First ride of the season (FREEDOM)

Did you feel that?  Riding season has begun again.  It starts slowly, with a day of agreeable weather here and there and then WHAM!, spring is here.  Hope springs eternal at the start of a new riding season.  Like the start of a new school year when anything is possible, your weekends and time behind the handlebars feel unlimited.  After a long winter or, in our case, a mild winter, the warm weather encourages thousands to gas up and go.  Anywhere.

And that’s what riding is all about, isn’t it?  Freedom.  The freedom to choose your destination and point your bike towards it.  It almost doesn’t matter which direction you choose, as long as the roads are smooth and there’s an open lane in front of you.  What to choose?  The seacoast or the mountains?  

Living in New England provides a lot of riding opportunities and challenges.  If you ride a sport bike and want to test yourself, there are many difficult back roads with lots of switchbacks.  If you have a cruiser or a touring bike, you might enjoy a milder pace and endless vistas.  We have it all, here in New Hampshire, some of the best riding in the country.

For our first ride, I picked a familiar destination about 2 hours from home.  We know the place and the roads there take you through rolling hills and winding twisties.  With the aforementioned mild winter, the signs proclaiming Frost Heaves were lying.  The road was smooth most of the way, until a route change put us onto a road in need of repair.  No worries.  After blasting along for most of our trip, it was okay to slow the pace and to pick a line on the bumpy pavement.

We stopped for lunch, to talk and to drink coffee.  The company was better than the coffee but even bad coffee is welcome at times.  We ran into some friends, eating in the bar at the restaurant and enjoyed seeing other bikers out enjoying the day.  The parking lot was filled with many different types and brands of motorbikes, all of their owners reveling in the day.  

It’s nice to have company on a ride but, as always, someone has a deadline.  Two of us took the fast way home; the others returned from the direction we arrived.  With a highway return, we rode as fast as sense and traffic would allow.  The bikes love the cool, dry air at this time of year and we wasted no time on the road.  Our return was almost half of the time that our outbound trip took but was equally enjoyable.  There is nothing like a fast bike on a smooth road!

I shot through a tollbooth and was not at all surprised that my EZ Pass transponder hadn’t worked.  I noticed it last year on the few passes through toll areas.  A phone call should set that right, as it has worked for me in the past. Arriving home at a decent hour, I still had time to enjoy the setting afternoon sun with my spouse, grateful to her for allowing me a day to myself.

 A first ride is like a first kiss, you never know what to expect.  Today was a good one and I look forward to many more this year.  Most of the riders I know say that they will “ride more this year”.  Somehow, life, work, other obligations get in the way.

We’re fortunate to have this personal freedom and to live in a country as large as the United States.  From my door, I can look west to thousands and thousands of miles of undiscovered adventures.  All I have to do is plan one (or not). 

Get out and ride.  It’s what you need.  It’s what the world needs, more freedom.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

If you don't ask, you don't get (or shameless plug).

Am I me, or who I think I am?

The Joe Rocket moniker was applied to me years ago, when I arrived for our first New Hampshire to Nova Scotia ride, completely decked out in JoeRocket gear and with this noteworthy tank bag system.  Our club's leader saw me arrive and said "Hey, Joe Rocket", and the name stuck.  Eventually, it got shortened to just Rocket but I still think of myself as more than one name.

Like you, I have a deep love of motorcycles and riding.  No other activity in recent years has brought me so much satisfaction.  When riding, I meet the nicest people in the world.  When not riding, I am thinking of riding.  I straddle both worlds of cruisers and sport bikes.  I would be thrilled to be at MotoGP one day and at a Sturgis rally the next.  I don't discriminate.  If it has two wheels and is rolling down the road, you have my approval.

I was exercising at the gym yesterday and was "trapped" on a machine when an interview with Katy (I Kissed a Girl) Perry came on one of the overhead TV monitors.  

She was telling the story of her life, from her view, without the benefit of input from her publicist.  I was impressed to learn how difficult it was for her to break through, in her industry.  She detailed the trials and tribulations of becoming the pop star that she now is.  To me, it seemed that she suddenly burst onto the scene.  The real story was much more in-depth.  I was surprised by it all.

Most of you know that I maintain at Twitter account as @JoeRocket and have done so since 2007.  The idea behind the Twitter account was to chronicle the 2008 trip to Sturgis, which I did.  I recently discovered that Joe Rocket (the company) started a Twitter feed.  They are @JoeRocketGear.  Joe Rocket is a subsidiary of a company called Sullivans, Inc., which also owns the Power Trip brand, whose gear is more appropriate for the cruiser crowd, more so than the "Squid" crowd.  So here comes the shameless plug:

I want to be the Social Media voice for @JoeRocketGear (http://www.joerocket.com/) and PowerTrip.  It would be a great match and here's how I see that benefiting them.  I already have a large base of fans on Twitter and I would transition my followers over to their account.  This blog (or a new one) would be dedicated to talking about events and products.  All I would need is access to marketing plans and gear, and I will start the conversation.  Allow me to cover industry and other motorcycle events, and I will live blog those events.  Allow me access to sponsored riders, races and other biker shows, and I'm away and rolling.  I would assume the voice on their Facebook accounts, create a Pinterest account and stay abreast of all the latest in social media tools and techniques.

What do you think?  If you agree with me, then how do I get my point across?  This post is just one step in many, to try to introduce my skills to the powers that be, at Sullivans, Inc.  They are West Coast, with distribution centers all across the U.S.  I am East Coast and very willing to travel.  Valencia to cover some bike tests?  Sure!  Laconia to cover the Bike Week rally for the Power Trip team?  Absolutely!

Before I get my passport renewed, I will wait to see if my email to them gets answered.  One step at a time, and stay the course.  Katy did it and so can I.  Even if it means I have to kiss a girl.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

Jesus I've been lazy!

Yeah, we'll go with that.  I got a few nice compliments recently about this blog.  As I look back on this past year's effort, I see that it's pretty damn thin.  I can partially blame that on work but the rest is on me.  If I want to be known for my creative mind, then I had better show a hint of "brain cleavage" to get your attention now, shouldn't I?

Aside from the drudgery of work, my riding has been limited this past year.  And I have no excuse for it, either. We had a great trip to Island Pond, VT with a day trip into Coaticook, Quebec.  Other than that, there were no other overnight rides and, I think that's the issue.  When all you're doing is buzzing back and forth over local roads you've ridden a million times before, you're not having new adventures and making new memories.  All local and no stays makes Jack a dull boy.

Pirate support vehicle

The Vermont trip had it's moments of mirth and I'll share the highlights.  We camped on Spectacle Pond for 2 nights, with the aforementioned day trip to O'Canada in-between.  What I love a-boot Canada is their attitude towards Americans.  Somebody once described Canada as your cool older cousin who lets you have beer.  The border crossing was friendly, fast and fun.  And no one's hand ever covered their weapon.  We hiked a gorge, found a fromagerie and local bakery and had a great lunch and resultant dinner.  Our lack of french only became an issue at the bakery, where I ate (and summarily purchased) some hot-from-the-oven butter cookies that were meant for another patron.  Oops!  Oh, and the scenery was stunning.

Returning through US Customs was no laughing matter.  We were split up and handled separately, to my wife's chagrin.  When asked for my passport, I approached the customs agent and she retreated.  Confused, I took another step forward and she retreated again, her hand now on her weapon.  What the fuck?  Was I supposed to throw you my passport, douche?  Fine.  I'll wait here while you approach me like a ninja to snatch this from my hand.  Fuck me.  Welcome to the United States of Fear.

Anyway, we had fun and I learned that sharing a room with other people has its disadvantages.  We rented a cabin for the stay, because one female rider not married to me won't tent camp.  So, at modest expense, we rented a 3 bed cinder block bunker in which to crash.  Now, I love this friend dearly but, someone should have made mention of the thrashing about that takes place at night, after a few adult beverages.  In her defense, I suppose that I could have disclosed my snoring, but I didn't...After that first largely sleepless night, all I could do was hug her and tell her how much I liked her.  The other option was anger.  We all laughed it off and decided that we were going to get so drunk that night so as to not have any trouble sleeping.  It worked.

I think the best part of the ride is the "after-party" that happens around the campfire, when you're well-stuffed with dinner, drink and a day full of behind-the-bars memories.  And that seems to be what's been missing most for me.  I need more long, multi-day rides to form the fun memories and experiences.

As a member of the AMA, I get their monthly magazine.  The current issue has a story about the Van Buren sisters who, at a young age and in the year 1916, made a cross-country motorcycle trip.  This is a fantastic story of two young, independent women who refused to believe the they couldn't accomplish their goals, just because of their gender.  Their story is here:  Van Buren Sisters.  I bet they had more than their share of adventure.

Riding cross-country is one of those goals that I want to have under my belt.  Living as I do on the East coast, I am fortunate to have the whole country between me and some family members in California.  A well-timed ride could take me from New Hampshire through Colorado and into the San Francisco area.

Another idea, which seems more easily attainable is to circumnavigate New England by riding the perimeter of all the states.   If done right, it looks to be under 2,000 miles and achievable as a long weekend.  This is not a final route, but it will but give you an idea:


View Larger Map

Another ride would be back to Nova Scotia, riding versus taking the ferry crossing.  I haven't done it before, but I know that it would be all the more gratifying to accomplish the trip this way.

So, all this just to say that, I plan to ride more in the coming year.  I plan to write more too.  Without the two-wheeled adventures, I don't have the fodder for this blog.  Also, I'll try to get back on track with a discussion about Sturgis, gear reviews and other things that I think other riders will find interesting.  I sort of got off track here after a bit.  Keep me honest and keep me focused.  I appreciate the feedback and will try to make this an interesting and informative place for you.

If you want a small treat, click on the headline to find the musical link to the title.

A low, slow wave and a Happy New Year,

Joe Rocket

Two-up, for life!

We did something today that we don't normally do, we took a two-up ride, late in the riding season.  We had some warm weather this week (anything north of 60 degrees in November in New Hampshire, is a good day).  This following a record Halloween storm that dumped about 2 feet of snow on us and triggered a 5+-day power outage across New England.

With winter breathing down our necks, we took a break from raking the endless bounty of oak leaves and pointed just one bike towards the seacoast.  We both ride but since I had already started the process of winterizing the bikes, it seemed superfluous to use both bikes for a short day's ride.  We've ridden two-up  before, for convenience and again, usually for a short hop or, when we're with another couple who only ride that way.  But today, it seemed like a good way to share the experience.

My wife is an accomplished rider who has really come into her own in the last year or two.  Gone are the days of constant supervision from me and the tense moments after my having to remind her to cancel her turn signal or some other newbie mistake.  But, on a day like today, taking the rear seat allowed her to relax and enjoy the view.

All around me, friends are separating and divorcing.  There seems to be a spate of it lately, three announcements alone in the early part of this year.  I don't know what to attribute this to but as a child of divorce, I take my commitment to my marriage seriously.  My wife and I are polar opposites, she's classical and I'm rock 'n' roll.  She shy and introverted while I'm a showboat and will chat up anyone.  We are Yin and Yang.  When she told me that she wanted to go riding with me, I had my reservations about losing my "time off."  Now, years later, I look forward to our time off together.

At some point everyone gives up riding.  I don't have any immediate plans to quit riding any time soon but, I know that at the point that riding is no longer an option, my partner for life will be there, at my side as we motor down the road of life.  In the meantime, I will look forward to her joining me on rides, sharing my experiences, sharing the road and the ride.  I know she prefers to ride her own bike but I'm happy that she is willing to join me every once in a while.

Maybe the secret to a happy marriage is the inclusion of a couple of motorcycles or, at the very least one bike, with the couple riding two-up.  Sharing experiences is what married life is all about.  Now get out there and ride together.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket

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