Hello Again My Friends!

So, I'm back and this time with a decent computer and fancy broadband internet connection. Sorry to all of you that's been a wonderin what's going on. Everything is fine except one small (well, ok, big) difference. I don't have a motorcycle anymore. Not yet anyway. Financial difficulties brought me to the point where I couldn't justify keeping my bike anymore. She had to go. But as it turns out, it's been a blessing in disguise. You see, I've made some big time changes in my life and for the better. I've re-ordered my priorities. More on that another day.

For now, I'm in the process of cleaning out those millions of spam comments. That will take some time and until I get them all deleted please don't click on any of those anonymous comments. I've temporarily blocked new comments and hope to restore that capability soon. Patience my friends.

I've eliminated all those other blogs I was doing before the great computer meltdown of Oct. 08. Maybe I'll let this one go too or I may evolve it into something new, exciting, but definitely different than it was before. I still love bikes and aim to get another one some day, maybe all electric this time!

So, if I decide to continue this blog it will be different but I will for sure keep some motorcycle and scooter related talk going.

Out Beyond the Noise is Music

Have you lost your job? Can't pay the mortgage? Is life getting you down? How about the war, global warming, melting icecaps, and the economy? Kano has something to say about that in this "Zen-like" post:

I arrived home from work feeling refreshed after riding my motorcycle through the foggy brisk air of a fine autumn morning. I work at night and sleep during the day, a mockery of everything my body says is normal.

But in any case I was feeling good, and then I walked through the door of my house.

Waiting for me at the table was yesterday's mail, a pile of bills. After living off of credit cards for all too long, the proverbial chickens had come home to roost. I pushed the stack aside in no mood to look. Sipping on a steaming cup of tea I contemplated the recent news from my boss that no more overtime will be available at work. I had been depending on the extra hours to help make ends meet.

Wandering into the other room I listened for a moment to the TV with its news of the global economic collapse and government bailouts at the taxpayer's expense. Then they played a clip of the CEO of the now bankrupt Lehman Brothers. He was bullshitting his way through congressional questions on why he made millions while his corporation was going down in flames and why he gave out millions in perks to his top executives after asking the government for help.

With a click of the TV remote the noise was gone and I returned to my tea at the table. Then my wife joined me with more financial news; my son needs braces and wants a cell phone because he says "all the other kids have one". My daughters need money for picture day at school and one of them needs a Doctor's appointment. I'm also informed that the car is nearly out of gas and we need to pick up a gift for a birthday party...It just doesn't seem to get any easier saying no to the ones you love.

As I listened to my wife her voice became distant as my attention and gaze moved from her eyes and out the window, eventually focusing on the shed outside which housed my motorcycle. In 45 days or less that shed would be sitting empty and anxiously awaiting a new occupant. In the mean time I'm fine with the prospect of living without a bike. I'm past the stages of anger, denial, and so forth and am at the stage of acceptance. After all a motorcycle is just a thing and things aren't all that important.

While it would be easy to blame my financial woes on Clinton and his NAFTA or the Bush administration and it's de-regulated "trickle down economics", the price of food and fuel, the lack of health insurance because of sky high premiums, or the greedy mega-millionaire CEO's of giant multi-national corporations...ad nauseum. No, I won't go there. There's plenty of legitimate blame to go around but that would be of no use to me. I must take personal responsibility for my own situation in order to move past it.

I've come to understand that no matter how bad things seem, they still are not as bad as millions of others have endured in the past, are now enduring and will endure in the future. Keeping things in perspective. I've actually got it pretty good right now...I've got a loving family, a job, my health and a place to live. Beyond the noise of all that is going wrong in this world... is the quieter and sublime voice of all that's right in this world. The voice of God.

Standing in the open doorway I shut out the noise and listened to the sounds of my children's laughter as they played with a ball outside. Listening more attentively now, more sounds came into my awareness; the clanging of a clean pan being put away in the cupboard, the sweet voice of my wife calling out "breakfast is ready", the Canada geese in the sky above migrating south for the winter, and the wind blowing through the trees. Those were the sounds transcending the noise of the irrelevant and brought my attention to the right and perfect moment, which was that very moment. And with each and every tick of the clock, the universe is created anew, wonderful possibilities are born, new hope, and new beginnings emerge...Out beyond the noise, is music. One only has to listen...

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence (NCADV)

Subscribe to Motorcycle and Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House

Deltran SuperSmart Battery Tender Plus 12-Volt 1.25 AMP Battery Charger


Motorcycle Apparel & Gear at BikeBandit.com!

Motorcycling & Rafting On the Streams of Time

Highway 22 shoots like an arrow out of the western Oregon city of Salem towards and over the Cascade Mountains and the high desert beyond. The busy highway rockets hurried travelers past small towns like Aumsville, Sublimity, Stayton, Mill City, Lyons, Gates, Idanha, Detroit and Marion Forks.

Last Sunday turned out to be a glorious day. With late season warmth and sunshine, it was the last hurrah of summer before the cold winds swept it all away.

This made for an almost overwhelming temptation to turn the day into a ride. So off we went my son and I down Highway 22. We had no destination in mind, just a ride for the sake of riding and spending time together.

A thousand scents filled my nostrils and sparked memories of other days and other rides; diesel exhaust from a truck up ahead, wood smoke from a warm fire in an unknown home, meat cooking on someones backyard barbecue, the musk of the earth and dying leaves.

A numb butt, hunger and a full bladder from the mornings coffee forced a stop at Poppa Al's which was right off the highway in Mill City. The overly optimistic person who named it a city probably didn't foresee the end of big timber days. Over- harvesting, clear cuts and the late arrival of sustainable forestry practices doomed this would be city from the start. It's a town and will always be a town and that's as it should be.

Poppa Al's was a past frequent haunt of mine back in the river running days. My two older boys, now grown and distant, friends now gone, and I, would pull our kayaks and rafts up on the bank of the North Santiam River at Mill City. Then we would walk up the hill to Poppa Al's for a burger and hot chocolate. We shivered dripping wet in our clothes, semi-hypothermic as we waited for our orders to get filled. Those were the days before we knew about more adequate clothing like polypropylene for the ice cold white water.



As my son and I sat at an outside picnic table, dry and warm, we watched my Sportster attract other motorcycles like a magnet. Within minutes an older couple on a Victory pulled up, then a boy on a sport bike pulled into the other end of the parking lot, then came Harley's, about 3 of them.

Old memories came alive and my mind drifted back to the last time I was at Poppa Al's. I couldn't have known or even imagined back then that it would be more than 15 years before I would return.

All too seldom do I think about that whenever I'm doing something that it might be the last time, or possibly a very long delay before I could do it again. Maybe if I were more conscious of that I would appreciate and enjoy things more.

Poppa Al's looked outdated even 15 years ago, but with lots of character. The old place is reminiscent of a simpler, slower, and more care free time. I've done a lot of changing over the years but not Poppa Al's. Except of course the price of a burger and a coke.

We pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the river for a look. I thought about how the boy, my son, would all too soon be an adult. He grew up different than my older boys; he never got the chance to experience the river. I wondered how it was that we were at that place and at that time. It was an unplanned ride after all. I don't believe much in chance or coincidence. I tend to think everything has a purpose, a message, or a lesson to be learned.

The sound of the waves as they surged and splashed over car size boulders were like a siren song. A call to return to the river. I glanced toward the horizon and the sun was going down, it almost seemed to pause its descent for a moment before disappearing completely behind the mountain. "It will be back in the morning" I abruptly said out loud, startling my son who was glancing toward the highway in the other direction .

Yep, I decided it was time, I would come back again with a river raft and we'll be dressed in polypropylene, my son and I. And I will not take that moment for granted.

Subscribe to Motorcycle and Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House by Email NO SPAM!

Motorcycle Apparel & Gear at BikeBandit.com!



Best Biker Personals - the largest dating site in the world for biker singles and friends looking for more riding buddies, love, romance, and even marriages.

"Fox Creek Leather" Quality American Made Apparel & Accessories "Sale Page" http://www.foxcreekleather.com/sale.phtml Click Here

Motorcycling Through the Seasons of Change

Zipping the liner back into my riding jacket, inserting the wool liners into my 28 year old Army issue leather gloves, keeping the choke knob out a little longer while my motorcycle warms up, -all tell-tale signs that summer has come to a close and autumn has arrived, as measured by the likes of me, a motorcyclist. Here's my "Ode to Riding the Seasons":

Winter is the dark and damp ride before spring. And it's a cold ride that steels the body and fills the soul with resolve. Riding the open air exposed to the chilling elements brings a new appreciation for the warmth and protection of shelter and the warmer seasons of the year.

Riding through spring is an affirmation of the eternal cycle of life renewed. The sights and senses awaken to newly sprouted growth and the anticipation of possibilities ahead.

The warm glow of a summer evening is a welcome respite from the heat of the day. The unimpeded view of a sunset is enhanced, and the caress of the warm wind turns motorcycling into a sensual delight.

Fall is a paradox, its harvest time and death all at once. The frequency of my rides increases. And the sight of leaves blowing in the autumn wind quickens my desire to ride while I still can before winter sets-in. Anxious feelings soon are replaced by the peace forged from acceptance of the season and the inevitable winter ahead.

Winters come and they go. Enduring them is not difficult, knowing that everything has its time. The dark days must come before the light. Contrast is the mother of appreciation, and a life without it is nothing more than a dull and wasted blur.

Subscribe to Motorcycle and Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House by Email NO SPAM!

Click on the Fox Creek Leather logo to browse American-made quality leather motorcycle jackets, chaps, vests, gloves, and saddlebags.

Why I Ride Motorcycles plus an Update on Losing "Liberty"

For those who didn't read my recent post concerning selling my motorcycle, the short of it is: I’m planning on selling my bike which I’ve named “Liberty” because I can’t afford the payments right now. I’ve held on to it as long as I could.

Today I’m going to address some of the reactions I’ve heard:

“Are you going to give up riding, or are you going to get another bike?”

No, I’m not giving up riding and yes I will get another bike and just as soon as I possibly can.

“You ride your bike to work, isn't it cheaper (on gas) to just keep it instead of driving a car?”

Yes, but I will be getting another motorcycle or scooter to use for commuting. In the mean time I’ll be riding my bicycle on most days. That’s not a bad thing either. There will be no cost for fuel and I’ll get some much needed exercise too. I’ll also be saving the planet of some carbon emissions and helping reduce our dependence on foreign oil. (Hmm, I wonder if Al Gore gets around on a bicycle)

“What kind of bike do you want to get?” My leanings are toward the pure and the practical. A “KLR650” would be nice, or a scooter would be fine too. I think even if I had an unlimited amount of money to spend, I still wouldn't be getting a “Boss Hoss” or a “Goldwing” or even $25,000 worth of “Harley” chrome.

“Are you going to quit your motorcycle blog?” (Motorcycle & Scooter Talk)

Heck no, I enjoy it too much. It doesn't cost me anything except for time. Writing is something I love to do and so it’s time well spent. I’m not going to let the temporary condition of not owning a motorcycle stop me from writing about motorcycling. My philosophy is this: If a brick wall stands in my path, then I’ll go over or around it.

When my spiritually minded wife read the post lamenting my upcoming loss she had perhaps the most thought provoking reaction of them all. She laughed hysterically like it was the funniest thing she ever heard. I told her that I thought it odd that she found it funny, the one saddest post in a year’s worth of motorcycle blogging. Not to mention that this is the second bike I’ve lost in the past five years due to economic circumstances and she knows how much motorcycles mean to me.

She explained her reaction something like this: "Material things don’t matter, they come and they go." And she said, "be saddened by the loss of persons not things."

That is her way and she is right. Maybe I was overly sensitive to what seemed like her making light of my feelings and my writing. Her reaction served as a reminder that attachment to things is frivolous, even laughable. Maybe I taught her a little something too. Once she realized that I didn't think my post was intended to be funny, she lovingly straightened the hood on my jacket and said that she would pray for a miracle, so that I could keep the bike. I told her that if a miracle is coming it had better be soon, I've got a payment coming up in a couple of weeks! In her wisdom, she reminded me that the very nature of miracles is that they are not restricted by time.

I've come around to thinking about attachment to material things the same way she does, and increasingly so as I get older. Attachment to things is a proportional loss of freedom. With the one exception: motorcycles. For me Liberty is more than just an inanimate chunk of metal and rubber. She is the symbol and the means of my freedom. None of us, not one, are truly free however. We have responsibilities to our God (or Goddess), our families, our friends, our communities, the planet, our jobs, our pets, the list goes on and on. And that’s not a bad thing either. Complete freedom is an abstract goal that is unattainable and even undesirable. A certain measure of freedom however is life affirming and even re-creational.

When I’m on my motorcycle an ecstatic feeling overcomes me. It’s not just the wind, the motion, the adrenaline rush or the unobstructed view. It’s not only the focused consciousness, or the heightened awareness born of a sense of danger. Nor is it only the feeling of being in total control of a force much more powerful than I. It’s not just the feeling of synchronicity between man and machine. It’s all those things along with the sense of freedom I get while in the saddle.

And there is one more thing:

My brother the Mathematician once said to me, “riding motorcycles is tempting fate, the odds are that eventually you’re going to crash.”

Mathematically he is right of course. But I ride safe, minimize risk and play the odds to win. And riding a motorcycle straight towards “The Reaper” in an odd sort of way is riding away from him at the same time. For me riding allows living in the moment, and any given moment is the only moment that really exists. The past is memory and the future uncertain. The moment, this moment, is life eternal.

And so that’s why I ride and that’s why every day I will be expecting a miracle to come along so that I can keep my "Liberty", and if not, then that will be a lesson in detachment. I will take that lesson with my head held high and a smile on my face. Then my attention will turn towards my next bike and her name will be “Liberty 2”...

Save surfing time! Get new posts delivered right to your email box! Subscribe to Motorcycle and Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House by Email NO SPAM! Your email address will never be disclosed to anyone.

Get a Motorola W375 with 300 minutes and free shipping for only $69.99!

Motorcycle Ride. Re-Visiting & Re-Thinking a Gunfight

My bike "Liberty" parked at "Spong's Landing"

Today's post is about my ride out to the scene of a shooting. No need to worry though, the gun-smoke cleared away some 140 years ago and time the great eraser had done it's work, rendering the incident all but forgotten.

One of the cool things about going for a motorcycle ride is the added benefit of being able to pursue secondary interests. In my case, I'm a bit of a history buff.

The other day I had an opportunity to take the bike out for a spin and spend some time at a place along the Willamette River with some little known history behind it. I grew up nearby and spent countless hours there swimming, picking wild blackberries, catching crawdads, skipping rocks and exploring. Sometimes with only the ghosts of the early day pioneers to keep me company. Often I would sit on the river bank and try to visualize the scene as it would have been a hundred years ago and more, -imaginary steamboats rounding the bend.

Back in the nineteenth and early twentieth century the Willamette River was the main means of transporting goods and people up and down the valley. Riverboats navigated these waters with regularity. I have heard it said that in the old days if you sat on the bank of the river one could see at least one steamboat at any given time.

Towns and river boat landings along the river were alive with human activity. Towns sprang up along the banks of the Willamette almost overnight and many disappeared just as fast when the river lost out to improved wagon roads, bridges being built, the laying of train track and the final swan song of the river boat was the advent of the internal combustion engine and the building of highways.

Now the river sits mostly silent except when it passes through towns like Eugene, Corvallis, Independence, Salem, Oregon City and Portland. The rest of the river is protected by a “greenway” where no development of any kind is allowed near its banks. So mostly there is only the gentle ripple of the waters, the wind blowing through the trees, the rustle of dry leaves racing to wherever dry leaves go, and the occasional call of a Blue Heron.

A once busy ferry landing was here.

About 10 miles north of Salem and 4 miles west of the present day life blood of the Willamette Valley which is Interstate 5, is a lightly used and out of the way rural park called “Spong's Landing.” It was named for Alexander Spong who came to Oregon on a wagon train in 1851 with his wife and child. He took up a donation land claim in 1853 along the Willamette River and began to farm. His land was heavily wooded and a natural place for steam boats to stop and load up wood to burn in their boilers. He started a ferry service as well to move people and crops from one side of the river to the other.

Looking west from Spong's Landing toward the Ghost Town of Lincoln.

Across the river from Spong's Landing is the site of the once bustling town of Lincoln.

The town was fairly large for the time, it consisted of about a half mile of riverfront warehouses and wharves. It was platted by an earlier emigrant to the area in the 1840s, a man named Andrew Jackson Doake. He also was running a ferry service across the river from that location which apparently caused some bad blood between Misters Doake and Spong. Local lore has it that the two even exchanged gun fire on at least one occasion, luckily nobody was hurt.

The town of Lincoln along with steamboats lost their usefulness when bridges, railroads and eventually improved roads and highways came. Lincoln has long since disappeared from the western bank of the Willamette. Reclaimed by Mother Nature, a riparian woods thrive as though the town never was. Mr. Spong's farm, his boat docks and ferry landing are all long gone too.

Steps down to the landing and back in time.


"The Grandfather Tree"

This magnificent old oak tree sits on the side of a trail that must have been the original wagon road leading down to the river and to the place where steam boats once sat at dock and the ferry landing used to be.

Too small to feed the hungry boilers of the steamboats of the 1800s it was spared the axe. The tree now big and grand watches silently over those who pass. Some even notice the tree, mostly old folks, small children and the like. Those in-between often seem too pre-occupied to see the beauty and wonder that lies all around. Once in awhile I bring my kids over to the landing and my girls don't pass the tree without giving it a hug. They call it the "Grandfather Tree".

Eventually Mr. Spong won out and his family operated the ferry business for many years after the shooting. Mr. Doake at some point in time ceased ferry operations and sold his Lincoln land in 1860. Eventually Lincoln the town was gone too.

Did Mr. Spong and Mr. Doake resolve their differences peacefully and become friends? Or was it an uneasy truce? History does a poor job of recording thoughts and feelings. One can only guess, given the facts what we would think, feel and do under the same circumstances.

War and peace, conflict and cooperation, human nature is capable of going either way. Hopefully Mr. Doake and Mr. Spong came to a mutual agreement for the common good and chose to live out their days in peace. Life being too short to let ambition and selfish interests get in the way. I wonder.

Save surfing time! Get new posts delivered right to your email box! Subscribe to Motorcycle and Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House by Email

Garmin Zumo 450 Portable GPS Motorcycle Navigator

"Liberty's" Last Ride? Motorcycling to Silver Falls Park -Oregon

I rode my motorcycle to our campsite in the middle of a rainforest with my 14 year old son on the back, my wife followed in a van with the rest of the kids. The twisties up the canyon were invigorating, the scenery breathtaking. The Sportster rumbled along flawlessly as always. Would this be the last time I took to this saddle as Captain?

Though this was to be a fun family adventure, it was a "bittersweet" one. The thought of it being the last run for my old friend, the motorcycle I've named "Liberty" weighed heavily on my mind. Economic circumstances being as they are, make it impossible to hold on any longer. The payments too large for my low-income job. With a family of 5 to feed the struggle has become no longer sustainable. I recently lost my opportunity to work overtime and when monthly expenses exceed monthly income, well, somethings got to give. The only thing I have left to give is my Liberty, who has given me so much of the very same.

I will continue to commute to work and with luck get in a few more side trips until I sell the bike. After that the commute will still be on 2 wheels, -a bicycle that is. Hopefully I will find a way to get another motorcycle sooner rather than later.

We went to Silver Creek Falls State Park in Oregon. Not more than 30 miles from our driveway in Salem put us right in the middle of a temperate rain forest and the campground we would be staying in.

The weather held up, it was nice and sunny and it didn't rain until after we had everything packed up and were leaving for home.

The park holds 9,000 acres of forest, meadows and a steep basaltic canyon holding 10 waterfalls, all connected by an 8.7 mile National Recreation Trail.

My son and I with my Sportster in the foreground and North Falls in the background.

Looking at the falls had the effect of washing away motorcycle problems from my mind and to see something bigger, something timeless. The cycle of water, which in the grand scheme of things makes one man's small troubles seem insignificant and temporary.

"Roughing It Easy"

The campground we stayed in was completely full. Filled with a lot of fancy RVs of all sorts, tents being in the minority. This particular RV caught my eye. No it wasn't the $300.000? price tag, it was the satellite dish, custom painted with a nature scene.

I've been practicing being non-judgemental lately which is really against my nature and a hard lesson to learn. So with that in mind, I'm not going to hold judgment on my fellow campers, especially if I don't know their story. The couple staying in the rig with the satellite dish had to be quite well to do. For all I know they may have funded an orphanage in Cameroon or helped feed and shelter children digging through the trash heaps of Mexico City looking for leftover food. Maybe they own a company and treat their employees well and give them good medical insurance and a living wage. Maybe they used some of their apparently plentiful supply of money for altruistic purposes -before having their satellite dish custom painted. -Maybe. Not for me to judge.

Still, it strikes me as a funny way of experiencing nature. I wondered as I walked past their self-contained resort on wheels, appointed with every known luxury and convenience known to man, if they were sitting inside making good use of that satellite dish. With 472 channels, hopefully they found a good nature program to watch.

South Falls

South Falls is a big one by any standard. Silver Creek plummets 177 feet down before landing in the pool below. This picture just shows the lower portion of the awe inspiring waterfall. In 1928 a Pacific Northwest legendary hero and daredevil named Al Faussett went over the falls in a homemade contraption of canvas and tire tubes. He survived with only a few broken ribs, a broken wrist and both ankles sprained. Others that have gone over, not so lucky.

A view from behind South Falls

A ponderous trail leads down into the canyon and around the side passing behind the falls. For the feint hearted and vertigo prone the railings are small comfort, being the only thing between oneself and sudden death, serious hurt, or at the very least embarrassment having to be rescued by means of rope and basket.

Mia Familia

This is a shot of my family perching on the side of the cliff behind South Falls. From the left my daughter turning 9 this week, my wife, my 10 year old daughter and 14 year old son. This 2 night camping trip is the highlight of their summer. God bless them for being patient with my inability to give them more.

And so was this to be Liberty's last ride? Perhaps. How long will it be once it's sold before I can get another bike? Questions that don't stray too far from my mind. I wax and wane between optimism and pessimism. Time will tell...

Save surfing time! Subscribe and get new posts delivered right to your email box! Subscribe to Motorcycle and Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House by Email

Motorcycling, Escapism and the "Oregon Country Fair" Part 1

(Kano shows that he's not the only "hippie freak" left on the planet. In fact the 1960s style counter-culture appears to be alive and well in Oregon. Because of a 5 photo limitation per post, the story will be completed with 2 posts.)

It’s been a busy month for me. On Sunday, July 13th was a motorcycle ride from Salem out to the “Oregon Country Fair” near Eugene, Oregon. We got front row parking in “Hog Heaven” right near the gate. Lucky thing too, it was a hot day! The mercury was showing 98 degrees by late afternoon.

I put on my best "I'm glad to get this damn jacket off" look.

Mike’s Buell Ulysses was in the shop so he rode a borrowed (thanks Dale) Vulcan 900, and I was putting the spurs to “Liberty” a Sportster.

This friendly couple was more than happy to get their picture taken. Fairgoers are part of the entertainment. Many dress up (or dress down) for the occasion and don’t mind the attention.

"Who's that weird looking guy pointing the camera at us?"


The fair has been going on every July since 1969 attracting some 50,000 people over the course of the 3 day event. Old hippies love the freedom to “do their own thing” and a new generation has taken to “the fair” too, a la cell phone. For lots of folks cell phones are a convenience not to be done without. For me anyway, they are just a modern "ball & chain" and a distraction from fully experiencing the world right in front of my own eyes.

"Can you hear me now?"

"Can you hear me now?"

When’s the last time you could find good Mexican food out in the middle of the woods? The booths, stages and exhibits are located along meandering trails and small clearings in the 260 wooded acres of the fair site.

"Who's up for chalupas?"

The atmosphere is hard to describe but I’ll try: San Francisco circa. 1967, A Carnival or Circus, A Pre-Historic European Village, Rio, New Orleans, The Wild West, Eugene. It’s not any of those but all of those in one magical place. But even with all the fun and festivities going on it's hard to miss the feeling of being in a very special place, an ancient and sacred oak grove. And there's an appeal to the experience, something primal...

Part 2 is the next post down, so read on!

More pics and words about my day at the Oregon Country Fair will be coming shortly to the email boxes of subscribers to Motorcycle & Scooter Talk at Kano’s Coffee House. Click the link below to sign up. It just takes a second and it’s free!

Subscribe to Motorcycle and Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House by Email

One of my previous pics and posts about the Oregon Country Fair

Another previous post on the Oregon Country Fair

Motorcycling, Escapism and the "Oregon Country Fair" Part 2

Here is the conclusion to the previous post:

...And you don’t know what you’re going to see around the next turn in the path. It could be a banjo player, a sword swallower, or -a tree man.

"A tree saddened by the doings of man."

Being there is like being transported into an alternate reality, kind of like Disneyland I guess. A place to escape the routine, social norms and entrenchment of the lives we lead most days. The fair is a place for folks to be their natural selves and to experience the freedom of expression without fear of the sometimes quick judgment of main stream society.

"Hipsters and Hoopsters"


"A fierce looking Spiritual Warrior."


"Goodbye and Come Again"

This was the third time that I had been to the fair and I’m going to make a habit of showing up every year from now on. I'm not one for donning a costume or strolling around wearing nothing more than a loincloth, but still these are my kind of people and this is my kind of place. Maybe I just need to loosen up a bit...

More pics and words about my day at the Oregon Country Fair will be coming shortly to the email boxes of subscribers to Motorcycle & Scooter Talk at Kano’s Coffee House. Click the link below to sign up. It just takes a second and it’s free!

Subscribe to Motorcycle and Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House by Email

One of my previous pics and posts about the Oregon Country Fair

Another previous post on the Oregon Country Fair

Heavy-Duty Hydraulic Motorcycle and ATV Lift Jack - 1500 LB Capacity

A Father & Son Motorcycle Ride 13,000 Years in the Making

I said to my 14 year old son Jason, "Your mom and the girls are going to church this morning and you and I are hitting the road on the motorcycle."

"So where we going dad?" "To check out a rock over by McMinnville, it'll be a nice ride out there."

My son looking unimpressed and a little less than eager asked "are we going to get a pop or anything?"

Sunday mornings are usually reserved for going to church. My church preference though is the road, the woods, the beach and today it would be to see a "glacial erratic rock."

We waved goodbye to my wife and my 2 girls as they rolled out of the driveway. I felt a little guilty because they soon would be sitting on a wooden church pew and I would be in the familiar saddle of my bike named "Liberty".

Jason reluctantly climbed aboard the bike and we were off. Later we arrived at "Glacial Erratic State Park" a forgotten little wayside with just a small sign marking the entrance to the parking area just off Highway 18 in Yamhill County.

At the trail head was a graffiti sprayed historical marker describing the rock waiting for us at the top of the hill. I read about the glacial erratic as Jason walked ahead.

I caught up with him and we hiked up the short trail and soon we were standing near a large rock overlooking the surrounding scenery of rolling hills, farmland and vineyards.

Jason looked at the rock for a second and said "we rode all the way out here just to see this?"

He cracked open his can of Dr. Pepper and took a long sip.

"Yep" I said, "and this is no ordinary rock, this here is a glacial erratic. If you would have stopped long enough to read the sign then you would know all about it."

He rolled his eyes, took another sip of pop and put on his best disinterested look as I explained:

"This rock came all the way down here from up in Canada during the Missoula flood about 13 thousand years ago at the end of the last ice age. There was a glacier blocking the flow of a river so there was a huge lake. The ice dam burst and a wall of water hundreds of feet high flowed down the Columbia River carrying huge chunks of ice along with it. Embedded in the ice were big rocks like this one".

"And?" He said. (It may have been my imagination or maybe he really was interested in hearing the rest I don't know)

"And this wall of water carrying huge chunks of ice flowed down through Montana and Idaho and into Washington and Oregon along the Columbia River and about where Portland is now some of the water came down the Willamette Valley."

"So" he said. At this point I didn't care if he was really interested or not. I wanted to finish the story so that maybe he would remember it and appreciate the experience we had together sometime in the future.

"So a big chunk of ice settled at the top of this hill and melted, leaving this here rock. End of story."

Shrugging his shoulders he said "cool" and headed back down the trail at a quick pace. He was probably eager to get back home as soon as possible so he could resume the video game he was playing earlier.

I stood there for some time taking it all in. I looked at the view from up there and touched the rock with my hand, noticing someone had spray painted "You Suck!" on the side of it.

I imagined the almost unimaginable pre-historic scene; the wall of water surging over the hilltops around me carrying chunks of ice bigger than a house.

My mind moved from pre-history to recent history. About the time I was Jason's age my dad brought me to see the rock. I was thinking that back then I probably looked just as bored as my son did.

This time was different though. Getting older seems to have the effect of giving me a broader perspective. I appreciate things more and I certainly appreciate my dad more now than I did then, when he was still alive. It's too easy to take people for granted.

Maybe because my finished journey isn't all that distant anymore and things like the rock, people, the world, are savored and taken in more slowly so as to be fully valued.

I was glad I brought Jason up there despite his disinterest. Because, I thought, maybe he would someday return, if only in memory, and he would look at the rock and understand it.

Maybe he would even bring his own family to show them. Maybe generation after generation would come and keep coming, until the time that the rock becomes dust...

Cars sped by on the highway below. Busy, unconscious, and in a hurry to get wherever they were going.

Long ago the rock arrived at its destination but it's purpose was not finished. It had waited silently for this moment 13,000 years in the making.

I was in church that day alright. I felt the presence of my dad on that hill and smiled knowing he would be happy that I was passing along the experience to my own son. I touched the rock and it touched me and it felt like the hand of God.

Subscribe to Motorcycle and Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House

More information on the "Glacial Erratic" along with GPS coordinates.

Motorcycle Blogging At Work - Kano's Really Bad Idea #1,372

There's a time and a place for everything. Blogging at work is not the time nor the place. Kano explains:

Recently I was granted access at work to use the Internet- for research that is. I felt that the sky's had opened up and the literary gods were smiling on me. What a golden opportunity to kick up my Blogging a notch!

Then just as I was gearing up to make Motorcycle & Scooter Talk really rock & roll my boss discovered that I've been partaking of the company's high speed broadband connection for my own evil purposes, Blogging.

So I thought about it for a bit and decided it was best to keep my job. (Right Joel? I know you're reading this!)

I want to keep fixed firmly in my rear-view mirror my previous careers in ditch digging, dish washing, wrestling the criminally insane at a psychiatric hospital and cattle rustling.

Now it's back to my tired old dinosaur of a home computer with its "super no-speed dial-up Internet connection".

New posts may not be as frequent as I had planned. I'll do the best I can though.

And if my winning number comes up in the lottery, I'll take a look at hiring a bunch of secretaries, then I'll get a laptop with broadband. That way I could do a lot of posting!

Until then, I will post from home and as fast as time allows. I do have one coming up real soon about how to get the most out of your motorcycle or scooter by adding it to your arsenal of gardening tools. Thanks for the idea conchscooter!

Now if I could just find someone around here that knows how to type...

Subscribe to Motorcycle and Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House by Email Get it delivered for Free right to your email box!

Your SMALL donation can make a BIG difference when it comes to helping keep Kano from Blogging at work. And (your going to have to trust me on this) you don't want him coming over to your house to use your computer either. In no time flat your PC will be infected with every kind of virus known to man! Just click on the donate button in the sidebar or send an email to: oregonian@netzero.com

Motorcycle Blogging - Reflections After One Year

Well it's been a year this month since I started this blog and it's been a heck of ride and a huge learning experience.

The idea to start blogging came to me as a good way to practice writing and the cool thing about it was that someone actually would read the stuff I wrote.

One of the first pieces of advice I got about blogging was that the subject should be something that I really enjoy talking about and could sustain enthusiasm for over a long period of time. If it was readers I wanted then I would need to keep the focus of the blog razor thin.

I made a short list of potential subjects and motorcycling was at the top. One of my favorite things to do is to go on motorcycle rides with my brother in-law and somewhere along the way we would end up in a coffee shop. There we talked about motorcycles, motorcycle adventures we’ve had, adventures yet to come and the philosophy of the road.

So I thought I would continue the conversation through blogging and let everyone interested- in on what I had to say.

But the trick was it had to be interesting enough for people to want to read. Otherwise I might as well just stick to conventional journaling and forget about blogging on the Internet.

I decided to give it a go and see where it takes me. I made a commitment to running Motorcycle & Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House for a year and then decide whether or not to continue.

It turns out blogging is way more time consuming than I ever imagined. And I've found it difficult coming up with new things to write about while still keeping within the subject at hand-motorcycles and motorcycling.

Which is why I've decided to expand the focus of Motorcycle & Scooter Talk out just a bit and begin to write a little more about other things, not necessarily directly related to motorcycling but hopefully of interest to motorcyclists.

And feeling restricted by single subject talk, I have a couple of other blogs going such as The Sustainable Earth Project and two more under construction; Further! Boomer News & Views and Hippieland.

But Motorcycle & Scooter Talk has been a lot more positive than negative. I've had a bunch of fun reading and replying to comments folks have left for me, visiting other blogs and leaving comments for them.

I've also found that the experience has been an exercise in self-discovery. Writing has helped me focus on who I really am and made it more clear on who I'm not. I have come to know myself better than ever before.

I've learned both in writing and in my own personal growth, how to adapt without losing integrity, to refine and to re-focus. To keep at it until I know I've done the best I can do.

I’ve come to know that personal blogging for the long haul has got to be a labor of love; it's an act of self-expression, an art with the canvas being a blank computer screen.

The reward has been the satisfaction I get when occasionally I feel that the right words have been put down that shine a light on my soul and reveal my spirit within.

And the big bonus to blogging is the feeling of appreciation I get when someone has read my work and left a comment.

Comments and the number of subscribers Motorcycle & Scooter Talk has are my feedback and inspiration for continuing to write.

And so, all things considered I've decided to give it another year at least and see where the road goes. I hope you all stick with me and come along for the ride!

Subscribe to Motorcycle and Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House by Email FREE!

Please help keep Motorcycle & Scooter Talk gassed up and ready to roll! Make a donation or become a Sponsor by clicking on the donate button on the sidebar or email me at oregonian@netzero.com

Does Bill Clinton Ride a Motorcycle?

It turns out that Oregon was pretty important as far as primaries go in this year's presidential election. Obama was way ahead in the polls here but The Clinton's put a lot of effort into trying to make it close. It was not to be though. If Barack and Hillary were motorcycles and they were racing, she would have been a 250cc dirtbike and he would have been a neck snapping sportbike.

So when I heard that Bill Clinton was going to be in Salem at the community college just down the street, I couldn't pass up the chance to check it out. This was going to be a once in a lifetime opportunity to hang out with my Bro Bill Clinton!

I eyed my motorcycle sitting there in the carport, I was tempted to ride. This time it would have to stay home though, too hard to justify to my wife not taking the short walk. She wouldn't understand the urge.

We walked over to the college only to find a long line of people waiting to get into the gymnasium. Finally the line starting moving slowly and then the doors closed leaving several hundred of us shut out. They ran out of space for everyone to get inside the building.

Within minutes a loudspeaker had been rigged outside and Mr. Clinton began his pitch for Hillary.

Man can that guy talk! He must have spoke for an hour or so. Pretty impressive since no one expected her to win in Oregon and for him to spend as much time as he did speaking. I kind of thought he would make just a token appearance, say a few things and hit the road headed for the next stop.

Then I heard him announce that he would come outside to meet the rest of us.

Since his speech was somewhat "long winded" my wife ran out of time and had to leave to pick up the kids from school. She thrust a digital camera into my reluctant hands and disappeared into the crowd behind me. I barely knew how to use the thing.

I'm glad I had the camera though because out comes Bill with his entourage of aides and Secret Service Agents. I happened to be standing at exactly the right place. Hundreds of people thronged behind me, a mass of onlookers all around, some even climbed trees trying to see.

I looked at him and he looked at me and he said "how are you doing?" as he reached out and shook my hand.

Then he moved on to the next guy, my camera was put into action. I was excited and glad that I would have something to show people, some close-up shots of Bill Clinton. I snapped away like a frenzied paparazzi, then stepped back to let others in close.

I personally met Bill Clinton, arguably a man with more power and influence than anyone else on the planet during those 8 years he was President of the United States.

And you know, before I met him, I was in awe of his celebrity. He was someone I knew a lot about, I've seen his pictures in magazines, newspapers and on TV, but in a way he seemed unreal to me.

Meeting Bill Clinton in person though affected me somehow. Looking him in the eye and shaking his hand changed him from seeming like a super human who is above the rest of us to a real human being just like the rest of us. I realized that in more ways than not, we are the same.

I wonder if he ever gets a chance to ride a motorcycle, maybe, well maybe not.

I do know one thing though. Bill and I, we've just traveled on different roads in life that's all. Both those roads began in the same place and will end in the same place. We really are just two kindred spirits. Equal as we have always been in the mind of God.

Subscribe to Motorcycle and Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House by Email

Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Battery Maintenance

Between having a chronic ear ache, sub-freezing weather and torrential downpours of biblical proportions, I haven't rode my motorcycle in several weeks. On Thanksgiving Day it was clear and sunny in the mid 40s and despite my aching ear (not rear), I was determined to ride my bike over to my sister's house where our family was having our annual get together. One of my brother's in-law hadn't seen my newest bike which I've had almost 2 years now. He is interested in getting a motorcycle, so I thought he would like to take a look and possibly a ride.

The anticipation of being back on the road was building; I readied myself like an astronaut preparing for the launch. Boots-check. Jacket-check. Helmet-check. Earplugs, sunglasses-check, check. Okay, key on-check. Switch on-check. Gas on-check. Choke pulled full out-check. A couple twists of the throttle-check. Ignition, 3, 2, 1, Blastoff! Nothing. Houston, we have a problem.

Dead battery.

I should have known, my poor Sportster sits in an unheated shed and I hadn't even thought of hooking it up to the trickle charger yet. I had been riding steady, freezing weather and all until I came down with an earache and the rain got worse. Everyday I thought I would be riding again so I didn't worry about a dead battery. One day led to the next and before I knew it, it had been two weeks and now my motorcycle won't start and its Thanksgiving Day.

We were running late so no time for a quick charge. I rode with my wife and kids in the cage over to my sister's house, tail between my legs.

When I got back from the festivities I hooked my battery up to the charger. It's a Black & Decker and worked fine last winter. This time I kept getting a code on the digital display (F03) which means according to the manual; "Internal open cell, have battery checked..." Which I did. I took it over to Batteries Plus and they found nothing wrong with it. I hooked it back up to the charger and it charged fine despite the code. None of the indicators seemed to be working such as showing that it was charging or if the charge was complete etc.

I don't know what to believe. There could be something wrong with the charger or an undetected problem with the battery. Anyway, it took a charge and fired up once again without problem.

The Black & Decker charger that I have has a lot of features. It charges 12 volt batteries at 2, 6, or 10 amps, has a float (trickle) charge after charging is complete, it also checks battery voltage and the alternator. It also has like I previously mentioned a digital display that will show codes such as internal shorted cell battery, bad battery connection, voltage too low to accept charge, internal open cell, and overheated condition. Once the battery is charged, you can just leave it hooked up and it will kick on and trickle charge as needed.

But, I'm not all that confident that the thing is working right.

Despite all the "bells and whistles" of the Black & Decker, I sort of wish I would have got a simpler charger instead such as the "Deltran Battery Tender" or the "Yuasa Smartshot." I've heard a lot of good things about those two and don't know anyone who's had any problems with theirs. It's just a matter of hooking them up and forgetting about it. If your battery doesn't charge, it's the battery that has the problem; not much of a chance the charger isn't working properly.

I'm back on the road again. My bike starts fine. Since the battery people tell me my battery is strong, I'm pretty certain the charger isn't working as advertised. I'm going to put on my Christmas list a new battery charger, one that I can count on, and a nice warm garage for my Sportster. Maybe I can get those Extreme Makeover guys over here to build a proper place for my bike to sit out the cold waits between winter rides!

Before I end this already too long post I need to explain the title.

This brings me to Zen. Buddha learned and taught what is called "The Four Noble Truths." I doubt that 2,500 years ago he anticipated dead motorcycle batteries but Buddha sure understood the pain caused by things going south.

The first Noble Truth is "Suffering exists." The second is "Desire and attachment are the causes of suffering." The third is "There is an end to suffering." And the fourth Noble Truth is "The end (to suffering) can be attained by journeying on the Noble Eightfold Path."

To put it into our topic of discussion; that is dead batteries and not being able to ride, this is how one may process The Four Noble Truths:

Noble Truth One - Suffering exists, dang!

Noble Truth Two - I want my bike to start dammit!

Noble Truth Three - There is an end to this friggin situation!

Noble Truth Four - I'm going to find out what that "Eightfold Path" thing is all about and in the mean time, I'm hooking up to the charger and then I'm going to forget about it!

If my bike doesn't start later on, well that's in the future. I can't predict the future and it's not reality yet, just an illusion. No need to suffer for an illusion.

If it didn't start yesterday that's old news. No need to suffer again for something that has already happened.

The only thing that is real is right here and right now, my motorcycle is hooked up and charging, everything is cool.
Kano's Coffee House

Deltran SuperSmart Battery Tender Plus 12-Volt 1.25 AMP Battery Charger

Black & Decker VEC1086BBD Smart Battery 6/4/2 Amp Battery Charger

Yuasa 1.5 Amp Battery Charger #YUA1201501

Subscribe to Motorcycle and Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House

A Thought Provoking Winter Read - Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

I recently re-discovered the book Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig, which had been collecting dust these past several years on my bookshelf. I eagerly read it for the second time, glad to be reunited with the timeless storyline and interesting characters in the book. I found it to be entertaining and at the same time strangely unsettling.

First published in 1984 "Zen" is based on actual occurances and is one of those timeless classics that will be read by many people well into the future.

Pirsig writes about his motorcycle trip from Minnesota to California with his son and two friends. The book's subtitle is "An Inquiry into Values" which suggests it is not so much about Zen or motorcycles but about self-discovery, his struggle to reconcile with the past and the strained relationship with his twelve year old son.

The book is appealing on many levels, from an interesting trip diary on the surface down to some pretty deep philosophical thinking. I also have read the Guidebook To Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert L. DiSanto, Ph.D and Thomas J. Steele, Ph.D, and as the authors titles suggest, it's pretty heady stuff and most of it is well beyond my limited level of understanding. I wouldn't recommend that one unless you're a scholar or a sucker for punishment.

Back to the subject of the original book, I particularly liked Pirsig's examination of the contrast between himself and his friend as far as motorcycle maintenance and technology in general are concerned. He makes a good point about not leaving the maintenance of one's motorcycle to the mercy of a professional mechanic. (Ah, the good old days when it was still possible to take care of one's own bike).

Pirsig put it this way, "The study of the art of motorcycle maintenance is really a miniature study of the art of rationality itself. Working on a motorcycle, working well, caring, is to become part of a process, to achieve an inner peace of mind."
Kano's Coffee House
Amazon Book Link: Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values

Guidebook to Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Subscribe to Motorcycle and Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House

Winter Motorcycle Riding Ahead, Enjoy!

It's mid November already; I can hardly believe it, where has the year gone! I keep riding my motorcycle through the winter but I do miss the occasional day here and there. I live in a relatively mild climate in the western part of Oregon. The winter weather doesn't usually get too nasty here. Once in awhile I opt to take my wife's cage to work if the roads are icy or its pouring down rain. She says, "better safe than stupid Kano!"

Then my thoughts turn to the not so fortunate and the more fortunate than I. Some people live in a harsh climate and can't do much riding during the cold months. Others continue the ride unabated amongst the Live Oaks and Palms of the sunny south. Some make the choice to live in the warmer climes primarily for the endless riding season. It's easy for me to understand why.

Still, riding cold and sometimes wet has its benefits as well. It makes a warm home all the more appreciated and there's something about being out in the elements that makes me feel more alive and connected to the natural world around me.

For instance, many folks spend their life in climate controlled buildings and vehicles. That's not for me! I need to be out there, in the wind, now that's living, really living!
Kano's Coffee House

Subscribe to Motorcycle and Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House

Who doesn't Love Their Motorcycle and what's That Got to Do with Sex?

"It's a beautiful machine" were the last words the salesman said before I rode off on my new Harley Sportster a couple of years ago. The salesman was right. For me anyway, motorcycles, especially Harleys, are the most beautiful things ever made by man. I would rather sit on a bench and take in the art of the machine then look at the "Mona Lisa" at the Louvre in Paris.

I love my bike; it's one of the few material things that I have a strong attachment to. It's as though the bike is an extension of me.

My wife thinks so too, in a literal sense however. She says men love motorcycles because they are some sort of phallic symbol, representing a projection of power or something like that. She may be right for all I know. Maybe Carl Jung would have agreed with her on that one.

But a lot of women love bikes too, what about them? Hmm, penis envy? Sigmund Freud's analysis might be that all those women riding around, subconsciously wish they had a peter.

As for me, I think motorcycles symbolize freedom, it's all about the freedom, and the art of form and function. Not a penis on wheels.

Yep, my Sportster, it's a beautiful machine alright. I'll just keep on riding while the poets, philosophers, psychoanalysts, and my wife figure out why.
©2007 N.(Kano)Miles, Kano's Coffee House

Subscribe to Kano's Coffee House

Discount and overstock parts and accessories for your motorcycle!

The Movie Wild Hogs, Harleys, and My Own Mid-Life Crisis

I finally crawled out of my cave this past weekend and rented the movie Wild Hogs. Just in case there's anybody else on the planet that hasn't seen it; this biker comedy flick is well worth the watch. I laughed my head off, it's one of the funniest movies I've seen in a long time.

The movie is about four "RUBs" (Rich Urban Bikers)played by Tim Allen, John Travolta, Martin Lawrence and William H. Macy. They embark on a road-trip and find lots of trouble along the way, especially when they run into a real biker gang.

Those characters reminded me of a couple of guys I ran across in Texas some years ago and wrote a post on recently. They had a lot in common with the movie characters and were real life RUBs.

Sometimes I wonder if people think of me as a laughable poser too, riding my Harley through a mid-life crisis. Maybe the one-time observer would think so, but anyone that knows me or sees me go by on a regular basis know I ride a lot and have been riding regularly for quite a few years. However, the mid-life crisis part would be a correct assumption.

My earlier adulthood seemed to be absorbed in making a family, building a career, buying a house, grooming the lawn, collecting material wealth; pursuing the American dream. Then I reached middle-age. That, combined with my dad dying of cancer and my mom coming down with Alzheimer's disease made it hit, WHAM! I called into question everything about how I was living my life, and so that's how it all started.

When it hit, it hit hard. Quite a few years had passed since I'd been on a motorcycle and I started thinking about riding again. Then I bought my first Harley and soon after quit my stressful job, embarking on a different life course. I wanted a life focused on the truly important things such as my family who had long been neglected from my own exhaustion and depression.

I left the security of a fairly good paying job after realizing I wasn't living life as it should be. I'd lost my way. All the ideals of my youth; one by one had been left on the side of the road. I'd become exactly what I didn't want to be, a burned-out and cynical old man.

Plenty of hardships have had to be endured as a result of leaving my old life behind. My family is living a more precarious and spartan lifestyle, but it's all worth it. Our life is richer now. Not in figures that can be measured, nor stuff in the garage, or dollars in a bank account, but in ways that can barely be put into words.

My wife has a husband again, my kids a dad. I've begun to reclaim some of the happiness lost along the way. Getting my life back again started the day I bought my first Harley. So I keep riding, trying my best to keep the Sportster, my family, and myself on the road and between the ditches.

In conclusion, am I like those Wild Hogs? Or the Texas bikers mentioned in my previous post, so transparant that they might as well had price tags still attached to their shiny helmets? No, well OK, a little bit. Laughing at those guys is like laughing at myself in a way, and I don't mind.

One thing I've learned is not to take myself too seriously. So if people want to think I'm a poser, so be it. Let people think what they want and let them laugh. I'll just keep on riding my Harley through life, chasing after windmills in my own Don Quixote like way. "It's not the destination" someone once said, "never the destination, only the ride".
©2007 N.(Kano)Miles, Kano's eCoffee House

If you find this site entertaining and informative please leave a donation for Kano so you can enjoy the gift of giving too. Thank you for your support!

Wild Hogs (Widescreen Edition)

I would like to take this opportunity to thank some of my Blogger friends for their encouragement and I invite you to check out their excellent sites.
Scooter in the Sticks
Musings of an Intrepid Commuter
Biker News Online
Little Billy's Scooter Tales

A Honda Trail 90 Dream Realized Update

Some of you have been hanging around the coffee house long enough to remember a post I wrote back in June titled: Honda Trail 90 A Dream Realized. The post was about how I saw a Honda Trail 90 when I was a kid and decided then and there that I had to have one. This summer, some 40 years later I acquired it, a 1968, probably the same year as the one I saw as a kid. The message of the story was don't give up on your dreams, sometimes they just take a little longer than expected. Yesterday I sold that dream.

Back in June I bought the bike and then the dust thrown into the air by the whirlwind of my excitement had settled. Things returned to normal around my house. The bike sat out in the carport chained to a post. A future project waiting to get fixed and running again. I lacked the mechanical skills to do it myself, so the old Honda waited until I could afford to take it to a shop.

The kids needed school clothes and that was that. I put an ad in the paper and before I knew it, she was sold. My dream realized was passed on to the next dreamer. I'm happy to report that the buyer had plans to fix it up; he was an older guy like me and had the know how and parts to do the job. My Wife who has good intuition said that the bike went to the right guy and I agree, I'm glad he's the one who got it.

After I sold the bike and before the new owner picked it up, I sat for awhile out in the carport enjoying the late summer evening breeze. I looked over at the old Honda and contemplated my experience with her. Why did I buy it in the first place? Was it really the fulfillment of a youthful promise to myself, or was it an attempt to reclaim my past? With a longer road behind me than in front, is that what I was doing? Is this why some old guys have train sets, dye their hair or drive sporty cars? Was it a desperate attempt to stop time and even return to a brighter day? Nostalgia.

I suppose so. Despite our best efforts, the hair dye, train sets, sporty cars and yes even Honda Trail 90s, there is no going back, only forward. Always forward.

I will put the Honda Trail 90 experience behind me. I can imagine the new owner happily tinkering in his garage, working the magic to bring her back to life. I have more room to maneuver my Sportster around in the carport, my kids have new school clothes, and it's all good.
©2007 N.(Kano)Miles, Kano's eCoffee House

If you find this site entertaining, thought provoking or informative please leave a donation for Kano so you can enjoy the spirit of giving too.

What Is The Ultimate Motorcycle Journey?

I am one who tends to live in the moment as much as possible. It's difficult and even painful sometimes to look into my future. Many of you may find yourself in the same fix, a ride unrealized. Imagine if you could ride anywhere, what would your ultimate motorcycle journey be?

I'm almost 51 and still raising young children, 2 girls and a boy. The last one won't graduate from High School until I'm about 61. Even though I'm somewhat old to have such young kids. I wouldn't change a thing. I love them and my wife beyond measure. However, it's a stretch right now for me to imagine a wonderful future. Following a failed attempt at self-employment and subsequent under employment, I have no retirement to look forward to. I have no savings, and am just eking out an existence with the job I now have.

There is a ray of hope, I have discovered Blogging. Blogging is something I have found that I immensely enjoy. It's a way that I can provide what I hope to be a valuable service to my readers. Blogging is also a step in the direction towards my life long dream of working as a writer. I have taken an important step, from dream to intention.

Many of my fantasy rides at this point however are just that, a fantasy. If today doesn't change, tomorrow will be the same. Presently I have neither the time nor funds to go on some of the rides I had been dreaming of, rides that I want to take in my lifetime. Still it doesn't hurt to dream, but dreaming or wishing isn't enough to make a fantasy reality. What makes reality is a goal, an intention, action.

There are plenty of self-help gurus out there that claim you get what you expect and what you can perceive you can achieve. That making a goal, hard work, and even using positive affirmations, creative visualization and meditation will get you the results you want. I am here to tell you those things and other techniques and practices certainly increase the chances of your success.

Nothing is a certainty however, there are no fool proof secrets. There is an unknown factor, a mystery to life, if you don't succeed at some endeavor or the the other it's not always your fault. Thinking that it is, can lead to lots of problems like low self-esteem, guilt, resentment and disappointment.

Just drifting with the current, landing where one lands is fine if you're living a very simple life with no pretensions and no responsibilities. However if you live in modern society, you need to pay the rent and eat and possibly provide for others. Living in modern times takes money and lots of it.

To best increase (remember no sure fire guarantees) our chances of being able to do so is to have a goal and work at it. One needs to keep that goal in the forefront of their consciousness so as not to get off the path. However it is equally important to be open to the possibility of a change in plans. Many a missed opportunity for something even better happens when one becomes too focused on the goal. Like the horse wearing blinders, it's easy to fail to see other even better possibilities. It's also the road we are on that really matters the most, not the destination.

So here are my motorcycle ride fantasies that I want to achieve in my lifetime: I would like to take a U.S. coast to coast ride from Pacific to Atlantic and back.
I would also like to see Europe again. This time on a bike. Back in the early 1980s I was stationed at Stuttgart, Germany while in the Army. I was fortunate to have a chance to see some of Germany, Austria, Switzerland, France, Belgium, and England. I want to see more and I want to re-visit some of the best places.

I want to be able to do more exploring by motorcycle in my own backyard. Oregon is vast and diverse, I have only scratched the surface of all there is to see right here in my home state. I am fortunate to live in Salem, conveniently located roughly 50 miles to the Pacific Coast, 50 miles to Portland, 50 miles to the Cascade Mountains and the High Desert beyond. All are an easy day trip away. I don't do enough of those.

Those fantasy rides are not likely to happen unless I make it my intention. Then, I have a chance. My future could be bright, with the intention to make it so and the action to back it up. A fantasy is weak, a dream is a little stronger and hope a little stronger yet. A goal is strong and an intention even stronger, but none are any good without action.

So there you have it, my ultimate motorcycle journeys in a nutshell. Writing this post has been a good reminder to myself that I need to start making goals again, stay hopeful about the future (because what's the alternative? Depression? Giving up?), be open to change, and expect that my intentions will be realized. At the same time however, keeping in mind that there is an unknown element to life and things don't always work out the way we want or expect them to.

When I was younger I used to think about riding aimlessly around America, ending up wherever I end up. To be alone and free of responsibility and not stay in any particular place for too long. That's all changed now; I have a family and friends to go back to. Maybe that's what the ultimate motorcycle journey is, the ride home.
Copyright 2007 N.(Kano)Miles - Kano's eCoffee House

If you find this site helpful, informative or entertaining, please leave a donation for Kano so you can enjoy the spirit of giving too.