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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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 headed into work on my 2004 BMW R1150R this morning and noticed that there was a HUGE traffic jam on the highway. I skittered off the highway, conveniently near the comic book shop where I play games from time to time. I filled Raider’s gas tank up, and went into a nearby Starbucks. I let my manager know I was going to be late due to the traffic jam, and enjoyed a tall Americano.

Twenty minutes later I was caffeinated and ready to brave the highway again. I mounted Raider, he started right up, and I motored to the intersection. My foot slipped a little as I came to a stop, which was kind of odd considering the road was bone dry a second before and the sky was clear. Then I smelled gas.
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My friend Ghost Rider passed away on July 4th, 2007. The following fall his mother and family put together a benefit ride to Yorktown, Virginia. We did it again this year, this time heading up to the Blue Ridge Parkway.

The weather called for rain for most of the day. I was not deterred for a moment — I’ve ridden in the rain plenty of times and have specialized gear that goes on top of my protective clothing — but I was afraid the event would be postponed until the next day. I already had plans for Sunday, and didn’t want to miss out. I put on wicking bottoms and top, my Motoport mesh kevlar pants and my Teknic perforated leather jacket. I stuffed my waterproof gear in the side case and motored off to the rallying point: the Starbucks where Ghost Rider used to work, and where we met for the first time.
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I have been unhappy with my 2002 BMW K 1200 LTE ever since my trip to Georgia in the spring. The bike is too big and top heavy for riding around town (or in a traffic jam), and has such a big aerodynamic profile that a side-wind makes the bike feel very unstable. I also think the bike was a little too advanced for me to ride in substandard conditions, and if there was any hint of poor weather I’d opt for my FZ6 instead.

So, I put Raptor up for sale on Craig’s List. I got a lowball offer and declined it. Then I heard from a fellow in North Carolina, offering to trade me his K 1200 RS, the sportier version of my bike. I replied, stating that I wanted something smaller and more street-friendly. I didn’t expect to hear back from him, but he replied a few hours later offering his 2004 R1150R plus some cash. I bit.
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