Two weeks ago, my little Husky got some much needed lovin’ thanks to my one man pit crew. It’s really a nice service, you should try it. All you have to do is marry some dude that loves motorcycles too and stuff just shows up in the garage. He’s like the Tooth Fairy but for motorcycles. (And will also probably smother me with a pillow for calling him a fairy.)
New beefy hoops replaced the old shagged out knobblies.
And… TA DA! I have a new seat. Now to the untrained eye this seat probably looks just like the old seat. But, this seat is a magic seat. It is full of kittens and rainbows and doesn’t cut into your bum the way the stocker did. The result? Your ass is not on fire after 50 miles.
Aside from making a world of difference comfort-wise this little number has bought me about 3/4 of an inch in height. When you’re barely able to touch the ground with both feet at the same time, that’s huge.
Though my wee Husky is already lowered an inch with a Koubalink, generally speaking I kind of have to shift one foot to the other for solid footing. But I’ve found that I don’t have to shift quite as much now. I can get my toes on the ground with one foot and kinda tippy toe with the other for stability. Size matters!
On Saturday afternoon while doing the Meteor dualsport in south Jersey, we stopped at about the half-way point of the ride to get gas at a small gas station. When Gary and I pulled in there were probably 20 other motorcycles already there filling up.
Because New Jersey doesn’t allow you to pump your own gas (technically) you have some type of interaction with a pump attendant. In my case, he pushed the button, handed me the nozzle and then took my money at the end. I was one of dozens of motorcyclists that passed through the station that day.
Hours later after packing up my bike and shedding my stormtrooper gear I washed my face, put on my baseball hat and pointed the Ridgeline towards home. My first stop before hitting the highway was filling up the truck. The first available gas station? The one I’d stopped at with my bike.
I pulled up to the pump, the (same) guy walks up to my window to take my card and says something like “Oh, you’re back. You were here earlier.”
Now… I have a way better chance of recognizing the same guy, in the same clothes, at the same gas station than he did me. But he recognized me out of a helmet, different clothes, in a baseball hat, in a car. How? I saw dozens of other riders throughout the day and I don’t think I’d know a single one without a helmet on.
What is it that allows us to really “see” and recognize people? Is it really the eyes?
Since turning 40, it seems like I have become highly sensitive about squeezing all of the fun out of each day. There aren’t a lot of things that I really want. Sure, “stuff” is nice but it doesn’t usually set my heart on fire. My daydreams are filled with colorful imaginings of traveling on my motorcycle or some deeper human connection. Maybe that’s why I am constantly stuffing my brain full of beautiful, interesting or curious destinations.
A few weeks ago, I picked up a copy of “Offbeat Museums” by Saul Rubin. You know, just ‘cuz. On an unassuming Wednesday, just like any other humdrum humpday, I discovered that there is a Toilet Seat Art Museum.
That’s right. Toilet. Seat. Art. Museum.
I’m not really sure how I moved through my life for all these years without knowing such a place existed.
Do you stop in to small museums when you’re traveling? Have you been to the toilet seat art nirvana?
The Givi box liner worked out fantastically. Packing all of my clothing into gallon ziplock bags then packing them into the Bestem bag kept everything neat and tidy.
This represents all of the clothing and toiletries I packed for a 10 day trip:
The Oxford Handysack backpack again worked out great for a carry-on bag. I was able to keep all of my electronics close at hand, carry my helmet on board and keep my hands free. I ended up taking it along for the whole trip and found it useful on more than one occasion for toting stuff around.
My Klim Altitude gear is indeed waterproof. Saints be praised! It is warm when it’s hot and being that it has no native liners, you must dress yourself appropriately underneath the shell for the cold. As someone who likes layer dressing, that works out perfect for me. Also – I look like an astronaut while wearing it.
Socks & Undies
Wash & wear clothing really skinnies down your packing list. BUT… having a pair of cotton underwear along is a necessity in my book. Synthetic fibers while wonderful for the easy wash/quick dry that they provide feel… unnatural. Having some cotton skivvies along is nice.
If you’re wearing leggings under your riding pants, you don’t need long socks. A pack of ankle socks works out great and packs at about the same size as 1 plush pair of long socks.
The telescoping GoPro stick is AWESOME for taking group shots. Being able to get our whole group into photos was great. I’m so happy I have the stick.