Nearly seven months after acquiring a 2004 BMW R1150R motorcycle, I’ve reassigned “Raider” to a new home. I was always put in a tough position: if I rode the BMW, my FZ6 sat idle. If I rode the FZ6, the BMW was left waiting in the driveway. My Honda is a project / scoot around bike, so I don’t feel so bad not riding it as often, but the FZ6 and BMW are close enough in mission that I felt that I was choosing between what child to save during a house fire.

I rode Raider mostly to and from work, and I really liked the stability the heavier bike offered during inclement weather. However, every time I jumped on the FZ6 I couldn’t help but smile as the increased agility allowed me to flick in and out of traffic. I decided to sell the BMW in January.
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It makes me happy to commute to work on a motorcycle instead of driving my car. Well, let’s say it makes me happier. However, when you spend five to six hours a week navigating highway traffic, sometimes the last thing you want to do is hop back on a bike during the weekend.

It is with great joy that my twin friends Tomax and Xamot talked me into riding with them yesterday. I had an absolute blast, and may have converted another sportbike rider into a mid-distance-in-foul-weather riding, touring gear wearing, hardcase luggage bearing four-season motorcyclist.
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One thing that owning two BMW motorcycles has taught me: replacement parts are ridiculously expensive. From a $20+ oil filter to $20 stainless steel gas quick disconnects, to who knows what special belts, doo-dads, and what’s-its. My license plate bulb died late last summer, and as usual I was horrified when I found out how much a single Osram BAX9S 12v6w replacement bulb would cost: $13 before shipping. For a tiny light bulb.

I turned to the Internet for help, and was not surprised that other people weren’t happy about paying that amount, either. Thanks to the R1150R forum I was able to find a pair of LED-based replacements for $10 shipped on eBay.
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I am sure this happens other places in the United States, but Virginia has more than its fair share of crazy weather swings. A week ago yesterday, we got pummeled with eight to ten inches of snow that shut down most of the city for a few days. We don’t really get snow here at all, let alone that amount, so it hit the area pretty hard.

By Wednesday, however, things were heating up. By Friday, the high was in the 70s. I rode to work for the second time since we switched to standard time last fall. I sure as hell missed it, and I was smiling when I walked into work.
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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.

Ride the shit out of it!!

My step-father was in town for part of the holiday, and we got a chance to ride in the 70°F weather. He rode Cylon, my 2005 Yamaha FZ6 for awhile, I was on Raider, my 2004 BMW R1150R. We switched later in the day, and he definitely preferred the FZ6.

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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