The first real ride of 2018

I don’t winterize my bike (that’ll be important later). I ride everywhere except first snow to last salt. In Wisconsin that means a lot of cold riding, but with chaps and heated gear I do all right. 2018 has been a shitty winter in Wisconsin. Maybe it’s a normal winter, but a normal winter here is not great. Still, I’ve been able to get out on the bike 3 times already this year, and started my bike several times besides.

Imagine my joy when my bike didn’t start this morning for the first time ever.

I was meeting people. High of 52 in Wisconsin in March. Sun is shining. 23,000 miles on a 2 year old bike. Are you fucking kidding me? The clock is ticking…

My battery was fine, it was turning the starter over. I had a nagging worry about gas. Ethanol draws water, and I had ridden enough that my tank was nearly empty. You really want a full tank to keep moisture out of your fuel. I fucked with this for a while, then ran out in my car to get some fresh gas. I siphoned the tank out (fuel injected Victory isn’t easy to just pull a line to drain the tank) and barely got anything so I put two gallons of clean 93 in. Roll the bike around, shake the tank up, try to start. Put the battery charger on. Pick up trash in the yard and sweep out my garage to pass the time.

Repeat.

Roll the bike forward, then roll it backward and jump on the front break to stop the bike. Shakes the tank up. Try to start her again. Two hours past when I was supposed to meet some folks, she starts up. A test ride, restart, and I’m in business. It’s already 54, hotter than it was supposed to be today. Two miles from the house I stop and top off the gas tank for more fresh gas and to make sure she still starts.

The rest of the day I’m on the back roads with a couple other guys. Listening to David Allen Coe and the Moonshine Bandits on roads that are not ready.

See, in WI it could have been 50 degrees for a while but there’s still snow under a shade tree and maybe some of the smaller lakes are still frozen over with people ice fishing on them. Even if the roads are clean, there’s excess salt and sand that makes the roads less sticky than you’d want. When you’re rolling with guys who insist on doing at least 60 in every 35mph curve, you have to ride careful.

I got a great tour of the kettle moraines in SE WI , I got a little sunburn, and I got a smile so wide it may last me until the next 50 degree day. We ended up at a bar near where a couple of us live, and a few folks from my riding group who’d been elsewhere today happened to land there as well. Good people, smiling from a great day out in the sun, clean beer and greasy bar food. Today was everything it needed to be. Today was a tiny taste of how great life can be: you fix a problem, you spend a day with your knees in the breeze, you shake hands with some great folks. You make plans for rides to come. You come home, make dinner for your family, and you get ready to pay the bills for the next 5 days.

Yea, I got out for a few miles when it was 30 and 40 degrees, but this was the first real ride of 2018.

Helmets don’t cause spine injuries in a crash

I support your right to ride free, and that includes your personal choice of whether or not to wear a helmet. Among our long history of legislative wins at ABATE of Wisconsin is defeating helmet laws. Whatever you decide, though, it should be based on facts. There’s some odd “tribal wisdom” in the biker community that wearing a helmet makes you actually more likely to get hurt in a crash. Some people quote anecdotes and some make some questionable claims about the laws of physics. Well the latest study says quite the opposite.:

“The results of this study demonstrate a statistically significant lower likelihood of suffering a CSI among helmeted motorcyclists. Unhelmeted riders sustained a statistically significant higher number of vertebral fractures and ligamentous injuries. The study findings reported here confirm the authors’ hypothesis that helmet use does not increase the risk of developing a cervical spine fracture and may provide some protective advantage.”

You can read the whole study here. Ride educated, ride free.

Mama Tried 2018

Merle Haggard said it right: Mama Tried to raise me better. She busted her ass, yet here I am drinking beer, getting tattoos, and working the ABATE booth at Mama Tried 2018.

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From the site:

“Mama Tried Motorcycle Show is an indoor invitational that connects motorcycles and builders to fans and riders alike. Keeping the fire stoked all winter long. The Show features over 100 motorcycles from builders of all calibers—flat-tracker, hill climber, chopper, and bar hopper.”

Last year’s show was the best kind of dumpster fire. It was in an old warehouse on the Milwaukee River and it was unseasonably warm: even fair-weather riders road in.

Rode in. February. Milwaukee.

I was sure this year would be calm and under attended by comparison. Not only was it actually cold, but the ancient and storied venue of the Eagles Ballroom is owned by an ancient and storied Milwaukee family that will never allow $2 cans of Pabst to be sold in their hallowed halls. No sir, beers were $7 and up. I was wrong about attendance: at times on Saturday the venue was at capacity: one person had to walk out before one person walks in.

The Spectacle

I try to walk into this show with my wannabe-journalist hat on. My first question is for all the vendors: Hey you in the Vance & Hines booth: do you get enough action here to make it worth it for you? No matter how I asked the question, every vendor said yes. Every “biker lifestyle” clothing seller, accessory maker, and crew there to promote their own future event was happy with the the turnout and fan feedback.

Yes, every moto brand that’s been creeping on your Facebook wall was here.

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The Bikes

I just want to ride my bike. I tweak it some, I pay for parts or paint, I adjust my highway pegs. That’s me, but I can really appreciate the labor of love that goes into the custom bikes on the floor. There’s a lot of history and craftsmanship to admire. Just seeing the bikes is worth the price of admission. This is not the place to come look at the new Milwaukee 8 engine or Indian Chieftain. These are show bikes and bikes kept alive with pure love and willpower.

 

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Extras

On top of the usual stuff, there’s some cool extras. The Build Moto guys have a great mission and they’re worth checking out. Milwaukee loves live music, we are home to one of the largest outdoor music festivals, so there’s always going to be a band at any event in Brew City.

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Maybe Harley has found the new market it’s been looking for?

Working the ABATE booth, trying to get people to care about motorcycle rights, drinking some microbrews. It’s not a bad night. Of course it kicked my “When will the roads be clean so I can ride?” vibe up to 11, and that’s a big part of events like this. It’s the same with any kind of conference or gathering: you may learn something, you may meet people, you may buy something useful. What you really leave with, though, is a reminder of how much you love this. And if you’re the RoadRunner, you also sew a new patch on your vest.

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What about us?

Note: this was shared on Facebook, but I’m re-posting here for those that don’t do social media.

WHAT ABOUT US?
Why the Bikers of America Cannot Continue to be Ignored or Forgotten

I’ve held the position of Vice-President of Government Affairs for the Motorcycle Riders Foundation for roughly 18 months. And during those months I’ve sat in countless meetings, congressional hearings, public information sessions, symposiums, conferences and breakout sessions which have covered a gamut of issues that affect riders. Anything and everything from ethanol to self-driving cars to road design and infrastructure, I’ve sat, listened and taken detailed notes. However, during the last couple of months I’ve started to uncover a deeper (and darker) underlying message in my meetings. I’m not one for conspiracy theories so I won’t suggest that my theory is the product of some sort of anti-motorcycle secret society, but what I am beginning to believe is that the future of riders – our future – is questionable.

I say this because as I’ve sat through these meetings and conference calls, my takeaway increasingly becomes that the U.S. population at large, just doesn’t give a shit about motorcycles. We’re ignored or perhaps forgotten. We’re relegated to the category of recreation. And dangerous recreation at that. We’re swept into the same column as shark cage diving, or bull running or cliff base jumping. And though I have no problem with any of those recreational activities, riding motorcycles is not the same. It’s not even CLOSE to the same! Though many of us ride for the fun and the thrill of it, our bikes also get us from place to place. Unlike swimming with the sharks or running with the bulls, riding a motorcycle is a form of transportation. Motorcycles get us to work, to the post office, to the dentist. So why, in America of all places, are we forced to say again and again and again, what about us?

There is surprisingly little research done about the benefits of riding motorcycles. And I am not talking about benefits to the rider. You ask any one of our MRF members and they’ll tell you that riding is cheaper than seeing a psychiatrist. So lets put that aside for a minute and talk about the benefits to society. In Europe several years ago, there was a study done to test mobility – that is moving from point A to point B. They looked at commuting routes from outside major cities and within major cities as well as rural areas over varying distances and compared the mobility of a motorcycle to that of a car. And out of the fourteen tests they conducted to measure mobility, the motorcycle won 85% of the time. So in other words, a motorcycle is more likely to get you to your destination faster (and not just because you’re speeding).

The impacts go on from there. Another study (also in Europe where motorcycles are better viewed and accepted as a legitimate form of transportation) showed the impact of what might happen if just 10% of cars were replaced by motorcycles. Time loss for all vehicles would decrease by 40%. That means a quicker commute for everyone whether they are on a motorcycle or not. And with less cars on the road and less sitting in traffic, that means an impact on emissions. Though I have not uncovered a comprehensive study on the specific issue of reduced emissions and motorcycle usage, a case study by Transport & Mobility Leuven (yep, Europe again) stated that, “New motorcycles emit fewer pollutants compared to average private cars (less NOX, NO2, PM2.5 and EC, but more VOC). They also emit less CO2. Total external emission costs of new motorcycles are more than 20% lower than average private cars. On the section of motorway between Leuven and Brussels, total emission costs can be reduced by 6% if 10% of private cars are replaced by motorcycles.”

There are other benefits too. Things like fuel efficiency; most bikes get as many miles per gallon as a car if not much more. What about infrastructure? Right now, the Trump Administration is currently figuring out how to raise $200 billion to upgrade our nation’s infrastructure which is in dire shape in some parts of the country. What may have helped our nations’ crumbling infrastructure? A motorcycle’s lighter touch could mean less wear and tear on a bridge or a road than a heavier, wider-set vehicle.

Given all the aforementioned benefits, you’d think I’d hear some praise from non-riders. Instead, I hear a lot about noise pollution. And that’s when they even talk about motorcycles. In many cases, they aren’t. Take the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA); when they put out their initial guidance on autonomous vehicles and potential policies and safety factors, motorcycles weren’t even mentioned. They revised the document a year later, and though they did mention motorcycles, it was in the context of what vehicles NHTSA has jurisdiction over. Where it was blindingly not was in the section that has to do with the ability of this technology to identify and respond to objects on the road. Interestingly, the guidance names cars, trucks, pedestrians, bicyclists and animals. But not motorcycles.

Another instance of riders being forgotten (or ignored)? The newly minted U.S. version of Vision Zero, called Road to Zero. It’s a program with an admirable goal – to completely eliminate deaths on our nation’s highways in 20 years. The program spends very little time or resources on motorcycle and related issues in every meeting I’ve attended. Even the logo can’t be bothered to contain a motorcycle rider.

It is estimated that there are more than 300 million powered two-wheelers in the world. These are substantial numbers, so when it comes being viewed as a legitimate form of transportation, why are riders having to fight for a seat at the table? And an even bigger question is how we can change this dynamic? I don’t have the answers, but I bet if enough of us put our heads together we can start to chip away at the problem targeting not just society as a whole, but the different segments that contribute to this pervasive problem. From policymakers to media to public interest groups and everyone in between, we need to make sure that riders everywhere, regardless of what patch you hold or bike you ride, deliver the message that motorcycles have a place in the future.

Megan Ekstrom
Vice-President of Government Affairs & Public Relations
The Motorcycle Riders Foundation

Waiting for Riding Season

Maybe someday I’ll live in a warm place, where there’s no “Riding Season” because it’s all year round. For now, though, in the frozen wastelands of the north we shovel snow and look lovingly at the motorcycle in the garage. I was actually able to get out recently, quite possibly my first ever January ride. Just a few miles to put a smile on my face and it never fails to work. I never “winterize” my bikes. I ride until the salt hits the roads and sometimes afterwards, giving her a good wash if it hasn’t rained enough. I don’t have a rule for a particular temperature. I’ve ridden as low as 32 degrees although I guess the leather and heated gear makes the cold feel like a non-issue as long as it’s at least 40 degrees. The first and last ride in the calendar year, though, I take a pic of an odometer.

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What are you doing for the good of motorcycling in 2018?

Inspired by this article in Revzilla, I started thinking about what I could do for the good of motorcycling in 2018.

First, keep writing articles here! By sharing rides, camping trips, and mindful experiences, maybe this year this site will be the conversation starter that gets someone new into motorcycling. I’ll be at the Brewtown Rumble and the Milwaukee Rally.

Secondly, continue my work with ABATE of Wisconsin. We are looking at rolling out a new website for ABATE and hopefully attract more people to the cause of motorcycle rights.

Of course, I’m going to have to get out there and ride. We’re already seeing signs that we might have some early warm days like we did last year. There’s risk of over-promising and under-delivering, but I’d like to personally get out for at least these trips in 2018:

(Don’t tell Mrs. Roadrunner, I like to spring things on her one at a time)

Dear Bart Part 0

Dear Bart,

I just got back from a motorcycle trip. I guess this is the trip that I took instead of going to Devil’s Tower with you and your son Adam. I had business in the Wisconsin Dells and so did Wingnut Dave, you remember Dave, we did the Bun Burner Gold 1500 not quite a year ago. Our intent was to ride hard for the Tail of the Dragon area, do the Moonshiner 28 and some roads that only SC and GA locals know about according to Wingnut Dave.

We stopped the first night in Normal, IL and had dinner at a place that doesn’t even server beer. What the fuck is up with that? I didn’t realize Wingnut Dave’s wife was riding with us, but whatever she’s cool. The next morning we got a very late start because she had food poisoning symptoms. Turns out, quite a few people who ate pizza at the Kalahari were sick that week.

Despite me not sleeping for shit, Thursday was going well. We hit Kentucky 64 East and passed the hotel in Shelbyville we’ve stayed at several times now. I gave a big salute as we road past, we had some really good times there with Dad two years ago and Harley Marc last year. Our plan was to stop in Knoxville that night. You know my requirements for a road stop: a roof and a place I can walk to get a drink and food. About an hour out of Knoxville, Dave’s wife had just had enough, they were going to go home to GA instead. I understood: when I planned this trip I had counted on zero company so 700 miles of riding buddies was just a bonus. Wingnut Dave travels with a GPS on his handlebars and peeled off long before he should have, and I soon saw why. The Weather Channel radar had fucked me and I was about to get super wet. After realizing I needed to prepare for a lot more rain I pulled off at a rest stop so I could put on rain gear and re-plan. It seemed like I could get through the storm quickly so I again headed south on 75. Weather Channel radar fucked me again, however, and the mountains were extremely dangerous.

Apparently no one in TN turns their lights on when it rains: it got to where I was riding with my 4-way flashers on, at 25 miles an hour on a 70mph highway, I couldn’t see the road, I couldn’t see the cars in front of me. I had to admit defeat and pull over. Jen and some friends asked me “what about getting under an overpass?” While Knoxville is only 886ft above sea level, the stretch of 75 north of there is as “up” as it gets: there’s no overpasses. I saw a line of cars and pulled off in front of them so a semi didn’t maul me. When I put the kickstand down and put my feet down I realized the water on the shoulder was flowing up to my calves. Yea, this is not safe.

I had my rain gear on and my helmet on. I stood in the rain for an hour until things chilled out.

I got to NW Knoxville safely after that. I found a shitty motel near some gas stations that sold beer and an Outback Steakhouse. I got dinner and across the street I bought some tall boys and headed back to my room. Now this had become the trip I planned: me alone with my thoughts and the struggle of how to deal with losing you, Bart.

I sat in my underwear on the balcony of my room, drinking Pabst tallboys, as the denizens of Knoxville went about their business, not quietly. It took a long time to figure it out, but hey, you have nothing but time when you’re traveling alone.

See, Bart, you and I are smart. Really smart. I won’t quote the IQ tests we’ve taken, but we’re the kind of smart that often makes it difficult to interact with other people. Sometimes this intelligence comes with an unhealthy amount of ego, and I plead guilty there. See, it’s the correct thing to do to talk to a shrink at this point, and I don’t deny that this might help. But, I’ve talked to shrinks before and I’ve never met one I could really level with because they weren’t as smart as I was. How shitty does that sound? I can treat an MD as a “body mechanic” without hesitation but I’m not going to let someone work on my mind. Nope, I was not going to talk to a shrink about this, but I also knew just riding a lot of miles and drinking a lot of bourbon wasn’t going to do it either. So like any asshole self-diagnosing arrogant piece of shit I realized I would take one of the shrink’s techniques and apply it myself: I needed to talk to you honestly to get things out of my head.

60 ounces of Pabst and some extremely bitter local IPA later, I felt like I’d made a breakthrough and went to bed.

The next morning it became clear that I was not going to make it through the tail of the dragon and the moonshiner 28: there were 6+ hours of storms moving from West to East that day. Memories of the unbelievable deluge and lack of safety north of Knoxville left me with uncomfortable fantasies of being stuck in the mountains on roads that are death traps in the best conditions with nowhere to sleep. So I sent some texts and sure enough my buddy Fawad was eager for a lunch date in Nashville.

Once again, the Weather Channel radar fucked me. Far east of Nashville I got into rain bad enough I absolutely had to pull over. I spent an hour and a half talking to the polite Indian woman in the gas station and texting with CarSpot Andy. There’s a lot of memories there as well: CarSpot may have been the last time we were both truly happy with our careers.

Once I finally got back on 40 West to Nashville, I was glad I’d stopped. Traffic through the mountains was stop and go, and I saw guardrails obliterated and pickups with UHauls attached being pulled up out of ravines by winches. I couldn’t help but think “turn on your lights idiots!” but of course I don’t know what happened. I made a 1:30pm lunch with Fawad in Germantown on the northeast side of Nashville.

Fawad is a dear friend. He rides a sport bike but schedules have so far not aligned for us to carve up the Dragon together. Honestly, when he asked me about you it dug a little bit deeper than most others. He really means it: he has brothers of his own and he can’t imagine what I’m going through. When he heard, he held off calling me for weeks because he didn’t know what to say. Whenever I think I’ve somehow failed to make connections with other humans, I think of Fawad, he’s genuine and proof I’m not a complete sociopath. We have a great lunch, and I leave thinking I hope I get to see him at least once in 2018.

I’ve decided to head to our favorite place in Shelbyville: A Ramada next to a fantastic liquor store with a ton of bourbon and a Cattlemans’ restaurant and a log cabin sales shop. There’s a lot to think about in that little parking lot off of 64. They’ve got a room, and they tell me I can park my bike under the pavilion. We never thought of that, did we Bart?

So I head to the liquor store and get some local micro brew to stash in the fridge in my hotel, and then I head to Cattleman’s. The same server who has taken care of us two summers in a row is there and she takes care of me. I can’t remember her name, but I’ll bet she’s there next summer.

I head back to the room and have a couple of beers, deep in thought. I decide to head down to check on my bike and there’s a smokers’ convention down there. I wind up talking to a guy who has family in Leavenworth, KS, close to where we used to live. He has a Sportster and he claims to understand why I do what I do. I’m skeptical, but simple conversation with salt of the earth folks is a part of spending time on the road.

The next morning, I decide to head down to the Four Roses Distillery. I don’t generally like whiskey but Four Roses is my favorite Bourbon and since I was robbed of some parts of my trip by storms, I figure why not. The distillery is great and I buy a 4 roses patch to add to my vest, and I ride home.

This was in August. I’m writing this in October now. I think I should have started writing this a lot earlier, Bart. You’ve left a pretty big hole in our lives. I think I understand why you did what you did, but I don’t think I can forgive you, for a lot of reasons. Firstly, I’m the one who found you. I have promised myself I won’t ever tell anyone what I saw, but it’s horrible man. You know. You’re the only one who knows what I wake up to some nights. I also have a theory as to why you gave up, and a part of me understands. I think it was money. But, Bart, if you only knew what we spent taking off work and cremating you and burying you, it would have been easier for us to just write some checks to get you through the hard times than to do what we wound up doing.

I think Adam is a bit less respectful than he was when you were around. Don’t worry, I’m spending a bunch of time with him, as much as I can. Amy is overwhelmed, being a single mom is hard. I am committed to making sure Amy is a part of our family forever.

There’s a lot of other things I need to tell you about. I’ve seen your best friend Marc a few times, cleaned out your house, tried to find other riding buddies, tried to keep mom from crying so often.

The last thing I’ll tell you: took me a while to find a place that made it easy, but as bikers do I had a patch made for you. I cried for a while after I ordered it. Still pissed at you brother.

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Losing Bart

I started this blog as “The adventures of RoadRunner and Bart”. Bart is gone.

http://www.pkfuneralhomes.com/obituary/Jason-A.-Payne/Menomonee-Falls-WI/1736684

Bart was my brother, but over the past several years had become my best friend too. I wrote and delivered his eulogy at his funeral; I won’t repeat it here. He was a true biker and a seeker of peace on the open road. Every time I think about a ride, or do a bike build on the Harley or Indian site, or see what my bike’s worth on NADAguides my first thought is “I have to show….”, but he’s gone.

I’m behind on writing this season. I have pictures from the Slimey Crud Run and the Brewtown Rumble. I have new patches on my vest and new ink on my skin. I didn’t know when I got them that they’d be memorializing not only those events, but my brother too.

I miss my brother.

Lessons of the Hermit

I often try to explain to my friends the benefits of a motorcycle trip, especially one that involves camping. What’s the appeal, what’s the benefit of downsizing life to fit into what you can carry on the back of a bike? What do you get in exchange for showers, ready meals, and all the magic electricity provides?

Turns out, quite a bit. I recently came across this article that discusses a famous hermit who lived alone in the woods for 27 years. One of my favorite quotes is this one:

Knight entered the forest because there was no place for him in modern society.

To be clear, I’m not describing myself that way. Not exactly. I definitely need a lot more solo-time than most people could understand, but I am still glad for human interaction when it comes. A lot of bikers might feel like no one gets them, they’re only understood by other bikers. At the same time, the fact that life on two wheels gets you outside may be a bigger part of the puzzle than we currently realize.

The Hermit’s is an interesting story, but the real paydirt are the books and studies referred to in the article. People are doing the science to prove what many of us already know: Being outside, seeing green and brown makes us happier and more creative. Being by large bodies of water makes us happy and content. Not only are they proving these things with stress physiology and chemical tests, but they are quantifying it: you need to look at a tree for at least one minute to feel more generous, 5 to 30 minutes in the park improves health measurably.

The science matters because it makes the positive effects of being outside a hard fact and not just hippy tree-hugger shit. That makes it easier to make the case for others to get outside, and harder for the government to do things that would put our national parks and the roads that get us to them in jeopardy.

Who knows, I’ll be there’s a study about the positive effects of wind in your face. Let me know if you need a test subject.

Riding to Mama Tried 2017

It’s the time of year where I am just dying to ride. My car feels like, well, a cage, and my body is screaming for sunshine. Due to some unseasonably warm weather the ice melted and on Saturday, February 18th I started the riding season.

2017 Start

This was my first time at Mama Tried, and due to the unusually warm weather it was a shitshow getting inside, even with my ABATE vendor badge.  For a while they weren’t even letting vendors inside, and kept only letting people in as others left late into Saturday. Me and Bart got to skip most of the line, but here’s a panorama where you can see it wrapping around the block.

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This is an important event for Abate of Wisconsin, since this year we’re all about connecting with the next generation of riders. Mama Tried has a very grass-roots custom builder feel to it. Choppers, cafe racers, flat track racing, and usually ice racing. The ice racing had to be cancelled this year because it was too warm! People building and racing their own bikes is a part of the past, present, and hopefully future of motorcycle riding in the USA; some notable people seem to agree with me.

I’m not much of a salesman, but I did get a couple of people to join Abate of Wis, and got to see a lot of interesting bikes, bikers, and gear. My only regret is not getting there in time to get a Mama Tried patch for my vest. I’ll definitely attend next year. I should have taken some pics of bikes, but I’m a moron and I had to work the booth besides.

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