Gray Beard Monday

Alas, Sturgis 2018 is now history.  Speaking of the annual biker migration with a fellow rider earlier today (neither of us joined the festivities this year), the shortest route from San Diego to the Black Hills is riding up I-15 through the desert.

It might look picturesque to some, but it definitely isn't when the triple digit temperatures make it feel like riding through a blast furnace.  Mile after mile in the heat isn't ideal by any circumstances.  It actually sucks big time.  And riding at night is risky, due to the critters out on the pavement.  But I drift off topic.  Sturgis has passed and the annual summer road trip has yet to be accomplished, so some serious planning is in order.

Maybe up one of the perennial favorites, the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) into Oregon?

Now that's more like it!  A truly marvelous ride, heading north or south, particularly with a buddy.

Maybe with a stop for a bite at the Whale Watcher Inn.

Wait a minute, though.  I haven't checked, but the wildfires might exclude large sections of this near perfect route.

Keerapp!  Guess I shouldn't plan on riding the PCH this year.

Back to the map to plan something adventurous for this year's ride.  Stay tuned for updates.

Before finishing this post, it's only appropriate to offer a bit of humor to fellow bikers, with a big shout out to the V-twin crowd.  Check out this link, turn up the speakers, and prepare to chuckle.

Far from ordinary

For the vast majority of our fellow citizens in La Mesa, California, it was most probably an ordinary, average Thursday.  Nothing memorable.  Simply routine.  However, for one family, the day was traumatic, as they laid to rest their husband, father, grandfather.

At the funeral home, the family was joined by volunteers from the Patriot Guard Riders (PGR), who came to honor and pay their respects to a veteran, "standing for those who stood for us."

Some of the PGR went ahead to the Miramar National Cemetery, preparing to honor the arrival of their fellow veteran by standing a flag line.  Others escorted the procession as it made its way to the cemetery, American flag flying from some of the motorcycles.

At the committal shelter the volunteers, mostly veterans, formed another flag line to honor their brother.

  
This they did in supporting the family and (in this case) the Navy Honor Guard.

Not one of the PGR volunteers was acquainted with the veteran they were honoring this day.  There were no connections; no links to serving on the same ship at the same time.  The only shared experience was having served our great nation.

Indeed, it was not a ordinary, routine, or average day for the family.  Nor was it an ordinary, routine, or average day for the PGR members.  In fact, for this Patriot Guard Rider it was far from it.  How can one not be touched by the raw, gut wrenching emotion displayed by a grandson?  Hearing his anguished sobs and seeing the obvious pain.  The tears of the family members, with their voices catching during comments about their loved one touched us all.

No, it was not an ordinary, average, or routine day.

It was an important day, as strangers voluntarily came together to honor a fellow veteran.  As they do countless times during the year.  The race, ethnicity, gender, age, cultural, and other socially prominent identifiers used by all too many to separate us matter not to the PGR.  The only identifier that matters is that one who is or has served honorably was being laid to rest.

Tomorrow there will be another mission, with another following on Tuesday.  And another, then another, and another.

No routine, average, or ordinary days.   

Summer road trip

Wahoo, we received rain overnight and it has been cold by San Diego standards.  Heck, around here, if it is in the 40s and 50s, people break out the parkas, gloves, and watch caps.  Might be wearing long johns too.  Having lived around the world, including areas suffering from snow and frigid temps, as well as cold rain, this really ain't that bad.  But as an old and wise biker, riding in the rain is something to be avoided.

Consequently, the Harley remained in the garage today.  Not a wasted day, because it was time to tackle the taxes.

But, all day, in the back of my mind were thoughts of the summer road trip.




My buddy and I have been talking about the options for this summer for the past several months.  

Due to a variety of factors, we weren't able to hit the road for anything by short day rides over the past year, when he and his bride were in the area.  So the need for a new adventure has been uppermost in our minds.

We've done Sturgis.

We've done Hollister.

We've done back roads in Oregon.

And we've done the PCH, including stopping at the ubiquitous Whale Watcher Inn.

At the dinner table, over a beer, with our brides listening, we last discussed doing some of the less traveled roads in Oregon.  That's a good destination for a variety of reasons, not the least of which being it is the state between the two of us.  I'm in the San Diego region and he is on the Washington coast.  Furthermore, we grew up together in Oregon and are partial to the terrain and natural beauty.

In years past, we have met in northern California to begin an adventure.  Doing the same this year, we could head up the PCH from Eureka to Newport and then head east on Route 20, maybe as far as Ontario.  Maybe hooking south at Bend on Route 97 to Klamath Falls, with a side trip to Crater Lake.  Unparalleled beauty.

 

Sitting here at the computer, it is very easy to envision rolling along those roads, side-by-side with my buddy of 60 years.  Two grey beards in the prime of their lives, enjoying the freedom and independence of the open road.

Ah, yes, the summer road trip.
 

It is liberating

The phrase "it is liberating" most certainly captures the unique freedom experienced on the open road while piloting a motorcycle.  This experience is heightened when the open road is far from crowded urban areas.  

Rolling along, astride the motorcycle, through magnificent scenery liberates the soul.  The rushing air and sound of the rumbling motor peel off the concerns of daily life.  At one with machine and the environment.  It is liberating, but this not about which I write today.

Even more liberating, and not requiring a bike, is a self-imposed news blackout.

It came to be that reading and watching so-called news were simply sources of aggravation.  Journalism has been overcome by thinly -- if ever -- disguised opinion drivel.  Conservative or liberal, it does not matter.  News has been replaced by largely unfounded expressions of personal views.  And, much like elected officials seeking fame and fortune, the purveyors of these opinions seek not to enlighten, but to receive clicks, calls, tweets, posts, and the other currency of an opinion crazy, narcissistic social media driven society.

The more inflammatory, the better.  The more rabid and outrageous, the better.  That this phenomenon occurs without integrity or principal matters not.

It finally dawned that by reading and watching these opinion hucksters, I was giving credence to their offerings.  I was part of the problem, and in the process I was allowing myself to get riled up, day after day.  Enough!  Why go thorough the day  upset by some opinion piece masquerading as journalism?  The solution is the self-imposed "news" blackout.

Now several weeks into this approach, I am much happier.  So not to mislead, let me explain.  I scan on-line headlines from conservative and liberal sources, gaining an appreciation for the stories of the day.  But I do not read them.  There are some topics motivating further examination, such as military and veteran stories.  Sadly, however, I am finding all too many of these infected with the opinion bug, leading to reducing the number of pieces I read on these topics.  I also read pieces about sports events, primarily to learn the results, not the off field goings on by the over paid professional athletes.  And lots of motorcycle pieces.  Finally, I watch NO televised news.  ZERO.  NONE.  

It is truly liberating.

Apart from saving lots of time, I avoid the aggravating, ignorance-based, opinion driven drivel passing for journalism.  The day starts and ends on a much more positive note.  

Caring not a whit about the goings on by self-appointed celebrities, with ego maniacal internal views, why provide them entry into my life?  Out, out damn fools I say.

Now I can spend time planning the next family gathering or next motorcycle outing, playing tennis with my bride, cycling, and riding the Harley.  I rest more comfortably and enjoy time with friends without discussing the latest "crisis" some idiot had proclaimed.

It is so liberating.         

Riding year 'round

For much of the country, the riding season is coming to an end, much as the sun starts setting at the end of a day of riding.

But for those of us in SoCal, riding is year 'round.

Yeah, we have the lousy traffic in large mega-urban areas with which to contend.  And we definitely have a higher price for gasoline, poised to become even more expensive by a rushed-through-the-legislature new tax in this land of endless taxation.  But there relatively few days when I can't crank up the Harley and hit the roads.

So, brother riders in less hospitable areas, prep your bikes well for the winter storage.  Wash and wax, polish, protect the rubber and leather.  Consider a gas stabilizer.  Make sure the battery tender is plugged in.  And maybe cover the bike to keep the dirt off.

Out here we will be washing, waxing, polishing, shining, and riding!