Tag: port jefferson

I’ve Been Training for This My Whole Life!

I’ve Been Training for This My Whole Life!

In many ways, I’ve always viewed motorcycling as something that is done alone, together. Or just alone. Either way, it has always been an activity in which I exist inside my own little bubble for even when in the company of other riders.

Yamaha FZ07 in Port Jefferson, New York - Long Island

Perhaps that’s why the idea of social distancing hasn’t entirely cramped my ability to get outside and do stuff. I can still ride around and look at things, maybe snaps some pics the way that I normally would.

The nature of my movements has generally been socially distant for many years now. I don’t like people in my personal space, or having them touch me, I don’t like crowds, and I feel best with a helmet on. It isn’t hard for me to keep people 6-feet away at all. Finally, my years of training with social anxiety pay off! 😀

While I do get out on day rides, I’m not really interested in traveling and staying in hotels and whatnot, right now. So, that is a little bit of a change for me this year. I don’t foresee wanting to head off on a rideabout this fall or getting on a plane to ride somewhere else. While I’m not happy with the world’s circumstances in general, I’m happy with my choice.

Luckily, I did squeeze in a trip to California to ride around and do SoCal Supermoto School riiiiiight before the pandemic broke loose. That was a great trip. I’m grateful to at least have gotten a little bit of a travel-fix.

While the world is seemingly imploding, I’m still able to find happiness and enjoyment when I’m riding my motorcycle.

Motorcycles – they’re good for you.

How’s things goin’ with you?

Hey, Tiger! Good to See You Again

Hey, Tiger! Good to See You Again

A Tuesday Night Date with an Old Friend

Last night, being Tuesday and all, I went out for tacos with the fellas. It was the first time that I took the ole Tiger for a ride in a long while.

I’ve spent all of my time on the FZ07 this year. And last year, I was committed to the Bonneville. The poor just Tiger slumbered silently, collecting dust.

When I first swung my leg over the big girl, everything felt HUGE. I couldn’t thoughtlessly maneuver it the way I can the FZ or the Bonnie. Instead I tippy-toed trying to manage its top heavy bulk.

With the no-speed maneuvering around the garage handled, I set off to the taco rendezvous point.

fuzzygalore's triumph tiger 1050 in port jefferson
My 2011 Triumph Tiger 1050 in Port Jefferson

Well, That Escalated Quickly!

Let’s just say, I got there… quickly.

The Tiger is quiet, strong and comfortable. Once moving everything feels so easy. So much so that I wondered why everyone was driving so slowly on the Expressway. It was because I was effortlessly propelled to triple digits without any fuss or noise.

Realizing my error I rolled off the throttle and slowed my pace. Oopsie!

I forgot the reasons why I love this bike since I’ve been dazzled by the noise and tiny fury of the FZ07.

It was good to catch up with my old friend.

Fatbike Long Island – Big Dune Buggy

Fatbike Long Island – Big Dune Buggy

You can file Pirate’s Cove under one of those places that I have overlooked for far too long.

fatbike long island sound side

On Saturday morning, with the sky bright and blue I made my way over to the Cove so that I could relax and do some beach riding. It was another one of those days where I had the whole place to myself. Meanwhile… the mall was packed with cars. ::shrug:: Oh well, lucky me!

pirates cove port jefferson

The view from up on the sandy hills is awesome. Unfortunately, photos flatten out just how high they are when you’re on top of them.

long island fatbike

I rode along the shoreline, up the hill from the west and headed up to the tallest section to the east.

fatbike long island

You get to take in so much from that vantage point. Being in a place that feels “tall” on Long Island is kind of hard to come by.

view from pirates cove

When I mounted up and began to roll down the hill, it occurred to me that being a clumsy ass and all, I might break my neck. Miracle of miracles, I managed to keep myself upright. Maybe I’m finally becoming a graceful swan? Nahhhhhhhhhh.

riding down the dune in pirates cove

Potato, Potahto – Who Cares? Let’s Fix My Bike

Potato, Potahto – Who Cares? Let’s Fix My Bike

Don’t you just hate it when you lose a front brake caliper bolt when you’re riding your motorcycle? Yea. Me too.

When I pulled into the parking lot in town on Sunday night, I gave the Husky brake lever a squeeze as I approached the entrance booth. Instead of gliding to a gentle stop I was met with metallic crunching sound, an odd feel on the lever and well, no brakes.

Without actually knowing what was wrong, it was obvious what was wrong. I leaned towards Kenny who was riding next to me and said, “I think my front brake caliper just fell off.”

This of course was met with a look that said, “Whaaaat?” without saying a word. He may or may not have slowly opened his helmets sunshade for dramatic “are you crazy?” effect.

The parking lot entrance booth
The parking lot entrance booth.

I rolled myself past the booth and pulled directly in front of it to get out of the way of the incoming traffic. I hopped off the bike and saw indeed that my front brake caliper was cocked back and  balancing along the edge of the brake rotor. The lower bolt had sacrificed itself to the road gods somewhere on my short journey.

Like my own personal pit crew – in about 2 seconds flat Kenny had parked his bike, jettisoned his gear, walked back to me and began looking at my front wheel. If you don’t already have your own pit crew, you might consider getting one. It is a very nice service.

While he was laying on the hot summer asphalt next to my front wheel, he struck the pose of a man with a purpose who was actually doing something other than, you know – hanging out on the blacktop near the 2 lanes of traffic by a parking entrance booth.

From out of the parking booth right behind us, a squeaky teenaged voice said, “you can park your bike in any spot anywhere in the lot.

I turned and looked at her, smiled and politely and said, “If I could, I would.

Actually… my look probably wasn’t entirely polite. It may have appeared more along the lines of “Really? You’re kidding. I can PARK in the spaces in this PARKING LOT? You mean everyone who comes into this lot on a motorcycle doesn’t strip off all of their gear and lay down on the hot blacktop RIGHT HERE and poke at the moving parts on their bike ALL the time?”

But I did smile.

I took a quick walk around the entrance driveway to see if my bolt had by some chance wiggled itself out there. Of course, it was nowhere to be found. We had to figure out some other quick fix.

With the caliper shoved back into its normal position on the disc, I pushed the bike over into the motorcycle parking spaces. You know, because I can park in any of them. We just needed something to steady the caliper in it’s rightful place since I didn’t have another bolt. Some safety wire or … Oh! A zip tie would do.

“We could just zip tie it in place for now,” I said.

“You mean wire tie?” Kenny replied.

::blink:blink:: “What? Yes. Wire tie.”

It was at this moment that I finally realized that men are indeed from Mars and women from Venus. We were saying the same damned thing. Zip tie, wire tie, cable tie, potahto – whatever you want to call it, let’s just go ahead and fix my bike.

I swear. It’s hard to find good help that won’t talk back these days.

zip tied caliper

I’m happy to report that the temporary fix worked like a charm and that my caliper bolt has been replaced.

I have also docked Kenny’s pay for being insubordinate. Beatings will continue until morale improves.

Which do you say?

Zip, cable or wire tie?

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