Man... I haven't blogged in almost a week! Well...It's time for a good story.
Some of you probably don't know yet, but I finally got rid of the old Geo Metro. I wanted to replace it with something a little sportier, more reliable, and well, I really didn't have a lot to spend. So, somehow I convinced myself (and the wife) to let me buy a motorcycle. Cheap, reliable, good on gas, and able to do the quarter mile faster than a Corvette. Not that I really needed to do the quarter mile that fast, or I ever would, but hey, it sounds nice when you write about it in your blog. OK... So, here it is, my liquid cooled, shaft driven, fuel injected 2006 Suzuki Boulevard C50. It even has this thing on the gas tank that tells time.
Naturally, making such a purchase requires a lot of research. I spent countless hours (just ask Anna and watch her roll her eyes) reading up on what I should buy, going to showrooms, etc. Usually Hope came along with me and would always sit on each bike and tell me if she liked it or not. As it were, Yamaha makes a little 50cc dirt bike for little kids. She thought it was really cool to sit on it, but her legs couldn't reach the controls because she's still too short. In response to her fairly repetitive requests to buy one for her, I ingeniously replied, "Honey, look, your legs are just too short for this motorcycle. See... You can't reach the controls." This seemed to suffice just fine and she left me alone about it.
There's nothing quite like pulling up to a stop light in a Geo Metro and realizing you're in the wrong lane. Nervously, you glance into the other lane, trying to calculate which cars will take off faster than others. Where will my coveted space be? Who will allow me to slide over? Will I miss my turn/exit/whatever? Careful planning and execution are the key with a small clunker with only 2 good cylinders. But now, oh glorious!, I have a motorcycle. It's really fun to ride. Every morning I don my jacket, pull down my helmet, and let the crisp autumn air rush briskly past my face as I ride to work. When I pull up to a stoplight in the wrong lane, I still look in the other lane just to make sure no one has pulled up with a Diablo, or a Boxster, or a Z3. With these few notable exceptions, I know that I can beat just about anything off the line if I need to. Oh! The thrill of the ride! The freedom!
And then it got cold.
Hey, I'm a big tough guy (well OK, a little tough guy) from Minnesota. I can handle mother nature's fury just fine. No little whamsy, pansy 20 degree weather is going to keep me off my ride, right? I think the Lord has his ways of humbling people. The brisk autumn air has started to get a little too brisk. 20 to 30 degrees isn't too bad when you're standing still. Try adding a 70 MPH windchill factor. I added liners to my gloves and went on. One thing kept bothering me though... My chin would get mighty cold. That air rushed across the bottom of my helmet and swept right across my chin and neck. It was time for a solution.
So, one day, Hope and I headed down to the local motorcycle dealer in search of something to cover my chin and neck. I settled on an insulated baclava. It was thin over the head, but there was windproof fabric and insulation over the neck and chin. Perfect! Problem solved. I paid for my purchase and turned around. There sat Hope on a 50cc Yamaha dirt bike. I was taken aback at how much she had grown in the last three months. Both feet were firmly planted on the controls. She looked up at me with anticipation written all across her face.
"Look Dad, I can reach both feet things, right?".
"That's right honey, you're really getting to be a big girl, aren't you?"
Hope turned sideways on the motorcycle, glanced at me, and then turned to the sales woman. "We'll take it!" she shouted.
Well, then we had to have the discussion about just because she could fit on the motorcycle didn't necessarily mean that we would get one, etc. It was rather amusing...Ok, back to the story.
As the temperature has continued to drop, I've sort of developed a reputation at work. People see me ride up and say, "Wow, you rode today? You're more of a man than I am." I'm getting to know more and more people down here and they all think I'm either half crazy or way tougher than themselves. It's really worked out to my advantage. In a strange sort of way, I'm earning their respect. It sounds funny, I know, but it's the truth.
So, this week, it got really cold, at least by Texas standards. It was 11 degrees one morning as I prepared for work. I was determined to ride to work. It's a guy thing. So, I thought for a few minutes, donned by Patagonia long underwear, a heavy sweater, Patagonia R4 insulated jacket, my baclava, glove liners, Outdoor Research SlipStream windproof gloves, put on my Mountain Hardwear backcountry jacket, pulled on my helmet and started the bike. I was all bundled up and warm as all get out. Cruising through the neighborhood I was pretty toasty. I hopped on the highway. My fingers were a little chiller than normal, but not bad.
Well... 4 miles into my 6 mile commute I thought I was going to suffer from hypothermia. My fingers ached terribly, my jeans felt like fishnet stockings (not that I really know what fishnet stockings feel like. It's a literary analogy. I learned about this sort of thing in college.), my legs were numb from the knee down, and I pretty much felt like an idiot. When I arrived at work, I was the only motorcycle in the lot. You should have seen the look on the security guard's face as I came through the door.
"Cold enough for you?"
"Nah," I replied, "not too bad." I was at work for a good twenty minutes before my fingers felt normal.
I've since learned that they make electric gloves for motorcyclists. They plug into your bike and keep your fingers warm. Who knew? I'm also on the lookout for a good pair of riding pants that aren't quite as thin and drafty as denim.
Do I regret buying my motorcycle? Well, at times it's incredibly inconvenient (and chilly!), but it could be worse. I could be that other guy at the stoplight sitting in the minivan.
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