find the street and how to get home. Maybe my knowledge of Providence is really getting to be good, as if I’m approaching the Knowledge.
Oh, and this showed up last week on campus.
Tick Tick Tick go away!
After freaking out after the goo I found on the dipstick after my arrival at the first-of-the-year Pachaug Camp-N-Rides, I poured some random oil into the Suzuki DR350 to get me through the next few days (thanks Dave!).
This week has been and continues to be a bit of a hell week, but I knew I had to change the oil as I need to ride the baby DR on Thursday down to the Twisted Throttle Rhode Island Bike Night as I’m working the CCRI table because, really, someone from the moto-training courses in Rhode Island has gotta represent for the ADV crowd.
Sooo, after leaving work late because of a big annual event, I headed downtown to City Hall to pay my property taxes to Providence so my street can be swept by the auto-machines once a year and potholes cannot be filled. Someone had the bright idea of having the tax office open late until 7pm a couple of days before taxes were due, and it was brilliant. I got fucking rockstar parking immediately in front of City Hall, and there was no one in line. The best part? The lady called me ‘honey’ which made me smile.
Then onto the gym, first time since the CNR because I had gotten beaten to hell on the Saturday afternoon ride. An hour later, I pop onto the Honda Elite and head home, knowing I had a pile of laundry and a sad Suzuki waiting.
Oh, but wait.
I GOT EVERY LIGHT ON BROAD STREET.
This has never happened before. I was screaming inside my helmet after I passed through the last light before the turn onto my street, “I got every fucking light!”
Wanna put a big grin on a girl’s face? Give her a crowded city street with a full view of green. I vividly recall watching all the lights turn green on Avenue A one very early morning in New York when I was out riding my bicycle. It’s a freaking symphony.
After stuffing the washer with laundry, it was out to the garage with a rare Strongbow in hand.
Part of one Tom Ashbrooke on Supreme Court decisions about copyright and broadcast rights, and affirmative action and college admissions, which I thought was interesting, and into a ridiculous Tom Ashbrooke about life coaches (really?!) that I kept thinking this has got to be enough oil that I poured in, I was done.
I should be good for a couple of weeks :)
The boyfriend snapped this pic of my big cat, Dutch, snoozing beneath the down comforter on my bed. Seriously, the house is kept at 55F and it was probably warmer than that today as the sun was out. What a freakin’ life.
Went to the gym again and did 45 minutes on the ARC machine, listening to some dub step until I needed to step up the tempo, at which time I switched to Swedish House Mafia. I’m really hoping all this sweating will make a difference to my riding, ‘cos there sure ain’t nothing to look at in the gym.
I had to attend a funeral in Leominster, Massachusetts this morning. And I didn’t fancy getting myself there alone. A colleague at work was kind enough to offer to drive us with the catch that I had to get myself to his house in North Attleborough / Attleboro, MA.
No problem, my trusty Honda Elite 250 will zip me through Providence on I-95, and then off onto secondary roads through the Bucket and into Massachusetts. I didn’t reckon the traffic would be as heavy. Why are drivers so nonchalant in the morning. Move it! already.
Left PVD at 7:33AM and walked into his kitchen at 8:13AM (that was after wandering around a bit not knowing which door to knock on and completely missing the note he left me on the door).
What an awesome dog he has! And I didn’t get a picture of Jazzy. I’m in love … German Shorthair Pointer.
After returning to North Attleboro, he and another colleague drove to campus in one of those car things while I prepared to ride the scooter, analog GPS taped to the windshield.
I really don’t know what is wrong with me, directions-wise. I’m always lost. And I do pay attention to landmarks and stuff. At one point, I made a left instead of a right and wound up back on the same road I had turned off of about 10 minutes prior.
I retraced my route back to the mistake and headed right this time. Things seemed fine as I passed a “Welcome to Rhode Island” sign. Ahh, back in the Ocean State.
Then things got messed up because I stupidly used “R at CVS” as a direction.
In New England, here are things to NOT use as landmarks.
- White, steepled churches
- Dunkin’ Donuts
I must have passed three different CVS stores and became very confused WHICH right I was supposed to take.
My mistake, and in my defence, it’s not really a mistake, as the right I thought I should take was a one-way in the opposite direction (in other words, I couldn’t actually take the right).
Which leads us to the real issue.
Central Falls and Pawtucket, what is up with all the freakin’ one ways?!
When I realized I was, yet again, lost in Central Falls, I just resigned myself for the slow slog through the one square mile town, knowing I would be dumped out into the Bucket, which of course terrified me.
I’ve never not been lost in Pawtucket.
“Please, please let there be signs for I-95,” I thought, begged, to myself.
And there were! And more alarmingly, they actually led me to I-95. The wind had really picked up as I entered the highway but the mighty Honda Elite soldiered along, hitting 61 on the digital dash. Take that, CBR 600s!
I made it to campus safe & sound, where I learned that my car-driving colleagues were wondering if I would arrive before them. How cute.
Today wasn’t a particularly nice day, but I saw lots of bikes out and about on my commute, probably because I didn’t take my regular commute as I had an appointment in the morning.
- girly on a Yamaha Vino scooter
- hardcore commuter on a Honda CRF230 or 250
- some random 90′s thing parked on campus with fake BMW roundels
- a tiny glimpse of a sportbike X2
- and finally, a nice, unmolested early 1970′s Yamaha
I arrived home tonight to a very serious looking boyfriend. He uttered these words:
I have very bad, life-changing news.
My first thought was that his library was closing or having a major reduction in hours, and he was going to be laid off.
But no…it’s worse.
The geniuses at Heineken have fucked with one of the best ciders on the market. How? you ask. By bringing out two new ciders, the one which I tasted being sickeningly sweet, to appeal to fucking urban hipstahs who have no appreciation for true alcoholism.
The genius part? Pulling the ORIGINAL recipe off the market.
Why? Why would you do this? Largest market share in the global market so yeah, let’s stop making the product and bring out something sweeter.
Wanna make a lot of money? Produce a good-quality dry cider in quantities large enough to support the market.
And I absolutely LOVE the marketing profile of the Strongbow drinker.
Strongbow consumers live their lives in a natural, effortless way, and appreciate authentic experiences and moments with friends. They love the outdoors but also love the city, where they seek their own ‘urban orchards’: places where nature meets the upbeat metro pace, and real conversations happen. From parks and patios to deck bars and street festivals, those urban orchard locations are meant to enjoy a Strongbow poured over ice.
Seriously? Cider was what the drunks drank. Now it’s come out of the shadows and they have to fuck it up with sugar. Some of us drunks just want our dry, crisp intoxicant.
Rode the Buddy into work today, the first time in a couple of months. Very weird feeling. I had to use my left hand for something.
I didn’t move the Hippo Hands from the Elite to the Buddy. When I opened the door to go outside this morning, I wasn’t hit by angry, frigid air, but gentle, dare I say it, a warmness that surrounded me. Still a bit shocked as I wandered over to the garage, I pulled on my helmet, started up the Buddy, and decided I didn’t need to turn on my heated gloves.