Laughlin, for the Love of the…Ride

Laughlin, for the Love of the…Ride (2018)

The gang at Cool Springs
(photo on Karen's phone with Crazy Ray as photographer)

For the love of…

…good wine. Some of us enjoy the fruit of the vine and we go places with friends to share it in new ways and perhaps to raise the level of appreciation for the really good stuff in one or two others.

…good friends and what each of them adds to the other. We like to celebrate – celebrate life and loss, laughter and grief, while we tell old stories and are busy making new ones.

…new love, because some have found it in unlikely places, or so we think, and others of us like seeing it happen. Dilly dilly.

…old friends, rekindled love, and feeding of the flames for both.

…a spacey friend even if you had to get there in a cage.

…local color and spice in the form of friends at the destination.

Even familiar roads are a joy for us because we remember a good time we had here, a curve we had a fright on there – and aced this run through. Topock, AZ provided our lunch stop while we talked and watched coots and grackles on the water and in the air as they angled for food all while we were perched on seats that gave me the best looking butt I’ve had in some time. (see the photo below) A common feeling was that breakfast last year was better than lunch this year.

We left Topock only roll past another Victory group rolling in. They took a longer ride and basically only in reverse of our direction. We had tinges of regret that we could not hang out with our friends for the meal break. Such are the vagaries of the road.

We passed through Oatman without stopping, parking being a pain there on Saturdays. The donkeys were out in fine form. Very fine form indeed, much to the delight of all who passed by the young one just hanging out in the opposite lane from us while bringing traffic in both directions to a stop. Amazing.

Cool Springs was our official rest and exploration stop. The place is under new management and netted us a new friend in Crazy Ray. They have big plans for Cool Springs as a destination and place for great fun and experiences. Best of luck to them. Our group photo was taken there by Ray and you should note the similarity to ‘Radio Springs’ from Cars. Disney used this location as the model for their movie and theme park section at California Adventure.

We had a sober reminder of the serious nature of riding while at Cool Springs. Within minutes of our arrival first responders arrived from both directions to give emergency aid and transport a sport biker who’d gone down and over his bike. Good Samaritans had brought him to Cool Springs in their car. We reminded ourselves and each other to stay sharp on the road as we left a few minutes after the emergency crews. Amazingly, as we road along in our tight grouping the downed rider’s two buddies zipped past us doing 90+ and over the double yellow lines. It erased any surprise we might have had that one of their party would have gone down.

Now, more of the love of… I asked for a couple of direct quotes from some of the group that I’m in regular contact with and here’s what I got:

For the love of…

…the road and camaraderie. (Shawn Frausto, my roomie)

…the laughs and smiles of good friends. (Kevin Shaw)

…spontaneous actions and revelry. (JSPriders)

…dilly. (Tim Robertson)

…the time we have on this earth with good friends. (Bev Hope)

If I might expound, and I will since it’s my blog, let’s explore ‘dilly, dilly’ if only because I love the exploration or words. If I were any smarter and disciplined I would do amazing things with words and their meanings. Dilly-dilly, as the Urban Dictionary describes it, is: “A word that shows approval of an action.” “The best kind of person or thing.” “an interjection used to declare some a 'true friend of the crown'.” They have others but they’re unsuitable for my post.

Budweiser would have us believe that this phrase originated in the time of and by the original Shakespeare, the more eloquent and handsome Shakespeare, I might add. I am now off to verify the origins of Dilly-dilly and may not return for some time.

And finally, for the love of…the ride. For us, there’s nothing quite like it. We can’t exactly explain it, certainly not in a simple blog post. Even the movie Why We Ride and the Facebook page of the same name leave us wanting further definition. If we could tell others why and adequately define it, we’d probably stop riding. Every time we say “this is why we ride” we find something else that makes us put the kickstand up and roll.

Remember to ride well, so well that others are inspired to a rousing “dilly-dilly!” Keep the iron side up my friends.

Jerry ‘Shakespeare’ White

The butt seats at Topock, AZ. Oh, and the very cool view.

Pandemonium at the Majestic

Majestic view from Shawn and Jerry's room

According to my friend Webster, pandemonium is the following: “not capitalized (and this is important): a wild uproar”. Capitalized, it is the capital of Hell from Milton's Paradise Lost. For the purposes of this post let’s not capitalize it, shall we?

Webster also has something to say about ‘majestic’. He says majestic is having or exhibiting majesty or ‘stately’. I suppose we need to look at majesty: “sovereign power, authority, or dignity, royal bearing or aspect: grandeur, or b: greatness or splendor of quality or character.” Okay, now we’re getting somewhere, though our Majestic Suite might be loftily named. Especially after dinner with fifteen bikers.

Pandemonium is spot on the event and started at Casa Serano for dinner. Really, they shouldn’t have put us at separate tables across the room from each other. We wanted to communicate, and so we did with toasts and boasts devolving into cheers of “Dilly dilly!” Other tables joined in and the place was not a quiet night out for any couple or group of various description. There is photographic evidence available on the Southern California Victory Riders Facebook page. It’s all there.

As we completed dinner our fifteen were made when Pam and Loren (not a lesbian couple – not that there’s anything wrong with that) joined us. They live just across the river from the Aquarius and the rest of Laughlin, NV. We trekked back to our suite for after dinner drinks of wine and spirits, nuts, Lemoncello Almonds (aka big nuts dipped in lemon cream), and peanut brittle from Eddie World. The decibel level in the room increased as the bottles were emptied, not an uncommon occurrence. By observation, I’d say the groups congregating at the bar contributed the most.

This was not unexpected after a day of disciplined riding with friends who seem to spend too long apart. My day started early and tentative. I’m nursing a painful back and once I woke I needed to keep moving. Shower, shave, dress, keep moving; pack the bike, check the pack, move on and leave ten minutes early for the meet spot in Santa Clarita, a hop that took twenty minutes less than anticipated. Six of us left the station an hour or so after I’d gotten there, Jed in the lead, Sue, Tim, Bev, Shawn, and I following - all of us on Victories.

We made our breakfast stop at Molly Brown’s Country Café in Barstow for a hearty, aka huge, breakfast and catching up with the  mixed-bag group that had come up from the south; Kevin, Mike, Karen and Keith, Andy and Jane, and Jeannie in from Bakersfield. We mounted up on a variety of Victory bikes, a new Harley (Keith), a new Can-Am Touring (Karen), a new BMW 1600 touring model (Mike), and a Lexus (our poor Jeannie busted her hand but not while riding). The ride was notable for the ease with which we all fell into formation and held it while in traffic without doing stoopid things.

We did some sections of the old Mother Road, route 66 and made our gas stop a new watering hole, Eddie World. The selection of candies, jerkies, and goodies is majestic. It goes along nicely with the huge fountain drink with the Eddie World logo. It could house two or three families.

I heard comments from our group that their favorite parts of the ride are the long sweeping curves on Nevada State Highway 93 known as Laughlin Highway leading into, you guessed it, Laughlin. We can maintain speed as we bend around the turns and wind our way to a view of Laughlin along side the Colorado River. I came in last as Keven, Keith, and Karen gave themselves over to the joy of the road. I remember Karen came by on her Can-Am on a curve that tightened as it went. She scooched over in her seat while maintaining her center steering position and it was a classic three-wheeled turn exquisitely executed.

I can think of three things you can do when faced with pandemonium – there are others, but I don’t recommend trying to throw a bucket of ice water on it. You can gleefully join in, sit back and observe and enjoy the scene, or you can run like the wind.

Now, as we get ready for our Saturday ride, I have a word for the day: Instauration – restoration after decay or lapse.

Remember to ride well, do what your mother told you and play well with other, and to keep the iron side up.

Jerry ‘Shakespeare’ White

The Third Wheel to El Rio

The Third Wheel to El Rio

Man, it's a scene at El Rio

No, I didn’t ride a trike, a Can-Am, a Slingshot, nor even a bike with a sidecar to the 2017 El Rio Toy Run. Yes, I know it’s 2018. More on that later. I do confess to thinking about slapping a sidecar on my Victory in the event I need to take Oliver with me in order to get rides in.

One of the many colorful definitions for ‘Third Wheel’ found in the Urban Dictionary is: “One who deters the socialization of a couple, perhaps when being invited out of pitty [sic] or through a feeling of duty.”

Tim Robertson and Bev Hope, the couple, and I met up at our frequently used meet-spot for rides in Northern L.A. County and on northwards. Now, Tim and Bev are not usually given to pity for Shakespeare and none was required for this event. The three of us were moved by compassion for an all but forgotten segment of the American landscape, the children of migrant farm workers. Yes, we get to feel good about ourselves for having brought a bit of hope and happiness to children with the simple gift of a toy. We can allow ourselves to let go and feel, shed a tear or choke them back all while we look over 500 or so kids as we wonder how we can make more of a difference for them.

Our brief run from Thousand Oaks to the El Rio Plaza Elementary School, home of the Chargers, gave me an ideal opportunity to observe the riding style of Tim and Bev. There were no other riders for me to consider while they rode in a harmonious stagger formation in front of me. Their movements were perfectly syncopated while they anticipated each other’s actions in traffic. A Dancing with the Stars tandem couldn’t have looked better. I can imagine other couples I know that each ride doing so with equal grace. While we don’t all have spouses or significant others that ride by our side, I’m willing to bet that nearly every rider-reader has at least one person they ride with that they feel that sense of ease and comfort, a unity of movement on two machines where you feel like they might be one. Mine is my friend Jim. Today I slipped in and out of the feeling riding behind Tim and Bev.

Who is your riding compadre?

The 2017 El Rio Toy ride was originally scheduled for December 9, 2017 and would have included close to 200 bikes had it not been postponed due to the Thomas Fire and the horrific effects it had on the area. Bikers for Christ (BFC) host the event and did not let the fires burn out their desire to bless the children of migrant farm workers in the Oxnard/Ventura area and we had Christmas in February. Nearly 80 bikes met at the school campus, did a little circle and came around to the playground to pass by 500 or so elementary school kids and their teachers.

We delivered our toys, at least two per rider, to the cafeteria/auditorium where BFC reps and Girl Scout troop 60408 received the toys and made some order of the chaos. Maggie Taylor led the charge; cheerleader, organizer, and roustabout, gloriously resplendent in her purple Santa Hat. As the bikes cooled in the playground the kids cheered the riders while the riders waved and greeted the kids. It was difficult to tell who was happier to see the other. Once the bikes cooled the kids were ushered through the rows and returned to classrooms. Mostly.

The children were then brought over to the gift collection a classroom at a time in descending order of grade level. The three of us joined other riders in the seats arranged for us to view the distribution of toys. Small groups of each class where let in and guided through the toy selection. I think it was two per child but as I watched I heard various kids ask, “Can I get one for my little sister”, “my cousin”, or “my friend at Catechism”? There didn’t appear to be greed here, only wonder at getting their first doll, toy truck, or a new soccer ball. Santa awaited them at the end of the toy selection for sweet treats and a photo op.

It was a miracle of the Loaves and Fishes all over again. The piles atop the tables never seemed to diminish. I asked Maggie what would happen with the left over toys and she told me the games will stay with the school for teachers and programs, teachers will have their pick of items for classrooms or children they know who weren’t there, and then the rest will be given to other toy collections for the needy. Nothing will be wasted; no toy, no heartfelt offering.

I moved over to follow the kids with their toys and met two of the outstanding Girl Scouts from Troop 60408, Strummer and Ellen. They were handing out a toothbrush for each child. A local dental group had donated boxes of them, enough for all the kids. Strummer, Ellen, and the troop were indefatigable and never let their smiles drop. These are the faces of a caring generation that doggedly pursue compassion over isolationism.

I found Robert Guynn, Principal of El Rio Plaza, directing the classes via hand-held radio. Robert rode in with us on his hog, a beautiful Harley. As the kids existed the room he greeted them and shared in their joy at the toys and great day they were having. At times there’d be four or five kids all opening their bags of goodies, eager to share with this rock star of a Principal. The deep care he has for the students was evident in his face as he oversaw the whole operation looking here and there to make sure everything was running smoothly with the various classes. The heart of a good shepherd guided his every action.

Robert told us a little of the plight of these children and their families and how many were housed two or three families in a two-car garage with primitive toilet and water availability at best, a hot plate for cooking for so many. I was reminded of the shoe story where two brothers were never at school on the same day because they shared a pair of shoes until the issue was discovered and shoes were made available.

I looked out beyond the bikes and playground equipment to the grass field beyond and saw some small groups sitting and sharing their newfound bounty. A soccer scrimmage had broken out with a new ball.

This is why we rode on February 3, 2018.

Ride well, keep the iron side up, and ride with compassion.

Jerry ‘Shakespeare’ White

Could be an artist, a Nobelist, a pro soccer player in the mix. Without a doubt, big hearts.

New Year's Day 2018 - Bobbing and Weaving

Bobbing and weaving, we wound through the canyons and along the spine of the Santa Monica Mountains on the Mulholland Highway through the Snake and past the Rock Store so we could hook up with the PCH for lunch at Duke’s in Malibu. Because that’s how we like to ring in the New Year.

Were our fifteen bikes a boxer, no palooka would they be. We did not attack the twisties with vicious body shots and head butts. No, we are more like The Greatest – floating and flitting through route like a butterfly. It was poetry in motion from the Starbucks in Porter Ranch to Duke’s.

Our four first-timers with the group fit like well broken-in gloves, as though they were born to the group of usual suspects. (List of riders and their rides below) We had clean lines through twisties, nice tight groupings in traffic, and exquisite spacing throughout. It was a joy to open the New Year with a ride like this on a clear day with mild temperatures; in the mid-sixties on the coast and low seventies in the hills.

We had Johnathan on his orange/white High Ball, soon to be customized to take out the white tank highlights. I think it will be an awesome look. Aaron joined us on a Touring Cruiser, a model I hadn’t heard of ‘til this ride. Larene and Roger came in from Bakersfield on a XC Touring and Vision, respectively, and won the prize for longest commute to the meet point. Vickie won for overcoming obstacles having repaired a flat and coming in from the Inland Empire on her Honda F6B and getting to the Starbuck’s in time for a Martinelli’s New Year’s toast before we put up our kickstands for the ride.

Kevin joined us after his forced sabbatical to care for his beloved Dory who passed away this past October after battling Alzheimer’s. We honored her with winged ribbons Bev put together. We all miss her and it was not lost on us how poignant this was for Kevin being his first holiday season and New Year’s Day without her. We continue to hold him and the family in our hearts for his grief.

New Years are for renewal. Rides punctuate our love for the road with friends, new and old. Our rider’s hopes are for roads to new places and rides to refresh our connections to familiar favorite roads and destinations. May it be so for you.

Ride well, keep the iron side up, and be blessed in 2018.

jerry

New Year’s Day 2018 Group:

Tim Robertson – Vision (The Enterprise)

Bev Hope – Vegas (Cloud 9)

Jed – Vision

Sue – Cross Country

Larene Meng – Cross Country Tour

Roger Meng – Vision

Steve McLean Sr. – Vision

Kevin Shaw – Vision (Nit Vision)

Todd Skaggs - Vision

Shawn Frausto – Cross Country (Sancha)

Vicki Peterson – Honda F6b

Aaron Staubach – Touring Cruiser

Stephen Thrasher – Cross Country

Johnathan Urazoff – High Ball

Jerry White – Cross Country (Stick II)

Note: We had more Vision riders than any other model. And, they let us know it.

Approaching Pt. Mugu

Scrubbed!…Until It’s Right

Photo courtesy of Tim Robertson

I’ve contributed to this blog space from a number of perspectives – walking/hiking on Maui and in Ireland, driving trips in my SSC (Silver Sardine Can), about kayaks and rafts and Air Craft Carriers, being transported by song, and in a $500 VW (Lemons Racer), but never about a rocket. Until now.

This week the JPSS-1 satellite was to be launched into orbit via a Delta 2 rocket. I have been in an approved viewing area two nights this week (week of 11/12/2017) as a guest of Tim Robertson who works for NASA and on the payload of the satellite. Both nights it was scrubbed – first due to a red alarm condition that turned out to be a telemetry issue not directly associated with the rocket or its payload and then due to high winds in the upper stratosphere.

We were bummed, to be sure. But, even knowing it would be scrubbed, I’d do it again on the chance it could have been green-lighted. It was about more than liftoff. It was about friends gathering for another’s big event, hanging out around fire pits, eating pizza with new friends, and seeing the hope written on hundreds of faces including kids in unicorn sleepers, old guys in jackets with launch patches reaching back decades, and a host of human configurations in between. Oh, and a fifty-foot configuration of tables loaded with desserts that made my pancreas itch.

The first day I rode my Victory XC up to Buellton after attending a knee joint class. I ride or drive this route frequently to visit my daughter’s family in Santa Barbara and on this Monday in the early afternoon it was as smooth as you could want with only one traffic hitch that a quick U-turn helped me avoid. I found myself heading up the 101 at the ideal time of day and I watched the sunset into the Pacific with a cloud cover made to reflect all the colors you could wish for. By three a.m. Jed and I were asleep in his trailer after the scrubbing of the launch.

The second day was manic. I started home at 10 a.m. after quick goodbyes so that I could prepare for a committee meeting I chair. I had time for one all-too-quick nap. As soon as the closing prayer was given at 8 p.m. I was back on the road to meet up with Tim and friends at the Marriott in Buellton for the bus ride over to the viewing site on a Vandenberg AFB base golf course. My plan was to drive home immediately after the launch for an early morning men’s meeting at 6 a.m. There was no endless table of sweets, fewer people though the unicorn made her appearance, and the mood was muted.

We listened to the launch check at the four-minute mark of the countdown and heard some discussion on high winds in the upper stratospheres but the reports moved on and most of us neophytes were unconcerned. Tim was first to announce the scrubbing having seen a report come out on his phone. Once the announcers came back and made it official the muted moods were sadly dampened and everyone loaded up the buses. I made my way home without knowing when the next attempt would be made and got to the parking lot in time for the meeting but had to rush home due to an unforeseen personal issue. Otherwise the plan worked as intended. If you don’t count the scrubbing of the launch.

Now, we’ve all made plans for weddings, dates, trips, and a hundred other lesser things and at some point in time made the go/no go call. When do we do it for our rides? There’s so much to consider before we put up our kickstands and push off; our health, the weather, our finances, our family’s condition, the bike’s condition, and dozens of other items. We scrub them and go back to the drawing board or shove off and hope for the best, especially if we’ve compromised on any of our no-go items. You can’t do that with a rocket.

When I started this writing (Thursday morning) I wasn’t planning to go up for the rescheduled launch Saturday morning at 1:47 a.m. But writing this and texting with Tim inspired me and I’ve rearranged my schedules to go on up after getting my grandkids out of school. So I’ll pause now and finish off with a victorious paragraph on my experience watching, feeling, and smelling a Delta II launch. Hopefully.

The countdown is gradually picked up by everyone nearby…5…4…3…2…1 Ignition! A cheer erupts from the crowd in the field just before the white light fills your field of vision. Our eyes adjust and the light is hanging there surrounded by billows of steam for what seems like an eternity, sitting on the pad. The Delta II doesn’t move and you don’t breath. This is especially true for the folks who have a vested interest in the baby that’s to be put into orbit – like Tim Robertson.

This eruption of light hits you first because it travels at the speed of light. The rumble comes next as the sound waves travel through the air then you feel the earth tremble under your feet. The last sense impacted is the sense of smell as the odor of spent kerosene reaches your nose. The last sense, that is, other than the sense of relief and fulfillment when you hear that your dear JPSS-1 has reached orbit. Or maybe a month or so from now when they fire up your payload contribution and weather information pours down from its polar orbit.

As the thrust overcomes the rocket’s inertia and liftoff is accomplished you breathe again and your exhilaration overcomes your reticence for cheering in the cold of the early morning. The light coalesces as the rocket separates itself from the smoke and steam and assumes a graceful arc that belies the massive instrument being forced to leave the planet and its atmosphere.

Or so I’ve been told. You see, I didn’t make it to the viewing site this night and had to watch a yellow dot arc out into space, plainly seen, from the top of my garage. I’m content in saying it was poor planning on my part and leaving it at that.

Don’t mourn the scrub – with each one an opportunity for a happier outcome is born.

Keep the iron side up friends,

jerry

1 Minute Exposure photo courtesy of Tim Robertson

Angels in the Aisles

There were angels in the aisles as we practiced our grief and rose above it to celebrate all that had been and is Dorie Shaw.

Five of them lined up at the microphone to speak of her compassion and the love she had for her grandchildren. These angels were well spoken and did their grandmother proud. We know that their Nani will always be their sunshine.

Three others had preceded the five, thankful for their mother’s life and what she brought them: a childlike endearment, humor, and a love for dressing just right. Dorie’s passion for serving, living the moment for family, and her faith are their inheritance.

Another angel ranged about the hall bestowing wings to be pinned on lapels, shirt pockets, and blouses – mementos that call attention to the angel in everyone there. Still more roamed among the congregants and hugged it out, blessings passed from one angel to another.

Others rose and spoke of the Dorie Shaw they know and love, her Godliness and devotion and her steadfastness to friends.

It was all so fitting in the face of a dastardly foe that found it impossible to wipe away all that Dorie Shaw is.

Soon we’ll put the wind in Kevin’s face again to help erode the travails at his great loss and bring forward all those good things that can fill his heart.

Remember the part you play as angels in the aisles, on the road, and in the home and do not shy away from bestowing heartfelt words, caring looks, or hearty hugs that will buoy up a brother or sister in need.

Peace

jerry

One and the Same – Ride Lead and Sweeper

Morro Rock from the end of CA Highway 41

My summer ride for 2017 is over and it’s time to look in the rearview mirror and reflect a bit. I haven’t said much about the last two days of the ride and that’s because they were somewhat unremarkable compared to my ride out to Pahrump in fantastic weather, the ride around and up to Mount Charleston, and the big ride-day from Pahrump through Death Valley and Yosemite to Fresno. Really though, that’s not exactly fair – I was riding a motorcycle and that is remarkable.

The day after rolling into Fresno I completed the traverse of CA Highway 41 by riding to its terminus in Morro Bay. I commented on this in Facebook that there is something to be said for completing a highway from end-to-end and that I’d write it if I figured out what it was to be said. Still got nothing on that except it feels right. My final day of riding brought me home down PCH to CA Highway 118 and the 210 Freeway. Morro Bay is a worthy destination as is home.

Highway 41 from Fresno to the coast is notable mostly for the two-lane road experience, most of which is through agricultural country complete with agri-vehicles that slow things down; trucks, tractors, and such. One needs to stay in touch with reality when passing these big vehicles and I witnessed a couple of close calls for the impatient folks stacked up in front of me. The agricultural area extends beyond US Highway 5 for a time until you weave into the foothills of the coastal range. At that point CA Highway 46 and 41 coincide for a time, once they separate there is sign suggesting trucks use 46. That’s because 41 narrows and gets into twistiness through Atascadaro and into the town of Morro Bay. By far, that was the most fun stretch for the day’s ride as I was behind a local, once again, and she wanted to push the pace and I wanted to make use of her native familiarity with the road.

I could have easily done a full day’s riding from Fresno to Morro Bay and on to home and would have if I didn’t have a reservation for the night. I was glad that I’d stayed over and enjoyed a walk around Morro Bay snagging an old motorcycle book and getting a close look at a sea otter in the harbor. I’ll be back.

Now to the title of this post – something I thought about during the ride is what it means to travel solo over several days or even for one long ride-day. The ride leader and sweeper are one in the same and there is no one to blame but yourself for getting lost or stuck all by yourself.

Consider for a moment the responsibilities of the Ride Captain or Lead Rider. That person is responsible for the safety of the riders and the smooth running of the ride; including planning, thinking ahead, communication, and decision making for unforeseen events. The ride leader also establishes a comfortable pace for all the riders in the group and picks a good line for twists and turns and negotiating traffic. It’s up to the ride leader not to make a move that all the riders in the group cannot make or close the gap afterwards in a reasonable way. If you’re solo, that simplifies most of it but it also puts reading the right line squarely on your own shoulders and is something that slows my own pace a bit,.

The sweeper, or sweep, or Tail End Charlie, is the last rider in line and is a rider with a lot of experience if not the most experience. It’s their job to ensure everyone else in the group arrives at the destination safely. Other terms I’ve found for this rider are back door, tail gunner, or Ride Lieutenant. I’ve driven as the sweep in caravans and think of myself in that situation as the mother hen watching over the brood, keeping everyone in front and together. On a ride, the sweep needs to keep in contact with the ride-lead and radio communication between the two is best, otherwise you must rely on hand signals. The sweep can provide a bit of a traffic break if they are aware or anticipate maneuvers the leader is going to make.

Only twice have I been uncomfortable in a group ride and both times they were lead or organized poorly. Once during my first ever group ride with the VMC when the return trip disintegrated at a stop sign and everybody went back to the hotel willy-nilly. The other time was a badly organized toy ride with a hundred bikes going through several freeway junctions – it was a bad scene and we were luck nothing happened. I have otherwise ridden with the best leaders and sweeps in all senses of the titles.

The word that is paramount to the ride leader, sweep, and everybody in between is vigilance. Always be aware of the others, the road conditions, traffic concerns, and yourself. Strangely enough, if you’re solo, you need to double your vigilance because you’ve got nobody setting your pace or covering your six. A big part of your personal vigilance is being completely honest with yourself on how you’re feeling, how comfortable you are in the current conditions, and your personal capabilities as a rider. In a group, that honesty needs to extend toward the others; in particular, the ride leader.

Be prepared, be vigilant, keep the pace and by all means, forever keep the iron side up.

Peace

jerry

Final tripmeter reading - should I have gone around the block to tick over 1300 miles?