An American Graffiti moment

If you didn't see this classic "coming of age" movie, then you won't understand my reference. 

I'd like to say that I had dinner with an old friend, but she won't allow me to describe her as "old".  Laura and I worked together many years ago, when I was on my way to being old and she was merely a babe.  Yes, a babe then and still a babe today.

Dinner was a result of a cancelled company reunion and a subsequent trip to CT.  Laura's family was kind enough to allow her a night off and we met at a new restaurant in Danbury called Max 40's.  We spent hours hours catching up, drinking wine and eating calamari and pizza.  When the night came to an end, Laura muttered something about how hard it was to drive her car home after a few drinks.  She seemed fine and so I inquired.  She said, "Oh, I have this race car outside.  My husband races."  Huh? Wha?  How come we didn't get to that in our catch-up conversation???

So, we exited the restaurant and there was this spotless, late-model Porsche 911 C4S.  White, with a full roll-cage, a slow, loping race idle and a heavy clutch that makes it so difficult for a young woman in heels to drive.  Being a car nut, Porsche fan and wanting to capture the moment, I had to have a photo.  Laura was happy to play along, standing near the car but, she was more interested in my getting a good photo of the car, than of her.  So typical.  As a mom of two, she stood by the car, rather than posing.  After several attempts, I got a halfway decent shot that (yes, Laura) shows that the car is a Porsche and of my friend.

It was only on reflection of our fun dinner that I realized that, to some, she is the mystery blond in the hot car.  What do guys think after she pulls away from them, engine "blat-blat-blatting"?   I can only surmise that she is the stuff of dreams now, this quaint little Connecticut housewife.  Little does she know that, when she hops into this car to run her errands, she's turning heads, causing consternation amongst young males and causing more questions than can be answered in one long night.  In this case, life imitates art.

I wonder if she's ever seen American Graffiti?

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

And so it goes...

Another riding season is underway.  And so it goes.  We had our first group ride of the season about a week ago and it was a complete disaster.  Fourteen of us, astride thirteen bikes, set off for points west, with the goal of getting a belly full of Hungarian Mushroom soup.  The lead bike planned and took a most circuitous route, losing half of the group along the way.  One would think it's easy to tell the difference between 13 bikes and 7 bikes but, there we were, caught at a light and doing the right thing for the folks BEHIND us, while the rest of the group roared off, clueless.

The first rule of Fight Club is we don't talk about Fight Club.  The first rule of group riding is to keep an eye on the rider behind you.  If he or she ain't there, pull the fuck over.  If everyone understood that then even the leader would eventually get a clue.  And this is why I eschew (Bless you!) group riding.

The best group size is small, no more than five bikes (an even BETTER number is 2-3 bikes).  A bigger group gets spread out over too large an area and can't keep all the riders in sight, or as a cohesive unit.  Big groups make bad decisions, at lights, changing lanes, etc.  Small groups are tight and tidy.  I like it tight.  Much mo' bettah.

Big groups overwhelm gas stations, parking lots, restaurants or almost anywhere you go.  Arrive in a small group and you'll have less stress everywhere you go.  One car-sized parking spot is a good place to park three bikes.  When fifteen bikes arrive almost anywhere together, chaos ensues.  People make poor choices and you end up irritating motorists as you leave bikes hanging out in the road, awaiting their turn to pull in or find a spot.  It's the same thing at a busy gas station.  People panic and jockey for an open pump and that's when we run into a risk of a collision or an "Artie Johnson" (slow speed dismount).

I have a couple of friends that I can rely on and, are my first choice to call when I want to ride.  Failing that, the missus has her own scooter and, when I can pry her from her other activities and interests, is always willing to join me.  I fall back on group rides more as a way to connect with the people I haven't seen in a while or when I just don't want to make the effort to plan a ride.  It's easy to just get carried along, letting others make the decisions.

Click on the title link above if you want to get some tips about group riding.  At little preparation will go a long way to making sure that EVERYONE has a safe and enjoyable ride.  Ride safe, check your bike before you go past Turn One (the end of your driveway) and keep your eye open for the cell phone idiots in cars. 

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Let me go swiftly

The concept of death has weighed heavily on me for the past month.  A close friend (Mark) was diagnosed with mesothelioma in September and, after one surgery, the prognosis quickly became that he was terminal. Initially, there was hope that the surgery was a success and that he had 5-10 years before this insidious cancer would claim him.  Within weeks, he was back in the hospital, where they found that the cancer had spread quickly to other parts of his chest cavity and organs.  He is now days away from death and it saddens us terribly.

I have long thought that the chances I took would eventually be the cause of my demise.  At a younger age, I drove recklessly at very high speeds.  I drag raced when I could, taunted bullies by egging their cars and had numerous car chases that could have ended in beatings.  When I took a wife, I felt that I owed her an explanation in the event of a car crash.  I told her that if it looked like I was speeding, I probably was and enjoyed every last minute.  A somewhat morbid thing to mention to your new, blushing bride, but I did it anyway.

Cars gave way to fast motorcycles and soon I had a whole new addiction to danger.  Yes, there were foolish stunts and the occasional bad judgement, but I survived it all.  The thought of crashing almost never enters my head when I ride although I do take extra precautions when the conditions are poor.  The thought of a high-speed crash resulting in an almost instantaneous death is nothing to fear.  Rather, I fear a slow, wasting death or a waste of my life.

Mark is a good man, an honest man, a doctor.  He, by his own admission, has lived an unremarkable life.  His greatest regret these past months is that he "didn't do anything wrong".  From that, I assume it to mean he didn't drink, smoke, speed or otherwise live an interesting life.  He stayed inside the lines.  He is a good father and husband and I know how proud his family is of him and his accomplishments.  Still, at a too-young age, his time is almost over and he's too late realized that he hasn't really lived.

Most of us have obligations to work or family that necessiate a lifestyle that is less than "cinematic".  That is, we have to pay our mortgages, rent, tuition and car payments and most of us don't get to earn our living in an exciting way.  We drive trucks or we work in an office or we work in some other fashion.  These mundane choices don't have to be the wholeness of our existence.  Rather, we can life life to it's fullest almost every day.

Those of us who ride understand that it's not the fear of crashing that makes us safe riders.  It's the fear that we might otherwise live sedentary lives, sitting safely on our sofas.  Perhaps my biggest fear of all is that no one would remember me.  So, I'm prone to outrageous behavior, actions and words.  If people don't like me, fuck them.  Stop following me on Facebook, then!

I will live, slightly larger than life.  I am the shadow I cast, from a light source six feet behind me.  I am no rock star, throw no tantrums and don't bust up hotels rooms but, I will be true to myself and in who I believe myself to be. We are, after all, our own creations.  I am a chameleon, adapting to each situation presented. I am a businessman in a suit, I am a biker in leather.  I am a racer, a lover and a fighter.  I fit my personality and persona to the need.  While I can't necessarily afford all of the toys and joys that money can buy, I can still have all of those experiences by not sitting on the sidelines of life.

Life is too short.  We ought to get a practice lifetime to make our mistakes and to learn and then the "real" one, in which we learn to enjoy ourselves.  But, perhaps some of you are way ahead of me in the realization of self.  All our clocks run down at some point, we just never know when.

Quoting anything from Mel Gibson's lips is corny but “Every man dies - Not every man really lives.” rings true.  At the end of your journey, what will you remember of the trip?  That you never took a risk, never flirted with danger, never felt your balls up in your stomach over what you just survived?

Last night, we dared each other to skydive this year and said we'd do it.  The funny thing is that, the gal I married is a bit of a risk-taker and for years I've looked at that photo of her jumping out of a plane as a bit crazy.  Well, bring on the crazy.  We have lots of living left to do.

Winter's almost over.  Mark will never see another Spring.  His family will find a way to carry on without his dark sense of humor.  I will lose a friend who made all of the mundane shit we had to do together all the more enjoyable.  Mark is a funny guy in a bad situation.  He'll succumb in just a couple of days.  I'd like to think that he will die with a wry smile on his face and a dirty thought.  Maybe he did live a little, even if only in his mind.

Godspeed Mark, and to all of us.  I hope to be out riding soon, pushing my comfort levels and the boundaries of good taste and judgement.  If I piss you off somehow well, remember that.

A low slow wave,

Joe Rocket

The Fall and Decline of Motorcycling

Do you ever get a whiff of a strange smell, the one that smells like something electrical is burning it's wires?  It's almost an instinctive reaction for those of us of a certain age.  It's a "fight or flight" gut reaction that sets your "Spider Sense" tingling.  It's also a smell that's easy to miss, if you're not paying attention.  It's the smell of change and it's happening slowly.  If you are attuned to it, perhaps you've also noticed the signs.

The motorcycle market is poised for change and the impetus of this change is the state of the economy and new applied technologies.  This is an exciting time to be working for a motorcycle manufacturer or a terrifying time, depending on your perspective.  Thanks a very weak American economy, few can afford to buy or own an expensive "non-essential" form or transportation.  The used bike market is flooded with many low-mileage bikes, the owners dumping due to financial limitations.  The high-end custom cruiser market is taking a hit too, now that $30-50,000 custom bikes are out of the reach of most owners.

At the same time, the burgeoning market for electrics is taking off at a record speed.  New investment and developments in battery technology have put these bikes into the performance range of gasoline-powered bikes.  Brands like Brammo, Mission and Zero Motorcycles are attracting investors and the interest of the motorcycle press.  And MotoCzysz has abandoned development of a gas bike due to the opportunities to create a lighter and better balanced bike.

    The 2010 MotoCzysz E1pc  (Amadeus Photography)

 

What manufacturers have failed to do, is to promote motorcycling to the non-riding public as an alternative form of transportation.  With three-wheelers (like the Can Am), trikes, small dual-purpose bikes, there are tons of available models for newbies.  It doesn't have to be black leather and do-rags, it could be a young adult riding a small electric bike (or scooter) to work.  Gas prices have already broached the $3/gal. mark here on the East coast and I suspect that they will continue to rise over the next two years, before miraculously dropping just prior to the Presidential election.  It's funny how that works, isn't it?

In order to convince these future customers to take up riding, I think an appeal to the economics has to happen.  Let's compare the price of having multiple cars versus having one car and one bike.  Let's do the math on the cost of ownership, payments, maintenance, taxes, insurance and let's do the same for the household which uses a bike as a secondary form of transportation.  Add in the fun factor and I think a lot of people will shed their old beaters in favor of a whisper quiet, clean electric motorcycle.

Form factor will come into play too, as people's need for a vehicle that carries more than your standard bike.   Honda's N700V is interesting but I like what I see in a Can Am, with saddlebags and a tour pack.  Built in storage is the answer.  Yesterday, at the bike show in Boston, I spotted trikes with trunks. 

As more companies come to market, with new technologies and new ideas, I hope they won't just try to reinvent the wheel.  I look forward to the creative new designs and mobility devices that are in our future, just a few short years away.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Fountain of youth

 Anyone who has ever ridden a motorcycle can tell you it's an exhilarating experience.  There are countless "WA-HOO!" moments that make your heart beat faster and plant a permanent grin on your face for the rest of the day.  More important than this, I think riding keeps you young.

Whether you ride a sport bike, a cruiser or some other iteration, the simple act of participating in the sport of motorcycling keeps you moving, out of doors and off the La-Z-Boy recliner.  The planning and preparation for any trip is an exercise in anticipation and it gives us goals to achieve in the near, or not-so-near, future.  That's why, with our season winding down here in New Hampshire, I'm thinking ahead to next year.  I want to have goals to achieve, mountains to climb.

I think I've mentioned this before.  In years past, at the height of winter doldrums, we've repaired to "The Bunker" with some cold beer and hot pizza, to throw out ideas for the coming year.  That was how we came to ride to Sturgis in 2008.  Someone put a stake in the ground, a target or goal, for us to achieve.  Mentally, we had already accepted the fact that we were going to embark on this cross-country tour.  Everything in-between became a step in that direction. Now, I think it's time for loftier goals. 

I recently read an article in American Motorcyclist magazine, the free magazine from the AMA, about a(n older) guy who visits all 49 contiguous American states with each bike he owns.  His latest acquisition is a BMW, perfect for the short "run" from Ohio to Alaska.  All it takes is planning, cash and some free time.  I'm still a long way from retirement age but, I like the idea of spending the next ten years or so, squeezing in great trips around work, until the time I'm free to travel the country (or planet!) like a wandering fool.

In the coming year, I want to get back to Nova Scotia, to ride the Cabot Trail again.  This time, I'll take my time and enjoy the ride and not try to break some sort of land-speed record.  I want to complete a Saddle Sore 1000:  1000 miles in 24 hours.  It would be great to achieve this one with some good friends.  Then, there's the Italian Alps.  How can one not drool over the prospect of riding The Alps, on a rented Ducati???  I also want to circumnavigate the continental U.S., taking in as many coastal areas as I can.  I have "a thing" for beach communities.  How about Australia, mate?  We could ride "down unda" during our winter, when the northern hemisphere is covered in snow and ice.  So many rides to consider, so little time!

Obviously, health issues will dictate when I will no longer be able to ride.  Interestingly enough, though I've often admitted to myself that at some point I won't be able to drive, I've never considered a day when I won't be able to ride.  I suppose, at best, those two days will come at the same time.

So, where are you going?  What will you do, in the coming year?  A cross-country tour of breweries sounds like a good start.  How about a New England perimeter ride?  What about a BBQ tour?  Or a covered bridge tour?  Or a state park tour?  Or Federal Park tour?

The season may be short, but my imagination is long and I can dream about all of the wonderful places that two wheels and a tankful of gas can get me.  Maybe you'll be along for the journey?

A low slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Do your own thing or, The Lone Wolf

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It's been a long time coming and it's been preceded by the same actions of other club members.  I'm talking about leaving club riding and doing my own thing.

When I first started riding, as a newbie, I was also new to this area and had no knowledge of the roads and other attractions.  Then, astride my Kawasaki ZX-6, I would go out for an hour, at most, before returning home.  I had no idea of where to go or what to do.  I was lost half of that time, anyway.

Then, I heard about The Club.  Local guys with a wide variety of bikes, got together on the weekend just to ride.  Thanks to them, I learned a lot about riding, friendship and our part of New England.  I made some very good friends through the club and am grateful for that.  Within a year or two, a rift became evident and a small group splintered off, with harsh words and leaving bad feelings behind them.  They wanted to be bad-asses, but mostly just made asses of themselves, with the manner of their departure.

I enjoyed club riding for the next five or more years, as we made plans for long distance trips that I never would have undertaken on my own.  Each winter, we would meet and cast out ideas for reasonable destinations.  These would range from the reachable and achievable, to the ridiculous.  In the end, it came down to schedule and finances, but almost every year there was a multi-day trip for all to enjoy.

When we weren't planning long trips, the weekend rides would alternate between Saturdays and Sundays until we realized that almost everyone was available for a Sunday ride.  So, we defaulted to that day, for the group rides, but others would still get together when available, as a small group.  Somewhere along the line, I started returning from rides with a sense of dissatisfaction, but didn't realize why.  The LAST thing I should have done was to return from a ride, and report to my wife that I didn't have a good time.  Before she got her own bike, I was off with the guys, while she stayed home and tended to household chores and yard work.  I think they call that Double Jeopardy.

Still, I stayed on but growing more dissatisfied as the years went on.  Each year, towards the end of the riding season, I'd question my commitment to the group, after a series of unsatisfactory outings.  I realized that, what was happening was that the Sunday rides were becoming lowest common denominator rides.  That is, Steve needs to be back by 2, because the game is on, Larry can only ride for an hour, because his wife is pissed at him for not raking leaves, etc., etc.  Soon, our rides became the answer to the question, "How little can we ride to accommodate everyone?"  No longer were destinations chosen or planned in advance.  We started riding the same local roads again and again.  Boring.

After 10 years of club membership and participation (as unofficial social director) I said to hell with it.  I unplugged myself from the email group and rode occasionally with some of my closer friends.  I have no shortage of riding partners, now that the missus has her own bike.  After my experience on the Sturgis ride, I no longer have any qualms about riding alone.  Perhaps I am riding less but the quality of the rides are way up.  I don't need to put miles on my bike riding in circles, just to brag about my annual mileage.  I'm happier to have a couple of great rides each year, with close friends, where we put a pin in the map and head off for a couple of days.  Motorcycle camping is a relatively new acquired taste for me (over the past 3-4 years) as it allows us to leave our local area and see new places.

One of my favorite rides (despite Jerry's recollection) was a quick trip to Quebec City.  Yes, I did have some discomfort on that ride.  I blame that on some musculoskeletal problems and a lack of Motrin.  It wasn't the sport bike!  Okay, the seat could have been partially to blame.  In any event, a long weekend got shortened due to horrific weather, but we had a great ride and a great dinner in Canada, before returning home.

Last weekend, I tried the group ride once again.  Why?  Because I allowed myself to succumb to peer pressure.   The ride got off to a bad start.  We were split up at the get go and three of us got separated from the rest and tried hard to catch up.  We finally did, halfway to our destination.  You can read about that ride here, on Pat's Blog:    http://patnwilton.blogspot.com/2010/10/looking-behind-planning-ahead.html

A bad ride got worse and my mood soured.  I realize that I hate to compromise these days and rather than suffer through a long lunch and a dull ride home, I punched out, in favor of some quality time with my wife.  She was happily surprised to see me return early and I was just as happy to be home.

The key to any good ride is planning.  Pat's blog touches on this and it's clear that a lack of planning is one of the reasons that some guys show up for rides but don't join in.  I used to take that personally but now I see it for what it is.  We all only get some many good riding days, no sense wasting them on a bad ride.

I hope anyone reading this takes this with the intention that it's written.  All I want is better riding.  I think one main component of that is the size of the group.  Smaller is better.  Three is good, two is better.  Sometimes, one is the loneliest number, but I'm okay with that.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

When the rain comes, you run and hide your head...

Well, some of you do, anyway.


It's been said that, "If you don't ride when it rains, you're not a rider." I guess, to some extent, that's true. The same holds true for the owner of the show bike that rides a few miles to the nearest biker hang-out and watches from afar as others admire his bike and ask about it. That person is not a rider.

Just as a writer, writes; a rider rides. And when you ride and put in a good, long day of travel, you know that you're eventually going to encounter rain. Sometimes it's not too bad, a soft drizzle that makes the pavement just oily enough for you to crash. And other times, it's a torrential downpour, icy cold and laden with hail. Hail hurts! The only thing to do when you encounter that beastie is to find cover and wait it out.

Sure, you can ride in a gentle rain, depending on what gear you're wearing. So, you get a little wet, pass through some showers and then dry out on the other side. That's actually kind of fun (and cooling, too!). It's the day-long rain that you HAVE TO PASS THROUGH that makes a rain suit a "must-have".

But otherwise, riding in the rain does not have to be daunting or even miserable. Yes, you will want to reduce your speed. Yes, you will want to carefully watch your lane placement, so you can avoid the spray of oncoming traffic or to avoid getting clipped by the overwhelmed motorist overtaking you on your Six. A good rain suit makes all the difference in the world.

For years I put off buying one, assuming that my weather-resistant textile suit would adequately protect me. Until one day it didn't. And then, there I was, sitting in a cold pool that was my saddle. If you want to experience this for yourself, fill your tub halfway with cold water. Then, don your riding gear, boots and all, and climb into the tub. How does that feel after a few minutes? Nice?

We were coming South through the mountains a few years ago, when I had that unpleasant experience and it gave me pause for thought. So, when we were planning the Sturgis ride, with the prospect of 600+ mile days, I knew that we would be riding no matter what the weather. I invested in a good quality rain suit and I can count on one hand the number of times I've HAD to wear it.

If you can't afford rain gear, get a can of ScotchGuard and spray the heck out of your textile suit. Be careful not to inhale that stuff though, as it is quite damaging to your lungs. This will give you about a season's worth of wet weather, provided you don't launder your gear. If you do, re-apply the ScotchGuard.

Fair weather riders (or those who live in the high desert) won't need to read this post but, like a good helmet, a good quality rain suit will make living on your motorcycle a more pleasurable experience. And, while you're at it, invest in a pair of good waterproof boots, as well. There's no point in being dry from the ankles up, if you're feet are ready to fall off from the cold & damp.

A low, dry wave,

Joe Rocket

PS - I don't often put in a postscript but, I started this blog a week or two ago and then set it aside...Since that time, friends returned from a one-week trip down south. On the way, they encountered heavy rain, up to 4 hours at a time. After that daunting day, they agreed that they both needed to upgrade their rain gear. After doing so, at the nearest Harley-Davidson boutique (ka-ching!), it didn't rain again for the remainder of the trip. Oh well, they'll have it now, when they need it next...

FULL Throttle

I was lazily riding the lawn tractor early this week when my thoughts drifted off to the two very different rides I had this past weekend. Yes, I was VERY fortunate to get out and ride both days. Who knows when the weather will be as good again, right? So, I sneaked in a mow job before the torrential rains hit as reflecting back on the nature of the rides.

Both headed south from our home in NH. Saturday's was a straight shot due south, to Putnam, CT and Sunday's was a circuitous route around Boston, to take us to Westport, MA and the Massachusetts coastline. Both days were unseasonably hot. On both rides, there were multiple riders. In both cases, I lead the rides for a majority of the ride. What's the difference, then?

Saturday's ride was planned to be a back-roads scoot through small towns in MA and into CT. I had programmed my TomTom GPS to avoid highways and tolls. I was relieved when I found Gary (nickname: NeverLost) there for the start of the ride. Not only did he correct me on the destination I had in mind, he seemed to know the route we had taken previously and was agreeable to leading us. For an hour. "Okay", I figured, by then, we'd be so far down the road towards our destination that "Chad", my Rider GPS, would accurately lead us the rest of the way. Uh, not exactly.

Turns out, Gary punched out of our ride at the 30 minute mark when we were barely down the road. He took another rider with him, leaving me to lead four others. I have always had faith in Chad but, the device is only as good as the programmer. I'll cut this tale short and just say that it lead us into the heart of Worcester, MA, a very industrial city to our south. Yes, it DID avoid the highways, it just didn't provide the indirect, scenic route that I had taken once before and was looking forward to. It was a hot, sweaty, busy ride with lots of stops to allow others to catch up. It felt like we hit each traffic light in that entire city, many when we did not all make it through in one pass.

Sunday morning dawned and my supportive wife knew I was in favor of an additional ride. Friends called to say they were headed south and it took me scant minutes to get ready. The primary difference between these rides was this: SPEED. We rode highways around Boston to skirt Fall River and pointed ourselves at the ocean. We rode fast the entire way, in traffic, moving cagers out of OUR way. The motors thrummed as we hammered along. We finally arrived at Westport Point, finding it cool and foggy. A relaxing lunch at the Back Eddy restaurant was followed by an hour-long tour of the local scenery.

Visually sated, we clambered back aboard our scooters and pointed towards home. Once again, we zoomed through traffic and into the open lanes. At one point, I considered challenging Ken & Jerry to a race, but Jerry hung back, knowing full well what devilishness I was up to. At times, we were three abreast, owning the highway.

I know I miss my sport bike and the insane speeds at which I used to ride. But, I've only now realized exactly how much I miss the sensation of speed. Riding at 40-50 mph on back roads is a great way to see the scenery. However, riding at full throttle (or at the very least 9/10s) is a good way to put some distance behind you and make miles. It's also good for filling your soul with sunshine and happiness; at least mine.

There's no solution in sight, but now I know what I've been missing. That special ingredient known as SPEED.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

An ode to snow

With my apologies to the real poets in the world!

Ode to Snow
by Joe Rocket
March 20, 2010

Oh, last lonely pile of snow, hidden in the shade of the hemlock.
You are but the last remnants from the plow man’s efforts.
Down at the base of the driveway, a clump of dirty ice and compacted snow
You greet me on the way to the mailbox and welcome me home.
You have friends scattered about, I see deep within the woods.
But you are the solitary sentry to my home on this late March morning.
The weatherman predicts 70 degrees today. I’ll bet that makes you sweat!
All I can say is, you best not be here when I return from my ride.
Your time has come and gone. Be gone with thee, until next year.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

So you want to be a rock and roll star...

The Beatles led me astray.

If I think about bad influences in my life, I'd have to put the Beatles at the top of that list. If not for their influence on my malleable young mind, I might not find myself at this juncture in my life.

Music's always been a large part of my life. Unfortunately, I have zero talent and can't play a lick. My Dad played piano/organ and accordion and the house was always rocking. Well, swinging was more like it. Dad was a huge fan of jazz, before he got into rock music, which was in its infancy, then.

The Beatles come along and WHAM!, there I am with a plastic guitar, singing along to their records and putting on "shows" for the parents, while they sipped their highballs. I wasn't alone in this. I remember (and have photos, somewhere) of me and my siblings "jamming" poolside, where our folks were getting a little sun. Hey, it was 1966 and I was seven.

My red plastic guitar took a childhood hit one day as I jumped on a bed or couch without looking before I leapt. SNAP! went the neck and instantly my treasured hollow-body was now garbage. Into the trash it went. Years later, I begged my parents to provide me with music lessons, as they had done earlier, with my older brother. They consented and I proved unteachable and lazy. Practice? What the hell was that? Acoustic? I wanted to jack into a big Fender stack and crank it!

So, they soon pulled the plug on the lessons and it was many years later, on my own dime, that I tried again. There was only one problem, I CAN'T READ MUSIC. WTF? I had gotten well past the point of learning a new "language".

But I could sing and I had rhythm. I could keep time like Desi Arnaz, on his congas. So, I joined the boys chorus in grade school and sang my sweet, little soprano heart out. The songs SUCKED. One painful memory is "The New Ashmolean Marching Society and Students Conservatory Band". It was from some Broadway show of the era, or the era way before cool. God I hated that song. It went on and on. Didn't composers of that era know about a hook? Or a guitar solo? I wanted to sing catchy, rock songs.

One day, I heard a song on the radio that I thought was The Partridge Family. It turned out to be Queen, performing "You're My Best Friend". I was instantly hooked. Freddie Mercury had an impressive range and the songs were simple and melodic. Then came "Bohemian Rhapsody". I could sing it pretty well but I knew what a difficult piece it was. My next door neighbor Jeanine's greasy, little boyfriend Louie showed up and he could sing it a whole lot better than I did. Hmm. So, I knew I had my limitations but I didn't let that stop me from singing, though.

We formed a little band, of sorts. My neighbor Pete had a white Ibanez strat, Bob Wragg had a Gibson Les Paul, brother Bobby had some sort of drum kit and I bought a mic and stand, which played through one of the amps. And we jammed. We probably knew about three or four songs. That was it, our entire repertoire. I think we knew "Why Do Fools Fall In Love" all the way through. When I say practice, I really mean hang out in the garage after school, make some noise and smoke cigarettes. We had more discussion than actual playing. "Can you play this?" "No." "Can you play, this?? "No".

Of our little four-man combo, only Bob Wragg practiced and could actually play his guitar. Pete was a hack and I don't even think took lessons. His parents just indulged his expensive whims to placate him. Bob PRACTICED. He spent hours indoors when we were out running around, trying to get into trouble or trying to get one of the neighborhood girls to kiss us. So, we soon drifted apart and the "sessions" came to a halt.

My dreams of becoming a rock star took a back seat to more practical things. I did well in high school. I didn't have to work at all to maintain a B average. I played soccer and enjoyed it as much as one can, under the tutelage of a German Varsity coach, who took his training drills from the East German Army. There were girls and more ineptitude. The fumblings in the dark at school dances. Experimentation, education, learning.

College arrived, I put my thoughts of singing out of my head, with the exception of the Freddie Mercury and David Bowie posters in my room freshman year. Who knew back then that Freddie Mercury was gay, or that David Bowie was bi-sexual? Jeez, not me, seriously. Not that I'm biased, but the guys in the fraternity didn't get it and the posters came down. Besides, my roommate that first year was a big, puffy marshmallow of a guy named Scott and who knows what he did while looking at my posters, when I wasn't around. He could have been my first gay friend but chose to BFF my girlfriend instead. I wonder where he is now?

Years later, here I am, no talent, still torturing myself and others, with my guitar-playing. My voice is shot from age, booze and cigars. I don't sound like Tom Waits yet, but give it time. It's sad to see artists not progress from the adolescent sounds they can create when they're 20 and become "stars". I recall some rock and roll induction ceremony not long ago where John Sebastian (of the Lovin' Spoonful) CROAKED his way through "Do You Believe in Magic". Sad. Pathetic. I felt really badly for him.

So, there it is. I'll never have that dream fulfilled and I don't even know why I carried it along for so many years. I blame the Beatles for making me want it so much. If I'd had a more realistic role model (and achievable goals) then, who knows? Maybe I wouldn't be sitting here, wondering what I'm going to do today. Perhaps my career would have taken a different direction. I should have given more serious consideration to my father's offer to go into his business. Maybe I could have learned something at his feet, gone from apprentice to master. But I had pride. I was a college graduate. Manual labor was beneath me. I should have listened to Marsellus Wallace (to Butch, the fighter):

"The night of the fight, you may feel a slight sting. That's pride fucking with you. Fuck pride. Pride only hurts, it never helps."

Maybe soon, I'll get over myself and get back to work. I know I can't sing, unless it's in my helmet, at speed. They say, "In Space, no one can hear you scream". The same is true when I'm riding. No one can hear me sing.

Riding season is almost here. Time to put take the charger off and put the seat back on. Now where the hell is my iPod? Ride safe!

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

In contemplation of the season's first ride...

Usually by this time of the year, I'm pissin' and moanin' about the winter weather and how much it sucks to live in NH and only ride for about six months out of the year. So, I'm quite surprised at the fact that winter has been particularly mild here and I've got nothing to bitch about! Still, it has been a few months since my last ride and I can't wait for the day I roll the bike out of the garage again.

With the dry and warm winter, I have a clear driveway and riding seems to be right around the corner. We had a few days that were sunny and near 40 and a few brave souls were out, on local short rides in the city of Nashua. Usually, I can spot members of BMW Nation, who tend to ride no matter how much salt is on the road. They don their one-piece riding suits and brave the elements because A.) They can and B.) It's the Germanic Superiority Complex at work. A little Freudian analysis would uncover the homo-erotic attachment to their bikes. As President Bill Clinton would say "Sometimes a cigar is not just a cigar."


Despite what that furry, Pennsylvanian rodent Punxatawney Phil had to say this year, I predict an early riding season. With the absence of a layer of ice on my driveway, I'll be out well before the town gets around to sweeping up all of the sand and salt they dumped so far this year. The city mice fared even better, with warmer temps and less weather overall. The one challenge, as it is every year, will be the frost heaves. "Love don't show up in the pavement cracks." The roads in our area are a mogul-field of humps and bumps, threatening to launch you out of your seat and trash your suspension. It's hard enough driving on this with four wheels.

Still, in about two weeks (February 28, 2010) I'll be ready to ride, should the weather cooperate. One can hope and hope springs eternal. Hope Lang springs to mind as the Ghost & Mrs. Muir, but that leads us to Muir Woods and a bit North of San Francisco. How did I get clear across the country? How am I gonna get back?

Okay, I swear, someone put a roofie in my coffee. I'll be clear-headed and less addled with a few miles under my belt. Looking forward to riding soon, with or without you. I think this year will be a new adventure.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Old Indians Never, Ever, Die

Who knew that there's a Sturgis-type rally in Scotland????

Got an email from a chap across the pond, asking me to post this. Since it's motorcycle related and I liked what I saw, I said "Why not?". Check out the great trailer, below:

Old Indians Never Ever Die

November 30, 2009

Watermill present an hour long documentary film of the “Old Indians Never Die 2″ Indian Motorcycle rally, 24-26 July 2009 at Traquair House, Scotland, England.
The film is called “Old Indians Never, Ever, Die”.

Indian Motorcycles were produced in Springfield Massachusetts, Illinois, USA from 1901 to 1953. They were, in their day, the definitive American Motorcycle. Used by the Police, raced by top riders, hill climbers and stunt men as well as adored by the riding public. Sturdy and beautiful these bikes have a large following worldwide.

Over the weekend there were some 400 vintage machines from all over Europe, Australia and the USA.

The film is an affectionate portrait of the people who’s lives are so bound up in these amazing machines.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_qx_WsKD_zc



Hope you enjoyed this clip. Let's make plans to see this when it makes the rounds.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

End of Season Blues

Well, we ended the season on a high note today. We took a long, ambling ride to Vermont, on back roads, stopping to explore, get lost, get found again and eventually arriving at our destination.

I got my first ride on a Yamaha FJR 1300. My bike has been put up for the winter and a generous friend offered me the use of his second bike, which is currently for sale (email me for details).



What a beauty this bike is! And, if you know anything about this model, you know it goes likes a runaway train. As the ride was mostly on back roads, I didn't get to twist the throttle as hard as I wanted to or for more than a blip. With just a little input, I leapt ahead, quickly on the tail of whoever was riding in front of me. A real test of this bike would be on wide open super slab, where I could carefully watch the needle climb to it's top speed somewhere north of 150 mph.

On the return trip, at a red light, I looked across to friend Manny, astride his H-D Cruiser and he comments "Fast, huh?" With that, the light greened and I was gone, Manny still looking for 1st gear. I slowed down for the next light, only a block ahead and he smiled at me. Again, the light turned and I whacked the throttle, shifting through first to second gear at about 55 mph. I held it open for a bit and saw that I'd left my compatriots well behind me. Easing off the throttle, I stayed in the lead the rest of the way, until a gas stop forced us to re-group.

It's light, carries a full load in the side bags, is very well-balanced and has more engine than the transmission can handle. You almost need a traction-control setting for this bike. I was trying hard to keep the front-end down while doing my stop light drag racing. I didn't think Jason would appreciate my doing wheelies on his bike. Jase, if I'm wrong, can I take it out again tomorrow?

It was a good end to a short season, no thanks to the bad weather the northeast suffered for most of the summer. Still, a good ride, with great bikes (and even better friends) will keep me moderately satisfied until Spring comes around once again. Come February, you might find me in the garage with a beer in one hand, looking under my bike cover like a ten year old boy inspects female mannequins in a department store. By then, with the holidays behind us and the wish list catalogs repeatedly dog-earred, I'll be ready to ride again.

Have a great rest of the season, for those of you who don't have to tuck your bike away for the winter months. There's always the possibility for a warm-weather business trip and an early Spring.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Snow in mid-October?

As I sit here, watching the snow fall for the second time in a week, I guess I must come to grips with the fact that riding season is over. And it's only mid-October! The season is very short here in New Hampshire and was made even more so, by the wet weather that plagued most of the summer months. It rained here from March to mid-July.

Snow here in NH is expected by Thanksgiving but not this early. Our first snow event was Friday AM but western CT got dumped on the previous day. So, I guess we're not alone in this. Still, it makes for a swift ending for riding season when, in years past, we've seen days in December that were high in the 70's.

I'd like to speak to Al Gore about this global warming phenomenon and find out when palm trees will begin to grow here. When that happens, THEN I'll cut back on my carbon footprint.

The coming year should be an exciting time for motorcycling. First, there is a slew of new motorcycles being introduced by Honda. Second, as my business continues to grow, I think that I will be able to afford to take more trips than I was able to in this past year. My goal has been to be able to work from almost anywhere I can get a cell signal and an internet connection. I'm dreaming of a solo ride to Colorado, to see family members there. It's 2,000 miles each way, without side trips. If I can convince my bride that we can afford this distraction, then I'm off like a dog after a stick.

I didn't ride (or blog) much this year. The two are interrelated. With no exciting trips to report on, or even good local trips, I found myself using the time for other efforts. I'll make an effort to attend some of the bike shows this season and carry a camera to report on the new lines from the various manufacturers. One way to get thrilled about riding again is to pick up a new (or new to you) bike. I would LOVE to pick up a friends used Honda Magna and make a project out of it. It would make a great rat bike.



That's all for now. I'll write again when I have more time. For now, I hope you can still get out there and ride before Mother Nature shuts you down for the season.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Time flies...

They say Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana. I don't know who first said that but it puts a smile on my face.

That being said, I see that it's been almost two months since I've blogged. Now that the Sturgis trip is behind me, I haven't got much at all to say on that topic. The anniversary of our trip passed almost unnoticed. I did get one email from Ken B. telling me that his commute to work during that week was mostly relived as some of the great rides we enjoyed a year ago.

The riding season was very short for us this year and I haven't done much riding at all, unless you count the desk that I'm seated at. Wet weather in the spring and early summer finally gave way to warmth and sun by August. We've enjoyed little more than one month of good riding weather.

We have one camping trip ahead, maybe two. The rest of the season will be spent riding locally with occasional stops at coffee shops to warm our hands.

I'll come back when I've got more to say but right now, I'm tapped.

I hope your season was better.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

More lust in my bones!

Yeah, I'm sort of repeating myself here. This is reminiscent of my FIRST blog post, from @ 2 years ago. That was when I first saw the Yamaha FJR1300A in Black and was ready to switch my allegiance from Honda for the first time in years.

(Click on the title above to get the full article at Motorcyclist Magazine)
SPIED: 2010 Honda VFR1200
No racer-rep, the new model will be a supersport-touring V-4!
By Aaron Frank
Photography by Brenda Priddy & Co.

2010 Honda VFR1200

These are the first-ever photographs of the long-awaited, next-generation Honda VFR, shown here undergoing hot-weather testing at an undisclosed location in the American Southwest. Continuing its evolution as an all-around, GT-style sport-touring machine (rather than an aggressive, MotoGP-derived race replica, as earlier rumors hinted), this new-from-the-rims-up VFR looks bigger and brawnier than ever before. This suggests a return to CBR1100XX Blackbird-level speed and stamina, capable of challenging the BMW K1300S, Suzuki GSX1300R Hayabusa and Kawasaki ZX-14 for the supersport-touring crown.

So, Honda has finally done it and brought out a "big boy" VFR. The 1200T is up from the 800cc displacement of my last bike and hp is rumored to be in the 200hp range.






I'll admit, some of the bodywork looks a bit heavy and clunky. The bike will debut this Fall, at the October motorcycle show in Tokyo. We'll have a better look at it then.





MCN is calling it the most high tech bike on the planet. The VFR 1200T is rumored to have all sorts of cool tech to improve gas mileage and make it lighter and faster.



As for me, I plan to try to start saving again. No reason why I can't have both a cruiser and a sport-touring bike, right?



A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Ain't nothin' to bitch about!

Wow! After at least a month without riding, we finally had some dry weather and, more importantly, the free time to enjoy it. I've been privately chastised for not writing about riding, but honestly, it's only because I hadn't ridden in so long.

This past weekend's weather (and today's) is perfect. Perfect as in a perfect 10. Sunny, dry, low humidity, warm (but not too hot). This is the calm before storm, and I hope the storm is a long way off.

We had such a good turnout for yesterday's ride that we actually split into two groups. The short ride was to Greenland, NH to see the Ultralight Fly-in. The longer ride was to Ludlow, VT to gorge ourselves on sweet corners and pretty scenery. You can guess that I fell into this latter category.

We blasted across Route 101 past Peterborough and Keene, NH and onto Route 9. I wasn't keeping track of the roads but did enjoy when the opportunities presented themselves to do some passing and to get out front, with the Beemers. Vader was leading, with Jay in close quarters. I dropped in on them like a kook at North Shore. Vader was content to lead the way and I was content to put my focus on grinding down my floorboards.

The roads in Vermont are spectacular. We had a nice mix of fast and slow sweepers and only occasionally got stuck behind some slow cagers. The opportunities to pass them were minimal and, law-abiding citizens that we are, chose to bide our time rather than to pass on the double-yellow. We were rewarded soon enough, as nervous drivers looked back on a phalanx of motorcycles and took the first exit they could find.

Despite our unofficial motto of "Ride to Eat, Eat to Ride", I was not the one who kept asking when we were stopping for lunch. We paused at Hogback Mountain long enough to take in the view and several of the other guys were ready for lunch. Vader tried to take it in stride but, as our ride leader, our happiness (and empty stomachs) were a result of his route and pace. We eventually made it to Ludlow and the Potbelly for lunch. We were 8 happy riders when we finally stopped.

Jay had been watching my progress through the tight curves and was impressed with the way I hustled the VTX through the corners. When it feels right, it just feels right. The bike and I were one. It was if I were flying over the road, kicked back and relaxed. The was no real effort involved, it was a natural thing.

It did make me yearn, somewhat, for another sport bike. I imagined how much faster I could have been riding but I'm sure I would have eventually scared (and nearly soiled) myself! Now that I think of it, we didn't see too many sport bikes out yesterday. Where were they all? Or, have they all moved up to a more comfortable ride? I have no complaints today. I am perfectly content with this bike, for this terrain.

Jay was a bit fidgety on his BMW. I think it has more to do with the age of his bike than with the age of his bones. He probably just needs a new seat, after all the miles he's put on his. Nothing like a nice firm cushion, for your tushie. It makes the ride that much more enjoyable. As my wife says, "The mind can't absorb what the seat can't endure." That's doubly true when riding. A minor discomfort can distract from the whole experience.

Anyway, it was a great day. We (Jay & I) split from the group to beat feet home and missed "the bee dance". We hopped onto 91N to 89S to Route 13 (Concord, Goffstown, Mont Vernon to home). It gave us a nice end to the ride, after blasting down the highway at illegal speeds. See? Not even a cop scare to report, except for that early one in P'boro. Traffic was heavy and he never woulda caught us anyway. Hmm. 65 in a 40? It wasn't me.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

We are living in a Media World (and I am a Media Man!)

The thought occurred to me that I live in a media-centered, ad-centric universe unlike many others around me. This epiphany came the other morning when I was a guest in my sister-in-law’s home. She remarked that her towels were scratchy and loofa-like due to her air drying them. Of course, I replied “Towels are kind of scratchy!” in the voice of the Creepy Innkeeper from the Verizon Wireless commercial. No one in the room knew what I was referring to. If you have to explain a joke, it’s not a very good joke or, so said David Letterman, of his recent apology to Alaska Governor Sarah Palin.

Recently Dave made a comment about Ms. Palin being at a NY baseball game and her daughter getting impregnated by A-Rod in the 7th inning. Of course, he was referring to the older daughter, Bristol, who had a child out of wedlock at age 18, despite her then political candidate mother’s anti-abortion stance and her right wing bullshit that she taught her children to abstain from pre-marital sex. Ouch! I’ll bet that stung.

In any event, Dave was making a joke about the older daughter but unbeknownst to him, it was actually 14-year old Willow Palin who was traveling with her Mom on the recent NY outing. Oops! Dave did his best to apologize but it was all for naught. The haters had already spooled up and created a scene over a one-line joke and Mr. Letterman was forced to make a pseudo-apology. Ms. Palin accepted and we can all move on.

I suppose my focus on the media is due to my love of advertising (I watch the Super Bowl for the ads, really) and my work in Marketing/Ecommerce. Yes, while I am on the fringe, I still follow all of the media news and am fascinated at the many new ways to get one’s message across.

I quote commercials, if I think they’re funny or share a laugh with my teen if something is particularly entertaining. To me, it’s an art form and not an easy one to master. Many will recall the atrocious animated SalesGenie commercials that InfoUSA put on during the 2007 Super Bowl. They were poorly written (then-CEO Vinod Gupta actually credited himself for writing them!) and racially insensitive.

If you find the world of Advertising fascinating like I do, rent Mad Men, from Netflix, a fictionalized (and adult) look at advertising in the 60’s. Never have I seen people drink and smoke so much! They drink at work (in the office, self-congratulatory cocktails are always at hand) and smoke in elevators, in the office, in bed, almost non-stop. It’s an amazing look at an earlier time.

In the past week, I’ve traveled to both New York City and Boston, in search of expanding my empire (I like the way that sounds). My biz is up and running and now I need to find the right way to spread the word about myself and my/our capabilities. It’s slow going in this economy. It’s hard to prove yourself when you no one is willing to answer the phone to speak to you. I understand the pressure and the workload, as I’ve been on the other side of the desk before. Still, at a time when you’re business is going to hell, now is the time to find out what solutions exist in the market.

So, in a recession, when all around me will retreat, what will I do? What would Don Draper do? The answer is simple: I'll advertise.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Motorcycles and hearing loss

As I write this, my ears are ringing. For the past two years, I've gone for annual hearing tests as my tinnitus seems to be getting worse. What's the cause, do you suppose? Riding without hearing protection.

I can't blame all of my hearing loss on motorcycle riding. I did a lot of stupid things when I was younger and now my chickens have come home to roost. In the 1970's, live bands played at our school dances and I didn't think that there was anything cooler than to stand right in front of the band's speaker system to get a full dose of early rock classics, played by local musicians. Sure, I suppose if I'd had been feeling up Gina Statutore, instead of groovin' on Wipe Out, I might have better hearing right now. And then, of course, there was Arena Rock.

On one occasion, my brother won tickets to a Grand Funk Railroad concert from WPLR but his gf, Anna Marie, was being a bundt, so he gave them to me, with the stipulation that I take her younger brother Donnie to the show. Sure, why not. GFR rocked the house and about halfway through the show, we noticed that there were empty floor seats closer to the stage so, we eagerly moved forward. The sound was literally deafening. I couldn't hear much after the show and I remember that being the first time my ears rang for days (or weeks) afterward.

Post college found me working for a printing company, training for a sales job. We spent months in the bindery (no OSHA rules for mandatory hearing protection at that time) and in the press-room. Hearing protection was required in the press-room but the problem was, we couldn't hear the pressmen if we wore it! So, we routinely took it out and left it out. Big mistake. These days, all printing presses have enclosed areas (with all of the machine controls) nearby where you can escape the noise levels of the large machinery.

By then, the damage was done. Add to that the noise levels we take for granted at concerts, races, mowing the lawn, using a chainsaw and we put ourselves at risk on a regular basis. But, I had no idea how much damage wind noise can do.

If you ride with a full-face helmet, like I do, there's an assumption that takes place, thinking that since your ears are covered, your hearing's protected. Even with a great quality helmet, like the Arai that I wear, fit is a very important matter and, unless your ears are mashed into a helmet too small for you, air is going to flow through that helmet and whistle past your ears.

I noticed the effect of this, in full, last summer during our ride to Sturgis. Due to the long riding days, I was experimenting with different positions of my face shield. I have to state that, for the most part, we were riding well above the posted limits. Even when it was 65 mph. I found that the noise levels were actually reduced when I opened my shield into the full upright position. Why this is, I don't really know. I suppose that with the shield up, the air didn't have to sneak in and out of my helmet, like it did with only certain vents open.

I had purchased special earplugs for the trip. One of which I lost following our first day. I had other plugs, cheapies, that rolled up or squished down to fit. I used what I had, as often as I remembered.

On my last ride, we visited White Horse Press, in Center Conway, NH. Nice folks. They hold an annual event and offer a discount on everything they sell, during the Open House. I found a set of mold-able silicone plugs to use. You start with them rolled up as round balls and then flatten into your outer ear. I've used them on one ride and, so far, I like them. I'm not sure how long they'll last but I'll report back on this. Not bad for $3 and if I use them.

I have tried to impress upon my own child the errors of my ways, so that he learns from my mistakes. He's pretty good about keeping the volume of the stereo and his iPod, down. And he wears hearing protection when he mows the lawn or practices his drums.

So, if you hear me saying "What?" (repeatedly), cupping my ear to hear you above the din or seating myself centrally at any group gathering, you now know why. I wish it weren't so, but hearing loss is not reversible.

Here's a couple of good links for additional information (cut and paste):

http://www.motorcyclecruiser.com/streetsurvival/0710_crup_motorcycle_hearing_protection/index.html

http://www.freehearingtest.com/hia_motorcyclefacts.shtml

Take an extra minute, before you ride off, to stuff something into your ears. You HEAR me?

A low, quiet wave,

Joe Racket

Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day, May 25, 2009 and I have little to do. Oh sure, there are a thousand things I could do, but none I have to do. That's the difference between a regular weekend day and a holiday. My obligations to self and family are no more than to fire up the grill in the middle of the afternoon and cook a palatable meal.

Yesterday's weather was a bit dicier than today's (sunny and warm) but since Sunday is our "normal" ride day, the wife and I saddled up with a short ride planned to visit the Shaker Village in nearby Canterbury, NH. I suppose it's a bit of an historical recreation like Sturbridge Village, down in Massachusetts. Still, having once been within a few miles without stopping, it seemed like a good destination for those of us not opting for the early and multi-hundred mile route that the club had planned for the day.

We made our way across Bedford, jumping onto 101, headed East towards the coast. Our jumping off point to head North was Candia (Candy-O, I need ya) but soon the sprinkles began. A few miles further up the road, they became steady and I pulled off the highway to confer with the missus. A line of rain was sweeping West-to-East across the state, with the leading edge the furthest East. That meant that our ride North would encounter this rain, with potential for heavy downpours, with the Southernmost part of the state missing out. Suit up and go on or save this ride for another day?

We decided that rain suits would be a drag and so turned tail, headed South through Auburn before turning West through Manchester. We had a nice ride through the city, much quieter on the weekend than I suppose it is during the week.

Returning home, we tucked the bike into the garage, tucked into a big lunch (and the Indy 500) before doing taking care of some other errands.

Perhaps we'll get out for a short scoot today. The weather's nice and I wouldn't mind going out just to hear my exhaust roar as I click through second and third gears. The cacophony of acceleration beats out the steady hum of highway riding, every time.

And let's not forget why we have this extra day to enjoy ourselves, our families and our hobbies. I extend my thanks to veterans everywhere and those in my family who have served, to bring us peace, safety and the American way of life.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Slow Ride (Take it Easy!)

The weekend is almost here and I am practically OUT OF MY MIND with happiness. You see, tomorrow (Friday) I get to ride to a client meeting waaaay the F over in VT. It's about 170 miles each way and the weather looks just perfect. It should be in the high 70's by the time we return. I say we, 'cause my buddy, Box, set up this meeting for me and he's riding there too.

On Saturday, most of the entire state of NH will converge on Center Conway to attend the Whitehorse Press Open House (and BBQ). There will be music, food and discounts. I plan to meet two Twitter buddies there (Corry01 & Two Wheels New England) and say "hello" in person. Plus, I get to push the VTX hard across the Kancamangus Highway, one of the BEST roads in the state.

On a recent ride, the thought occurred to me that it's NOT a matter of how FAST you ride but rather, how SLOW you CAN ride. Think about that. I'm an adrenaline junkie like many of you and I have scared the crap outta myself more times than I will admit. You get a perfect patch of open highway, nary a cop in sight and you pin back that throttle and play boy racer. It's a load of fun to get so much wind that you got to duck way down behind that tiny windscreen. And then roll it back and be Joe Model Citizen, again.

A better measurement of how good a rider you are is how SLOWLY you can ride your bike. Can you maneuver it at speeds below 10 mph? How about below 5 mph? Can you do this and do it consistently? I'm not talking about a parking lot turn-around or a stop-n-go. I mean riding and controlling your bike at speeds just above a stall. That takes skill.

I may not be the best rider in our group (or maybe I am!) but I will consistently challenge myself to exert more control over my scooter every time I ride. It's the exact OPPOSITE of what so many car drivers do: get on the highway, put on cruise control and turn off their brains. I want to be ACTIVELY involved in the control and handling of my bike. It takes attention to small details, the road, the engine, clutch feathering, etc.

Anyway, I've got two days of great riding ahead of me and I am so looking forward to this. It's been a while since I was so jazzed about riding. I think it helps to have a destination and a plan, as opposed to aimless wandering (sorry Joe!). Getting lost never made me moist.

I hope you all have a fun weekend ahead. Riding season is truly here at last.

A low, slow wave

Joe Rocket

A few pix from DC

Here's just a few pix from our day today. We had a blast riding the Segways around DC. We did a 3 hour tour of all of the major tourist spots. Two wheels in parallel are almost as much fun as when they are in-line...

Easter Island Totem:



BARRY'S HOUSE:



The Capitol Building:



Back view:




The Mall:



That's it. I'm done for now. Will talk to you soon.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Having a chat with Mr. Obama

Well, at long last we're off on a family vacation again. 2008 found us all scattered in different directions: G to Spain for a month, Ma to Bar Harbor to do trail building and repair and my own two-week trip to Sturgis, SD.

In the hustle and bustle of our crazy schedules, we have little quality time together. I know that it will take us a day or two to get to that happy place, where we connect again as a family but it will happen soon enough.

Our trip will take us to Washington, DC where I jokingly promised to say hello to President Obama. My son thinks I'm a bit nutty but I enjoy perpetuating that sentiment. Some say I'm "colorful". I've been called worse.

We've got a long drive ahead but the Outback is a comfortable whip, cruising effortlessly and smoothly at highway speeds. We'll be there by early evening, depending on traffic and necessary stops. I'll shoot some photos while there and post them upon return.

We had a good ride Sunday to Palmer, MA. Manny led us to the Steaming Tender, a restored train station, filled with antiques and memorabilia. We had a lazy, winding ride down, through South Central NH and into MA. Leaving at about 10:30, it was nearly 1PM by the time we were seated. The "Tender" seems to be a popular destination for bikers. If it's not because of the location, it must be because the food is excellent and the waitresses overly attentive. Aside from the tasty chili, nachos and 1/3 lb. burgers, I can attest to the fettuccine with peach-infused cream sauce. What a delicious taste combination!



That's our feckless leader, Jerry, providing the one-finger salute, my task when I'm not behind the camera. Apologies to Crumpet for catching her dislodging a bone in her throat but the group was too large to pose. We had 13 riders astride 12 bikes, after Gary dropped out in Jaffrey. Feeding this large group took ample time and by the time we were sated, fat and bloated, some got the urge to take a faster route home. Our ride up the highways, through Worcester and up 495 were uneventful, dull and hectic. Heavy car and truck traffic shunted us to the safety of the right lane, where we puttered along slightly above the posted limit.

I'll write more with Washington, DC details and provide an update on our next group ride. Summer came early to NH but it looks like Spring will be back in the morning. Our high temperature of 94 degrees today was daunting and I'm looking forward to more comfortable riding weather.

It's black-fly season here but, that will be over soon enough (and replaced by mosquito season). Stay well, stay healthy and I'll see you out on the road soon.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

No Time Like the President's

The great stand-up comedian, Norm Crosby, influenced me as a young person, as I watched him ply his trade on the late night shows. The Tonight Show, with Johnny Carson, and all of the daytime talk shows as well. He represented the immigrant American through his use of shtick concerning his poor command of the English language. As an artist, I knew he was so much smarter than the character he played, even though he never broke from character.

Norm's "fractured" English, tickled my sense of humor. I "got" the joke. I got that he had such an intimate understanding of language that he could poke fun at it, intelligently. There was the irony. "No time like the President's". For me, there's no time like the present to be taking on my new position.

Over the past four weeks, I've been laying the groundwork for a new role. The response I received from potential partners was overwhelmingly positive. It's time to shake up the old conventions and put the pieces back together in a new way. Like the Spring season unfolding around us, I'm planning a season of growth and re-birth.

Riding season is coming awfully slowly to New Hampshire. It's been cold and windy and rain is forecast for tonight and into tomorrow, Sunday, our normal day for club riding. Still, we managed a short scoot on Friday night, following the warmest day of this past week. The temperatures will fall again this week and be seasonally cool.

As a group, we have not yet gelled this year. Over the past season, we had so many new riders and so few chances to meet them all. A flurry of new names and email addresses bounced about that, at times, I'd felt like I should be wearing a name tag. "Hello. My name is...Joe Rocket". With the slow start, there haven't been many organized rides. I know that on the first nice day we get, the turnout will be overwhelming. 20-30 riders will show up and we'll all do that introductory do-si-do as we try to learn each others names, faces and riding styles. Despite our best efforts to organize the group off-season, some people will only come out for the rides and will defer the socializing until they get to know us better.

There are several rides already planned for the season including Nova Scotia, Gettysburg and several camping trips. It's been a long time since I've packed up my bike and headed down the road. I'm looking forward for the first chance to do just that. The short ride the other night was therapeutic. I wasn't focused on the stress and issues of the preceding week. On a nice long straightaway, I whacked the throttle back and instantly zipped down the road. A quick look in the mirror showed me how quickly the others fell behind. Acceleration is the best high!

I had plans to get some track time this year, plans that I'll have to put on hold. I think this will be another year, like others, where Summer slips away unloved. We have a lot to get done this year, in addition to launching my biz.

So, I hope I get a few memorable rides in this year. I hope the weather warms and I get to put some miles on my bike, in the company of my buddies. There's so much promise in the coming year.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Step back, step forward. Take a look!

Have you ever noticed that if you change your perspective, ever so slightly, that it makes a world of difference in your view? This has been happening to me a lot lately.

It happened to me again today in the midst of a discussion with my new E-commerce partner. We were discussing how they bill for Pay-per-click (PPC) campaigns and they informed me that they simply billed for the amount of time it took them to manage the buys rather than as a percentage of the spend. So, instead of recommending a high-cost PPC, with an accompanying high commission for themselves, they charge the client honestly and fairly for their efforts. Wow.

All it took for them to devise this rate structure was to understand what was best for their clients; not their own business or shareholders. Simple and equitable.

When was the last time you took a look at your own pricing model? Is it customer-centric? Do you have their growth, profitability and goals in mind or, do you serve a different master?

If you're a buyer, when was the last time you asked a new vendor partner to meet with you, to learn fully how they differentiate themselves from others in the marketplace? With business as awful as it is, now's the time to be creative, open new doors, try new options.

If I were a buyer (and I have been), I'd have a veritable open-door policy right now and I would learn everything I could about potential partners, to the advantage of my company.

As a seller, I'm pleased that I have excellent products & services to offer which are fairly priced. And that, my friends, will win out every time. So......step forward and take a look!

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket