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Impressions: REV’IT Winter and Summer Tour Motorcycle Socks

In January ’11, I received 2 pairs of REV’IT motorcycle socks from Revzilla. One pair of Winter Tour and one pair of Summer Tour. Now with nearly a year invested in wearing them through all kinds of weather, I feel like I can finally give an opinion on them.

The REV’IT Winter Tour Sock

The materials and construction of the Winter Tour sock feel great on your feet and all the way up your calf. They are sold in size ranges to better suit leg and foot lengths. That helps to keep them from pulling down or getting bunchy. The elastic is never too tight and doesn’t pinch or cut off circulation. They’re wonderfully un-bulky.

I often wear these socks when I am not riding.

“Winter”
Are they warm like the word winter implies? Sadly, no – not really. I have yet to wear them and think “Wow, these socks really kept my feet warm!”

Verdict:

  • Expensive at $36 a pair.
  • Very comfortable, nice fit and feel.
  • Love the length of the sock, coming up just below the knee.
  • Not especially warm. They seem more like everyday socks as opposed to winter socks.
  • Knock $15 bucks off the price and drop the word winter and I would find them more enticing.

Would I buy another pair? Mmm… probably not, due to price point.

Would I be happy if I received a pair as a gift? Yes

The REV’IT Summer Tour Sock

Like the Winter Tour socks, the construction and materials feel very nice. There is a comfort in having a tall sock that is snug against the calf but not tight.

The Summer Tour have become my sock drawer darlings. They are my “go to” socks, the ones I look for first when it comes time to put my boots on.

“Summer”
Are they cooler than other socks? I am inclined to say yes. When it’s hot and your feet are next to a hot engine – it can be difficult to determine if the socks make any difference. But… what I can tell is that they handle moisture in a different way than a cotton sock would giving an overall impression of being cooler.

Verdict:

  • Expensive at $36 a pair.
  • Very comfortable.
  • Love the length of the sock, coming up just below the knee.
  • Handles moisture better than cotton.

Would I buy another pair? Yes

Would I be happy if I received a pair as a gift? Yes

The Long Shadows Were Calling Me Home

When the shadows start getting long, that’s when I start missing home. I continuously walk the line of having the curiosity of a person who likes to wander and one whose heartstrings reel them back home. Those two facets of a life can be hard to manage.

I’d wound my way around to the edge of Catskill park. This was where things started to get “familiar”. These were the roads where I cut my teeth riding.

I have to believe that everyone who leaves home finds themselves gripped by moments of loneliness. When you’re standing on the side of the road drinking things in with your eyes and there is no one to turn to and say, Did you see that? or to share an unspoken, knowing glance with – that divide can feel immeasurable. Those moments can feel like an eternity. Being “close” to home made it all that much harder.

Gripped by my own sentimental weakness, I began my decent from the atmosphere and started working towards home.

In many ways it felt like a failure that I wasn’t able to work past my suddenly overwhelming homesickness. But, the idea of sleeping in my own bed started to push those clouds away. There was just the pesky matter of already having 450 miles on the seat for the day and a solid 200 more if I wanted to head home the “un-fun” way.

Decisions, decisions…

Sometimes You Have To Go It Alone

I sat on the curb in a Pennsylvania gas station and looked up at Bill. The backdrop behind him was a rolling green mountain, under the brightest blue sky. We’d already put just about 100 miles in for the morning.

In that moment, I began to rattle off several reasons why I didn’t have to go home. That’s where we were heading on that Monday morning. I received no argument from Bill, probably because he too has a wandering heart. Instead, by 9:30am my trip plans were changed. Bill was going to continue on back to Long Island, and  I was going… north-ish?

With a hug and an ‘attagirl,‘ Bill’s high-viz jacket faded off down the road. There I sat on the curb looking over the map, trying to figure out just where the heck I would be going. I quickly scribbled some notes on a pad I took from the Holiday Inn Express and stuck it into the map pocket my tankbag.

Random Fact:
I am incapable of leaving the pen and pad a hotel room provides behind. I ALWAYS take them with me when I check out of a room.

Other than a string of route numbers, I had no plan. I was just going to do an homage to Forest Gump and keep riding until I didn’t feel like riding anymore.

There it was… that feeling of freedom that I relish when it comes. It’s the one where your inner self feels wide open, you feel  unfettered and it fills you completely like a swell. Hello, old friend.

As I cruised along under the cerulean sky, I was loose.  All the while smiling along to the song of the engine. I was doing my best to enjoy the riding itself and still have enough brainpower leftover to take in all that I was seeing. And damn, it felt good.

I stopped in the town of Shamokin to call Kenny and let him know that I wouldn’t be home as originally planned. I was going to stay out riding a little longer. He was happy that I was happy but he said he missed me.

I also let  him know I was flying solo now.  It was that statement that made him deliver the magic words that gripped me by the heart, “now i’ll worry.”

I hate those words. I hate those feelings; the ones that your other half feels – and your own that are laced with guilt at making them wonder if you’re okay.

But, that is the nature of our lives together. You’ve got to let the people you love most spread their wings and put your faith in the idea that they will do everything within their power to stay safe.

And so, with a few photos snapped in town I was off and rolling again.

Virginia Is For Motorcycle Lovers

When we left Long Island heading south, we were three. It was Graham, Bill and myself.

We were set to meet up with the other Bill in Virginia, which we did on Saturday night after our fab ride along the Blue Ridge.

And then we were four.

As it turns out, along with Graham and Bill, the other Bill rode a Weestrom, too. I was starting to feel like I was going to be kidnapped and indoctrinated by some weird Suzuki cult. Wee, Wee, Wee… all the way home.

Saturday was a long but enjoyable day in the saddle. By the time we’d ridden to Virginia, ridden a stretch of the BRP and had dinner, I was pretty well knackered. We’d put about 600 miles in for the day and I was starting to feel it.

I shuffled myself back to my motel room and hit the hay.  I don’t remember shutting off the TV or being close to falling asleep. I just remember waking up in the morning to the sound of something electronic that deserved to die a horrible death.

I’m going to share a little tip with you.
If you enter your vacation time as an event on your office Outlook calendar and said calendar syncs with your phone – avoid setting the start time of the event to 6am. When you are ON said vacation, being awakened by an alert letting you know as much, is not good.

You’re welcome.

Since I was unable to find anything to smash my phone with, I got out of bed and peeked out the east-facing window. The sun was already burning its way through the silvery fog that hung on the mountains. It was going to be a great day for riding.

Virginia is for motorcycle lovers.

I showered, packed up my bag and padded downstairs to get a better look at the morning. Not long after, Bill popped down with freshly percolated coffee from his travel pot. Yay!

Gentleman that he is (truly), Bill complimented my “fashion-forward” dressing:

“That’s some outfit ya got on there, Fuzz.”

I guess shorts, my REV’IT knee socks and pink Converse were a minor faux pas. Luckily he hadn’t spotted me a few minutes earlier when the right lens fell out of the spare sunglasses I was wearing.

Someday when I grow up I will be a beautiful princess. In the meantime I’ll keep perfecting the art of being an awkward dork. People seem to be enjoying it.

Bill and I made the day’s riding plans over coffee. We’d decided that we would head back north via neighboring West Virginia. When in the area, it would be criminal to skip riding Route 39 which starts around Lexington, Va. and would carry us west to Marlinton, Wv. So, that’s where we were headed. Route 39 is a fine, fine road.

When they moseyed on downstairs, Graham and the other Bill decided that they wanted to head south instead. With hugs and handshakes all around, Bill and I set off.

And then, we were two…

With only a teensy-weensy delay in having to double-back for my suicidal camera, we were heading west.

Whoopsie: Even a Camera Needs to Wear Good Gear

I left home deciding against taking my DSLR because I didn’t want to care about it. Instead, I decided that on this trip I would use my iPhone and my old G9 as backup.

Apparently feeling slighted by being third banana, my G9 camera made the decision to commit suicide at 70mph. I had no choice but to stand by or sit, as it were and watch in my side mirror as it’s little, black body bounced and spun on the roadway finally coming to rest on the shoulder. It was thoughtful enough to avoid being run over.

Even if the camera were destroyed, I still wanted the memory card that was inside of it. So, I doubled back to pick it up.

I didn’t know what I would find. It could have been gruesome.

Instead, because my camera was dressed for the crash, it came away relatively unscathed and works just fine. I’m actually quite shocked!