Rock Inn Hummingbirds

I’ve said it before and I’ll repeat it here, you can learn something new every time you throw a leg over a bike and take off. The ride to The Rock Inn located in Lake Hughes (CA) was sure to be full of opportunities if I kept my senses alert for them; eyes open, ears tuned, mind alert to aromas, tastes, and the feel of the wind and sun. Writing has helped hone my senses to unique experiences of various encounters while on the road. This day’s ride was no different but required patience and an open heart.

David Hintz opened up the opportunity to ride with the Indian Motorcycle Riders Group (IMRG) of OC (Orange County). David and I have ridden together one other time (MAMBA Encounter, 8/28/15 post) and hung out with on one other occasion when we met up at The Ride to the Flags, posted 9/15/15. I’m just getting familiar with David and haven’t ridden or met any of the other 13 riders. Plenty to learn there but that requires me to stretch beyond my basic instinct to fade into the backdrop when with people I don’t know. I road back in the pack from David on this ride and had the opportunity to see how well he fit in and relaxed his riding style is, two important things when riding in tight formations.

The meet point for our 12 bikes and 15 riders was just down Foothill Boulevard from me at the Shell Station on Angeles Crest Highway (2). On any given weekend or holiday off work this service station is the meet point for hundreds of bikes, pushing the estimate to a thousand and on these days is no stretch and you can almost count on and should plan for someone being carted out of the forest in an ambulance or flown out by helicopter. Sport bikes rule the rode by a large margin with riders testing their abilities and bikes and pushing the limits of physics. With the Angeles National Forest nearby I tend to avoid weekends and ride it evenings or weekdays if the opportunity presents itself.

Ride Leader Kerry along with Ride Managers Denis and Jeff took us up the Crest Highway and then across the Angeles Forest Highway which gave me a nice view of the backside of the mountain I live on; the Mount Lukens communications towers are fully visible from both my home and the highway. It was an excellent day for riding, about 70 degrees at KSU and down into the mid-sixties as our elevation increased and we got more into the back country. I love riding this stretch with my visor up and the cool fresh air splashing my face. It takes the lethargy right out of me. Our group was blessed with a traffic bubble and we were able to take the ride at our own pace only accommodating four sport bikers who turned off the highway with a few hundred yards of passing us. No helicopters and no ambulances, just good riders on great bikes that made it for an exceptional day on the road.

Photo by ride leasder Kerry of the
group in front of The Rock Inn

Arriving at our destination we found ample confirmation that The Rock Inn is a bike-friendly establishment with parking at a premium. We had a long table waiting for us and the attentive staff and management was excellent as was the food. All at the table got what they ordered and liked it. Live entertainment was provided by guitarist/singer Natalie Walter (my search for her online came up empty so I’m not confident that I have her name right). The place was built in 1929, first as a wood structure then of steel, concrete, and stone following a destructive fire. The old Gulf gas pumps are still on the property, rooms are still available at $80/night. This place gets an Iron Side Up thumbs up – a great place to get together for good food, atmosphere, and hanging out. See below for links to The Rock Inn.

Throughout the ride I’d been admiring the various Indian Motorcycles especially the black on black Roadmaster with the signature brown leather seats. There were other Roadmasters along with several Vintage Classics including nearly twin Willow Green on Ivory Cream models. Three Victory XCs and a Harley rounded out the ride group. What tied it all together is a passion for good riding and looking out for each other.

The black Roadmaster stood out and held what turned out to be the signature moment for me. I’d briefly met Angelina prior to rolling out of the Shell station and had the pleasure of sitting near her and husband Sidney “Rev” Long. The two other couples on the ride with us sat nearby. I enjoyed the easy way the group had with each other, the couples included. I sampled the ongoing conversations along the table in the way a hummingbird samples flowers. It’s a simile that I use from time to time and the way I like to conduct myself when in groups like this. I overrode my reticence and approached Angelina and Sidney to introduce myself and to complement them on the bike.

Angelina, Sidney,
and their Roadmaster

As it turns out, Angelina has a beautiful hummingbird patch sewn on her mesh riding jacket. Hummingbirds have been a favorite of mine for as long as I can remember dating back to visits to my grandparents who had feeders around their house at Bass Lake. The feeders hung from the eaves and dozens of them whirled around all day long. After my compliments on their bike were received along with a gleam in Sidney’s eyes about upcoming customizing I commented on Angelina’s patch and it was then that I was treated to the day’s golden nugget. She and Sidney shared the special meaning that is attached to the hummingbird. After the tragic loss of their 15-year old daughter Mindy hummingbirds began making appearances, whereas in the past the tiny birds had remained in the background, scarcely noticed by the aggrieved pair. Now one roosts on their porch and others whir around Angelina’s Zumba classes in the park where she teaches. The hummers have become reminders to the couple that Mindy is always close by and they are a comfort to the two of them.

I then related my own story of how as my Grandpa Matt lay dying in the hospital a hummingbird appeared at the high window in his hospital room. The little bird hovered there and turned to look at each of us before zipping up and away. It was only moments later that my grandfather passed away and hummingbirds have come to serve as a reminder to me of my grandpa and the special bond that we share. In searching my Christian beliefs I have concluded that God uses various emissaries to remind us of those we’ve lost and still hold dear and with those ambassadors provides the promise of uniting with them again as His Kingdom is fully established. He uses even the smallest of birds for the biggest of tasks.

Ride with heart, keep the iron side up, and keep an eye out the emissary and the special moment of every day.

jerry

The Rock Inn links:

http://www.historicrockinn.com/

https://www.facebook.com/The-Rock-Inn-117318435942/?fref=ts

PS: Sidney is the President of the LA Chapter (CA XXV) of the Blue Knights, the Law Enforcement Motorcycle Club. For more on this honorable club check out their site at: http://blueknights.org/ . Very impressive organization. Huge.

Two raw footage helmet cam videos:

Pan shot of the group in final prep to head out for the ride:

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4QltuYM_2l8

Ready to roll out from The Rock Inn: https://youtu.be/u1nd95SCZN0 

Singed and Uke It or Not

‘Singed’

My thoughts on the evening of our second day (October 27, 2015), an expanded version of a notion that I’d posted on Facebook:

“Thus hath the candle singed the moth”, Portia reflects in Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice

The moth had no original intention to visit the flame, it saw the flickering brilliance within range and was inexorably drawn the source of the light via a tropism (an innate tendency) that requires its wings to beat faster to an external stimulus such as light. Since the candlelight falls more directly into one eye over the other the one wing beats faster than the other drawing it in shrinking concentric circles until it reaches the source of light, in this case the candle.

Our view from stage side seats,
just past stage right

I made the comment that Cindy and I are drawn to live music as the moth is to the flame and for three nights running we found that to be true. Our fourth night we simply surrendered and planned for the poolside music. It was not our intention to sit stage side and listen to the guitarist sing (mele) melodies which brought out the lithesome dancer to render music into motion with the hula interpretation of his singing. But our nearer ears heard the sounds and we could not fail to divert our dinner plans in lieu of taking in the music and dance, it is an imperative of our souls, our own personal tropism. We could no more walk away from the music (Pila ho’okani) than the moth from the flame.

With the trade winds blowing and whispering to our souls ('uhane) and the sky deepening to starlight, we could have spent the night in complete contentment if the pair could have drawn out the art for that long. In reword for our modest tip were given a lei, made by the dancer as we listened to the player. The flower necklace was a surprise and became an expression of our 'uhane.

While Cindy can approach the flames of music without being singed because of the music in her blood and tunes in her genes, I am not so fortunate and have found myself scorched for dabbling to near the source of music’s light. Others in my family have the gift but I am not so favored with the talent. I’ve come to grips with it and know in my heart that the closer to the truth in worship (adore = Ho’onani) I draw, the sweater is its aroma to the Lord. And that’s all I have to say about that.

'Uke It or Not...' - Homeward bound thoughts [October 29, 2015] –

Our morning swim puckered my fingertips we had dallied so long in the ocean. We didn’t want to leave the warm embrace of the Tropical Pacific (Pakipaki). Moana, the Hawaiian word for ocean, sounds motherly and the Pakipaki’s matronly care for us as we floated and propelled ourselves here and there with languid strokes was so inviting to us we could not abandon her.

There would be no rainbow on this morning as it was the first cloudless day that allowed us to see the tops of all three islands, Maui, Molokaʻi, and Lānaʻi. There were only a few clouds far to the northern reaches resting on the other side of our horizon.

Checkout time and a rigid schedule to make our flight home was all that compelled us to go ashore. There is no Hawaiian word for rigid that I could find, therefore we eased up enough to take in a few more sights and spend a few more precious minutes in Lāhainā. We had a good local lunch and followed it up with a musical (Ka hui maika'iana o na leo mele or harmony) acquisition to be enjoyed while eating Lappert’s Shave Ice under the great banyan tree. As Cindy posed under the Banyan with her new Ukulele in position and her case open for donations, she made a buck without strumming a cord. Okay, so I’m her biggest fan and slipped the dollar bill in after taking the shot. 

I find it emblematic of our time on the nani mokupuni that our personal souvenir is a musical instrument sure to bring pleasure with each strum.

Ride with heart and keep the iron side up.

jerry

Maui '15 - Double or Nothing

Third day highlight (only one of many) [October 28, 2015], “Double or Nothing”

We were tentative at first since only hours earlier at high tide the surf had been angry and aggressive, the sea roiling and restless. Nevertheless, we put aside the vestiges of caution and waded into the ocean that stretched out in front of us to the other islands as a color chart for the color blue.  We floated, we swam, and and with the calming sea enveloping us, we marveled at how wonderful it would be to eschew a pool membership in lieu of padding down to the ocean in the morning for a swim, a mile up and back in crystal clear water with coral formations supporting aquatic life in staggering hues, shapes and sizes. That would be a way to wake up in the morning. On our first swim a small sea turtle (honu) had swam by close enough for either of us to reach out and pat her on the shell. We kept an eye out for her or friends of hers but didn’t see another for the rest of the trip.

Up to this point, our third and final full day, we’d missed something, a favorite island scene had yet to unfold for us. It began soon enough though during our swim and so faintly at first as to make us wonder if the bow was of an imagination born of our desire to see one. The colors arose from the waters at the west end of Molokaʻi. The rainbow (anuenue), God’s promise to us, formed a short but intensifying arc up to the cloud base crowning the island. Floating on our backs, buoyant in the saltwater, we watched in wonder and glee as the bow of colors arched its way to faintly touch down at the northern end of Lānaʻi, brightening right to left to a fully formed and spectacular anuenue.

Elation caught up to us as a gentle rain fell on us from the clouds behind that caressed the hilltops of Maui. A faint but unmistakable second rainbow appeared above the first. With the cobalt ocean holding two catamarans at anchor the dual arches of glorious color provided a heavenly frame. The lower and brighter anuenue ranged from purple to yellow, the upper and fainter of the two from blue to yellow/green and back to blue again.

In lieu of a rainbow - love

The two islands, Molokaʻi to our right and north, Lānaʻi to our left and south, were connected in mystical communion that has played out over the millennia. It was ours to share and wonder about, to revel in and marvel (kupianaha) at God’s great mercies. Swimming, we had no camera and so have no photo, only the memory to fill in around an ideal day.

Keep the iron side up friends, when a rainbow is needed it will appear. 

Maui '15 - Ideally Speaking

My thoughts on our first full day on Maui (October 26, 2015), a riff off of Cindy’s declaration that it had been an ideal day:

Ideally Speaking – An attempt at capturing the ideal day can be wrong from the outset for they exist in many forms and concoctions, not to mention that one person’s ideal day is another’s drudgery. It is, though, admirable to attempt to capture an ideal day in thought and word as fleeting as the experience can be. However, the attempt often times leads to exasperation as ideal days exist in a multidimensional universe and only the best of writer’s achieve excellence in putting together an ideal sentence let alone a paragraph, chapter, or the ideal complete story.

Ideals exist as archetypal ideas as an image of the mind, ephemeral and perhaps imagined or as a piece of our flight of fancy. Some would even say ideals lack practicality since the fallibility of man leads to falling short of the ideal. I think that the pursuit of the ideal is courageous and lends to the nobility of the pursuer.

Just a part of an ideal day
on the beautiful island

That being said, you know when you’ve spent an ideal day. You feel it in your bones, the depth of contentment slows time down and it’s easy to imagine yourself as a Manta Ray (Hāhālua) gliding through an alternate universe. The difficulty comes in the telling of it, they are hard to explain being furtive and passing in nature. They happen on levels that defy script or type, oration most often falls short. And yet when we falter in our retelling of the ideal day to a friend it only highlights the genuineness of the experience to the listener, should they be so fortunate as to have experienced their own beautiful day the story connects the teller and hearer at a depth beyond the words stumbling to build the tale.

There is no recipe for ideal days to follow, God makes them just as my Grandma Matt baked pies; just a pinch of this, a dab of that, the crust rolled out just so. Every pie was excellent, no two exactly alike, just as God’s handcrafted days are rolled out to us.

Ideal days have aromas, textures, varied hues from an infinite pallet, light and dark expressed in shades of gray, sounds woven together more intricate than any symphony, brushes of wind and water against the skin that excite and calm at the same moment. Their combinations are infinite and yet we experience them on a limited basis, merely on loan from the Creator himself. We borrow them and hold them fleetingly in our minds allowing our memories the opportunity to recognize the next one that comes our way.

We had such a day today. If I tell you that I heard her laugh and exclaim in wonder more today than at any other time in the last couple of years (with the possible exceptions of our 4 family weddings) you would be glad for our day and then let your mind conjure forth memories of a special day of your own. And since it was such a day for us, enjoy a cherished memory and raise a prayer of thanksgiving. And that’s all I have to say about that.

Keep the iron side up for no ideal ride can be had without doing that. Treasure the day.

Maui and Back Again - 2015

This is my first plane ride post as Cindy and I have made it over to Maui and back again for a four night, five day trip to one of our favorite places. We’ve been five times beginning 30 years ago with our first trip away from our two kids (Lauren came along after our 10^th anniversary). Three ‘Mauied with kids’ trips were sandwiched between that first trip and this latest one. If asked about which of our trips is my favorite, I will recline to answer.

First I’ll get us there and talk about our transportation in keeping with the Iron Side Up theme and then over the next couple of days I’ll offer a few thoughts from my notes about our time on the beautiful island (nani mokupuni) with a few Hawaiian words thrown in for fun.

Our flights were timed well to help maximize our time in paradise (Palekaiko), a morning flight over to give us the afternoon to get checked in to the Royal Lāhainā Resort on the Kāʻanapali coast and jump into the Pacific Ocean (moana) to immerse ourselves in the tropics. That preceded our run down to Lāhainā for dinner. As would be the case throughout our evenings, we found time to be distracted by live music by the pool prior to dinner on Front Street with the waves gently slapping the beach across the road from us. The flight home was late afternoon giving us enough time for a morning swim, a leisurely checkout, a final stroll around Lāhainā for lunch and a shave ice under the great banyan tree.

The flight over was filled with anticipation of our time in palekaiko and was pleasant, fun really as we talked over things we wanted to do, what we were looking forward to. I felt like we were on a date that would allow us to get to know each other better and it turned out to be a fine thing as part of our island experience. I had plenty of room in the standard seat with a person in front who didn’t recline leaving me plenty of room to read, write, and work a crossword. We’d managed to do the trip as a carryon-only venture, something we’d worked on for our trip back east last year to good success. Simplifying the flight reduced the stress and we were easy going as we waited for the rental car shuttle, something a few others waiting hadn’t managed as well.

Just up from Ho'okipa Beach
and some big surf

Our rental car was part of the package that we had put together from Pleasant Holidays, a convertible that turned out to be a Camaro, bright red and in a perfect shade as to conjure thoughts of Tom Selleck as Thomas Magnum. We made good use of the convertible top on a few of our drives even though we had to keep a weather eye out for rain, gentle as the showers were (Akahai Ua – gentle rain). While the low roofline made it a little tough for me to fold into the car, the seating was comfortable and amenities ample. It was an ideal car for our short stay.

The flight back was the polar opposite inbound flight for me; my butt hurt from the outset and the guy in front put his head in my lap and writing was out of the question. I contemplated the value of groom as a social activity but passed as there was no midpoint for this plane to land to kick me off and I hadn’t seen any parachutes. His wife thrashed around while seated trying to pound the seat into submission and she used the same method to exit their row jamming the seatback into my knees. They couldn’t quite grasp the considerate traveler mode. I suppose it was mostly my angst at leaving the nani mokupuni that really made the trip home that unbearable.

I was able to read What the Robin Knows and thus salvaged some of the time which allowed me to figure out that I need a portable ‘sit spot’, a place to be quiet and consider ones surroundings and our place within them. For the purpose of the book it is for observing bird behavior, for the purpose of life it is for acclimating oneself to current circumstances and maintaining your identity and integrity. Had I done that the behavior of other passengers would not have had a real impact on me and I’d have assimilated the great benefits from our trip. My loss, my problem, but a win in that I’ve seen it for what it is.

Alhoha, keep the iron side up, even our rides can be sit spots.

Ride to the Flags - 2015

September 13, 2015 – Ride to the Flags; it was more than a charity ride for me, it was a moving and honorable experience. I have done a few charity rides over the last few years, some loosely organized, well organized, and now, supremely organized. I was only lightly educated on the White Heart Foundation and their Ride to the Flags prior to registration but going through the process I learned about U.S. Marine Cpl. Kyle Moser, this year’s ride beneficiary and I learned enough to be moved to make a second donation. The short version is that over and above the sacrifice of having what I think of as a ‘normal’ life and serving the country as a Marine, the corporal lost both his legs to an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) in Afghanistan as well as part of a finger and a boat-load of other injuries.

For more information on Cpl. Moser use this link to the Ride to the Flags website, I suggest viewing the video about him: 

http://www.ridetotheflags.com/

It was a cloudless day as the Southern California Victory Riders group met in Newberry Park which consisted of Greg Brown, Tim Robertson, Bev Hope, and myself. We were one down as we left the gas station as another of our group was unable to make the day. However, after the ride was complete we ran into David Hintz who’d first joined us for the Mamba Experience. He joined us for food, music, the inevitable people watching at a big event, and some debriefing on the day’s experience.

As we entered check-in:

Pre check-in queue:

The impact of the day grew the closer we got to the Naval Base Ventura County (NBVC) Point Mugu. With each mile more riders appeared; at first one or two ahead of us, one behind until we pulled out of the canyon on onto the streets leading to the base where riding groups funneled in to the check-in station before entering the base. It wasn’t long before riders overloaded the check-in and a line of bikes four and five across ran back to the main roads. Once we were herded in, very much better behaved than a herd of cats, we filled the non-critical roads of the camp and lined others with bikes. The organization and staging was well done and received compliments throughout the day.

The riders congregated and milled about keeping mostly to the shade as more riders arrived. It was a parade of every type of bike you can imagine; cruisers, street bikes, trikes, Can-Ams (three wheels, two in front), and one Polaris Slingshot – we would have loved having our friend Jim Liston with us in his. Jim would have been almost beside himself with the display of flags everywhere one cared to look. The menagerie of engineering styles that attached flags of impressive size to bikes was amazing, even more so because I never saw one fall off.

Fortified with breakfast burritos and lemonade purchased from base support groups we took part in the base 9/11 Memorial Ceremony – a presentation of the flags, introductions to a couple of past beneficiaries as well as Cpl. Moser, stirring invocations and benedictions that surrounded the Twenty-one Gun Salute, Taps, and wreath presentation, and a moment of silence with the tolling of the bell. The victims and our service men and women were well remembered and saluted. As a Christian though, I wondered how long our invocations and benedictions at events such as these will be signed off with “in Christ’s name”. Those that would fully separate the church from government seem to have a full head of steam in their favor.

With all the types of bikes present and with all the various MC colors flying I saw only back slapping and hugs. Not one chest was thumped, not one finger raised to bring attention to one person or group. The only colors that mattered for the day were red, white, and blue; the only people who mattered were the beneficiaries. It was a day as it should have been.

Pre KSU 360 degree view: 

With our kickstands up sometime after eleven we were funneled from the various parking areas onto the main base access road at four or five bikes abreast that were shuffled down to two as we entered the public road on PCH. It took us somewhere around 20 minutes to the reach PCH, I shot two video clips totaling 18+ minutes during that stretch. And yet, the procession was orderly and not cumbersome and I don’t know how it happened. Our escorted ride took us off the base through a line of flags waved by base personnel and family members. We rode along my favorite section of local PCH by Point Mugu, Leo Carillo and Zuma beaches, Paradise Cove, and on to Pepperdine and the Malibu Bluffs Park. All along the way beach goers and other bikers waver, honked, and shot video and photos of the miles long procession.

Greg Brown with The Flags behind

Tim Robertson on PCH

The 9/11 Flag Memorial display was awesome as the coastal breeze whipped the 2,977 flags and rippled the red, white, and blue, one for each of the 9/11 victims. Interspersed with our national flags were 90 international flags for brothers and sisters from abroad who perished in the attacks. For me, the display appeared as a rushing river of our national colors swirling around the few international flags on display.

We were treated to great music from the Petty Cash band playing a selection of Tom Petty and Johnny Cash music to the folks huddled in the shade proffered by the beer tents and other vendor’s easy-ups. Our small group of Victory riders enjoyed it all until the expected raffle was awarded to another, assumingly more deserving individual.

It was successful event for the foundation with over 450 riders preregister and from the riders fundraising, the goal was more than met at over $50K, a good start to defray the cost of recovery for Marine Corporal Kyle Moser. If you would like to join in and donate you are welcome to use the following link to donate via my page: http://donate.whiteheart.org/fundraise?fcid=501273  Or, you could find the SCV Riders Group page.

I have provided links to a few more videos taken with my Sena 10C Helmet Cam, see below.

Ride with heart and keep the iron side up.

jerry

PS: Regarding the videos: I shot more than 60 minutes of video during the day and now I need to learn how to edit, cut, and splice so that I can make one representative video of appropriate length. It won’t happen overnight.

Key learnings from the Sena 10C Helmet Cam use:

-      For events and one-day rides like this I’ll try to swap out my tall windscreen for the original shorty

-      I should raise the angle of the camera a degree or so to get less of my bike in the video and maybe not announce just how fast (or slow) I’m going.

Ride to the Flags along PCH

Ride to the Flags passing Neptune's

Ride to the Flags by Leo Carillo Beach

Southern California Victory Riders heading out Malibu Canyon

MAMBA Encounter

The GLA Victory Riders’ late August ride started with a breakfast meeting at the Ranch Side Café and ended with a MAMBA encounter at the new Victory/Indian/BMW/Slingshot dealership, Mamba Motorsports in Santa Clarita, geographically desirable for a number of us, me included. The alleged purpose for the ride was to support the new dealership but we all know ‘because’ was the real reason; because we like to ride, like to eat, like to hang out with riders, and like new bikes and dealerships.

I pulled into the parking lot at the café a few minutes early for our civilized breakfast time of 9am and found all but one of the mealtime participants there; Bev Hope and Tim Robertson, Jed and Sue of JSPriders, Greg Brown, and Joe, a breakfast only, Harley riding friend of Jed’s. A new-to-all-of-us rider named Dave joined us a few minutes later on his red Victory Cross Country Tour; once he slid into his seat after the requisite introductions it was like he’d been with us for years, both at breakfast and on the ride to Mamba. I have to declare that he has the old soul of a rider that belies his three years in the saddle. I hope to ride with him again soon.

Seven of us rode out and up into the Angeles National Forest. Joe left us in the parking lot for a Saturday of unpaid teacher duties. I give Joe the Iron Side Up Salute for the extra work and extra care he gives his students. Kudos Joe!

On the run through Little Tujunga
Canyon

JSP took the lead with Dave and Greg following, then me, and finally Bev and Tim sweeping our group. We took Little Tujunga Canyon Road and then I think over the Santa Clara Truck Trail though I can’t be sure of leg of the route. I just rode it with a fine riding group. I had the four riders out front of me and there were a couple of nice ess-turn sequences where my Falcon Basketball days flashed in front of me. As I looked down the canyon road and had three or four quick turns completely visible the weave of the four riders was so tight and choreographed that I remembered watching and running a three-line weave drill where the ball never touched the ground, none of the players traveled with it as we wove down the middle of the court for a layup or slam dunk. The riders did their weave and it was seamless, effortless, and we all had one thing in mind – don’t break the rhythm. I was exhilarated. 

We kept our rhythm up very nicely, nothing edgy in terms of speed, that’s not our style. We maintained a nice pace until we found ourselves backed up behind a PT Cruiser that was frustrated behind a line of rangy Harleys that were out of synch, out of tune, and out of touch. It’s the first time I’ve heard horns from our group and the derisive tone made me chuckle. JSP got to the point that we took advantage of a scenic overlook and let them crawl ahead so that we could finish up our ride the way we like. We were in a Tango, they were doing chopsticks at piano practice.

Video of our run through Little Tujunga Canyon: GLA Victory Riders run through Little Tujunga Canyon

Video of the group the rest stop where it was reported that the other rider group added ten minutes to our run: https: GLA Victory Riders at scenic overlook

When we arrived at Mamba Motorsports we were directed to park opposite the Grilled Cheese truck that would later serve us a complimentary gourmet sandwich. We were greeted by an energetic Mamba employee who gave each of us a helpful push back into the parking stall. It turned out that this ‘employee’ was Bronco, the General Manager. He was all over the place; gracious, helpful, attentive, and infectious. Everywhere we turned in the shiny new dealership the Mamba folks followed his lead. Kudos to Mike Bell, owner, for putting together such a stellar team. I’m stoked to have this outfit close to me.

GLA Victory Riders arrive at Mamba Motorsports: GLA Victory Riders arrive at Mamba Motorsports - LINK  

We were serenaded by two bands throughout our visit; Red Roses opened up the live set and Veronica Grim and the Heavy Hearts closed it up in fine fashion. I recommend either of both for any event you’d like to see livened up.

New building, new bikes, and a new maintenance area that you could eat off of the floor on. I saw bike after bike that I was saying “I could do that, and that, and that…” A nice line up for any rider to choose from. We’d have liked to have seen more Victories but understand that the 2016s are not through EPA yet. For sure, I would love to see the new 2016 Empulse TT, the all-electric motorcycle. I want to test-ride one and see how badly I want to try to squeeze one into my garage for something new and edgy and cool next to my Cross Country.

I found this to be outstanding. When you look at the MAMBA logo, notice that it is all caps. Bronco told me that it is an acronym for Mathew, Ashley, Mike Bell, and Annie; the owner’s kids, owner himself, and his wife. I love cool acronyms.

Best wishes to Mamba Motorsports. Here is the link to their site:

http://www.mambamotorsports.com/

Know your capabilities and keep the iron side up.

jerry

PS: Regarding the videos that I have in this post. These were taken with my new Sena 10C and I’m just now getting the hang of it. Key learnings from my first event with the new device:

• ·  Keep my head still unless I really need to look around or want to highlight something
• ·      Do something about my need to clear my throat, it’s distracting on the soundtrack
• ·      Double check the lens cap. I had it on as I left the dealership and really wanted to show how the scene livened up while we were there and missed it. On the bright side, I figured out how to have my iPod add sound and have I a nice black video with Credence playing
• ·         Close my face shield when recording to knock down the buffeting
• ·         Learn how to edit videos on some sort of platform for a more finished product
• ·         Hire a voiceover person because I hate the way my voice sounds