Practice, Practice, Practice!

It was warm out but I was already determined to hit the road. After a weeklong engagement with triple digit temperatures, and no place to go, I was itching to get out for a ride. The only problem I was facing was deciding which direction to point myself in. After a five second pause, that problem was resolved. I am fortunate enough to live only a few short miles from some of the best roads on the planet with which to test ones riding mettle. Highway 190 in particular, is one of the toughest and most rewarding stretches of pavement I’ve ever been on. With what seems to be hundreds of linked turns of varying degrees (several exhibiting enough negative camber to send you right outside your line), the forty-five mile stretch of roadway I selected, can be a daunting challenge even for the most experienced rider.

With my jacket, gloves, and helmet on (pants too of course), the duke and I made a break for it. The first fifteen miles or so were really nothing to get overly excited about as I was just making my way toward the base of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice trek sans the twisties and it passes the local lake bearing an ill-conceived name given to it by someone that had either been wearing rose colored glasses or had never visited the area. Albeit somewhat entertaining, it isn’t until exiting the small town of Springville that things quickly get twisted. The highway tracks the Tule river for many miles upstream and you shoot up from 457 feet above sea level to just over 7000 feet in little more than 20 miles. The scenery is really breath taking; not that you’re paying much attention to it due to the spanking the road is giving you, but there are several vista points cut out along the way should you choose to stop and take it all in.

One of the things I most love about riding is the sound of the machine beneath me. Many of my friends ride with ear plugs or ear buds listening to their favorite music but I’m just content to hear the thrum of the engine and smell the fragrance of the earth as I ride through it. For me, riding is often about being in my own space with no one else there to bother me. There is a certain Zen-like feeling of complete peace and solitude when I’m riding and all too often in today’s fast paced world, transporting oneself to that place of solitude is a must in order to remain relatively sane. The best part of Highway 190 (aside from the turns) is the varying elevation. You start in the valley floor where you find yourself surrounded by citrus farms and the sweet smell of orange blossoms. Mind you, this is only a month or two out of the year but it’s fantastic. Rising up as you make your way toward Springville, you can smell all manner of wild flowers in the spring. Riding farther yet, you begin to make out hints of rushing water until you quickly find yourself face to face with the Tule River as it carves its way down through the mountain gorges alongside the highway. The rest of the journey is filled with aromas of sage and pine and air so crisp it seems foreign.

But enough about the scenery. I had recently done a search for articles on cornering technique and came across a really good find where the writer described things in such a way that I could literally envision myself applying the principles in my head a few days prior to this ride. The article found at http://www.lazymotorbike.eu/tips/corners/ is a read I’d recommend to any rider if for no other reason than a brush up. As I set out on my journey I was going over all of the ideas presented to me and testing the ones I could prior to reaching the challenging section of the roadway. Things came easy to me and I immediately began to feel more confident. Something I should mention is that the week prior to this ride, I made nearly the same trip with far less desirable results. In fact I was doing so poorly that I cut my ride short in frustration over how rusty I’d allowed myself to get. Fast forward back to the present and I was quickly making my way toward the base of the mighty Sierra Nevada range. One of the things I’ve mentioned in previous posts is that it has taken me awhile to get reacquainted with chain slack especially when coupled with the on/off action of the Superduke’s throttle response. It can be quite scary coming out of a corner and has really thrown me off balance on more than a few occasions. It’s especially bad when I haven’t chosen the correct entry speed when going into a corner. Bearing this in mind, two things I found extraordinarily helpful were the ideas of using your left thigh to press in on the tank to help tip the bike to the right (visa-versa for left turns), and using the rear brake (very lightly mind you) to assist with turns where one’s entry speed was too high. The other piece of information no one had ever explained to me in all my years of riding were the effects of positive and negative camber in cornering. Most turns have what is known as positive camber. In other words, the turn banks to the inside. For example, if you are making a right turn, a positive camber corner will slope with the high side of the road being on your left. In contrast, a negative camber corner will slope from the right meaning you are turning into the high side of the road. No problem right? Sure, if you know what the effects are and are prepared for them in advance. In a corner that has negative camber, one has to lean much farther in order to make the turn and if you don’t know this ahead of time, you’re going to swing wide which as you can imagine, on a blind corner, can be a very bad thing.

The ride up the hill was going very smoothly. I had not encountered any corner I couldn’t handle and was making great time which is something I was not able to do during my previous ride. It was a lot more work scanning the corners ahead and making the right adjustments but I knew this was all going to become second nature in the months ahead so I didn’t let that get me down. Just before I reached Camp Nelson, I decided to stop at the Pierpoint Springs Café and grab a bite to eat. The place was nearly empty when I arrived save for a couple and their newborn, and the waitress and cook. Walking in, I was greeted by the smell of eggs, bacon, and fresh coffee. Instantly my stomach woke up and demanded it’s customary morning intake. I sat in a booth closest to the door and took in the local flavor. While waiting to have my order taken, I snapped a few pictures through the windows and caught a Doe walking down the hillside across the street from where I sat. The area holds quite a lot of fond memories for me from my early teens and I was temporarily transported back to that time and was enjoying the memories as my waitress arrived. I ordered a bowl of oatmeal, wheat toast, and coffee. While waiting for my food, I attempted to connect to the local wireless hotspot but was informed the service was down. Looking at my phone, I also noticed I had no cell service and resigned myself to utilizing what now seems to be a prehistoric form of communication; chatting up the locals.

Striking up a conversation with the young couple, I was informed their newborn was barely a month old and had been delivered two weeks early. Being a new father myself, we found some common ground rather quickly and began discussing the more mysterious points of being a new parent. Having gotten off to a rather late start in the parenting game, I wondered what they might be thinking about while talking to this relatively old guy but the conversation went well and it was clear they were every bit as enamored with their little one as I am with mine. Shortly after downing my last bit of strawberry jellied toast, I walked up the register, paid for my meal and bid my new friends farewell.

Back on the bike, I rode with renewed confidence and was putting my new skill set to good use. I was really amazed at how well the rear brake can assist on a tight turn but was sure to use it judiciously as the last thing I wanted to do was lock up the rear wheel on a corner which is something the aforementioned article warns of. Things were going far better than expected until I was about halfway down the mountain. There is one turn in particular that I had trouble on the previous week but I couldn’t quite remember which one it was. It didn’t take much longer to find it. Once again, I was surprised by it and entered at too high a velocity. Prior to entering, I noticed something that I hadn’t previously. It was very clear now that this turn exhibited a lot of negative camber and sloped hard from the inside out. I made a critical mistake here and I write about this with blatant honesty in hopes that it might help others avoid what became a stupid mistake. As I hit the corner knowing what I had just figured out, my body tensed as I went to lean to the right. Just at that moment, a car became visible coming toward me around the corner. I felt myself tense up even further as I witnessed the look on the drivers face. There was shock and fear in his eyes and I became instantly aware I was not going to make this turn the way I should. Probably the only thing I did right was to avoid locking up my brakes in a futile attempt at missing the car. Instead, I lightly applied pressure to the rear brake which kept me from crossing the double yellow line until after the car was safely past me.

Thereafter began a flurry of four letter expletives I’ll save you from having to read. I was livid! How could I have allowed that to happen for the second week in a row? It was a complete rookie mistake and I clearly knew better. What I realize now that I didn’t then is that these skills don’t just magically develop as a result of reading about them. Knowing something and applying it are two vastly different things which bring me to my point. Practice, practice, practice! If you want to get better at doing anything in life, you’ve got to practice and that ladies and gentlemen is exactly what I was doing. I feel great knowing I am honing my skills as a rider but will never take for granted the fact that there is always more to learn and apply. Being an avid firearms enthusiast, there is something I’ve learned over the years, when all hell breaks loose, you always revert to what you know best; that my friends, is what you practice day in and day out. You have to be able to do something practically in your sleep to know you’ll do it well under pressure. Riding is one of the most rewarding things I do, but it will be even more so once I get to the place where my skills are such that my subconscious mind can pilot me through a dangerous situation while my conscious mind is busy screaming “Oh CRAP!”

Ride safe.

Two Up And Away

Last Saturday I decided to get out for a much needed ride after a particularly disastrous week at work. The weather was right and I had finally talked my wife into joining me on this trek. We had arranged to meet up with a few friends that morning and follow them up to a quaint little place called the Mountain House Cafe in the middle of nowhere. We left around 9:30am and headed north to our rendevoux point (a fill up station) where we could top off the fuel tank before really setting out.

It was a beautiful day out and I quickly found my cares of the previous week melting away. The KTM Superduke is normally such a nimble bike but riding two up proved to be a real chore. My wife is an experienced passenger but even so, I felt like I was riding with an elephant on my back. I was fascinated by how much the characteristics of a motorcycle change as the weight on the frame increases. Everything becomes very diliberate and planned; not at all like usual where a turn feels like it just almost happens on it's own. Now then, my wife is a light weight and I've ridden two up before (many times in fact) and always noticed the difference but never quite so much as on the Superduke; it's really in your face. The day ahead proved to be more challenging than I had planned or even imagined.

After fueling up, we headed north up Highway 245 into and out of the town of Woodlake. It's a small farming community (as are most of the towns around here) and is probably most famous for it's annual rodeo. Highway 245 is one mile after another with very few if any straight lines and is locally known as one of the best roads to ride if you're looking for a challenge that'll drop you into some of the most beautiful scenery that can be found in central California. Heading into my first tight turn I soon realized I hadn't fully adjusted for the extra weight and ended up just outside my lane and was instantly angry with myself for having done so. A total rookie mistake and no amount of additional lean was going to correct it. That was a harsh reminder of how prepared a rider always needs to be. I wasn't planning, I was sight seeing which can be ok if you're taking a leisurely jaunt but that day was more about exercising my demons from the previous week. I was reminded of how my mother used to tell me to put my thinking cap on and coming out of that turn, I did just that.

We rode for about 30 miles or so before arriving at destination número UNO: the Mountain House Cafe. There were about ten other bikes (no cars) already parked outside. Walking in through the door, I was greeted by a long narrow dining room with a bar on the left and tall tables on the right. A very nostalgic place indeed and almost certainly designed with it's biker clientele in mind. Walking through to the rear we passed through a room with pool tables on our way out to the patio area. Good music was playing and the smell of bacon and sizzling beef was in the air. Service seemed unusually slow and the iced tea was about seven days past it's due date but they quickly rectified that and served up one of the best bacon cheeseburgers I'd had in a long time. The four of us sat, talked, and enjoyed the weather, food, and a really cool dog named Harold that stopped by to say hi.

Some ninety minutes later, we were back at it and heading still farther north to Highway 180 where we would turn east in search of Kings Canyon national park. It wasn't long before we were winding our way through the park; our excitement and momentum occasionally spoiled by the random looky-loo out sight seeing for the day. We in fact could have been accused of such at one point when off to the right of us in a meadow, we caught a glimpse of a black bear rooting around in a hollowed out tree trunk. We stopped near the crest of the canyon to grab some hot chocolate and a long sleeved shirt. There was still a fair amount of snow on the ground and seeing as how I had zipped my jacket liner out that morning, I was getting a little chilly from the 40 degree air slicing through my mesh riding jacket. Another sixty minutes spent jawing on about this and that and we were back at it.

Taking the turn off to Highway 198, we were soon greeted by a long wait at a light. Apparently, the majority of the highway was under construction and was down to one lane. Not only that, once traffic actually did start moving, it was near torture trying to negotiate through sand, gravel, potholes, and frequent ruts while keeping it to barely over five miles per hour. Quite literally the longest ten miles of my life. It was no fun at all with the bike flexing and sputtering, engine getting hot, and the additional weight, it all had me working much harder than I would have liked but I learned a great deal through it all. It tested skills I hadn't used in a while and forced me out of my comfort zone several times. I wrapped up that journey with a renewed commitment to practice the hard stuff more often.

Finally down the southeast side of the canyon, the weather had turned warm. We stopped for a quick breather before heading down into the little town of Three Rivers. A great little place on Highway 198 that offers some flavor as well as a great candy and ice cream shop. We stopped and talked to a few gents out for a ride on a quest for ice cream. They hailed from farther west than us but it didn't matter. That day we were friends with motorcycles in common. The day was coming to a close as the sun was now setting ahead of us. We decided to part company and go our respective ways but not before carving up the last of the twisties highway 198 had to offer. It was a fantastic day with good friends new and old and a lot a interesting characters along the way and I was a better rider for having done it.

The Duc or The Duke

When I decided after five years of being motorcycle-less to seriously start looking at bikes again, I found three that more or less stood out to me as, well...standouts. Amidst a sea of plastic clad machines, I began to notice that I was being drawn in a new direction. Being a previous owner of a V-twin cruiser and having ridden several 600cc and liter bikes, I started early on with a pretty clear idea of what I was going to want out of a motorcycle.

For me, the thing I always hated about the cruiser is that it's just no fun if you like to be aggressive. On the flip side of things, a 1000cc sport bike will have you grinning from ear to ear as it's inline four cyclinder engine slingshots it's way through it's torque curve gladly assisting you past speeds that would have an average citizen checking their pants for dampness. However, if you've ever ridden a sport bike for several hundred miles, you quickly lose interest in riding the speed limit and just want to get off the damn thing once your wrists and arms start to feel like their going to snap off. Imagine holding your upper body up as you would when doing a pushup. Now imagine doing that for three hours and you'll soon realize why I chose a different path.

After doing my research, the bike at the top of my list was the Buell Lightning Ss. It seemed like a good fit. I liked Eric Buell's design ideas and the tech innovations. Plus it had the added benefit of needing no valve adjustments. Ya, I know, it had a Harley engine and everybody says that's crap but I was really drawn to a V-twin setup because of the low end power. Besides, I already knew I wasn't going to be racing the thing. However, Harley-Davidson crushed my dreams when they chose to shutter production on all Buell motorcycles thus ending my quest to obtain one.

Next up were the only two left on the short-er list. The Ducati Monster 1100s and the KTM Superduke 990. Both are beautiful motorcycles in their own way with the Monster actually being quite a classic beauty while the KTM looks like it eats children's dreams for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. After reading what seemed to be thousands of reviews, I still could not make up my mind and knew it was going to come down to a test ride. Now I have to say, the whole time I was looking and trying to decide what I wanted, a friend of mine was trying really hard to convince me to get a sport touring bike. I just wasn't sold on the idea but took his Yamaha FJR out for a leisurely jaunt anyway. Before I knew it, I was happily cruising down the road at 85mph. It really is a nice bike but, when I'm riding 85mph, I really want to feel like it and all the plastic this and that on that type of bike really makes highway speed feel more like grandpa's walker on a nice sunny day with a mild breeze. Needless to say, I was not convinced.

As fate would have it, I found a used Superduke and a Monster 1100s at the same shop about 70 miles from home and drug the wife unit along for some unknown reason to watch me twiddle my fingers and pace around while the shop got both bikes fueled and ready for business. The moment was upon me and I was anxious beyond all reason as I waited...and waited for what seemed like an eternity.

Finally they wheeled out the Superduke. I have to give my wife props here because she saw a Superduke in person only a year earlier and really liked it a lot which is what led me to test ride it first. You know, grease the wheels a little, so to speak. Throwing my leg over the really tall seat was a good feeling for a guy my height. At just about 6'2", a lot of bikes tend to feel cramped to me but the Superduke didn't feel that way at all. In fact it was downright comfortable. Turning the key and hitting the starter brought the beast to life and the roar of it's twin cylinders through the Akrapovic exhaust system was like music to my ears. I'm not a huge death metal fan but that was immediately what came to mind as I twisted the throttle. Where's that little old lady I was going to run down earlier? Okay, that's a bit much but that's a little how you feel on this bike. You're a warrior, ready to kick some serious donkey (kid friendly version).

Heading out, I was instantly in love, that is until the first turn. Throttling out of it was a bit awkward. I soon realized the throttle has a bit of an on or off approach to things. Not something I was used to for sure. However, by the time we were headed back (they had a sales guy follow me), I had more or less become accustomed to it's twitchy behavior. The power was instantaneous and brutally awesome in every gear and at nearly every speed. Fantastic I thought to myself. This is exactly what I was looking for. I had a huge grin on my face as we returned to the shop. I also had a lot more time to wait before they had the Monster ready.

After many more miles of pacing, they wheeled out the Monster. What a stunningly beautiful motorcycle. It's graceful, it's red, and it's Italian. What more could you ask for right? I'll tell you. Actually, how about some mirrors that anyone other than a midget (little person?) could use. I mean these things are seriously useless as anything other than bug smashers. I will say this, even though it generates several ponies less than the Superduke, you'd never know it while riding. It was splendid in every way. Very civilized and the fueling was spot on. There was no throttle twitch that I could detect and the whole ride was very smooth. But finding my way back to the shop I began to notice two things about the Ducati that I knew I wasn't going to like long term. It was a somewhat cloudy day hovering near 68 degrees farenheit and yet I was feeling a lot of heat crawling up my inner thighs from that rear cylinder. Knowing I would be fighting triple digit summer temperatures, that was not very inspiring to say the least. The other thing was the riding position. The Monster is physically a smaller bike. It is quite noticeable up next to the Superduke. So not only were my legs a bit more cramped, my torso was canted forward just a bit more than I liked and could already feel the pressure on my wrists. The Superduke's riding position was so much better that even while riding the super smooth Monster, I found myself thinking back to how much better the KTM felt. By the time I pulled up in the shop's parking lot, my mind was made up.

I walked back in, filled out my paperwork and rode home that evening on the Superduke. It has it's quirks but for me, that's what makes it a bit more fun. In the long run, isn't that why most people ride anyway? When you ride, it's not just about the journey, it's also about what got you through it. For me...right now, that's going to be a KTM Superduke. It's a beast of a machine and a real head turner. And even if you don't like it, everyone agrees, it's pretty unique.

Ride safe.