Flying.

I love aircraft almost as much as bikes. 

Any and all types of aircraft.  Vintage, modern, military, commercial, light, xperimental etc.  During my youth, I often bussed, later cycled and still later, rode my S90 or A 100 to the Muni airport in Edmonton, just to stand on the platform and watch the planes come and go.

Over the years, whenever I was able, I'd make a point of spending a lazy day, sipping on a Coke and wandering amongst airplanes.  Of course nowadays, you can't even get close to an airport but back in the sixties, there was no such thing as sabotage or terrorism, or security certainly not as we know it today. 

You could literally walk off the street and stroke and fondle Cessna's, Bell's and Beavers (airplanes!) I once got to ride in a Bell 47, with the glass bubble cockpit!  If you hung out long enough, and polished enough aluminum or perspex... you just never knew.

I wanted so bad in my youth to learn to fly but of course the cost for this Hungarian kid was always out of reach.  I took up flying motorcycles instead.  Raced MX for years, did some trials, ice racing etc.  Hey... it wasn't three dimensional but close.  As time went by I'd go up with friends that flew small planes or  commercial, but mostly, I'd just find museums or gate guardians to hang around.  On my list is the huge Arizona air park outside Tuscon, that I will likely see in the fall.  Like riding, that bug never goes away.

Here's some pics from the years and various locations...

Riding can most definately be "Hazardous to your health."

Motorcyclist killed in Marshfield collision

Police say driver turning left didn't see approaching motorcycle

CBC News

Posted: May 22, 2013 9:35 PM AT

Last Updated: May 22, 2013 10:32 PM AT *

 

I'm talking to my buddy Mike, late last night, catching up in the usual after a long day/before us old farts** hit the sack, phone call.

He tells me he's had a very hard day.  Struggled all day with selling his V Star.  "have you not seen the news laddie?"  he asks, oblivious to my bewilderment.  Another Island rider, is dead.  

 

"What's the point?" he throws out there.  

And of course, not simply because I ride and am crucially aware of his concern for his safety and the fact that I was a motorcycle instructor for 2 decades... and given my own experiences over my 45 years riding two/three wheelers, I know it is valid.

Shortly after buying my first new bike, a '72 350 Rebel, I was hit by a station wagon with a full load of family, riding back from Ft Mac to Edmonton at age 17.  Young woman driving, blinding dust in front of her and me hidden by the cloud, too thick to see anything.  Whether she was trying to pass the car ahead, or just wandered on the gravel highway 63 into "my lane"... I will never know.  She clipped my left handlebar, knee, hand and had she been just 12" farther left, well... you wouldn't have found much left of a young Dr. N. Thusiast in training, no siree!  It took me a year to recover from that, and I still have the scars to prove it.

Over the years, even when on a road race circuit, or flying through the air on an MX bike, or sliding along on my ass as my YZ/KX/CR/RM's studded tires whirred by my head on the ice oval... I've had little cause for major concern.  Even in 2002, on an otherwise gorgeous sunny Sunday, heading over to meet my Japanese friend Kazue, having just stopped at a red light on MacLeod Trail in Calgary, upon hearing the tire shriek... training and instinct gained from countless miles and practice sessions most likely saved my life, as a young male this time, driving Dad's Mazda, having seen me approaching the intersection, stepped on the gas ("but officer... motorcycles always run yellow lights!")  instead of the brake, and very nearly ran me over!

The father and son in the car to my right told me afterwards during my long rehab, that I would surely have won at least a third place ribbon at the Stampede bareback competition.  

The combination of quick reaction without time to think, gained me the distance of perhaps 20' and let's say, 20-25kph speed differential, coupled with the height of my XT600 (he hit no hard parts) most likely saved my life that day, as I did a reverse wheelie, bike near vertical, legs above my head, doing an unwanted handstand, bars whacking against their stops hard enough to twist the front end.

So, after a lifetime of riding and far too many Gillette like close shaves to count, plus some genuine doozies, I'm still fortunate to sit here to write about it to you.  

Far be it from me to tell Mike, or anyone for that matter... that riding, is just as safe as walking the dog.  It isn't.  It can and sometimes is, hazardous to one's health.  His health, my health and your health if you choose to ride.

For the elderly couple that failed to see that motorcyclist as they entered the highway east of Charlottetown Wednesday, they should be forever thankful that it wasn't an eighteen wheeler whose path they pulled into.  It would be them in the headline, and their families and friends shocked and grieving.  As so often happens, that driver made a fundamental mistake while using a motor vehicle on a public roadway... he wasn't paying close enough attention to his responsibility to drive carefully, and not just to save his own life... but that of another human being.

I ride because in my lifetime I have found little else that supplies me with the feeling, the thrill, the enjoyment, the freedom that having a motorized vehicle between my legs under my control, does.  Is there risk with that?  Of course there is.  Am I aware of the risk?  Yes... I am.  Has it stopped me from riding?  No it has not.  

For Mike and anyone else... no one can answer that question for you.  You have to do it yourself/daily.  There have been many days when I had planned on riding my bike to work, or to the mountains or a date, and changed my mind because simply put, I didn't feel 100% "on."

We drove to Holly's graduation in Halifax along the Fundy coast this week, took the scenic route with the PT Cruiser  (turbo) and I'm sure Brenda was probably exhausted hearing me say, time and again... "What an awesome motorcycle road, we've got to come back here this summer..."

*CBC News

** I use this term loosely

PS only 3% of collisions are actually accidental, that rest are avoidable.

Frigid... air!

WHAT a fabulous day it was today... except it was cold enough to freeze my nipples!

Calgary foothills.

After a very busy day, I rode my remaining* XT 225 Serow into Kensington to visit Mike for a late evening coffee.  Sun was still shining on the way in, but dark on the return leg.  And cold... in fact the temperature right now is a paltry 3 degrees.  Let me spell that out for you... 
t h r e e  degrees C!  That's barely above freezing.  What up with that?  Last year at this time, it was in the 30's and stayed there pretty much all summer. 

Getting back to my opening line, any of you riders that have ridden any distance in cold and or windy temperatures, know what I am talking about.

Said niece.

This is such a great little bike.  Mine is a '92 model and in it's long production run, they changed little.  Fuel mileage nearing 90 mpg, six speed tranny that can plonk down to near trials speeds yet afford a 100kph cruising, and a light nimble chassis with a Mono X suspension system.  Sure sure... it ain't no MX racer, but I don't care.

The Tibetan mountain goat, has carried me through some gnarly terrain in Baja, twice... on the KVR railway in the Okanagan, and countless trail rides locally, as well as commuting in Calgary.  The only problem I've had with the bike was a broken choke mechanism (my fault) and a leaky fuel valve.

I sold the mate* of this one to niece Cindy, and I certainly hope she is using it out there in British Columbia (you go girl)  

In Baja

As for the remaining Serow... I don't think I will ever part with her.  Like girlfriends, she may not be the newest, spiffyest model on the block... but you can take her home to Mama and not be ashamed at all.








I look forward to riding the Island back roads yet again, just like them old days...

The "road" to La Purisima 2004

Legal and ready to Rock.

THIS whole move to the East has been quite the process.  Much different than 1981 when I was a budding 26 year old.  Then I had exactly:

1 wife
1 child
1 cat
1 bike
1 van
1 mini pick up truck

and one of whatever would fit in the remaining space.

THIS time round, I had considerably more stuff.  Amongst the "stuff" I brought several bikes with me and Monday I had 4 of them newly plated.  The long time Alberta plates will go on a wall, and the PEI plates are bolted on in their place.

The weather has been struggling to get into the mid teens this week, and the wind if not gale force, has certainly been, ummm... brisk.  Too brisk in fact to set up the little greenhouse we picked up a couple of weeks ago.  Sure we hear, western Canada is experiencing record high temperatures but like everything except the rising Sun, that warmth is traveling west to east.

I'm planning an hour off , what has been a hectic couple of weeks and get out with my old buddy Mike.  You see, Mike has been blabbering to me for 3 decades, that he's getting back in the saddle and now that he has a very nice and appropriate V Star 650 Custom, we need to get him some seat time.  We've spent several hours puttering around the parking lot, and like I always say... "there's no substitute for cubic experience"

 

To get better at flying, you have to sit in the pilot's seat, to be a better rider, same thing.

Nostalgia

 

 

Me and the girls circa 2001

 

nos·tal·gia

/nɒˈstældʒə, -dʒiə, nə-/ Show Spelled [no-stal-juh, -jee-uh, nuh-] 

noun

1.

a wistful desire to return in thought or in fact to a former time in one's life, to one's home or homeland, or to one's family and friends; a sentimental yearning for the happiness of a former place or time: a nostalgia for his college days.

THOSE that know me well, know I spend a lot of my thoughts in the past, maybe you do too?  After all, it is our past that has to a great extent, shaped who we are today.  Maybe... maybe it's how we are that shaped our past.

In any case, I was just thinking of two instances during my past, that brought a smile to my face.

The first occurred right here on the Island circa 1988-89.  I was asked to arrive at Greenfield Elementary school to give a short talk on my career path.  Of course at the time I was owner and operator of Freedom Cycle, a motorcycle, snowmobile recreational business.  I showed up on the appointed day and waited my turn at a short 20 minute presentation.  There were a couple of other Dad's there, a lawyer and some other professional perhaps an accountant if memory serves, both dressed immaculately in suits, the standard tools of the trade.  I on the other hand, had on a nice Freedom Cycle t shirt, brought along some fun small stuff for the kids and did my spiel.  Afterwards... I asked Holly, then about 9, if she was 'disappointed in her Dad' after all, I didn't have a law degree or some other certification to hang on my wall, the only thing there was, were posters of Randy Mamola or Bob Hannah or Kenny Roberts.  

She looked at me in the way, she still does and said this; "Dad..... those other Dad's are boring, my friends all think you have the coolest job on Earth."   

The second example I was thinking about was during 1999.  Holly was traipsing about Europe with a backpack, and Lisa, who lived out here at that time, was feeling left out.  I sent her an email with a map of the Western US and a letter.  In it I outlined a trip for the two of us to Hollywood CA, riding my Seca II.  We would load a saddlebag for her, one for me and the tailbag for essential bike stuff.  

Within days of her arrival via Air Canada,  we were loaded and ready to ride,  She was sixteen.  The weather was poor, very cold and very very wet.  I hate to start a trip this way but we had limited time, rain gear two electric vests and after all... we were heading to sunny California.

 Our first night was in Great Falls, with a delivered Pizza to our motel, from then on we wound our way south, sometimes via Interstate, others via back lanes.  The Missouri river valley, Craters of the Moon national monument in Idaho,  and Wendover Utah, home of the revered, Bonneville salt flats, where the fastest humans on wheels gather.  Leaving Wendover on the Nevada side, (it spans both Nevada and Utah) during a quick photo shoot... I noticed my rear tire going flat.  

Back into town it was.  Given that it was Sunday and there were no MC shops in town, and because I had a plug kit, I bought an air pump and detoured the several hundred km into SLC, arriving on Monday, the 5th of July.  Guess what... every shop was closed for the long weekend!  Occasional pumping showed the plug to be holding, so we carried on.  Our next stop was in Nephi UT, Lisa dozing off on the hind seat.  Maybe okay on a Wing, not so good on a sports touring bike.  The next day, found us in Vegas.  So far on our trip we had freezing temperatures in heavy rain, flat tire problems, heavy traffic around that dismal SLC corridor, and now for the past three days, immense heat.  From Beaver UT through the Virgin river gorge, a stop at Mesquite where it hit 126 degrees F... to our night in LV.

I will interject at this point that since our divorce, Lisa, who had then been living with her Mom while Holly and I lived in Calgary, hadn't had much to talk about.  Her annual visits were more about me trying hard to make up for the separation between us, mostly unsuccessfully, than our truly enjoying each others company.  This entire trip, few conversations had taken place and not just while on the motorbike. 

As I am packing our gear prior to leaving Las Vegas, folding clothes etc, on the carpeted motel room floor, Lis... sitting on the bed, says to me; "Dad... I really admire your patience.  After all the weather problems then the bike problems and the heat of the last few days, you really kept you cool, never got mad, and just dealt with things..."

Had I not already been sitting on the floor, that would have floored me.

So you see, my friends... living in the past is simply living in the present, because in about a micro second, it will be gone.     

Lisa, 126 degrees F, Mesquite NV

 

Postcards from Europe!

You know I've moved, right?  Not to another house, but across the country, 5000 km moved.


In the hustle and bustle of first selling/moving Brenda and Anna into my long time home in Silver Springs, we did the whole thing over again and here we are, on the lovely Island of Prince Edward.  Canada's smallest province (pop 138,000) and home of the country itself.  Yup, it was right here in 1867 that Canada was officially "born."

Every now and then I go through unpacked boxes, mostly looking for something in particular, other times just unpacking.  I cam across several notebooks the other day and have been sitting down to look them over.  Very interesting, emotional, nostalgic and informative.  Not just info, but state of mind.  You see, they are my 2nd trip to Europe in 2009.  I'd bought a bike there the year before and spent 5 months exploring from the hood to Berlin north and Greece, south.

These journals were a day to day account of my unplanned spring fling the following year.  Prior to the first trip, when I was single, I'd sold my business interest in Calgary, and was planning some major changes, the Euro trip kicking off my new life.  On my return I learned the sale of the biz was falling through and I quickly made the decision to rtn and ride the continent east to west.

I've written lots about that trip in blogs going back to '09, when I began the thing, so I won't re tell those stories, you can always scroll back.  What I will do today is quote some of my thoughts during that 2nd ride.  Maybe you'll find them as interesting as I did, maybe not...

In any case I'll include a short quote and maybe a pic or three.

"Crossed into Croatia at Letenye, rode the M7 for a very short distance veered off into Hodosan on twisty flat country roads to Cakovec, before crossing into the tiny country of Slovenia.  Rolling on and off in top gear, letting the engine pull, speeds vary 60-90kph.  Turned south to Lubjana, post card perfect little town of Vhrinka, rain threatening.  Climbed twisty roads among sprinkles towards Ajdovscina.  Rain getting heavier, skies darker each kilometer.  Found a little counry Inn for E20.  Rain came down in buckets for half an hour, would have soaked me clear through had I continued..."

"Incredible, twisting climb into Rovereto Italia.  It's Saturday, traffic has been intense.  Lot to take in.  Lots and lots of bikes, nakeds, streetfighters, super motos, sports.  They ride with no fear, crossing on solid lines around blind corners, faster than me by double maybe triple speeds.  Crazy stuff!  They all think they are Valentino (Rossi) How am I going to survive this?  Every day I get off the road, exhausted."

"Lago De Garda is like the Okanagan.  Crowds, even this early, are thick, traffic thicker.  Sailboats, sports cars, sidewalk cafes and topless women on the beaches.  Okay, maybe not quite Penticton.  Passed by Modena home to Ferrari, stomach bad from lunch. 

  

Off the motorway at SS64, Sasso Marconi.  Bologna nearby, like Milwauke, except instead of Harley's tons of Duc's!  Towns and villages, mountains, slow twisting ride.  Gotta get off, have a Coke. 

Parked next to a beautiful Ducati single, she's a 250.  Lots of local bikes, watching 'football'.  U-turned down a goat path to San Momme, pop 200.  Again, picture perfect.  Got a little family hotel, E35, lots of cats.  I'm 90km to Pisa."

"Warned by American service wives, that my T shirt could attract some dangerous and unwanted attention.  There is a major Nato base nearby.  Threats common.  I buy 'I love Italia' shirt from vendor, remove my 'I love NY' shirt and stow in trunk."

"Back at the Arcobaleno hotel.  Owner's Italian sports car out front, reminds me of my MGB back home.  Spent the day exploring Pisa, fabulous, too many hawkers though.  Wall to wall miniscule shops selling religious trinkets, baubles and of course,
T shirts.  Lucca far better, old city. Worth walking miles, have an ice cream, think, blend into the background.  Fab day, but wore me out.  In fact I am thinking that this entire trip has been tiring.  Hope I'm not getting sick.  Hope I'm not on the verge of another heart attack.  Realize I am missing something... home maybe?  Don't know."



"Finally things looking up!!!  I'm happier today by a bunch.  Three days in that little village, one whole day without even checking the bike.  Roads opened up, a little wider, better for me and Piroska.  Gorgeous gentle curves more suited to my age and Red's too!  Sweepers, just a little hang off, roll the joy stick on, curve to curve, across Tuscany.  From lunch in Follonica to Piombino and then the Moby Love to Elba where I will exile myself for a couple of days.  Sea gulls hanging in the breeze, towed along by the big ship with the cavernous hold, swallowing hundreds of us, like Jonah's whale.  Great little sea side resort in Viticcio, quiet, few tourists, breakfast and dinner included for E50 a night.  


 


I'm riding.  This is what I wanted to do.  Not work so hard on those tiny mountain twisties.  I must be getting old... I laugh to myself, so what. 

 



Look at me, look where I am, look at that sunset... doesn't get much better than this."

YHZ

 

ANYONE know what those letters represent?

 . 

 

Took our first drive off the Island since arriving last September.  Over the Confederation Bridge we went, the three of us, cats stayed home this time round.  Quite the change driving vs waiting in line for the ferry, sometimes for hours.  I remember one year coming back from NB, our icebreaking boat got jammed up by ice literally a stones throw from the docks.  We had to wait for a CG ship to come clear it out.  Circled in the straight for EIGHTEEN HOURS! to keep from getting frozen in.  Memorable that, wot!

 

Anyway, as you can see from the pics, it was a sunny w/e, but you wouldn't have know it during our final 20 km to arrival.  Dense fog, barely see the painted lines, at least divided highway all the way in.  Rain beat us up for pretty much the entire drive over, but at least it was decent Sunday for a walking tour around the heart of the city.  I swear, Holly and Kevin took us near 15 kilometers in total.  Very good show...

 

Saw their tiny apartment, that I understand wasn't much of a hindrance, as they have been overseas lots during their four year term, and besides, the architecture campus is barely three blocks walk.  From then on, we did several loops, to the main campus, the down town Public Gardens park, Citadel hill of course... and
the waterfront.


Halifax is a very nice city, scenic and historic.  One of the best deep water harbors in the world.  In 1917 the French SS Mont Blanc collided with SS IMO, a Norwegian steamer and Mont Blanc's massive cargo of munitions exploded, leaving much of the city in ruins and several thousand dead or injured.  This was the largest man created explosion in history prior to the Hiroshima atomic bombing. 



 

Tens of thousands of ships carrying vital war cargo of men and materiel, transitioned from these sheltered bays.

 

Cemeteries carry grave markers dating the the 18th century.

      

The city has seen a re-juvination that is still progressing.  Where once rowdy soldiers and sailors were rounded up by shore patrol and MP's, city dwellers, tourists and motorcyclists hang out.





 

We five drove back in the very spacious PT Cruiser (turbo) Sunday evening, stopping in Amherst for a nice family dinner.



The cats were certainly glad to see us return.

I look forward to re-visiting some of my old travels in the Maritimes in the coming years.