Humans divide themselves into all kinds of different groups. Almost all of us group ourselves by family units. We live with our family, generally not with other families or in group settings. Sometimes we divide ourselves by our gender. Sometimes it's our profession and we will associate with people who work in the same field that we do. Sometimes it's by nationality, race or religion. Sometimes we group ourselves by hobbies or activities that we like to do. People who like to shoot guns generally hang out with other people who like to shoot guns. You get the idea...
Often times we can be protective of our groups too. If someone says something hurtful or mean-spirited about our group, we get defensive. We don't like it when someone else is tearing down our groups. We don't like it when someone else views us as bad, or substandard in someway. It's not unusual to hear about a group boycotting a movie because somehow their group was portrayed poorly in the movie. I'm quite sure the police officers and lawyers are tired of everyone viewing them as bad-guys because of some the members of their groups act poorly. Because of this defense mechanism, many times when we see someone in one of our groups acting in a way that might not reflect well for our group, we get concerned. Our first thought is usually, how does that affect me? If that group member continues with that behavior, will there be repercussions that affect me?
For example, if you've been reading this blog, you know I'm a member of the group of motorcyclists. Now motorcyclists, or bikers, are often portrayed poorly in the media. Sometimes the reputation is well earned. But I'm still often very aware of how bikers can actly badly and how that affects me. Recently I was riding home and the traffic was horrible. I was going between lanes trying to just move through without going too fast and upseting John Q Public in their cars. Another biker came up behind me and I let him pass as he wanted to go faster than I did. This guy was a piece of work. He was yelling at the cars, shaking his fist at them, acting like he was going to kick in their doors, I think he even spit on one car. He was one seriously angry dude. If someone didn't move over and let him pass, he acted like a federal offense had been committed. As I watch his tirades, I wondered - how does that affect me? Now I have to drive along behind him. What if the motorists are ticked off and they decide to take it out on me? What if they get fed up with bikers like him and they decided to change the laws so they are less friendly to bikers? etc. etc...
Never once was my concern for that individual or even the people that he was acting so poorly towards. All I could think about was myself and how his behavior might affect me. That makes me sad. It's hard to believe that I am so self-centered. Now I don't know what I could have done to help that individual. The middle of the freeway during rush hour is generally not a good time for an intervention. But I wish I had offered up a prayer or at least thought about something other than myself.
"How does that affect me?" is not something I want to ponder about too much. Apparently I spend way too much time thinking about me and not near enough time thinking about the people around me. What, or who, are you thinking about?
Showing posts with label motorcycle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motorcycle. Show all posts
2009-12-03
2009-05-11
A Tap on the Shoulder
Tuesday I rode my bike to work like every other day. It was beautiful riding weather. In fact, it was hard to go to work, the local mountains roads were calling my name. After a long day at work I went to the parking structure looking forward to my ride home. I geared up and got on the bike and it won't start. It cranks just fine, but it won't fire. Stupid bike. I checked all the usual stuff, hoses, sensors, kill switch, etc. Nothing. I even tried to bump start it. Nothing would make it start. I called the tow service we have (which shall remain nameless, but it starts with All and ends with State) and they said they'd have someone out there in an hour and half. What great service. Not! That was too late to do any good, the shops would be closed by then. So I called my lovely wife to come get me and left the bike at work overnight.
Now before we go any farther in the story, you should know that I hate it when a vehicle leaves me stranded. It's a bit like your spouse cheating on you. I don't trust the vehicle any more, I just want it out of my sight. If someone had offered me $20 for it, I probably would have sold it on the spot. So it was all I could do to keep my cool and my Christianity.
On Wednesday I took the truck to work. I was sure the bike would fire right up and I would be even more frustrated at it. But no, it still wouldn't start. That's kinda good, at least it's consistent. I got the tow truck out (after a 2 and 1/2 hour wait when he was supposed to be there within the hour) and loaded up the bike. When the bike got the shop, the mechanic got up on the flatbed truck and the bike started the first crank. Arrrrgh.... stupid bike. So he thinks there's a short or something and he works on it for over an hour and can't find anything wrong with the bike. But it needed tires and oil change, so I told him to go ahead with that and I'll pick the bike up on the Thursday.
On Thursday, the mechanic calls me and says you won't believe what I found. I'm thinking, "Great, he found the problem why it won't start." But that wasn't it. The whole rear end that holds the rear tire in place is called the swing arm. That swing arm basically mounts to the frame of the bike with one bolt, so it can articulate up and down as the suspension moves. What the mechanic found is that the bolt was there, but the nut to hold it in place was missing! If that bolt had fallen out while I was riding the bike, the rear end and rear tire would have completely fallen off. As you can imagine, at freeway speeds in LA, that would not have a happy ending.
I am certain that the reason the bike didn't start at work, but did start at the shop, is because there is nothing wrong the bike. The bike is just fine. However, once in a while we get a tap on the shoulder and God reminds us that he is still around and involved in our lives. I'm grateful that he takes the time to care for us.
So what God stories do you have? That's worth pondering about.....
Now before we go any farther in the story, you should know that I hate it when a vehicle leaves me stranded. It's a bit like your spouse cheating on you. I don't trust the vehicle any more, I just want it out of my sight. If someone had offered me $20 for it, I probably would have sold it on the spot. So it was all I could do to keep my cool and my Christianity.
On Wednesday I took the truck to work. I was sure the bike would fire right up and I would be even more frustrated at it. But no, it still wouldn't start. That's kinda good, at least it's consistent. I got the tow truck out (after a 2 and 1/2 hour wait when he was supposed to be there within the hour) and loaded up the bike. When the bike got the shop, the mechanic got up on the flatbed truck and the bike started the first crank. Arrrrgh.... stupid bike. So he thinks there's a short or something and he works on it for over an hour and can't find anything wrong with the bike. But it needed tires and oil change, so I told him to go ahead with that and I'll pick the bike up on the Thursday.
On Thursday, the mechanic calls me and says you won't believe what I found. I'm thinking, "Great, he found the problem why it won't start." But that wasn't it. The whole rear end that holds the rear tire in place is called the swing arm. That swing arm basically mounts to the frame of the bike with one bolt, so it can articulate up and down as the suspension moves. What the mechanic found is that the bolt was there, but the nut to hold it in place was missing! If that bolt had fallen out while I was riding the bike, the rear end and rear tire would have completely fallen off. As you can imagine, at freeway speeds in LA, that would not have a happy ending.
I am certain that the reason the bike didn't start at work, but did start at the shop, is because there is nothing wrong the bike. The bike is just fine. However, once in a while we get a tap on the shoulder and God reminds us that he is still around and involved in our lives. I'm grateful that he takes the time to care for us.
So what God stories do you have? That's worth pondering about.....
2009-02-02
A Change of Perspective
If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that I ride a motorcycle. (here, here and here). Riding a motorcycle is not just a hobby or something I do on weekends. I ride to work nearly every day of the year. I also leave for work pretty early in the morning and I don't want the entire neighborhood to get up when I do, so I ease out as quietly as I can. Sometime last winter something happened on my morning ride that I had almost forgotten about - until last week. I had gotten out of my neighborhood and was on the main road out of the housing development on my way to work. I was still taking it very easy and going slowly and quietly. A few blocks down there was an older man taking out his trash in the morning. He was a bit of a mess. He was wearing pajama bottoms, a white t-shirt tank and had messed up white hair. He looked up at me as I went by and then, for no reason I could determine, flipped me off. I was mildly peeved. I hadn't done anything to him. I was trying to be a good neighbor and quietly head to work in the morning - what I done to deserve such treatment from him?
For a while I wondered about him each morning when I passed his house. Did he hate motorcyclists? Was just a crazy old man? Did he hate everyone? Eventually, he just faded away out of memory - until last week.
Last week there was a major fire in his house. The house is a complete loss. I don't know what happened. Was it an accident or intentional? Was it a wiring problem? Did he fall asleep with a lit cigarette? I don't know. I don't even know if he was hurt or killed in the fire. I don't know if he had a wife or anyone else living in the house. Basically I don't know anything about him or his situation.
But the weird thing is that I noticed that my feelings about him changed. I went from wondering if he was a crazy old man to be concerned and hoping he's OK. I guess that's fairly normal. We often come to the aid of people when disaster strikes. We send aid to places where there's been floods, typhoons and earthquakes. We help our neighbors in times of need. And that's good. But what about when the need isn't quite so obvious or related to a disaster? Do we offer help when someone is a little down? Or when they are having a bit of a rough time? Or do we only notice there's an issue when things reach epic levels?
That's worth pondering about.
2008-09-09
It’s the Simple Things
It’s the simple things that make life so great. Things like new motorcycle tires. I love new motorcycle tires. It’s kind of like when you were a little kid and you got new sneakers – except it’s a million billion times better. Remember how new shoes made you run so much faster? New motorcycle tires are just like that.
For those who haven’t thought about such things – motorcycle tires have a round profile. Compare that to car tires which are decidedly square. Car tires have a large side wall, a fairly abrupt angle and then the tread which is fairly flat. 
Contrast that with motorcycle tires that have a small sidewall and a very rounded tread. This type of tire makes it much easier for bikes to lean when turning (relatively important).
The problem is when you don’t turn very much and you just ride your bike in a straight line – like I mostly do going back and forth to work everyday. Then your tires develop a flatspot right in the middle of the tire. When that happens the bike doesn’t handle very well. The bike wants to go straight and it takes more effort to make it turn. The bike will often be ‘jittery’ as it transfers from the flat spot on the tire to the rounded edge. This makes freeway off ramps all kinds of fun.
New tires fix all that. My old bike feels new again. It corners great! Just like new sneakers when you were five years old.
It’s amazing how a simple thing like new tires make the bike new again. That can also be true in our lives as well. Things might not be going to well – for whatever reason – but a simple smile, a card or note, or an act of kindness from someone can change the whole day.
What simple thing are you going to do to make some else’s day better?
That’s worth pondering about.
For those who haven’t thought about such things – motorcycle tires have a round profile. Compare that to car tires which are decidedly square. Car tires have a large side wall, a fairly abrupt angle and then the tread which is fairly flat. 
Contrast that with motorcycle tires that have a small sidewall and a very rounded tread. This type of tire makes it much easier for bikes to lean when turning (relatively important).The problem is when you don’t turn very much and you just ride your bike in a straight line – like I mostly do going back and forth to work everyday. Then your tires develop a flatspot right in the middle of the tire. When that happens the bike doesn’t handle very well. The bike wants to go straight and it takes more effort to make it turn. The bike will often be ‘jittery’ as it transfers from the flat spot on the tire to the rounded edge. This makes freeway off ramps all kinds of fun.
New tires fix all that. My old bike feels new again. It corners great! Just like new sneakers when you were five years old.
It’s amazing how a simple thing like new tires make the bike new again. That can also be true in our lives as well. Things might not be going to well – for whatever reason – but a simple smile, a card or note, or an act of kindness from someone can change the whole day.
What simple thing are you going to do to make some else’s day better?
That’s worth pondering about.
2008-05-14
Useless or Annoying
I don't know if anyone else has this issue or if it’s just me, but have you ever noticed that there is a fine line between useless and annoying?
For example, most motorcycles do not come with clocks. That’s annoying. You can’t use your wristwatch because it’s under your gloves and jacket. So I bought a little clock that you can mount to your handlebars. It’s a decent clock. It has a glow-in-the-dark face – for at least 15 minutes of darkness (useless). And a thin little brass second hand (REALLY useless). When I’m riding my bike, I never need to know that it’s 6:04 and 26 seconds. Plus the thin brass is very difficult to see against the glow-in-the-dark face when you are bouncing down the freeway at, umm, California freeway speeds.
But the useless second hand doesn’t bother me. I’ve learned to ignore it. Until yesterday.
Yesterday the second hand fell off the spindle and now it resides at the bottom of the clock. For the first time I noticed that the second hand actually has a big round part that goes over the spindle where the hand attaches to the movement. Now that it’s at the bottom of the clock, the big round part is as annoying as it can be. Every time I look at the clock all I can see is that stupid second hand bouncing around. It went from useless to annoying in one brief moment.
The clock still seems to keep time just fine. But I’m going to have to replace simply because that stupid second hand bothers me.
What in your life has gone from useless to annoying?
For example, most motorcycles do not come with clocks. That’s annoying. You can’t use your wristwatch because it’s under your gloves and jacket. So I bought a little clock that you can mount to your handlebars. It’s a decent clock. It has a glow-in-the-dark face – for at least 15 minutes of darkness (useless). And a thin little brass second hand (REALLY useless). When I’m riding my bike, I never need to know that it’s 6:04 and 26 seconds. Plus the thin brass is very difficult to see against the glow-in-the-dark face when you are bouncing down the freeway at, umm, California freeway speeds.
But the useless second hand doesn’t bother me. I’ve learned to ignore it. Until yesterday.
Yesterday the second hand fell off the spindle and now it resides at the bottom of the clock. For the first time I noticed that the second hand actually has a big round part that goes over the spindle where the hand attaches to the movement. Now that it’s at the bottom of the clock, the big round part is as annoying as it can be. Every time I look at the clock all I can see is that stupid second hand bouncing around. It went from useless to annoying in one brief moment.
The clock still seems to keep time just fine. But I’m going to have to replace simply because that stupid second hand bothers me.
What in your life has gone from useless to annoying?
2008-03-18
2008-01-21
I NEED one of these!
Here's a little formula for pure fun.
One little, itty bitty smart car PLUS one of the most powerful motorcycle engines ever produced EQUALS great fun.
Yea, I need one.
One little, itty bitty smart car PLUS one of the most powerful motorcycle engines ever produced EQUALS great fun.
Yea, I need one.
2007-12-01
Evel Knievel
I grew up when Evel Knievel was in his prime. He was everywhere. It seemed like he was always jumping something - or at least trying to jump something. His impact on my childhood was amazing. I even had an Evel Knievel lunch box. 
As a boy, my friend and I were always trying to emulate Evel by jumping our bicycles over various objects. We jumped tractor tires, bales of straw, we even jumped my friend's parents car. We often emulated Evel's failed attempts too. I'm not sure how many times we ended up a pile with the bike on top of us. But we'd get up, brush ourselves off and try it again.
The fact that Evel did his jumps on a Harley Davidson street bike still amazes me to no end. He wasn't using some dirt bike with a nearly limitless suspension, it was a street bike. Wow! That's tough.
Like everyone else, I was saddened to learn of Evel's passing. They just don't make them like that anymore. Truthfully, I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing - but it's clearly the passing of a legend and an era.
As a boy, my friend and I were always trying to emulate Evel by jumping our bicycles over various objects. We jumped tractor tires, bales of straw, we even jumped my friend's parents car. We often emulated Evel's failed attempts too. I'm not sure how many times we ended up a pile with the bike on top of us. But we'd get up, brush ourselves off and try it again.The fact that Evel did his jumps on a Harley Davidson street bike still amazes me to no end. He wasn't using some dirt bike with a nearly limitless suspension, it was a street bike. Wow! That's tough.
Like everyone else, I was saddened to learn of Evel's passing. They just don't make them like that anymore. Truthfully, I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing - but it's clearly the passing of a legend and an era.
2007-07-13
Vintage Footage of Indian Motorcycles
Board track racing was popular in the early 1900's. Many accidents and fatalities (to spectators as well as the racers) made this sport short lived. This video is 10 minutes of silent film footage of some motorcycle races of that era. This is the best footage I have EVER seen from this time period.
I hope you enjoy this as much as I did.
MOCK UP on MU TRAILER
Here's the link to the same video
I hope you enjoy this as much as I did.
MOCK UP on MU TRAILER
Here's the link to the same video
2007-07-11
Cheap Gas or Not?
Have you ever wondered whether you should put that 'cheap gas' into your expensive, pride and joy? I know you have. There are the good gas stations with the big name, the shiny building, and the clean floors. Then there are the other places. Not so nice, not so clean, but the gas is noticeably cheaper. Is it the same quality or not? That's the question. I mean, you get what you pay for, right?
I've had this conversation with various people through the years, usually about the time gas hits a new record high in price. I've noticed that motorheads, mechanics and people who are really into their vehicles, NEVER use the cheap gas. They always buy their gas from one of the big companies. People who aren't as obsessive about their cars, or they have an old beater they bang around in, don't seem to care as much and they buy the cheapest gas possible. Yet, both groups are convinced the other ones are crazy and their own method is far superior.
Last night I think I saw what would end this discussion for me... I had to stop and put gas in my bike. There's a Mobile station on my way home I usually use. The quick pay pass key is nice. It's convenient. The price is usually pretty good (not the absolute lowest, but cheaper than some). I'm filling up my bike when a tow truck pulls in to get gas. No biggie. But then I notice it's the Am Pm gas truck. Yea, the one from the Am Pm gas station. The guy is wearing the Am Pm uniform. He's got the Am Pm logo on the side of his truck. Put he doesn't put Am Pm gas in his truck, but Mobile gas. It's a good thing I had my helmet on and he couldn't see me laughing.
For the record, I have NEVER put Am Pm gas in my car. I'm convinced it's some of the worst stuff ever. I've had co-workers who had issues with the gas. I've got friends on motorcycle boards who swear it's caused them problems. I've got mechanic friends that won't even look at Am Pm gas stations. So I stay away. And obviously the Am Pm tow truck operator feels the same way.
That's some thing to ponder next time you need to fill up.
So what gas do you use? Am Pm? Mobile? Something else? What ever is cheapest?
I've had this conversation with various people through the years, usually about the time gas hits a new record high in price. I've noticed that motorheads, mechanics and people who are really into their vehicles, NEVER use the cheap gas. They always buy their gas from one of the big companies. People who aren't as obsessive about their cars, or they have an old beater they bang around in, don't seem to care as much and they buy the cheapest gas possible. Yet, both groups are convinced the other ones are crazy and their own method is far superior.
Last night I think I saw what would end this discussion for me... I had to stop and put gas in my bike. There's a Mobile station on my way home I usually use. The quick pay pass key is nice. It's convenient. The price is usually pretty good (not the absolute lowest, but cheaper than some). I'm filling up my bike when a tow truck pulls in to get gas. No biggie. But then I notice it's the Am Pm gas truck. Yea, the one from the Am Pm gas station. The guy is wearing the Am Pm uniform. He's got the Am Pm logo on the side of his truck. Put he doesn't put Am Pm gas in his truck, but Mobile gas. It's a good thing I had my helmet on and he couldn't see me laughing.
For the record, I have NEVER put Am Pm gas in my car. I'm convinced it's some of the worst stuff ever. I've had co-workers who had issues with the gas. I've got friends on motorcycle boards who swear it's caused them problems. I've got mechanic friends that won't even look at Am Pm gas stations. So I stay away. And obviously the Am Pm tow truck operator feels the same way.
That's some thing to ponder next time you need to fill up.
So what gas do you use? Am Pm? Mobile? Something else? What ever is cheapest?
2007-07-04
Perfection in the Morning Commute
It's early in the morning. Very early. It's just beginning to get light outside. It is that in between time when it’s no longer night, but not yet day.
I step into the garage and push the button for the garage door. I’m annoyed by how the noise of the old garage door opener destroys the stillness of the morning. There’s no music or rhythm to the clatter – it’s just noise.
I began to put on my gear. I’ve done it so many times, it’s simply habit. My hands quickly perform their task, almost with no instruction from my brain. I don my jacket. The snug, comfortable fit is familiar, almost like an old friend. The body armor slides perfectly into place. The act of zipping the jacket and fastening the Velcro around my neck and wrists is so natural, so automatic; I don’t even have to think about it. I pick up my helmet and a quick tug of the straps pulls it on my head. The quick lock strap snaps firmly into place. I pick up my gloves and pull them on. The fit is snug but comfortable. More Velcro straps hold them firmly in place.
I swing my leg over the bike and settle into the seat. Over time the foam of the seat is worn to just the right shape. Comfortable. Familiar. Just right. My hands find their way to the grips. A quick glance shows that the mirrors are perfectly adjusted. A little choke. A quarter blip of the throttle. The key is turned to the on position and my thumb hits the starter. Instantly the bike rumbles to life. The deep sound of the exhaust is sweet. The rhythm of the 4 cylinders… The burble of the exhaust… The mechanical noise of the engine… The slight vibration in the handle bars… All of these individual pieces come together to form a symphony of rhythm and sound. The song is well known by my ears. But like an old favorite that never gets tired, it still brings a smile to lips and it lightens my heart.
I roll the bike backwards down the driveway. Close the garage door. Pull in the clutch and gently push down on the shift lever. The bike drops into first gear. I gently ease out the clutch and slowly roll out of the neighborhood. The cool morning air is refreshing. I gather speed as I make my way to the freeway. I roll up the on-ramp and the bike effortlessly goes around the corner. Up on to the freeway, I readily find a spot to merge. It’s pretty easy at this time of day, not too many cars – yet.
The bike moves with just a thought. Accelerating. Changing lanes. Braking. Merging. It all seems to happen so smoothly, so effortlessly. It is as if the rider and machine are one. I’m focused on the traffic. No radio. No cell phone. Just man, machine and the music they create together. It’s as close to perfection as I can imagine. It’s that feeling. It’s that state of oneness. It’s that state of perfection… that’s why I ride.
Today's ride is simply to work. I'm not fortunate enough to enjoy a ride to the mountians on this day. But even a simple ride to work, can make an otherwise mundane workday perfect.
I step into the garage and push the button for the garage door. I’m annoyed by how the noise of the old garage door opener destroys the stillness of the morning. There’s no music or rhythm to the clatter – it’s just noise.
I began to put on my gear. I’ve done it so many times, it’s simply habit. My hands quickly perform their task, almost with no instruction from my brain. I don my jacket. The snug, comfortable fit is familiar, almost like an old friend. The body armor slides perfectly into place. The act of zipping the jacket and fastening the Velcro around my neck and wrists is so natural, so automatic; I don’t even have to think about it. I pick up my helmet and a quick tug of the straps pulls it on my head. The quick lock strap snaps firmly into place. I pick up my gloves and pull them on. The fit is snug but comfortable. More Velcro straps hold them firmly in place.
I swing my leg over the bike and settle into the seat. Over time the foam of the seat is worn to just the right shape. Comfortable. Familiar. Just right. My hands find their way to the grips. A quick glance shows that the mirrors are perfectly adjusted. A little choke. A quarter blip of the throttle. The key is turned to the on position and my thumb hits the starter. Instantly the bike rumbles to life. The deep sound of the exhaust is sweet. The rhythm of the 4 cylinders… The burble of the exhaust… The mechanical noise of the engine… The slight vibration in the handle bars… All of these individual pieces come together to form a symphony of rhythm and sound. The song is well known by my ears. But like an old favorite that never gets tired, it still brings a smile to lips and it lightens my heart.
I roll the bike backwards down the driveway. Close the garage door. Pull in the clutch and gently push down on the shift lever. The bike drops into first gear. I gently ease out the clutch and slowly roll out of the neighborhood. The cool morning air is refreshing. I gather speed as I make my way to the freeway. I roll up the on-ramp and the bike effortlessly goes around the corner. Up on to the freeway, I readily find a spot to merge. It’s pretty easy at this time of day, not too many cars – yet.
The bike moves with just a thought. Accelerating. Changing lanes. Braking. Merging. It all seems to happen so smoothly, so effortlessly. It is as if the rider and machine are one. I’m focused on the traffic. No radio. No cell phone. Just man, machine and the music they create together. It’s as close to perfection as I can imagine. It’s that feeling. It’s that state of oneness. It’s that state of perfection… that’s why I ride.
Today's ride is simply to work. I'm not fortunate enough to enjoy a ride to the mountians on this day. But even a simple ride to work, can make an otherwise mundane workday perfect.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)