Last weekend and tonight were important for one big reason: I’m getting back on schedule. I rode my motorcycles for the first time since Christmas break, and I did P90 for the first time in well over a week.

Laziness has been my downfall. I could have ridden a few times during the weekends between Christmas and now, but I was too tired, too lazy, too busy playing on the computer, or too cowardly. I bought a fair amount of cold weather riding gear and have been reluctant to use it. For example, I bought some TourMaster heated gloves and a heated fleece jacket, but after fighting with the cords on the gloves I’ve left them both in their packaging.

However, it was in the 50s on Saturday, and I didn’t need any specialized gear. I rode Adama, my Honda CB400T, over to see Starbuck at work. I took the back way there, as the 400cc sewing machine doesn’t really have the power I long for on the main drag in town. I laughed the whole time, throwing the tiny bike around turns and pinning the throttle back. Its dual exhaust sang the note of an angry goblin child and we motored through suburbia. That bike is such a hoot.

The weather was even better on Sunday — 60! I fired up Raptor, my BMW R1150R, and got reacquainted with the pleasures of cruising at highway speed. I had forgotten how it feels to be free of the “cage” of a car. I had forgotten what it is like to be nimble and free to use as much or as little as the road as I see fit to get from point A to point B. I felt so much safer on my motorcycle than in my Mazda. Even though space was limited, I had at least somewhere to go if something bad happened in my lane. The simple act of moving from the center of the lane to the left or right side has made the difference a few times between a wreck and an angry horn.

I guess the motorcycling gave me an ego boost, because I was back in front of the television tonight with Tony Horton and P90. I did the Hawaii edition, and will do Phase 1 tomorrow, followed by Phase 2 on Wednesday. I just finished workout #80, there are only ten left. I can fucking do this!

The weather is going to be crappy again starting tomorrow (30% chance of snow), but the light is at the end of the tunnel. February is the worst month for riding in Richmond, but it’s a short month. I’ll be back in the saddle full-time very very soon.

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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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. :\

I haven’t used spray paint in a long time, but my memories are still crystal clear. I was eleven years old. I wanted to spray my BMX-style bicycle matte black. I was out behind our utility barn; my father told me not to use his spray paint unattended. I waited for him to go into the far pasture and broke out the matte black. I quickly coated my bike a few times and smiled. I thought I was being super sneaky.

“Why did you paint your bike?” my father asked about a half hour later.

“Huh?” I blubbered.

He pointed at my right hand. There was black paint all over my index finger from the shitty nozzle.

I thought I was being super sneaky.
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Hey, what should one man with two motorcycles do? Buy a third one!

I’ve been wanting to accessorize/customize a motorcycle for awhile, but have been afraid to tinker with either one of my “real” bikes. A few months ago I started looking around for a motorcycle that I could buy for less than $2000.

This was harder than I thought it would be. ;)
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