Not a routine Sunday

It was not a routine Sunday evening for the dozen or so  citizens who gathered at the funeral home.

While others were watching football, these patriots came together -- voluntarily -- to escort a fallen Marine to the San Diego Airport for his final airplane ride home to New York.  Shaking hands with the Staff Sergeant serving as Marine Corps Casualty Assistance Calls Officer (CACO), these patriots expressed their condolences at the death of her Marine.

For members of the Patriot Guard Riders (PGR), giving of their time, no matter when, no matter the day, is not at all uncommon.

As volunteers all, they proudly answer the call when missions are announced.  Most are veterans.  Most are bikers.  But not all.  But what each and every man and woman shares are patriotism, unbridled pride of country, and an abiding sense of duty.  Duty to the fallen, whether it is a soldier, sailor, airman, or Marine who died on active duty or a deceased veteran who has honorably served our country.

This evening, six proudly volunteered to serve as pall bearers at the small funeral home in a quiet area of a small town adjacent to San Diego, while the others raised American flags and saluted.  Once they loaded the hearse, they formed up, with many motorcycles flying large American flags.  At the signal, they began their procession down the streets and onto the freeways for the relatively short ride to the airport, where they once again formed up and presented honors as the casket was removed from the hearse.  The pall bearers executed a slow salute, touched the casket, then placed their hands over their hearts in a final gesture of respect.

Even after the air cargo personnel had moved the casket into the warehouse, preparatory to loading it on the aircraft, it seemed the PGR were reluctant to leave their brother-in-arms.  They stood, many still holding their flags, in silent tribute.  Eventually they walked to their motorcycles and departed, one by one.

Not a routine Sunday by any means.  

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.         

Contrasts

Dictionary.com defines contrast, in part, as "to compare in order to show unlikeness or differences; note the opposite natures, purposes, etc."

What took place a week ago in El Cajon and Del Mar, California displayed a strong contrast between what some people might believe or assume about those who ride motorcycles; bikers, if you will.   It is likely many average Americans think of bikers in the image of Marlon Brando in The Wild One,

   

or so called gangs of today.  Leather, chrome, Harleys, loud pipes, denim, patches, and on and on.  But that is where the contrast comes into play.

On November 19, bikers came together to give to the community.  Specifically, the San Diego community via the U. S. Marine Corps Reserves Toys for Tots Program.  

Beginning with registering and staging at El Cajon Harley-Davidson, they rode to the Del Mar Race Track, joining with track patrons to ultimately provide an estimated 2,300 toys and $8,600 in cash donations to the Marine Corps Reserves 4th Tank Battalion, so that some children in the San Diego region will have a piece of Christmas this year.

Hundreds turned out for this most worthy of causes.

If that isn't a contrast, I don't know what is.

Save the date

Mark your calendars now for the El Cajon Harley Owners Group 4th Annual Toys for Tots Ride.  It is open to all motorcycles and classic cars.

On 19 November, the ride begins at El Cajon Harley-Davidson and heads to the Del Mar Racetrack, where registered participants get parking, entry to the track, exclusive use of the Red Star Cafe and Patio, and grandstand access in order to enjoy the horse racing. 

Check out the website for more detailed information. 

There is also an opportunity drawing, with many terrific prizes, for example:

• Nuviz motorcycle Heads Up Display (HUD)
• Art from the Official Daytona Bike Week Artist, Mathew Hintz
• Gift certificate from 7Eye by Panoptx
• Gift Certificate from 94th Aero Squadron restaurant
• Legoland tickets from American Tire Depot
• T-shirts, patches, and decals from Bikers Against Drunk Drivers
• Gift certificate for buffet for two from Barona Resort
• Buffalo Wings gift car
• Gift basket from Cafe Moto
• Gift certificates from Cali Comfort BBQ
• GoPro camera
• Custom knife from Columbia River Knife and Tool
• Art from renowned artist David Uhl
• Teddy Bears in USMC Dress Blues from eMarine PX
• Tickets and t-shirts from Good Guys Rod and Custom
• Autographed book from Greg Gutfeld
• Helmets from HJC
• Autographed CD from Jason Aldean
• Four tickets to Boyd Gaming 300 NASCAR Race from Las Vegas Motor Speedway
• Hats and t-shirts from Martin Brothers Customs
• Art from renowned artist Rick TImmons
• Gift certificates from Road ID
• Gift packs from RoadRunner Motorcycle Touring and Travel
• Tickets to San Diego Automotive Museum
• Discount certificates from Rude Dog Leathers
• Motorcycle Bag from Saddleman Leather
• Tickets to San Diego State University home football game
• Shirts and special gifts from Sgt Grit
• Round of golf and lunch for two from Sycuan Golf Resort
• Tickets to USS Midway Museum
• Gift package from Wizard Products
• Gift certificates from Wrangler Family BBQ

American values on two wheels

OK, you might wonder about the lead, "American values on two wheels."  It isn't that mystical, however.

The MoCo, the Motor Company, aka Harley-Davidson, introduced its 2018 softail line of bikes.  Gone are the Dynas, sort of.  Actually, the Dynas have more or less been incorporated into the new softails.

As the MoCo seeks new generations of riders, while remaining loyal to the usual Harley touring bike riders, it made a bold statement with the Fat Bob 114.

And the Fat Boy 114.

Muscular.  Aggressive.  Powerful.  Unique.  Independent.

Those adjectives can also be used to describe traditional American values.  

With these two (and other) updated models, the MoCo stakes a claim in the biker market, dramatically declaring to the world that it represents American values.  And by representing American values, it speaks to the ultimate freedom offered by riding a motorcycle.

Not a 50cc little around-town-putter, but a pavement tearing ride appearing to be in motion even while resting on its kickstand.

Appealing to the X-Games crowd and, as one Harley-Davidson dealership co-owner described it, seeking out the younger dirt bike rider, older dirt bike rider who realizes he doesn't bounce as well as he once did, and BMX rider looking to hop on a motor, MoCo is laying a bold, indisputably American value based claim on the market.

The single word dominating their advertising -- freedom -- captures that statement of American value.  

At the invite of a local Harley-Davidson dealer, I will be taking the Fat Bob 114 for a test ride this week.  Can't wait to explore more freedom, American style.

On the open, road, drop into a corner, point my chin where I want to go, and grab some throttle.  That captures the American definition of the American value of freedom.   

  

   

California dreamin'

Spinning off from the 1960s song that spoke of dreaming of California weather when the "leaves are brown," this California dreamin' is about that next ride.  The next motorcycle.

Dreamin' about the next road trip, riding along with my buddy of more than 50 years, as we roll on to new adventures.  Riding Harley-Davidson soft tails for the past ten years, it is now time to move up to a touring bike.  The challenge is making it happen.

As another riding buddy said, buying the next ride can be afforded, but can it be justified?

But once justified and the new ride parked in the garage, then the fun really begins.  Planning for the next road trip.  There are so many options here on the west coast, event and non-event centered: Hollister Rally, Lighthouse Run, Why We Ride Quail Run, and Routes 1/101 up the California and Oregon coast lines.  Or maybe it's time to head back to Sturgis?

Dreamin' again.  Open roads.  The harmonic sounds coming from the exhausts of two bikes rolling along together.  Small towns.  Mom and Pop eateries.  Sights previously unseen.  New acquaintances we haven't yet met.  The ultimate expression of American freedom.  Encountering the unexpected, from the quaint to the sublime.  That first cold beer after a long day in the saddle.  Dreamin' again.

The Open Road

I've taken to avoiding the news, or what passes for it these days.  To be more accurate, after scanning headlines, I very rarely read full articles, unless they deal with military or veteran matters.  And I have ceased watching televised so-called news programs all together.  Why?  Fake is confused by some with truth.  Opinion masquerades as legitimate reporting.  Screamers and zealots dominate virtually every possible format.  Inflammatory rhetoric meant to incite, incivil commentary, and preposterous allegations and assertions abound.  So taking all into consideration, it's best just to essentially ignore it.    

Instead, I think of two main elements in my life.  Family first and then the open road.  Love and freedom respectively.  In this post, the open road is the topic.

In thinking of the open road, I envision some of the most beautiful parts of the country it has been my privilege and pleasure to see from the saddle of a motorcycle.  Back roads and highways have taken me over majestic mountains.  I have rolled along through narrow valleys and across rolling hills.  Through deserts and forests.  Under blue skies and in rain.  In triple digit heat and frigid temperatures.

I have traveled highways on the Oregon coast and the plains in the Dakotas.

Cruising along on a motorcycle in these open spaces, accompanied by the sounds of the bike and rush of the wind, is nirvana, defined as "a place or state characterized by freedom from or oblivion to pain, worry, and the external world." 

Should I encounter a fellow motorcyclist heading in the opposite direction, we acknowledge each other with a salute of sorts.

    
We are, at that moment, sharing this form of nirvana.  
In this "state characterized by freedom from or oblivion to pain, worry, and the external world," the fools who falsely present themselves as journalists and their opinions, incessant negativity, haranguing, misrepresentation, blatant lies, pandering, craven commentary, unreasonable dictums, and selfcenteredness do not exist.    

What does exist is the freedom for which this nation was created.  Freedom for which I served in the Marine Corps.  Freedom that we all seek.  Freedom, pure and simple.  Most importantly, freedom from the crud taking the place of journalism.  

What does exist is one big smile.

Avoiding what passes for news today and focusing on family first, then the open road, isn't such a bad approach. 

Care to join in?   

Rolling into summer

 

Summer is officially here, so every self-respecting biker is planning the annual road trip.  Solo.  With friends.  To a rally.  New roads.  Old destinations.  It really doesn't matter, as long as the biker rolls into summer.

Depending on the route and destination, weather will be a consideration.  For example, the current heat wave in the southwest or the rains near the Gulf.  But that is all part of the adventure.

After thousands and thousands of miles over the years, I have learned that less is more when it comes to packing.  Yes, take into account the weather (rain suit, leathers, cold weather fleece, etc.), but don't over pack.  For example, one pair of jeans to wear when riding and one pair for heading out to a meal after checking into the nightly accommodations.  (For those advocating camping, by all means, have at it.  For me, after 30 years in the Marine Corps, camping has lost its allure.)  Skivvies, socks, long sleeve Ts, and the like in small quantities.  If the road trip is going to be over an extended period, pack some laundry detergent packs and plan on washing clothes periodically.

Shave kit, charger(s) for the electronics, sun block, chapstick, meds, zip lock bags to keep the important stuff dry, extra boot laces, camera (unless the smartphone is all you need), spare pair of glasses, and ID tags or a RoadID wristband (just in case - also an emergency contact card in the wallet).  Of course, the biker necessities: tools, spare spark plugs, zip ties, spare fuses, maybe a quart of oil, and cleaning gear.  With proper planning, the load can be pretty small. 

Working from a check list developed in advance can prevent arriving at that first fuel stop and discovering you left the credit card on the dresser.  Use the checklist when packing the day prior to departing can make it a breeze.

With the route and destination planned, packing complete, bike clean and serviced, and proper hydration and eating, you're ready for the next adventure.

Keep rolling America. 

Mother nature is real

We stood in our kitchen, sipping coffee and looking west, enjoying the view out to the ocean.  Soon the view was obscured by an incoming band of weather.  Slowly and steadily the view was overtaken by the low hanging clouds.  Really low hanging.

The surface of the water, buildings, trees, streetlights, and landmarks were swallowed as the weather front crawled inexorably from east to west.  Obviously we were soon to be inundated.  Just as that thought crossed my mind, a flash with accompanying thunder emanated from the rolling mist, announcing the arrival.

The first light drops of rain hit the surface of the pool.  Slight, shallow dimples.  As the mist enveloped our home, with the rising wind, the drops became heavier and heavier, soon growing to torrential size.  Trees were swaying.  The drumming sound of heavy drops beating on the deck and patio.

Warm and dry, standing in our kitchen drinking our coffee, taking in the scene, I couldn't help but think of mother nature.  

Perhaps she knew of the thought, because another, brighter  flash and much louder thunder lit up and rocked the house, as the storm cell passed over, pushed by the strengthening wind.

From beginning to end, it was probably not more than 5-to-10 minutes.  Where streets, decks, and patios were dry, they now are soaked.  Flowing down the hill's streets, the sudden infusion of water is following nature's course to lower levels.

As across the nation men and women speak and write in hyperbole, with loose attention to facts, communicating emotion based opinion, complaining about this and that, firing accusations and unfounded assertions.  Politicians.  Elected officials.  Members of the media.  Spokespersons.  Pundits.  Athletes. 

Having the choice of listening and reading their tripe or watching mother nature, it's no contest.  

Another cup of coffee.  Another look west, in anticipation of the next band of weather gathering out there on the horizon.  Another flash, another roll of thunder.  

That is real.

(By the way, I also look forward to sunny skies and dry roads, so the motorcycle can come out of the garage.)