D Minus 388 Days: Long Rides

Other than coming within 19 hours of going to New Jersey to look at a Vulcan 900 before it was sold to someone else, my most interesting motorcycle development since my last post is that I've gone on my longest rides yet.

A less interesting development is that my cheap-o cover, which has been getting ripped here and there since I got it, is now officially "in tatters." The snowstorm the weekend after Mardi Gras finished it off, as the weight from the snow tore small holes into huge ones and pulled it right apart. I'll get a new one when I get a new bike. Until then, it doesn't look like anything a roll of duct tape won't fix:




Since my last post, I've had my first four days of riding more than 50 miles. I spent some time at my company's Long Island office a few weeks ago and rode to work from Brooklyn twice. The first morning that I did so, it was 28 degrees when I left the house and, I would estimate, about 40 below by the time I was halfway there. I don't live my life beholden to very many rules, but two of my policies are that:

1) I don't get cold; and
2) if I am cold, I do not admit it.

In betrayal of these policies, I will tell you that I was wickedly cold that morning, so much so that I don't even mind admitting it. It was uncomfortable enough to take some of the fun out of riding; I just wanted to get to work, and this is probably the last time that phrase will appear in this blog. The term "chilled to the bone" makes sense to me now: it took me multiple coffees and over an hour in a warm room before I stopped being cold completely.

The ride home that day and the round-trip the next day were great rides. It's as little as a 25-mile ride in each direction, but I took a couple different routes and extended the ride home on the second day to almost 40 miles. I came all the way around the southern tip of Brooklyn on the Belt Parkway and had a really nice moment when I rounded a slight bend and saw the Verrazzano Bridge come into view over the water and below the setting sun. The Verrazanno is my 2nd-favorite NYC bridge (trailing only the Brooklyn) and when it showed up, I smiled and felt like everything had just come together nicely and everything was about right. Exactly the kind of feeling I hope to get often on my trip.


A map of my route. (Click to enlarge)

Last weekend, I looked at a Google Map and thought that Peekskill looked to be a good distance and some interesting roads away, so I Sharpie'd some directions onto some paper and electrical-taped them to my tank and headed upstate. It was a sunny and cool day and my bike ran great and I was in Peekskill in not much more than an hour. I got off the highway and cruised into town and was greeted by some sweet scenery, mountain views, a park alongside the mighty Hudson, and a brewpub serving lunch and stout.

Fully aware of how poorly text-only posts are received by some readers, I took pictures.









As it turns out, Peekskill is extremely hilly (or at least, the village sits on top of one steep hill that rises up from the waterfront). I gunned my bike up the slope and, upon hitting a red light, was pretty excited to get to try my hand (and my foot) at a new skill. I applied my rear brake with my right foot as a car cozied up close behind me. The light turned green and I let out the clutch, twisted the throttle, let go of the brake, and accelerated through the intersection, my first hill-start a success. Another start from the same light a few minutes later proved that the first one was no fluke.

The ride home was uneventful and fun and I ended the day having covered about 125 miles.

This most recent Saturday, I swung by mechanic's garage in Greenpoint because one of my lights (known as an auxiliary, driving, fog, or off-road light, according to the real web site called The Motorcycle Headlight Blog) had gone out (the left signal still worked, but not the running light). I had hoped I just needed a new bulb, but it turns out that water had gotten into the light casing and ruined the socket. So the shop ordered me a new one that I have to go get installed, and which probably costs more than a bulb. Anyway...

I headed upstate and was heading up through Westchester County on I-95 when my bike started running like a dick and losing some power and making me think it was going to conk out on the side of the road again. I maneuvered into the right lane and onto the shoulder as my speed dropped and felt fortunate to see that an exit was only about half a mile away. I had to shift all the way down to second and then to first gear, the bike alternately surging and lagging, threatening to stall with the clutch out but revving up a bit if I pulled it in, and I was surprised to be able to keep it going all the way to the exit ramp. Around that time it actually started to run a little better and I got it back up to 2nd and then to 3rd gear and maybe 25 mph. I pulled into town (Port Chester, it was called) and found a spot on the street near a Buffalo Wild Wings that had caught my eye. I had a beer and watched a little basketball and tried to decide how well I liked my chances of making it home with low or no drama (ultimately settling on 50/50).

After a few minutes of rest, I started feeling antsy to hit the road and see what would happen and at least leave myself maximum daylight in which to deal with problems if I lost the coin flip. The bike mostly ran well on the way home, behaving well at cruising speeds and at times lagging and idling unevenly in the first two gears. It works out well that I need to see my mechanic about my light this week and can ask him if he has any ideas about the power issues while I'm there.

The end.