Um, not the smartest to ride today

I have no pics but you’ll just have to believe me. Completely stupid to ride today but the boyfriend took my car before I was even awake.

Three inches of snow in the driveway. Paddle walked the scooter to the snow and slush covered street. It took a while to get to campus this morning because everyone was taking it slowly, thankfully. Oh and yeah, the white pick-up on Pleasant Valley stalled in the middle of street didn’t help.

Roads were wet and slushy but easy to navigate. That was until I got within a couple blocks of school. I have to take residential streets the last few blocks; I took the most heavily travelled and it was still really slippery. The woman in the car behind me was awesome. She kept way back as I was riding really slowly, and when I came up to a section of the street that was covered in packed snow and had to put my feet out, she basically just stopped and let me maneuver up to the stop light.

I pulled both brake levers, slow and steady, and the rear wheel started to slide out to right. I’m standing up with both feet on the ground, leaning the bike against my thighs to keep it from sliding so far sideways it will fall. I got the scoot stopped, and, feet slipping and sliding, wrangled it back into a sorta straight line to get through the light.

I turned around and gave the woman car driver a thumbs up. It’s a good thing she wasn’t drinking anything because she burst out laughing and waved.

One more block and I pulled onto campus, walking the bike through the snow into my spot.

Crazy day at work, but I managed to wrap up the last teaching session on time so I was walking out of my office at 4:40 pm. I wanted to get on the scooter and get home as the sun was moments from setting, the wind was bitter, and all the muck on the streets was refreezing.

I took the same route home, not my regular commute but the one I take when I need a lot of traffic to warm up the streets, and it was ok for the most part. The streets were wet with a frozen sheen. I realized I wasn’t paying the attention to idiots pulling in from side streets that I normally do, but all the drivers seemed pretty cool. Any car behind gave me lots of room, presumably to not run over me when I slid off the bike.

Two separate vehicles pulled in front of me, one a box truck and one a mini-van. Both got a honk. Really, you think I can slow or stop quickly? No. Do you think a car can slow or stop quickly in this mess? No. So be nice!

Finally pulled into the frozen snow of the driveway. As I opened the garage door I noticed another tire track. “Wha? He took the Transalp to Trinity this afternoon?” Apparently the boyfriend took the Honda Transalp downtown this afternoon and wasn’t home yet, even though it was now dark and the streets had frozen over.

I think it was a ploy because the steps weren’t shoveled, but I couldn’t even get mad because I was worried if he’d make it home. As I was shoveling the steps, I see the three points of lights take the corner of the street so I could relax. But I was still mad I had to shovel when he had a half day.

I should have come back home to grab the camera this morning. It was a ridiculous ride in both directions!

Why I’ve been riding on street tires for the last couple of months

The last few rides with the guys I was sorta wishing I had the S wheels on Elsa but I knew I had to ride up to Southbridge, MA in mid-January for a work event. I knew that work colleagues were also going so I suppose I could have planned to ride shotgun with one of them, but I really like the ride from PVD to Southbridge.

The day before I checked the weather and it looked ok enough, some rain in the morning, decent temps, and then partly sunny with temps taking a nosedive. I figured I’d be on the road back home around 3:30 so that would give me 1 1/4 hours of sun. By then I could be back across the Rhode Island border and just blast back, after having some time on the backroads in northeastern Connecticut.

It was pouring when I woke up but, magically, the rain stopped just short of 7:30 am. I stepped out of the house around 7:35, smiling that I was not going to have to ride 295 in the rain.

I took a new route to try to make the fastest time on the backroads, and it was really nice. I passed a mini-van parked by the side of Route 44 out in Burrillville with two kids sitting with their legs dangling out the side door who frantically waved at me. Waiting for the schoolbus.

Very foggy (as in “Man, I can’t see a thing! I sure hope I can be seen.”) and as I crossed the border into Massachusetts, I noticed white stuff along the side of the road. “Oh, I guess that’s the snow NOAA said I’d discover.

Gotta love northeastern Connecticut -- some great off-the-beaten track roads

I walked into the convention and meeting place with someone from work I bumped into and another attendee who I didn’t know. After checking in (and hilarity all around when I mentioned I rode up with Beatrice on the back), I walked into the very large coat room to pull off my wet gear (fog condenses so it seems). I emerged and apparently I was very quick as the guy who had walked in with us noted, “That was fast.”

The workshop ended around 3:00 pm. I stepped into the large coat room to don my gear, and upon exiting, a woman came up to me and asked, “Are you on a motorcycle?” I said, “Sure thing! This ain’t for fashion!” She then told me how she’s always wanted to ride but is afraid, and her husband said it was difficult, blah blah. I asked if her husband rode and she said no. I then said, well, take the class, get your license, try out some bikes, and buy something. At this same moment, another person came up to ask if I wore a helmet (good grief!), but I’m glad she did because I had left mine sitting in the coat room! Unfortunately I started a conversation with the other person and didn’t get to finish with the first person, and I didn’t know who she was (although at these things, more of the people tend to remember me ‘cos I’m walking around in hi-viz so hopefully I’ll see her at the March conference).

I know this is an aside, but I just don’t get the “Oh, I’ve always wanted to…” conversations. I’ve always lived a life of just do it, and try not to overthink it too much. I suppose I don’t have kids so I don’t have to worry about how my actions will affect someone else who doesn’t have a choice, but then again, your kids need to see you being a full human being if they’re to become half-way decent people. So I do hope I run into her again.

I made the mistake of not putting on my rain/windbreaker under my riding jacket because when I stepped outside, it was brrrrr! cold. Too late, oh well, I didn’t want to take off my riding jacket and rethread the wiring for my gloves (my only heated gear). I got on the bike and headed back home with my analog GPS directions written on a piece of paper, hoping some of the roads were dirt.

I love this part of Connecticut. You come across these rinky dink towns that, at one time, weren’t so rinky dink and the houses are gorgeous, although many of them are a bit tattered around the edges. I found a couple of easy dirt roads that were a bit o’ fun as the dirt had gotten soft and squirmy from the several inches of rain overnight, and, with my rear tire practically gone and hating on mud, I got to squirm around a bit. Oh, and there was just a touch of snow still on the roads. I can’t believe it’s 15 degrees colder up there than in Providence.

What's that white stuff? It didn't melt all day, just sat there to make the roads that much more fun!

My ghetto GPS was almost flawless except for the one road that did not have a name in the Google maps when I was working out my route. Note to self: if the Google doesn’t name the road in congested New England, it’s probably not a road. I wound up back on a road I knew so was able to cross the river (what river? I think it’s the Quinebaug River in Putnam, CT) and then backtrack to get on my route.

This is the first ride that I used my new-to-me GPS (thanks Santa!) in map mode. It was so nice to have something pop up and say what road was coming up. What I discovered, though, is I may call a road something but the GPS may call it something else. I’m chalking this up to the New England disease as we’re so populated, roads have multiple names. When I lived in California, I never had this issue. I remember asking someone, “What’s the back way?” to get somewhere and they had no idea what I meant.

I did run into traffic on some of the dirt roads and everyone was super-nice, slowing and pulling over so we could share the road. Everyone except that bastard in the blue Subaru on Riley Chase Road who, I really think they did, sped up and didn’t give an inch on the one lane road in the dark. You’ll get yours one day, and it will hurt.

Oh but wait, I forgot the giant gaggle of wild turkeys and the herd of deer.

I was in an area I had been in before, but off my route sheet, and I was getting ready to pull over. Good thing because a giant grouping of wild turkeys (are they not the ugliest things you’ve ever seen) was sauntering across the road. I eventually had to turn around so I got to ride through them twice. They can certainly move when they need to.

A bit further on, on a road I know so I was going fast, I see a flash of white. Bam, step on the rear brake as the rear of the bike squiggles through the mud. I pull up and look into the woods. I can see two of the bahstahds. It’s getting pretty dark now and I  had been thinking about deer, but I figured it’s still hunting season, no way they’re out gallivanting this close to civilization. I then realized it was 6 deer, not two, sheesh! I watched as the deer turned, ass towards me to show of their white tails, and bounded up the hill and through someone’s yard. It’s really rural but there are still houses. All I could think was of my poor mom, trying to grow flowers, and the nasty deer eating everything down to stubble.

I did try to get a pic, but my frozen hands were simply too slow.

Eventually I spilled out onto Route 101 and headed back into town. Lemme tell ya, it’s cold when the sun goes down and you’re doing 60 mph, brrrr.

When I got home, I actually turned up the heat (to 60F, how extravagant) and then made a cosy fire. Oh, and I sent a text to one of my work colleagues to let him know I wasn’t dead in a ditch.

Aaaargh, Gerbings! You always seem to crap out on me when it’s in the single digits

I don’t know what is the issue with my left hand Gerbing heated glove. I have the Hybrid Heated Gloves that work with a rechargeable battery pack (scooter) and plug in directly the battery (DRZ). These gloves cost $300 (gloves plus the batteries) which is an insane amount of  money for gloves, insane, but when they do work, they allow me to ride every day in the winter, every day, even when it’s zero degrees Fahrenheit.

The first winter I had them, the left glove just stopped working on a very long, very cold night ride back into Providence after a day of fun in the woods. When I stopped for gas and pulled the glove off, I thought my hand might crack into a thousand pieces, it was so raw and blue looking.

I sent the gloves back to Gerbing once it warmed up some and they said they couldn’t find anything wrong with it. They did include a new battery pack.

Last April I rode down to my mom’s house in Jersey, and I wound up with horrible blisters all over the my left hand  knuckles from some weird pressure point. I actually had to stop and get some Band-Aids to cover my hand, this after working the wiring to try to move it around. It was agonizing, but not enough to turn them off, haha!

Well tonight, I’m not happy. At least I was only on my commute which is haltingly short. It took some work to get the scoot going after work as it was so cold today (kick kick kick, press, arrnhhh, start up, die, kick kick kick, press, arrnhhh, start up, die) and I had to stop at the Aldi as I’m out of English muffins. As I’m riding the mere one mile to the Aldi, I’m thinking, “wow, my left hand is really cold.” When I pull into a parking spot, I look down and see the light on the battery pack is not on. “Wha? Aw man, not again.”

I go into the Aldi and do my shopping, having a nice conversation with the checkout person who told me, “Yeah, Christmas. 10 weeks of preparation for 10 minutes of chaos.” She’s a really sweet girl who knows I’m riding so she explains to the others why I look like a robot.

After stowing everything carefully in the milkcrate, under the seat and on the floorboards (two new cats = lots more litter!), and after returning the cart to the corral so I can retrieve the quarter, I press the button on the left battery. It blinks: red – red – red – red and then goes black.

So Gerbings, really? Again? There is obviously something wrong with this left glove. It’s forecasted to be 8°F tomorrow morning. Waaaah.

2011 ADV Big Bike Drop-o-Rama in Review

I grabbed some of the pics from a thread on advrider.com where a bunch of us post about our rides in eastern Connecticut and Rhode Island. So mom, now you see what I’m up to on the weekends.

The Year in Mileage

2008 Genuine Buddy St. Tropez (150 cc) – my commuter scooter

1/1/11: 7,636.5
1/1/12: 10,014.3
Total miles for 2011: 2,377.8

Buddy 150 scooter

2007 Suzuki DR-Z400SM (400 cc) – my ADV bike

1/1/11: 13,883.5
1/1/12: 21,894.3
Total miles for 2011: 8,010.8 (plus another 750 to 1,000 miles for when I ride on the S wheels and don’t recalibrate the speedo)

DRZ400SM

1971 BMW R75/5 – the boyfriend’s commuter

1/1/12: 83,943
I didn’t note the mileage last January.

BMW R75/5

1989 Honda Transalp – the boyfriend’s ADV bike

1/1/12: 33,140.9
I didn’t note the mileage last January.

Honda Transalp

My total mileage for the year is 10,388.6. Not bad for a 4 mile commute. The two weeks touring through Quebec, New Brunswick and New England helped.

Santa’s Presents: New Cats!

Thank you, Santa, thank you!

As some of you may know, both me and the b/f have lost three cats in the last two years.

• Legs Akimbo, aged 20, passed in my lap, my beloved New Yorker (ASPCA) to the end, clad always in black
• Josiah OMalley, aged unknown (from the street, stricken with cancer, beloved to the end, sadly, sadly missed)
• Skoda 1200, aged around 16, skinny as all get out, loved to the end

Santa brought two new cats to join Bandwidth (Little Shelter, Long Island, New York) and Friar Domino (from the street). They are Dutch and “the little girl” (until we figure out a name). They were at Providence Animal Control where I learned they had lived together until their owner passed. They were obviously beloved by their previous owner as they are just delightful as pets. They’ve been here since Wednesday evening, December 28.

[In typical fashion, we went to Animal Control on the Friday before Christmas, December 23, to have a look around. The door was open but the lights were off and no one was at the "greet" desk. We helped ourselves into the cat room after signing in as visitors, where I fell in love with "Garfield". There was a calico who was a "judger", just like Bandwith. Little did I realize that "Garfield" and "Lily" were friends. Well, we went back on December 28 and told the front desk person that we wanted the two cats. She asked how we knew about them and said we were here on 12/23. Whelp, apparently, the pound was not open on 12/23. So, in a nutshell, I should have just taken them when I saw them and not worried about them all Christmas, alone, in the nasty shelter. Next time, lock the door.]

They’ve been feeling their way into our family, and both Bandwidth and Domino have been more than accommodating. I’m actually shocked at how well Bandwidth is coping; it’s Domino I’m a bit concerned about.

On the evening of December 30, the new boy (Dutch) licked the new girl, who are probably brother and sister, assuring her that she is safe. I will say the girl just loves to sit on laps. The boy, Dutch, well, he loves the shower. I think he will help me through my grief over OMalley. I’m still so sad at his passing as we only had him a few short years until cancer took him away. What a personality! But Dutch, he’s proving to be a real presence.

Dutch, my beautiful boy, sitting on the Dromminge

The new girl on OMalley's pink puff and Friar Domino, getting along like old friends

10,000 miles by scooter

9,999.9 miles on Franz Biberkopf, the Buddy scooter

I don’t know why this was such a big deal for me, but the Buddy turned over 10k today, December 20, as I arrived into work. This is the only bike I’ve ever purchased brand new. I put every single mile on this thing, and it’s primary use is for commuting, 8 miles round-trip. Two years, 7 months. Either I work waaaay too much or those “I’m going to take the long way home” meanderings really racked up the miles.

Either way, I love the Buddy. Reliable. Cute. Requires next to nothing in maintenance.

10,000.0 miles on a Genuine Buddy St. Tropez

A special THANK YOU to Paul for walking all over campus to take pictures. You’re such a good guy.

My commuter Buddy in more ways than one at 10,000 miles on the odometer

Stop the Presses: A 4-way stop where everyone followed the rules!

It’s possible, little Rhody, it truly is!

As I approached the first 4-way stop on my way home this evening, one car was already stopped (to my right). A car opposite me pulled up and stopped. Then I pulled up and stopped, and a final car pulled up to my left and stopped.

Car to my right proceeded straight through.

Car opposite me proceeded straight through.

I turned left.

Last car waiting proceeded straight.

As I continued riding down River, I burst into laughter and shouted, to no one in particular, “A 4-way stop that worked!” Ahh, a little of knowledge…

On another note, I’m at 9, 951 miles on the odometer! Getting closer every day.

Random weeknight pic arriving home after the commute: Buddy decked out in his holiday finery

Stuck behind a cigar smoker in the rain

Ugh! Whoever you are, State license plate 700 in your state-issued mini-van, that cigar was downright nasty. I can’t believe you were driving around at 6pm in a state vehicle with the window open in the rain, puffing away at the rankest smelling cigar I’ve ever had the misfortune to be near, not using your turn signal. Maybe you’ll die earlier from smoking and we won’t have to pay out your pension.

How NOT to transport a Charlie Brown Christmas Tree on a Genuine Buddy scooter

On the floorboards. At least, not a good idea when it’s windy.

I had an early meeting on campus this morning so I was a bit bleary when I headed out the door. I’ve been meaning to bring my Charlie Brown Christmas Tree in to adorn my office as everyone else on the floor has the same tree (and when I pointed out to Eve, one of the graduate students, she felt it was a sad reflection on our working conditions).

Instead of lashing it to the milkcrate on the back of the Buddy, I slung it across the floorboards as the box is very long and skinny and wasn’t going to fit very well into the crate. I headed out with little problems, until I took the turn off of Elmwood Avenue when the box moved. I found myself riding one handed, looking down, and trying to stabilize the box, all the while twisting the throttle more and more open as there was no traffic in front of me.

Another turn and another gust of wind shifted the box onto an edge, where I wedged it in with my boots.

Red light. Re-group.

I’m now on a one-way street and a big gust of wind blows the box off the floorboards and into the middle of the street. Da-ham! I turn the scoot around and head into traffic to retrieve my Christmas tree. I stop, throw it up on the center stand, and run into the street to grab the box.

Back at the scoot, I sling it across the floorboard and swing in front of a huge, red dump truck, you know the kind, that carry asphalt for paving projects.

Stop sign, roll through, and another huge gust blows the box off. “Ugh, that’s it!” I think to myself. I park the scoot and actually close my eyes as the asphalt dump truck narrowly avoids the box on this narrow street with cars parked along the curb. I snatch the box up out of the street and run back to the scoot. I pull off my gloves and lash the box to the crate with my one and only bungee.

Now I’m paranoid. I can no longer see the box. Every bump I hit, I reach back to feel if the box is still there. What a way to ride the remaining two miles, one handed and panicking that the red Christmas ball has been smashed into pieces.

Eventually I make it to school and un-bungee the tree. I hear pieces moving about but I don’t hear glass. I plop the box onto a table in my office as I strip off my riding gear to get to a meeting.

The tree will have to wait until later in the day.