Here’s the problem. You stay pretty motionless while riding a motorcycle. This makes it hard for the body to generate heat to keep warm. This is a major problem while riding at high speeds in cold temperatures. I got frostbite my first year of riding on my toes because I wasn’t adequately protected from the elements.

It’s been a major struggle of mine to keep my hands warm in anything below 40°F at highway speeds. Heated grips and handguards help, but you really need special purpose gloves to keep your hands warm. The problem with buying winter gloves is that they tend to be very bulky. The insulation material makes the gloves look more like a ski mitt than a motorcycle glove, and the fine manipulation required to work the throttle can become lost. I own a pair of Tour Master winter gloves, and it feels like I am not touching the controls at all.

Rev’It makes several winter gloves. Thanks to Dennis over at Beach Moto, I selected the Fahrenheit H2O waterproof winter motorcycle glove. He helped me with the sizing, suggesting an XL that fit perfectly.

Would Rev’It’s high technology help me overcome my cold hand blues?
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One of the cool things about my 1980 Honda CB400T is that I bought it to tinker with. I want to learn more about wiring, and do some of the light-duty mechanical work I used to do when I owned a 1974 Jeep CJ5 and a 1974 Volkswagen Super Beetle. I miss being able to change the clutch on my Jeep. Not really, but it was cool that I could do it. Twice.

Anyway, one of the not so cool things about a motorcycle that is almost thirty years old is that some of the technology is lacking. Adama has disc brakes up front, but a drum on the back. The headlamp was also woefully inadequate. The first time I took him out at night I almost shit myself. I should have duct-taped one of my LED flashlights to my helmet for all the good it would do.

I decided to replace the headlamp as soon as possible, but this turned out to be a little more difficult than I expected.
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Well, after over three years of motorcycling, I finally dropped a bike.

My R1150R doesn’t have a choke, but it has an ignition helper doo-dad that is used to help the motorcycle start on cold days like today. You pull that doo-dad up and start the bike. I always leave my bikes in first gear when they are on the side stand to prevent rolling. One should not have the bike in gear when using said doo-dad because the bike will lurch forward.

I engaged the clutch and toed the shifter into neutral — just in time to feel the bike roll slightly forward. The side stand folded up, and the bike started to tip over on its left side. I held Raider up for a heartbeat and remembered how much I’d hurt myself keeping my K1200LTE upright. My calf is still damaged, over six months later. I tried to lower the bike as gently as possible, but the 600-pound bike got the best of me and dropped the last two inches or so.

“Fuck,” I muttered, and immediately looked around to see if my neighbors saw me. Whew, no one was outside. I took my helmet off and snuggled my butt up against the seat, hoping to use my legs to push the bike upright. It seemed so easy in the YouTube videos I saw of people doing it with the (much) larger K bikes.

The R1150R, even with the side cases and engine guard, was too low to the ground for me to get squared away. I could push the bike sideways across the ground, but that wasn’t going to help me lift it. I was going to be late for work if I didn’t act fast. I called upon the spirit of P90 fitness guru Tony Horton. I bent my knees low, squared my back, and pulled the bike upright with a deadlift. I got the bike up high enough to extend the sidestand. I was still for just a moment to make sure I hadn’t pulled something. I seemed okay, so I put my helmet back on, started the bike, and got the fuck on the road.

Total damage: not much. Raider’s first master had dropped the bike in his driveway, too, so there were some pre-existing scuffs on the left side case and engine crash guard. I know for sure I added a new abrasion to the left mirror and the left hand guard. I doubt people would notice the damage unless I pointed it out, and it is all cosmetic.

Apparently I didn’t extend the side stand all the way after getting home from my trip to Tybee Island. I was cold and wet and ready to get off of the bike, and was probably careless. This is how most low/no-speed accidents happen. People get sloppy and forget to put the side stand down at a gas station, or don’t watch where they put their feet and slip on wet leaves.

My life’s motto is “it could always be worse,” and today that was certainly true. My friend Bond said this morning, “you got that out of the way for another three years.”

Here’s to hoping he’s right.

The first half of my ride home from Georgia was great. I was moving along at a good clip, and the sun was bright and shining.

That is, until I got to Fayetteville, North Carolina.

Fayetteville seems to be the tipping point for bad motorcycle weather. On my trip down, my route south of Fayetteville was completely covered by rain. I guess the northern part of my return trip got jealous and wanted to get in on the “fun.”

It rained non-stop, and hard, all the way home. It wasn’t as bad as my trip down, but it was a soaking rain. Paranoid (and hopefully wiser) from my gear problems on the way down, I adjusted my waterproofing strategy slightly.
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As mentioned earlier, I spent four days on a motorcycle trip to see two of my friends outside of Savannah, Georgia. It’s almost five hundred highway miles, which winds up being between eight to nine hours depending on traffic, weather conditions, and the bike I’m on. My best time was on my first trip on my FZ6 because I had great weather and a very comfortable saddle.

This time I took Raider, my BMW R1150R. In theory, it should have been the best of both of my trips: the comfort of my old K1200LTE touring bike, and the mobility of Cylon. Thanks to the weather and an extremely hard seat, it was really the worst of both worlds.

But I still had a kick ass time. ;)
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The first half of my trip down to Georgia was fantastic. It was cool enough that I wasn’t hot in my Rev’It Cayenne Pro jacket, but not so cold my hands were freezing. It was overcast enough that I didn’t have to squint behind my Native sunglasses, but not so overcast that I had to worry about rain.

That is, until I got to Fayetteville, North Carolina. Then the sky opened up. It didn’t stop until I reached Savannah, some 280 miles later.

What followed was a near total failure of every piece of waterproof motorcycling gear that I owned. Am I being too harsh?
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Yesterday I rode Raider, my BMW R1150R down to Savannah, Georgia to hang out with some friends of mine. I took I-95 for most of the way. Eventually I will take a less-traveled route and enjoy myself, but I like making this trip all in one day.

I have been pleasantly surprised at how courteous cars are on the highway. I think it’s because the majority of drivers this time of year are elderly snowbirds, driving south for the winter. They tend to stick to the right hand lane, and I pass them with ease. Every once in awhile, though, you get an asshole behind the wheel.
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I was supposed to go visit my family up in Syracuse, NY this weekend. I was going to ride Raider up there and then putter around with my stepfather. I quickly encountered two monkey wrenches.

1) The bike my dad owned does not have a state inspection. Neither does Raider, but he won’t ride without a 100% legal bike. So a paired ride is out of the picture.

2) It is supposed to rain the entire time I am there. The thing about Syracuse is that the temperature could drop at any time. I’d go from rain to snow in a hurry. Who wants to be caught in that?

So, tell me what you’d choose:
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I hate talking on the phone. I avoid it at all costs, preferring email, instant messaging, cards, face-to-face talking, and smoke signals. I don’t know why or when my hate-affair with the telephone began. I have a feeling it was when I was a child, and my father would get upset if I didn’t answer the phone in a certain way. I also think that since I can’t see the person on the other end of the line I don’t know how to react to what they say. I guess I infer a lot through body posture and facial expression, and those are completely lost over the wire.

All of that being said, I try to spend as little time on the phone as possible. When I do talk on the phone, it’s with family or loved ones, and not for very long.

I needed new tires put on Adama, my Honda CB400T. None of the big shops around here will do the full job on a bike this old; I have to remove the wheels myself and bring them in. The shop will take the old tires off the wheels, then put the new shoes on and balance them. Since I don’t have any tire irons or a balancer, this seemed like an okay deal.

I was at work with all of my team members when I called the local Honda dealer yesterday afternoon. We all work in one room, all clustered around a few tables.

“Hey, can you [do all the shit I just typed out]?” I asked.

“Sure.”

“Okay, can I just bring them by tomorrow morning and you get them back to me whenever?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, have a good day sir.”

“I love you too.”

I hung up.

Everyone was staring at me. “Ohmygod,” I said, “did I just tell that dude ‘I love you?’”

Bond and Jumbotron nodded and immediately bust out laughing.

Maybe I’ll just roll the four tires through the store front and haul ass. :\

Almost four months ago, I was killing time in a coffee shop in California. I was visiting family and had a PT Cruiser rental car instead of my motorcycles, and I was missing my two-wheeled friends badly. I made up for it by reading motorcycle gear reviews, and found read Web Bike World’s review of the Rev’It Cayenne Pro textile jacket and pants. I wanted it.

At the same time, my friend Fish Sprout was researching Motoport’s kevlar textile gear, mostly because her friend owned a set. The Cayenne Pro, despite ingenious venting options, was still a three-season jacket. Motoport owners reported wearing the jacket in temperatures from the 30s to 120s. The lure of a strong, four-season textile suit that wouldn’t melt to your skin like most mesh led me to order jacket and pants from Motoport in late June.

It was a huge mistake. For a product promising a “custom” fit, my Motoport jacket was put together for someone who weighed an extra twenty or thirty pounds. I sent it back twice for alterations, and am still in the process of getting my money back.

Cold temperatures were fast approaching, and I hadn’t solved the problem of a weather-resilient jacket that would hold up well in a crash. My Tourmaster Transition 2 jacket fit well and had nice features, but claims of the jacket disintegrating in crashes as slow as 25MPH made me nervous.

I bit the bullet, and bought the jacket from Beach Moto, run by a member of the ADVrider.com community. Dennis, the owner, was everything Motoport wasn’t, and should have been — responsive, personable, professional, and efficient. Did I mention that dealing with Beach Moto was easy and didn’t make me feel like an idiot? Motoport, take notice.

However, I’m getting ahead of myself. On to the jacket.
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