That's The Ticket!

The family went out to dinner last night at a local Italian restaurant, and seated one table away was a motor officer with the California Highway Patrol. I decided to take advantage of this situation and ask for an expert's summary of the laws involving lane splitting. The officer was delighted to help and spent ten minutes educating me on the law:

Lane splitting in California is defined as riding between two lanes of traffic. The first infraction is obvious: riding between the right-most lane and the shoulder. The shoulder is not a lane of traffic, so is illegal to ride on or split.

The second infraction is not so obvious to most: the car pool (ride share) lane is separated from the main freeway by two solid yellow lines. This means that it is considered separate from the other lanes -- it is a different road entirely. Because it is only one lane, there is no other lane to split with. It is illegal to ride between the car pool lane and the left-most regular freeway lane.

I hope this saves you a ticket, and leave you with this:

Q: Why don't ride share lanes go under mountains?

A: Car-pool Tunnel Syndrome.

Split Personality

I am not the guy splitting lanes at 80 MPH. But I am definitely willing to take advantage of my single-track profile when traffic slows to a stop. And that is exactly what happened yesterday as I left my office to head home.

Bumper-to-bumper stop and go traffic for miles made for a rather onerous commute. I was delighted to be able to split lanes and just make progress. I also learned two important things: I can only split lanes for about a mile or two at a time before I have to pull into lane and rest. Splitting lanes is a rather stressful activity; cars cutting over without warning, the gap widening and narrowing without notice. So I take regular rest breaks.

The second thing I learned is that diesel fuel is quite possibly the slipperiest substance known to man. Forget teflon and graphite! Put a boot down in a greasy stream of diesel and you are suddenly the guest contestant in a game of keep-the-shiny-side-up.

The cause of my afternoon adventure eventually slid into view: a semi truck in an unnatural position. It was bad enough that emergency crews had sprayed the entire area with white foam. I gingerly navigated the last of the frothy obstacles and smoothly accelerated into the wide open road beyond.

I happily stayed in lane for the rest of my ride home.

Protection x Infinity

One of my larger purchases arrived today: a Rev'It Infinity one piece touring suit. The suit is absolutely spectacular, lighter than a 'stitch, and loaded with the latest in space-age fabric technology.

The Infinity has four torso vents, two on the chest and two on the back. It does not have vents on the legs or arms. The zippers are TiZip storm-proof zippers.

I am 5' 11.5", 185 lbs., and have a 36" waist. The XL fits me perfectly. My local store was able to order one so I could try it on before purchasing. Unfortunately, the one they ordered was the all-black suit. Besides not wanting to roast in the California sun, I wanted much higher visibility. So I plunked down my coin (well, $1200 anyway), and they ordered the light grey suit for me. In my opinion, it is very stylish. My wife's reaction upon seeing it for the first time was: "Why don't they make these for women???" Good question. Anyone at Rev-It want to answer?

Here's another pic of me on my bike:

It takes about twice as long to put on the Infinity than just putting on my Cayenne Pro riding jacket, but considering it is offering the same level of protection for my legs too, I am not disappointed.

Is the Infinity expensive? Hell yeah. Is it worth it? A much harder question to answer; I hope to never find out.

All In

... borrowing a phrase from America's favorite inactivity, I am "all in" with my FJR. I have committed 100% to it as my primary mode of transportation. For the first time in ten years of riding, the motorcycle is not a second vehicle -- it is the only vehicle. This has caused a significant shift in my own riding psychology.

Poker players take great risks when they go all in. But the potential rewards are equally great. So it is with motorcycling. Every time I put on the gear, shift into first, and roll back on the throttle, I am making a calculated risk against the pot of sheer exuberance that it returns. But also like those gamblers, the risk is not one made lightly or in ignorance. The player scrutinizes his opponents reading the potentially hidden potholes, oil slicks, and oncoming cars in their visage. He takes in the knowns -- the flop, turn, and river of corner radius, velocity, braking, lean angle, and weather conditions. All of these factors are carefully weighed; the potential returns are computed. And then the player commits.

Every decision on every ride is a balance of risk versus reward. And sometimes folding is the better part of valor. Deciding to wait out a rainstorm instead of riding through it. Choosing to pull over and rest instead of pushing on. Holding back in the lane at 65 instead of splitting lanes to gain that small advantage. Only a significant accumulation of seat time can grant that insight. You have to pay to play.

"I'm all in."

First Blood

I had my first accident today. Because friends and family are no doubt reading this, let me start out by saying that both me and the bike are just fine. No injuries. No damage. It of course happened in the least expected way.

There was a single car ahead of me before entering the intersection as the light turns red. The car pulls out too far and stops, partially blocking the intersection. I am about six feet behind them, and another car is (naturally) right on my bumper. We are all at a complete stop at this point, and I sit up on the bike to rest my hands. The car in front decides that they don't like having the front end of their car sticking out into the intersection, so shifts into reverse and starts backing up.

I immediately start frantically waving my right arm while smashing the horn button over and over, and the lady just keeps backing all the way into my front fender. I am dumbfounded that anyone would do this. So we pull over.

I get off the bike and inspect the whole front end with an electron microscope. Fortunately, the only damage is a 1cm scratch right on the front edge of my fender. Her first words (drumroll please): "I didn't see you." I was stopped, dead center of the lane, sitting up on the bike, wearing a white and red jacket, silver helmet, broad daylight. She didn't see me.

I keep my words to a minimum in order to avoid saying anything unpleasant, and mutter that she can go. As she starts to leave, she turns back around and says: "Well at least my car got more damage than your bike!" (her bumper had a 6cm vertical scratch on it) I don't even know what to say to this. Is she expecting me to be happy?

So remember folks: you aren't just inconspicuous on your bike, you are invisible.

Commuting & Chantry Flats

I have been really enjoying commuting the past two weeks on my FJR. There have been a few mornings when I didn't feel like putting on the gear, but as soon as I was on the bike I was instantly happy. I think that those difficult mornings are more about where I'm going (work) as opposed to how I am getting there. On the other hand, I always enjoy getting on the bike to come home.

Traffic has been relatively manageable. I love splitting lanes when traffic is at a complete standstill, but prefer staying in my own lane when the cars start moving. The occasional shower has not been much of an issue. I am not sure how I feel about wind -- I don't yet have a sense for how much of a real affect the wind has versus the psychological reaction to the roar and buffeting. Experience should bear that out.

Weekends are another matter entirely! Nearly all my weekend riding is for the pure joy of it. Destinations become a distant second with riding being its own reward. My Dad recently got his motorcycle license and we've been getting together to ride on Sundays. Short jaunts to help him gain experience on the Mana 850 I've loaned him (great learner bike, by the way).

Today's ride took us into the foothills to the Chantry Flats campground. The road leads up from a nice residential neighborhood and becomes about five miles of scenic mountain road. The sky was grey and brooding, with misty clouds squatting on top of the mountains. Needless to say, it was an absolutely wonderful ride. We parked at the top and enjoyed the views; after a while we pulled the gear back on and headed down the mountain.

Riding is a complete joy. Being able to share it with friends and family is a gift.

Rainy Commute

This morning as I pulled open the drapes while brushing my teeth, I noticed that it was indeed raining. The rain decided my wardrobe: Rev-It Cayenne Pro jacket and pants, Sidi Canyon boots, and my usual Held Phantom gloves. And I tried out my latest clothing purchase as well: a Rev-It Titan one-piece oversuit. Slipping on my C3 helmet completed the astronaut look: I was ready for take-off.

The bike handled excellently in the wet weather. And the windscreen kept most of the wind and rain off of me as I negotiated the 12 mile commute. I was definitely over-cautious in my riding; I kept my speed down and was particularly careful on turns. It was not cold enough to warrant turning on the heated grips, so that will have to wait for another day.

Riding in the rain was certainly an adventure. It became immediately obvious that the most important thing is to not be in a hurry. Everything -- from dressing to riding -- would just take a bit longer. Having appropriate riding gear made the difference between a wet and miserable ride and a warm and dry experience. One particular note: the wiper blade attached to the left forefinger of the Held gloves is a magnificent device!

I was passed at one point by a motorcycle cop. Seeing him out there 'in it' put my own excursion into perspective: it is his job to ride in this weather, whereas I would spend most of the day in a heated office building. They have certainly got my respect.

Every day is an adventure.

Introduction

Welcome to FJR Life -- a personal blog about living with a sport-touring motorcycle as the primary method of transportation. I take delivery of a brand new 2009 Yamaha FJR-1300AE tomorrow that will replace my Mazda RX-8 for all daily commuting and regular travel. Southern California is handy in that it offers a 12-month riding season. The downside is that all of this sunshine attracts a lot of people: traffic congestion is a fact of life.

In the coming posts, I will be covering such topics as why I chose the FJR, motorcycle gear, experiences commuting in LA, travel, pros/cons of giving up my car, family impact, and more.

So fasten your gear, secure your helmet, and join me as I begin the adventure.

RwP