Last May one of the most boring stretches of road I’ve ever been on gave a lesson. Jerry and I left Meridian, Idaho, about 8 in the morning, fleeing the sun on I-84. Near Ontario, Oregon, we split, he continuing west on Highway 20 to his home near Salem, me turning south on Highway 395 to my Temecula abode. To be brief, much of 395 in that part of Oregon consists of boring brush. Blah scenery. Mostly straight roads. The bike didn’t match my previous Goldwing for wind protection at 80, so music wasn’t an option. I did outline some Unconventional posts in my mind to write down that evening, like this one. But I got bored and tired and a bit sleepy.
Then…
Read MoreI’d ridden a dirtbike once, didn’t even know how to shift. Then “Easy Rider” captivated me with the freedom of the open road, so I bought a Honda 350 Scrambler with plans to head to Canada to see a college roommate. I knew nothing, and a month after the purchase I took off. An idiot. But I became a sponge, reading motorcycle mags, talking to experienced riders. And during every ride, I’d analyze what worked, what didn’t. How to set up a curve safely to do it fast. How to brake most effectively without flipping or laying down the bike. And the experts proclaimed…
Read MoreMy love for speed came early—at my age of 8, Dad got his 55 Ford Fairlane 500 V8 up to 120 in the Nevada desert, kept it between 105 and 115, and it hooked me. I’ve driven fast, a lot, and had driven several nice cars, even a race bred Lotus Elan. When living in the mountains above Taos with a full-sized Ford van, only a Z passed me.
But the Lamborghini…
Read MoreOn our early long bike tours , music played no role. Instead, we spent a lot of time in our minds: thinking, pondering, praying, questioning. A lot of major life decisions got determined to the gentle hum of the bike’s motor. Or, we’d play “Easy Rider,” set our throttle locks, stretch our arms to the side and flap them like birds, singing the tune, “If you want to be a bird.” No bird brain jokes, please. Other times, the four of us pretended slalom ski, curving between the white paint strips. Right turn, left turn, wash, rinse, and repeat. The rhythm of all four of us matching the others and creating a motorcycle serpent, held beauty brought grace.
Later…
Read MoreIn my early years, I relied on youth and vigor and a strong body. At 26 came a 31 state, 13,000-mile ride on a naked semi-chopped Honda CB750. The longest day stretched between Beaumont and El Paso, all in Texas, well over 800 miles. Stops only for gas and meals. No windshield, no cruise control, no Cramp Buster, a duffle bag serving as a minimal backrest, no highway pegs. And I loved it! Then. But I’ve picked up some new tricks along the way. Some by necessity…
Read MoreSix weeks back we started a short intermittent series on Annals of the Former World by John McPhee. This book stretches my mind and faith, in healthy ways. Three weeks ago we examined “Six Days of Creation,” where David Brower shoehorned 4.5 billion years into six days of creation. I’m amazed at how long the process took before people arrived, let alone Jesus, now let’s look at the more recent speed of change.
The Appalachian Mountains formed 400 million years back, the equivalent of 12:38 PM Saturday. Fast forward to…
Read MoreOur geology “series” began with me kind of getting what I asked for: a basic geology text--but graduate level, Annals of the Former World by John McPhee. Here’s the next episode, as McPhee explores the six days of creation. Take a look at the pic, from the Enchantment Resort in Sedona, as we enjoyed a Happy Hour gazing at this cliff face from the restaurant’s outside patio. Count the strata if you dare, 100 or more. Then, realize that each layer was laid down by an ocean moving in, dropping material, often sand, then receding. Over 100 times. And at various points, all was below the surface of the water. Somewhat boggles the mind, does it not? And what we see as layers was all under the surface—until erosion.
McPhee tells of...
Read MoreAbout a month ago, Unconventional examined Our Changing World, using roads as a metaphor on deeper societal issues. But not only do roads change, but riders do. For most of our Gray Hog rides, we had a long first day just to reach the main part of our ride. 650 miles became typical, sometimes more. At age 70 I began one of our long trips to Canada with an Iron Butt ride, 1080 miles in 16 hours…before heading into Canada. And for the three of us in SoCal, to beat the morning traffic, we’d have to wake up early to get on the road by 4 AM. And we loved it! The challenge, the break from the routine of work brought joy. A fine accomplishment.
Then in 2022...
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