Motorcycle Quote of the Day

[Biggles]

Norm had written:
I don't know about the rest of you, but I feel like I on that bike with him.  It may be personal to him, but I have made it personal to me.  I have followed his progress on his web pages in my waking hours at work and at home.  I rode to Texarkana to meet him at midnight on Tuesday, getting back home at 3:30 a.m. and at work for an 8:00 a.m. meeting, but I would do it again in a heartbeat.
Those of us fortunate to have shared a few brief moments with him as he is hopefully making history, will no doubt feel like we played a small, small part in helping and encouraging him.
In his response, Ira wrote:
It never ceases to amaze me, this Internet.  The line between cyber-reality and physical reality really gets cloudy sometimes.  It's having very-long-range scanners, knowing almost minute-by-minute where Ron is and how he's doing.  At the checkpoint, Ron mentioned the repair Paul Glaves made to the turn signal.  Yup, heard about it.  The big lightning storm that had him sidelined for a while?  That, too.  Indeed, it is riding along in the most vicarious way, and once in a while weaving between the cyber and the physical.  And to dream the ride Ron is taking.
Against The Clock  Ron Ayers p 155-6

[Biggles]

I knew the script.  But late this rainy night in Nevada, I was disregarding my own dictum about stopping when too tired to ride safely.  I was pushing the edge of the envelope and it was bulging at the seams, threatening to tear.  I didn't like doing this, but I didn't know what else to do.
Route 93 between Ely and Wendover has always been one of my favourite roads.  Every time I've ridden it, I've felt there is something mystical about it.  Riding the road has always made me think how fortunate I am to have discovered motorcycling and especially to have discovered endurance riding.  I once told Barbara that if the sport killed me, I'd like to be cremated and have my ashes cast to the wind by a motorcyclist riding 100 mph on that route, from a spot overlooking the Great Salt Lake Desert in neighbouring Utah.  How ironic that I was pushing my limits on the one highway, of all the highways in the world, where I had talked of having my ashes spread.
Against The Clock  Ron Ayers p 161

[Biggles]

Despite my fears, I fell asleep immediately and was awakened 90 minutes later by the Screaming Meanie.  I felt very stiff as I attempted to rise from the bench, chalked it up to age, and limped toward my motorcycle.  As tired as I was, when I approached the motorcycle, I was struck by the sheer beauty of the vehicle.  It reminded me of the excitement I often feel when I walk into the garage after not having ridden for a while.  At such times I wonder how I can love the sight of a machine so much.  And then I remember that it's not just the machine, but the notion of adventure and excitement the vehicle invokes.
Against The Clock  Ron Ayers p 194-5

[Biggles]

When we were about 45 miles from Edmonton, a deer suddenly appeared directly in front of the motorcycle.  We didn't see it until it was directly in front of us, as it was running at full speed across the road from heavy brush.  There was no time to brake or to swerve to avoid hitting it.  We were travelling about 60 mph when the impact occurred. 
We expected the motorcycle to go down.  My first thought after the impact was, "Is Barbara still on the bike?"
As the bike wobbled and began to lose stability, a conversation that I had with Steve Losofsky a few months before flashed through my mind.
The original owner of Reno BMW, Steve was an experienced flat-track racer and an expert rider.  While on his way back to Nevada from a trip to Daytona Bike Week, Steve was our house guest.  He told us that while riding to Texas in a construction zone in heavy rain, his motorcycle slipped into a rut caused by two adjacent uneven lanes.  His motorcycle began to shimmy and he worried about losing control.  "Reverting to my old racing days, I gave the bike full throttle," Steve related.  "I remembered that in a lot of situations, blasting through with maximum acceleration is better than slowing down.
Against The Clock  Ron Ayers p 215-6

[Biggles]

When I hit the deer, the conversation flashed into my mind immediately.  I remembered Steve standing at our kitchen counter, laughing and motioning with an exaggerated twist of his wrist and upper torso to emphasize how he managed to regain control of his motorcycle.
I cranked the accelerator fully open.  After a moment, the bike stabilized and I slowed down and pulled to the side of the road.  "Thank you, Steve Losofsky," I thought.  "Thank you very much."
I brought the motorcycle to a stop about a tenth of a mile from the point of impact.  "Oh the poor deer," Barbara lamented.  "Do you think we killed it? What if it's just injured and suffering?” 
I couldn't help but ask, "Do you have any idea just how lucky we are?"
Against The Clock  Ron Ayers p 216

[Biggles]

I've never been convinced one way or the other about the effectiveness of deer whistles.  But the only time I've struck a deer is also the only time I've ridden without them.  I had intended to place a set of whistles of the type Jan Cutler at Reno BMW advocates, but hadn't gotten around to it before the ride. I don't intend to ride without them again.
Against The Clock  Ron Ayers p 217

[Biggles]

There was a shallow trench running parallel to each side of the highway.  Recalling that it's safer to be in a depression in the event of a tornado, I headed for the trench.  The wind at my back, I fought against it to resist being blown into the trench.
The storm raged as I sat in the gully in full riding gear.  I got down as low as I could without entering the rising water.  At least I knew I would be able to survive anything short of a tornado.  I jumped, startled once again at the sound of a close thunderclap and brightness all around.  I could smell ozone in the air.  A shudder of fear enveloped my body, from head to toe.
"What is there to be afraid of?" I thought.  "The chances of being struck by lightning are probably infinitesimal now that safely away from the motorcycle.  And I'm not going to get any wetter by sitting here."
I tried to find humour in the situation.  Sometimes I amaze myself when forced to acknowledge that in some bizarre way, I enjoy circumstances such as this.  I enjoy every phenomenon nature proffers, including the fury and severity of her storms.  They're an important part of a totality that I don't like to avoid. I'd have missed something important if I'd remained in Augusta while the storm passed.  I'd have missed the excitement. I'd have missed the purity and genuineness of this magnificent event.
Against The Clock  Ron Ayers p 221

[Sicman]

I have never heard a motorcycle make a quote now I come to think about it  let alone a quote of the day

[Biggles]

I hit the switch to insure that my heated handgrips were turned to the highest setting, then plugged in my electric vest.  I turned the bike around and continued south.  I've learned that electric heat can stave off discomfort when you're wet, provided you get settled into a position and don't shift around.  You're still wet, but at least you're being warmed by moisture that's been heated by the electrics.  But if you shift your body around at all and disturb the "cling" that's sticking your wet clothes to your body, you'll suffer an immediate chill until you've settled down again.
The same goes for gloves.  As long as you maintain a constant pressure and position on the handlebars, the heated grips will keep your hands warm and comfortable, even when you're wet.  But remove your hands from the grips to adjust something, and they'll be chilled for a while.
Against The Clock  Ron Ayers p 224

[Biggles]

After a few miles, the shoulder of the road turned white, where the hail hadn't yet melted.  A little further, the road, too, turned white and I concentrated on keeping my tires in the black section of the road where the tires of other vehicles had cleared the ice.  I had never before seen such vivid evidence of a hailstorm.  I was fortunate to have stopped when I did, rather than to have continued into what apparently was much more severe weather than I had experienced.  As I cautiously negotiated my way through the slick, hail-strewn highway, I thought about the incredible good fortune enjoyed in my ten-year riding career.  I wondered if God doesn't have a soft spot in his heart for motorcyclists.
Against The Clock  Ron Ayers p 224-5

[Biggles]

Entering a small valley west of Hwy 97,I recall that midday sun had changed the shadows of the trees lining the road.  A few minutes later I would be cresting the hill ahead.  I recall, too, there was a slight colour shift as if someone turned the intensity knob on the surrounding scenery.  Then it happened, an experience that would alter forever my perception the symbiosis of man, machine, and life in general.
As if in a dream, I hovered briefly high above the Beemer looking directly down on the rider- me! There was no feeling of fear or disorientation, in fact, the unusual part of the episode was that it felt calming and natural.  Ahead, over the rise, I could see from my vantage point above the bike that a logging truck had overturned, scattering its load along the road.  It hadn't come to a rest yet; the truck was on its right side, sliding, while disgorging logs in all directions.  Then I was back on the bike, ascending the grade and approaching the crest.
Immediately, I slowed and shifted down to 4th, 3rd 2nd in rapid succession.  I crested the hill and still had to brake to avoid a log that was crosswise in the middle of my lane.  There was no path around the obstacles, the shoulder was blocked, and both lanes were impassable.  The driver of the truck was pulling himself out of the cab- the accident had happened a moment before I arrived.  The driver had minor injuries and was concerned about getting flares out to warn approaching drivers, which we did immediately.  He marvelled that I avoided hitting the logs.  I was still sorting it out .
All manner of conjecture and explanations have been offered.  ESP, clairvoyance, good vibrations, a figment a fatigued mind- I reject none of these out of hand, they may all be part of it.  I only know what occurred and I can add that similar things have happened since, although not as dramatic.  And, they have occurred under similar circumstances.
The motorcycle is probably just another door amongst experience the other side.  Yet in this scenario it was experience the other side.  Yet in this scenario it was me, a beloved machine, and a blissful ride that opened my perception to wider possibilities and lead write these lines:
Questions, so many questions
And in their answering
The awesome suggestions
Of more and better questions.
Against The Clock  Ron Ayers p 225-6

[Biggles]

As I crossed the border, entered Wyoming, and began climb toward Teton Pass, I was overcome with an extraordinary I sense of happiness and serenity.  I welcomed the chilly mountain air and the solitude the ride provided.  I celebrated each twist and turn in the highway as I shifted my weight and altered pressure on the handlebars.  It was just after midnight and the PIAA driving lights had been blazing brightly for a half-hour, illuminating the mountain road and mitigating the dangers of riding such a road at high speed at night.  I increased my speed and leaned into the sharp curves, riding more aggressively than at any time since approaching Alaska three weeks earlier.
As my speed and altitude rose, so too, did my spirits. I opened the throttle even more, clearly challenged now by the twists and turns as I was propelled toward the top of the mountain.  I wanted to race to the summit as quickly as I could, then stop to smell the roses.  I had been rushing since leaving Edmonton.  I wanted to indulge in private, quiet thoughts, totally undisturbed high in these majestic mountains.  I wanted to reflect on how my abundant treasure of experiences had been multiplied by the events of the last several weeks.  As the motorcycle catapulted me toward the peak, there were signs warning that stopping is forbidden.  At the summit, there's an area for trucks to stop to test their brakes before descending the steep downgrade ahead.  I glanced up and was astounded at the brightness and clarity of the stars.  I pulled to the side of the road, into the brake test area.  I didn't, want this opportunity to look at the stars right then and there.
I removed my gloves and helmet and looked at the heavens.  The sky never looked brighter or more beautiful. The magnificent motionless Milky Way flowed silently toward the southern sky like a pearly, opalescent river.  Scorpio was in full view, with Antares, the "Fourth of July Star", twinkling red at the heart of the constellation, the most prominent star in the southern sky.
Against The Clock  Ron Ayers p 229-230

[ST2UP]

That was an inspiring account of a mountan ride......

[Biggles]

I'm very fortunate for Barbara's attitude.  I've asked her to summarize it.

I would be devastated if anything ever happened to Ron, but this doesn't preclude me from respecting his right to decide for himself what kind of risks he wants to take, or what level of adventure he wants in his life.  If it would make me happier if he gave up riding, but would diminish his happiness, on what basis could I decide that my happiness is more important than his?  Also, I want him to be the person he is.  My favourite quote sums this up: "Never destroy any aspect of personality, for what you think is the wild branch may the heart of the tree"
I worry a lot and I pray a lot when Ron is on a long ride, but I also believe in fate.  As human beings, we give ourselves too much credit for being able to control things.  Ron acknowledges that being on a motorcycle is more dangerous than being at home in an easy chair, but if something bad is going to happen, it can happen even if you are doing something completely routine and safe. What is meant to be, will be.
On the positive side, I've been a beneficiary of Ron's sport.  I've met some of the most interesting, original, and colourful characters of my life.  Ron has made some very good friends who have demonstrated they would do anything for him.  I wouldn’t trade this for anything.
Against The Clock  Ron Ayers p 243

[Biggles]

"Over the years we have slowed down because it's not just about the riding," Lisa says who, teamed with Simon, has ridden 460,000km on the trip so far, breaking the record which previously set at 162,000km.  It’s the stopping and meeting - we've had such wonderful experiences when we least expected them.  Like waking up in the morning on a Mongolian mountain and being distracted by a sound, only to realise it's some old Mongolian riding bare back on a pony.
"So you offer him some tea and he squats down, wearing the fur of the Mongol empire.  But it's black tea and he doesn't like it, and spits it out (laughs).
The nomadic lifestyle of the two may strike you as extreme and by all accounts it is.  They live off the smell of an oily rag, joining the dots financially while joining the dots on an atlas.  Over the years they have learned to benefit in various ways from what they are doing.
Free Wheeling Magazine #1. p34

[Biggles]

Simon and Lisa are a resourceful pair, but this story about finding tyres in the most unlikely of places is a ripper.

"We came through Mongolia, Kazakhstan, back into Central Russia, Kurdistan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Iran and by the time we got to Islamabad over the Silk Road we'd spent the last month wondering what we are going to do about tyres,

Simon says. "The white on each front and rear tyre was coming through, and there was nobody, anywhere, that could give us tyres.  We were screwed.
"We got on the internet forums, asking anyone out there for help, and amazingly we got a post saying, "this may be of no use to you, but we were in Islamabad and we changed our tyres.  We took the old ones off that were in a pretty bad way, and where we were camped there was a rubbish tip next door, so we threw them over the fence.  They should be there.
 
"So he gave us the GPS point from where he was camped, we found it, worked out where the tyres would have been thrown, and located them.  We had new tyres; they were the right size, a bit sun damaged, but better than what we had.  That got us all the way through Pakistan and India.  The tyres were covered in shit and slime, and the stench was just terrible, but you do what you have to do.  The first new set of tyres since was when we turned up in Australia." 
Free Wheeling Magazine #1. p36

[Biggles]

Simon and Lisa are more qualified than anyone to give you pointers on a successful distance adventure ride. Here are their top five essentials, some might surprise you.

Multi-fuel stove:  "It's basically a mountaineering stove," Lisa says.  "Our one is made by MSR, called a Dragon Fly.  It packs small, but most importantly can burn any fuel.  Unleaded, diesel, even vodka.  If you have a quick release connector on your petrol tank, you can cook.  If it's a constant heat, you can re-heat food.  But if you can adjust the flame, you can cook.  If you have crap water, you can boil it. If you have snow, you can melt it.  Having clean water is vital."

Flexibility:  "A degree of flexibility is essential, " Simon says.  "Your adventure really starts when all your plans have turned to shit.  It's often when you meet the best people.  Take your expectations,  put them one side, then the journey really begins.  Expectations are purely there to disappoint you."

Confidence:  "You must have a genuine and founded self belief, and ability to problem solve,"  Simon says.  "A lot of people are amazed at some of the problems we have been able to overcome, and presume we had these skills prior to departure - not so.  If you have that level of self belief and confidence, there's very little you cannot do.

Camera:  "Take the biggest and best camera you can find.  At the end of the trip you have memories and photographs," Simon says.  "Be enthusiastic and creative, and learn about your camera.  You want to share those images with clarity.  These days there are great cameras for very little.

A good riding partner:  "It sounds cliched, but a really good riding partner makes a trip," says Simon.  “An awesome experience shared is worth double than if you were on your own.”
Free Wheeling Magazine #1. p37

[Biggles]

It's late on a blazingly hot Sunday afternoon as I take shelter with Austin in the cool air-con of the local chicken shop.  It only takes a couple of sips of his Passiona to see Austin's intense belief in the everyman doing the extraordinary bubble to the surface.
"You have these people that put themselves on television, and in their minds they think they are doing something incredible; it's painful, and they get away with it!... Meanwhile the really cool people are being ignored," he says.
Maybe it's the heat, but at that moment a classic Hunter S. Thompson quote completely engulfs ini my thinking:  "The Edge, there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over."  Is this their intent, to try to explain that true adventure is possible for the everyman, to show us 'the edge' isn't as far away as we'd been led to believe?
Free Wheeling Magazine #1. p54

[Biggles]

When my mood gets too hot and I find myself wandering beyond control I pull out my motor-bike and hurl it top-speed through these unfit roads for hour after hour.  My nerves are jaded and gone near dead, so that nothing less than hours of voluntary danger will prick them into life.
T. E Lawrence in She's A Bad Motorcycle frontispiece

[Biggles]

Riding on the back of a friend's bike through southern Germany's excessive picturesqueness, I took in the passing sights secure in the knowledge that he was as able a rider as they make.  We took the turns at a good lean, overcoming an instinctual fear to emerge into the pleasure of having done so. Then a light drizzle started washing the streets to a gleam, and everything changed.  My seat noticed it first, a slight side-to- side motion that I almost thought was in my head.  When we stopped, I asked if I had in fact felt something, and my friend just looked pale in response.  So I mounted up behind another member of the party, whose experience was equal but whose rear tire was less bald. Confidence returned, even though the rain now fell in hard sheets.  The beer at lunch I allowed myself as consolation for being a mere passenger was having its effect under the canopy of trees. The next thing I knew my hands thrust themselves into the air.  Every sinew pulled itself tight.  In a flash the seat had gone out from under me, shimmied curtly side to side to side.  Then a second it was over, arid we were going on as before.  Who knows?  It could have been a bit of patched paving, slippery tar, some chameleon oil behind the sheen of wet.
Melissa Pierson in She's A Bad Motorcycle p3

[Biggles]

The small glow emanating from the lighted dials is a portable beacon that remains both ahead and calmly with you.  The sight of the instrument panel's little light in the greater dark puts me in mind of a tiny spaceship floating on its way through a benighted universe of unfathomed spread.  The headlight glances off the slick leaves at the edge of the road, and what is beyond that quick beam waits there for you to arrive upon it and briefly launch it into existence before consigning it back to what is behind in the black.
Melissa Pierson in She's A Bad Motorcycle p4

[Biggles]

But Hell's Angels started riding Harley-Davidsons mostly because, unlike today, they didn't have much choice.  In 1957, it was either ride a Harley or settle for a Triumph or BSA.  They'd already stopped building Indians.  It’s always been important for Hell's Angels to ride American-made machines.  In terms of pure workmanship, personally I don't like Harleys.  I ride them because I'm in the club, and that's the image, but if I could, I would seriously consider riding a Honda ST1100 or a BMW.  We really missed the boat not switching over to the Japanese models when they began building bigger bikes.  I'll usually say, "%^@# Harley-Davidson.  You can buy an ST1100 and it will do 110 miles per hour right from the factory all day long."  The newest "rice rockets" can carry 140 horsepower to the rear wheel, and easily do 180 miles per hour right out of the box.  While its probably too late to switch over now, it would have been a nice move, because Japanese bikes today are so much cheaper and better built.  However,  Japanese motorcycles don't have as much personality.
Sonny Barger in She's A Bad Motorcycle p35

[Neale]

Wise and logical words from a Harley pilot. Go figure.

[ST2UP]

Wise and logical words from a Harley pilot. Go figure.

I had to read it twice....thought i missed somthing 

 

[Biggles]

I had drifted into the Pagans earlier that Spring.  I had sold my car and bought a motorcycle.  A 650 cubic centimeter Triumph.  Harley- Davidson is forever associated with the outlaw image.  And for good reason.  When you saw a pack of outlaws most of them were riding Hogs.  But the truth is that if you rode a Harley you needed a car.  Hogs broke down a lot, and they were hell on wet ground or snow.
The Triumph and BSA (that's pronounced Beeser) started in all weather.  The front ends were the best ever made.  You could even ride them on snow and ice.  Just put your feet down and glide along slow.  If rear wheel went sideways, you could catch your balance with your feet and straighten the bike out.  Try this with a hog, and you broke your leg.  But best of all the Triumph and BSA were also designed for off-road use.  If a cop was chasing you down the back roads of Berks County, you could take off through a cornfield.  You could never get away with that on a hog.
I rode through the winter.  And I froze.  On weekends my Triumph was the only bike parked outside the Gaslight East on Hempstead Turnpike.  In the summer the place was a motorcycle hangout with fifty bikes lined up in the street.  But in the winter these guys travelled by car.  They weren't outlaws.
John Hall in She's A Bad Motorcycle p177