Unseasonably warm, I managed to ride yesterday. Ran a few errands, including visiting Omega Motorsports and getting a quote on re-chroming my exhaust, and repainting my tank. I think I can get new exhaust cheaper than I can have mine rechromed. But the tank repainting looks appealing.
Now all I need is money, and time.
I won a CB900 chrome NOS headlight on eBay. My wife says, "Cool, but I thought you already had a headlight for your bike." I said, "Yes, but I think I like this one better. Whichever one I don't like I will sell on eBay."
She was cool about that.
Rock Tavern, NY
Driving to Massachusetts, listening to the radio as I travel I-84 east in Pennsylvania.
Suddenly I hear a local radio commercial promoting Orange County Choppers.
My wife is a huge fan.
Cross the state line into New York. Big old sign says, Welcome to New York. Orange County. How far away can the OCC shops be? I had no idea I'd be passing through their namesake county.
I'm driving alone. I call her up, 800 miles away, to say, "Guess where I am?"
"Scranton?" She asked.
"No. Orange County New York!"
She shrieked with excitement, and helped me plan a side trip to OCC. Only two miles off the interstate, and I had to stop for gas anyway.
Very cool. I was in a dreadful hurry and would've liked to stay more. But I knew how much my wife would want to come, so I know we'll make the journey again, and stay longer when it's the two of us.
Chilly Ride
My commuting might be over for the season, but I ain't given up riding. Met my wife and kids for lunch. My son suited up and rode home with me.
Sitting on the bike, the two of us, in the McDonald's parking lot, I noticed that the rear suspension was bottoming out on the frame. Everybody off the bike. Check the rear suspension air pressure. It's way low. This proves a slow leak -- I pumped it up a month ago. Or is it just that the air shrinks in cold weather?
Pumped it way up, felt a lot better.
My wife: "Does he need a balaklava to keep his neck warm?"
Me: "I don't know, he's got a winter coat on with good protection around his throat."
Decision: "If you get cold, you tap your dad on the shoulder and tell him. He'll stop and he can put the balaklava on you."
My son: "What's a balaklava?"
Smile. And demonstration.
Okay, back on the bike, pull out of the parking lot, to the first stop light.
"Daaaaaaad, I'm cooooooooold."
"Okay, I'll pull over first chance I get."
Pull into the Walmart parking lot, park, get off the bike, off with my gloves, off with his helmet, on with my wife's balaklava, back on with his helmet, back on with my gloves, back onto the bike.
And on down the road. Pulling hard left through an intersection, scraped the two of my left boot as I dug down to grab second gear. Can't upshift in a hard left turn on this bike.
"How are you doing?" I ask at the next stop light.
"Fine. My ankles are the only thing that's cold," said my son.
I look. Tennis shoes and cotton socks. The socks are the only clothing on his entire body that's not double-layered. He has sweats on over his jeans. Long sleeve shirt and two coats. The ankles hang out in the open in the breeze.
Sitting on the bike, the two of us, in the McDonald's parking lot, I noticed that the rear suspension was bottoming out on the frame. Everybody off the bike. Check the rear suspension air pressure. It's way low. This proves a slow leak -- I pumped it up a month ago. Or is it just that the air shrinks in cold weather?
Pumped it way up, felt a lot better.
My wife: "Does he need a balaklava to keep his neck warm?"
Me: "I don't know, he's got a winter coat on with good protection around his throat."
Decision: "If you get cold, you tap your dad on the shoulder and tell him. He'll stop and he can put the balaklava on you."
My son: "What's a balaklava?"
Smile. And demonstration.
Okay, back on the bike, pull out of the parking lot, to the first stop light.
"Daaaaaaad, I'm cooooooooold."
"Okay, I'll pull over first chance I get."
Pull into the Walmart parking lot, park, get off the bike, off with my gloves, off with his helmet, on with my wife's balaklava, back on with his helmet, back on with my gloves, back onto the bike.
And on down the road. Pulling hard left through an intersection, scraped the two of my left boot as I dug down to grab second gear. Can't upshift in a hard left turn on this bike.
"How are you doing?" I ask at the next stop light.
"Fine. My ankles are the only thing that's cold," said my son.
I look. Tennis shoes and cotton socks. The socks are the only clothing on his entire body that's not double-layered. He has sweats on over his jeans. Long sleeve shirt and two coats. The ankles hang out in the open in the breeze.
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