Peenie Wallie: September 2017 Archives

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September 30, 2017

Day 2 - Tonopah, NV to Green River, UT

Update: I am alive and well and resting peacefully on the banks of the Green River in Green River, Utah.

Starting Odometer: 51,412
Ending Odometer: 51,931
Miles driven today: 519 miles
Miles driven this trip: 876 miles

I wake up this morning in Tonopah, Nevada, and don't know where I am. I mean, I figure it out, but it's not a great feeling. I've never had a proble with this before, although very recently, it has become an issue.

I'm in Tonopah. Figured that out.

So, I leave town, hell bent for leather. I got away about 9:30 a.m. Trying to make some distance today.

Part of the ride today fit very well with my memories of this ride. Mainly, that this part of Nevada is a massive desert, separated at roughly 20 mile intervals by barren mountain ranges. So, each time I crest a ridge, I look ahead to the next ridge, across the desert bowl before me, and guestimate how many miles it will be before I get to the next ridge. Usually, it's between 10-22 miles, roughly.

And I spend some time this morning rolling across the desert, down perfectly straight roads, that seem to go on in perpetuity, from one desert bowl to the next.

The distance from Tonopah to Ely is roughly 170 miles, so I make sure to gas up before I leave Tonopah. Last summer when I rode out here on the KTM, I ran out of gas in the desert between Tonopah and Ely. Fortunately, I was carrying extra gas, but even with the extra gas, I limped into Tonopah on fumes.

The odd thing is that there are no signs indicating "No fuel for 170 miles". Like...that's something that probably most people would want to be aware of before they left town.

I did see one sign, about half-way to Ely that said "Next Fuel Station 80 miles" or something like this. And, I'm curious as to why they bothered to put this sign in the middle of the desert. Like...."uh...ok...what are my options"? Why bother to put the sign up at all? Why not just say "You're fucked."

170 miles later, I roll into Ely, never having even hit reserve. My "low fuel" light never came on on the KTM.

I was expecting to see a wind farm between Tonopah and Ely, but it wasn't there. So, I'm thinking maybe it's on the other side of Ely? I certainly hope so, as I don't like it when my memories don't mesh with the world around me. It's somewhat disconcerting.

As I approach Ely take the "business district exit" for Ely, which I remembered. But, I wish I hadn't because I could never figure out how the main road (US Highway 6) went. Like...where did it go into town? I could never get my hands around that.

Now, I ride around Ely shooting murals. There used to be a mural of a bomber, but now I can't seem to find it. Things like this bother me because, now, I'm not sure if a) they painted over it or b) it was never there. I can't be sure. So, after I refuel, I roll out of town. Update: The bomber mural I was looking for was in Tonopah, not Ely. So, I missed it this trip somehow.

Next stop is Delta, Utah, 153 miles away. I should have planned my fuel stops this morning, but I didn't. So, I'm just winging it. Picking gas stations that are roughly 150 miles down the road.

As I get outside of Ely, I find my windfarm. So, I'm not losing my mind, afterall. OK. We can't rule that out, but the windfarm exists, it's just not exactly where I remembered it being.

When I get to the Nevada/Utah border, I find my Nevada state border sign, and the gas station that I remembered. I was thinking it was on the California/Nevada border, but it was on the Utah/Nevada border. So, that was a big relief. Like...I was having a hard time figuring out how the store disappeared. Now, things are fitting into place a little better.

Just outside of Delta, Utah, I find my tree. I remembered that there was a tree that people hung stuff in, but I couldn't recall what exactly people would hang in trees. But, sure enough, outside of Delta, Utah is a shoe tree. So, it's a tree, that everyone throws their shoes into for reasons that escape me. So I stop and get some shots of the tree.

There's a large lake outside of Delta, Utah called "Sevier Lake". It's sort of like the Great Salt Lake, I think, in that it doesn't appear to have any path to the ocean. It's sort of a dried up salt lake, I would say.

I stop for gas in Delta, Utah. Now, I'm not sure what my next stop is, so I figure I'll go for Green River, Utah.

So I punch Green River Utah into my GPS and away we go.

Now, the weather looks threatening over the mountains. So, I'm not real excited about that. I'm riding through the desert, so I generally don't check the forecast, because if it's a desert, how much rain can they get, honestly?

So, of course, it rains on me.

So, the path I'm on cuts back and forth a few times. This is probably the least predictable section of the trip. It dog-legs back and forth before we get over to I-70.

Just before I-70, I pull over the bike and pack away all of my gear. Like...the sun is setting. I'm already somewhat wet. It's going to be dark soon, and I don't want my cameras to get any wetter, so I pack all of my gear away and plan for a balls-out run down I-70 to Green River, Utah.

Once I'm on I80, I'm rolling east and the speedlimit is 80 mph and I'm running triple digits because....seriously...what do you care? Let it go.

So I'm screaming east on I-70 and we're burning daylight and the skies do not look good. But I'm running east and now it starts to rain and I'm like...this sucks in a big way. I mean...there are not any overpasses to get under or anything. And it's cold.

So, it's cold, and raining, and the weather ahead looks menacing.

I didn't check the forecast, and I didn't get a hotel room in advance. And it's starting to get dark, and this is why people that are smart don't ride motorcycle cross county. Because it's stoopid. It's a bad idea from the git-go.

But the rain stops and western Utah is just spectacular. I'd forgotten how stunning western Utah is, but it's amazing. The clouds ahead are not good, and we're burning daylight, and I'm running tirple digits just praying I can make it to Green River. Without getting drowned.

Now, I never make reservations in advance for a variety of reasons but now, when I roll into Green River, I wish I'd made reservations. No hotel in town has any openings. They're all booked solid. And the next hotel is 104 miles away. Grand Junction is booked up. Moab is booked up. This is not good.

I mean, it's not like it's the end of the world. I can keep riding and I can make it home on the bike. But it won't be a very fun ride, especially if it's raining and cold or...worse still, snowing.

So, I decide to just check a few of the shabbiest hotels to see what they say.

I pull into the America's Best Value inn and ask them if they have a room. They're stuttering and mumbling about the "one room" but it had a smoker in there and I'm like....how much is it? $140.

I'll take it.

But I have to show it to you first. Someone smoked in here that shouldn't have.

And I'm like....I'll take it. (If it means I don't have to cross another state line tonight, I don't care if he stays in the room and smokes all night while I'm there.)

And they show me the room and it's fine. It's smoky, but so what? My parents both smoked indoors my whole life. What difference does it make. You get used to it.

I go eat dinner at a taco truck in town. I roll around and check. There's a Motel 6 and I think I remember staying there once before and I go check and ask them if they have a room for the night. I'm just trying to see if I got extremely lucky, or if I was over-estimating their overbooking situation.

Nope. They don't have a room. Neither does Grand Junction or Moab. And the closest town is 104 miles away. And they're always booked like this, 9 months out of the year. It makes me want to open a hotel in Green River.

I buy some snacks at the gas station. In theory, they're supposed to be food I carry with me on the bike. In practice, I always just go back and scarf them down in my hotel room. I can hear myself getting fatter.

And after a warm shower, I climb into bed for a much needed rest.

Posted by Rob Kiser on September 30, 2017 at 9:35 PM : Comments (0) | Permalink

September 29, 2017

Day 1 - Berkeley, CA to Tonopah, NV

Update: I am alive and well and resting peacefully along US Highway 6 in Tonopah, Nevada.

Miles driven today: 357 miles
Starting Odometer:51,055
Ending Odometer: 51,412

This was a beautiful ride.

I stopped and got a gas can and some tie downs at a Walmart on I-580. I'm deathly afraid of running out of gas crossing Nevada. It's 180 miles between Tonopah and Ely. No gas stations.

I only stopped once in the Central Valley for carne asado tacos at a mexican food truck. I tried one of the grapes at a fruit stand, and it was nothing like the Concord Grapes that Ben found in Koreatown in Oakland. I'm forever ruined on grapes, I think.

I always forget how large Yosemite is. It's freaking huge. It's roughly 100 miles to drive from Groveland to Lee Vining.

I stopped and got some photos of a bear forraging the forrest. It would have been better if he didn't have a collar on, I think.

The ride is just stunning. Like...I always forget how nice it is. And I'm really enjoying myself. It's so much better than sitting in an office.

Just south of Lee Vining, I turn left to follow 120 east. To the north is Mono Lake. Really a beautiful ride. The road rises and falls dramatically like a roller coaster for some distance. I remember this part of the ride, but much of it I don't recall really.

Then, we come up to Benton Hot Springs on the left. It's a natural hot springs hotel, it seems. I feel like maybe I stayed here once before. On the ride out west, I think maybe.

This is where I pick up US Highway 6. Really an amazing ride. I just sort of open the throttle and decide that I'll make it to Tonopah today. It's another 110 miles, and it's already about 5:00 pm., but I decide to push it a little. I want to get home. It's a long way to Denver. It's not safe to ride in the dark, due to animals on the road, etc. But I push on.

By the time I roll into Tonopah, it's nearly dark. I'm looking for a place to spend the night. I don't make reservations in advance because nothing can ruin a good motorcycle ride than having to ride based on where you made your reservations.

I check on hotels.com and it says everything is over $100 a night, which is hard to imagine, given that Tonopah is not that great of a town. So I roll back to a shabby looking hotel called the Economy Inn and ask her how much is a room for the night.

$42 she says.

Done.

Like, the hotel is not nice, but I don't care. I'm not trying to impress anyone. Just a place to crash for the night.

There are a few things I'm missing. I expected there to be a gas station when I crossed the state line into Nevada. And a cattle gap. But now, I'm thinking that may be on the UT/NV border?

Also, there's a turn or two that I'm missing. Maybe they're up ahead though. Can't recall for sure.

I'm trying to figure out how many times I've made this trip. I'll have to go back and check my notes. The first time I ever rode on a bike from SF to Denver was when I was working on the UCSF project, rode my XR up to Alaska, and then rode back to SF, and then back to Denver.

OK. Here's the first time I ever made this trip. It was 6 years ago in August of 2011.

Then, I made the trip again, in May of 2013.

IF you're crossing the desert, you need chapstick, gatorade, food, cell coverage, charged cell phone.

I need to buy a 3-1 power adapter that doesn't have a ground plug. Last night, my ground plug messed me up because I couldn't charge my laptop which is my USB hub also.

Posted by Rob Kiser on September 29, 2017 at 8:32 PM : Comments (0) | Permalink

Riding Home - Day 1

Today, my fuel stops will be something like this:
1) Berekely. Mile 0.
2) Chinese Camp. Mile 120.
3) Lee Vining. Mile 227.
4) Tonopah, NV. Mile 359.

Before leaving:
a) gas up
b) set up GPS with power on bike
c) reinstall license plate
d) track expenses
e) get gatorade

Order more lens caps for the trip to south america.
Clean out rear givi case.
Order new rear givi case for Honda AT.

Posted by Rob Kiser on September 29, 2017 at 9:00 AM : Comments (0) | Permalink

Thursday 9/28/2017

JB and Sapna agree to meet me out in San Francisco.
It's always fun to meet up with friends for a night out in the city.

But first, I have a few hours to kill. So, I roll up to the San Pablo reservoir. Always, I fly over it and see it from above. But I've never seen it from the ground. I punch some directions into my GPS, and now I"m rolling through the hills above Berkeley, looking at the San Pablo Reservoir.

Then, back down into Oakland, and now over to San Francisco. I roll around San Francisco for about 3 hours, just shooting like mad. I like to shoot the murals in the city. And it's sort of fun to reconnect with the different neighborhoods in the city. I'm in Lower Haight. Upper Haight. Mission. All over the place. Just shooting like crazy.

I don't have plates on the bike. So, I'm always afraid that the police will roll up on me and pull me over, but somehow they don't. I'm not clear why. But they don't.

It's so hard to know when to reach out, and when to pull back. This is the hardest part. This is my struggle. But, I keep going over the numbers. It's just insane not to do this. I'm thinking the whole trip will be $10K. So, why not go? What could be the excuse not to go? This has nothing to do with the project. The project is over for me. That's all behind me now.

This is the hardest part, it seems. It's easy to fly over the terrain and look down, twice a week, and think "Oh I should go there" and "That looks like a fun ride", but then, we all get caught up in the detritus of everyday life and, somehow, things get pushed aside. So that, every time I take off, I look down at the mountains and wonder why I never saw them. Not this week. Not last week. Not ever.

So, the trick is to try to remember to live your dreams. To go to visit the places you saw from altitude. That's the hardest part, it seems.

But JB is right there, trying to remind me what it's all about. Everyone gets let go. We're contractors. It comes with the territory. It's the nature of the beast.

"If you don't go now, then they're going to hire you back onto the project, and then you'll have missed your chance to take this trip," JB offers.

"Fuck them." I think. That's just what they'd want to do, I figure. They'd want to make me come back to work without getting a break," I muse. The bastards.

Now, I have to go and make this ride. I have to make this happen. I may not have another chance to do this in my lifetime. If I spend $100 a day, for 60 days, that's only $6,000.00. So, there's no reason not to go.

"You have to go make this trip," JB implores me. "We're all living vicariously through you, man."

He's right, of course. I have to do this. I have to make this trip. ALways, it seems like the craziest idea ever when you start out. You're ordering things...parts, pieces, gear....trying to get ramped up for some crazy cross-planet trip. No one else is doing this, of course. Always, it seems that you're all alone, and gearing up for armageddon.

"You need to make sure to hit Death Valley," JB implores me. I'm like..."I don't even think I know where that is..." I offer.

JB is right, of course. I have to do this. I have to make this happen. All it takes is courage. If not now, when?

There is one other consideration. I would not live much longer lanesplitting in LA or San Francisco. It's just too dangerous. I do it. I ride every day, and I lanesplit every day that I'm in California. But this cannot go on. It's only a matter of time before someone takes me out. By comparison, South American seems like a relatively safe gamble.

Posted by Rob Kiser on September 29, 2017 at 1:06 AM : Comments (0) | Permalink

Preparation for the ride back to Colorado (starting tomorrow)

Put license plate back on KTM.
Buy gatorade and food for ride.
Charge cell phone.
Charge GPS.
Plan fuel stops.
Buy gas can.
Buy tie down.
Check tire pressure.
Gas up.
Charge laptop, cameras, cell phones, etc.
Buy rubbing alcohol.
Buy qtips.
Clean camera sensor.

Posted by Rob Kiser on September 29, 2017 at 12:13 AM : Comments (0) | Permalink

September 28, 2017

Oaktown and Risk Aversion

One of the greatest flaws in us is our inherent aversion to risk.

It's demonstrable that most people would do better financially if they accepted more risk. This has been widely studied and well documented. We learned this in psychology, as I recall.

And, in our careers, this flaw manifests itself in people who are afraid to take risks with their careers. Even though, it's intuitively obvious to the casual observer that people would do better by accepting some risk to change jobs, try to get a promotion, move to another city, etc.

Now, I'm sort of on the other side of that equation. I've made a career out of taking risks. And, at the time, it's very scary. It doesn't feel good. You're not warm and comfortable and secure. Instead, you're scared, exposed, and afraid. So it is when you get let go. It never feels good. But it's the nature of the beast.

So, it's hard to take risks, but then, when you succeed, it's still hard. Because, eventually, the project ends. And now, this is one of the hardest parts. Now, you've got to go and do all of the things you promised yourself you would do while you were working. So, for all of those nights you slaved away on the computer, now you're suddenly let free, like a canary from it's cage. And now, you've got to go and live your life.

The project was just an interruption. A distraction. A means to justify an end. Now, you've got to get on the road. Now, you've got to reach down and grab your kahunas and drive across the globe, like you promised everyone you would do.

Like...all summer, we gorged ourselves on strawberries and Lagomarsino Grapes from California. Gilroy strawberries from the Central Valley. Coffee from Tierra Mia. Poke from the Poke Zone.

And now, it's time to move on. To go on to another adventure. And this is one of the hardest parts. Now, it's time to put up or shut up. Because now, if you don't go and do what you bragged about all summer long, then you're nothing short of a liar.

Posted by Rob Kiser on September 28, 2017 at 11:37 AM : Comments (1) | Permalink

The last day on the project

Like, I just can't say what it's like to be fired from a project. It's tough. And, I mean, it's the nature of the beast. It is what it is. If you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen.

After I got over the initial shock of it, in a few days, it gets better. I mean, it still sucks, but you can't deny a leopard his spots. Every consultant has been let go from a project. I was here for 14 months for Christ's sake. It was, by most accounts, a successful project. By that I mean, I made an absurd amount of money in 14 months.

And then one day, they told me not to come back.

But now, I'm getting some emails from headhunters, and there are some projects going on out there. And people forward me some leads. And I apply for them. Not because I want to go back to work. I don't. But I'm not going to be the guy to look a gifted horse in the mouth either.

I spend some time copying all of my files over onto my home network. Send everyone an email saying "I'm out of here. GOing on an extended motorcycle journey through south america."

Like, I'm doubling down on my motorcycle trip to South America. Part of me thinks I can't afford to do it. Part of me thinks I can't afford NOT to do it. Because, you see, life is short. You only have so many days on this earth.

Maybe I will die on this motorcycle journey. That could happen. There's no denying this. But we all have to die. Everyone dies. Not everyone lives. I need to get on a motorcycle and roll across South America. I've never really done this, you see.

Oh, sure. I rode an XR around Cuzco for a little bit. But that hardly counts. This time, I want to go through Ecuador and Bolivia and Paraguay. Not just Peru.

Now, I'm getting emails back from some of my coworkers..."you need to be sure to catch a plane to the galapagos..."

I'm like...oh hell yeah. that's the kind of advice I need.

Before lunch, I discover that Ben has some grapes that are out of this world. The best I've ever tasted. They taste rough...raw...like the muscadines we ate as kids in Mississippi.

The grapes are to die for. They taste exactly like the muscadines that we ate as kids. We used to stand in the creeks, holding onto bedsheets, and shake the muscadine vines. Bloop. Bloop. Ploop. Ploop. And the grapes would fall into the sheets, where we'd collect them and take them home to eat them privately in the shade of a sweetgum tree.

And now, I've discovered these grapes again.

Ben...where did you find these? We have to go back. We have to buy more. Are these from the famer's market?

"No. Are you kidding me? They have those shitty grapes you find in the grocery store."

At lunch, we go to the Farmer's Market. It's broiling hot in Oakland.

We just rape the place. We buy tons of fruit. And go back and just gorge ourselves. Normally, I really enjoy riding home across the central valley, and stopping along the way to scarf down some fresh fruit. But since I found the Wednesday farmer's market in Oaktown, now I think that maybe I won't really appreciate the fruit stands of the central valley so much. We'll see. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

But, after lunch of Mexican steak pambazo, I buy some grapes from the farmers market. But they're just shit. Just the same crappy grapes you find in the grocery store. Tasteless, seedless grapes. Like eating cardboard.

Now, after lunch, I tell Ben - "dude...you have to show me where you got the grapes...let's go to Koreatown and get some."

"OK. Sure man. Let's go."

SO, with that, he marches me down to Koreatown, at Telegraph and like...22nd?

And we walk into the grocery store...something like K & N?

We each buy a flat of concord grapes. And then I find the jelly candies. 3 bags of jelly candies.

The only problem is that we can't get drinks.

It's impossible for the CVS pharmacy next door to keep diet cokes in stock. They don't even try. And the restaurant downstairs is closed for remodeling. So, I go into the CVS and ask them "Why in the fuck can't you keep diet cokes in stock? Are you retarded? Do you not understand how capitalsim works? Like...fuck this...I'm tired of this shit. Why don't you get more diet cokes?

Sir, they come to us on a truck. We have no control over it.

Like...what the fuck ever. That's a lie and we all know this. This isn't communist Russia. I think I'll call CVS and complain. The bastards.

But, at the farmer's market, they sell canned diet cokes cold for $1.00. I want to go by and buy the whole cooler.

After lunch, we just gorge ourselves on concord grapes. Strawberries. Jelly candies. Just choke ourselves with food until we're sick. The detritus of an agricultural revolution.

Like...we're just disgusting. imagine if nothing mattered in this life. Imagine if you had more money than you knew what to do with. That's about how we've been living for the last 14 months.

I've been worried about my cash flow, but now it dawns on me that I still haven't been paid for last week, and for this week. So, I'll still have a little bit of cash coming in.

And, part of the adventure, is having the balls to reach down, grab your nuts, and saying "fuck it - I'm going". So, I think that that's where I am. I think that I'm going. I tell everyone that asks me that "I'm going". I don't want to back out. I don't want to leave myself any room to back out. I want to paint myself into a corner. I want to tell everyone that "I'm going to South America come hell or high water."

And now, that's the plan.

Keep painting yourself into a corner until you have to go.

But, I want a few more days to shoot in Oakland. I'd like to stay here for a few more days to shoot.

I ask the jackass at the YMCA hotel.

"When do out check out?" I ask him. He's watching some game on the television.

"You want me to look?" he asks.

"Like...why in the fuck do you think that I just asked you the question jackass?"

Slowly, he realize that he'll have to turn off the TV and look up when I'm checking out.

"You're checking out tomorrow he says."

Like...Thursday. Fuck me. "I want to stay longer."

"You can tell the guy that's here in the morning. Ask him," he offers.

Motherfucker.

The hardest part of being a consultant is knowing when to back off, and when to push on. I've always been certain of this, and nothing confirms my belief in this mantra more than every waking moment of my life.

Should I go home and save money? Or should I swing for the fences?

Right now, the smart money says, "swing for the fences."

Every night, I go to the Jupiter Pizza place, and every night, they've got some fucking disturbance going on...some band, or some idiot turning records. I want some peace and quite. The city is what it does to you. Every waking moment is ruined by screaming ambulances, police cars, firetrucks, mexicans playing that obnoxious shit they listen to. Just ...there is no peace and quiet here.

And, every night, I go by and ask Bo, my buddy at the Jupiter pizza, and he sends me to a different place every time. Tonight, I finally found Crunch, the little Korean place on center street. They play zero music. I can sit outside and drink beer. The beer costs $3.00. That's hard to beat.

So, I stopped by and talked to my buddy Bo at Jupiter. He's now routing me to another place...about a blcok up Shattuck. Tonight, he decides he likes me. This is a good feeling. It's nice to know you can still make friends, even though so much divides us. Respect for each other unites us. The ties that bind.

It's so odd ot be driving my KTM around Berkeley and Oakland. Like, I love being able to go wherever I want, free from BART. It's a totally different perspective. And now, I see murals I've not seen before, or murals I've not seen since last year when I had my bike up here last time.

The people at Poke Zone recognize me. Tonight, he gives me a frequent flyer card. Like...dude...you're in here every night. Start using this card. You'll get free meals.

The city is so loud. You can't get away from it. The homeless people are taking over the city. They never used to be like this. Now, there are tent cities. And countless people sleeping in doorways.

Posted by Rob Kiser on September 28, 2017 at 12:22 AM : Comments (0) | Permalink

September 26, 2017

The mouth of the gifted horse

Posted by Rob Kiser on September 26, 2017 at 6:58 PM : Comments (0) | Permalink

3 Bridge Fiasco 1994

Posted by Rob Kiser on September 26, 2017 at 9:56 AM : Comments (0) | Permalink

September 25, 2017

Alameda - The Rapy

Like...I can't tell you how much fun today was.

I've been working in Oakland, but without transportation, really. So that, you sort of get used to seeing the city from the inside of a BART train. And, you sort of only get that one perspective. But then, this week, I have the KTM back up here (after riding it 400+ miles yesterday from LAX).

So, now, suddenly the city has a completely different look and feel. I hardly even recognize Berkeley. Now, I come in on University, instead of on the BART lines. At work, I park on the street. But then I see a guy with a helmet walking around on the 7th floor. Dude...where did you park? I parked on the street across from CVS. I offer.

"No...that's only 2 hour parking. You can't park there. THey'll tow you. There's machines where you're supposed to pay, and you put the paper receipt on your dash. There's signs everywhere that say this."

"Oh. Bummer."

"But, you can park in the hills above West Grand, and over there, it's all day parking...just a few blcoks."

So, I move my bike at park at roughtly 308 Lenox Street in Oakland. I don't see any signs that say I can't park there, except for the first MOnday of every month.

Now, my bike is parked and I go inside and sort of suffer through the day. Like...I don't know why I'm here, but I do the best I can.

After work, I decide that I'll ride around and shoot. Because, that's what makes me happiest.

Like...I don't know what to do with my life, but I have to get out and do whatever it is that has a chance of making me happy.

I go back to my KTM after work, not sure if it will be there, since I pulled the plates off of it yesterday. But, the bike is still there where I left it. Just across West Grand from Lake Merritt and Fairyland.

I hop on the bike and start rolling around. I don't have a lot of time before dark. And rolling into SF is such a nightmare of traffic, that I decide to stay and shoot in Oakland. But I've shot all of the murals in Oakland's China Town. So, I sort of keep rolling, unsure of where to go.

But, eventually, I decide to sort of follow the road east, towards Fruitvale Station. I end up sort of loosely following BART east, and now I'm finding some really amazing murals. Work I've never seen before, much less shot. It's like I'm seeing the city through a new lens. From a new perspective. Now, as we go east, the city gets rougher and rougher. More and more dangerous. More police. And, my bike has no plates because I pulled them off for the duration of my stay in Oakland.

But you can't be too careful in this area of the hood. I have 3 visible cameras on me: GoPro, 50D with 17-85mm lens, 50d with 100-400 mm lens.

At some point, a homeless miscreant sees me, and just breaks into a dead run to attack me. I just pop the clutch and open the throttle.

Somewhere near Fruitvale station, which is a pretty gross/dangerous area of Oakland, I go across a bridge that I didn't even mean to really. I'm rolling south, and suddenly, I cross a bridge and now, I'm suddenly in the suburbs from the 1950's. There's normal looking people. It's not just a criminal cess pool like east oakland. I can't believe it. Parks. Kids playing ball. Riding their bikes. I can't believe my eyes. I stop and ask a guy..."Where are we? What happened? I just rolled across a bridge, and it's like I'm on a different planet."

This is alameda, he says. Pretty amazing difference when you cross that bridge, huh?

Lord. I'll say.

I pass a Massage Therapy store that says "TheRapy", which is an interesting choice of capital letters.

Once it gets to be dark, I start looking for my sushi place, the Poke Zone in Oakland's China Town. I hop onto I-880 heading west (In LA they would say THE I-880, but here it's just I-880).

Exit at Broadway. I now know that this is the way to Jack London Square. I figured that out last time I was out here (2 weeks ago). Jack London Square is where I came to when my bike broke down on the Pacific Coast Highway a few years back and I rode the Amtrack back to SF bay area).

What's sort of funny is that, this year, I've sort of gradually reconstructed my little motorcycle adventure where I road my XR down the Pacific Coast Highway and it broke down on me south of Big Sur. Then, I was picked up by kind strangers, abandoning the bike on the side of the road, south to Cambria to a hotel. Then a bus from Cambria to Moss Landing. Changed buses at Moss Landing to San Luis Obispo. Then, from SLO, on the Amtrak back to Jack London Square. Then, somehow over to the Embarcadaro.

I don't really know how I'm going to do from here on out.

My last day on the project is Thursday/Friday.

After that, I dunno what to do. Like...at some point, I've got to get on the KTM and ride it back to Denver across Tioga Pass.

But, today was so insanely fun, that I'm reluctant to leave.

Like...I found scads of murals I've never seen before. The KTM is running pretty well. I added a quart of oil to it at UCLA. Now, maybe I could oil the chain, but it's running pretty well. Might need some air in the front tire also.

And, I'm surprised at how happy I am to be riding the bike around Oakland. It makes me think that I really do need to go down to South America to roll around down there a bit.

Posted by Rob Kiser on September 25, 2017 at 8:33 PM : Comments (0) | Permalink

September 24, 2017

Mennonites at the Airport 2

For a short while this summer, I did fly back and forth between southern California and Denver, with a motorcycle at each airport. (In the winter, I normally use one of the cars or the Tahoe.)

But today is cold and I take the Beamer and park it at Canopy Parking.

When I park at Canopy, I take a photo of the car in the parking space so I have the number. They give me a parking slip, but I don't trust it. Sometimes they are wrong.

I put my passport and my frequent flyer card in my front breast pocket. I have a screenshot of my boarding pass on my phone which charged all night. I turn off WiFi and auto rotation. These are the things that screw you up when you're trying to scan your boarding Pass for the monsters at the TSA.

As I approach the TSA goons that guard the different security alleys, I flash her my frequent flyer badge. She sees that I am A-List Preferred. I had to fly every week for over a year to get that status. (I started flying in July, and it resets in December, so I think it was September before I finally got the highest status. The bastards.)

I clear security and then I see the rarest of things. Memonites at the airport. I had no idea that they flew. But, I do recall when I used to work in Philly, I'd go out to Lancaster county, and I did see driveways that had a horse and buggy, and also a black Pontiac Grand National. So, they do appear to have some flexibility in their travel.

I was really surprised to see them down in Central America. Like..I had no idea they were down there. But, apparently, they fled the oppression of the USA to go to Central America, if you can believe it.

Catch the train out to Terminal 3. The escalators at Terminal 3 have been broken for over a year. At the monitors, I check for my gate information. You have to know 1) what city a I going to and 2) what is the flight number. I locate Flight 4615 Non-stop to LAX at gate C37.

At C37, I hand the woman my passport and say "I need a preboard for the fligh tto Los Angeles."

We get that settled,

"How full is this flight?" I ask.

"Completely full." She replies.

"143?"

Like, I want her to know that I fly every week and I know how many seats the plane has. I'm just showing off really.

Now, I'm waiting to board the flight.

I'm already nervous about the KTM being at LAX. Like, if the KTM is gone, I'm so screwed that there aren't words. I left it in short term parking at LAX 3 weeks ago. I have a notice in the mail saying that my plates expire this month on the KTM and I need to renew them.

They call for Medical Preboards, and I bolt down the aisle, pushing handicapped people and old women out of my way.

Some idiotic tall guy sits in 1A thinking the bulkheads have more legroom. They do not. It looks like they do, but it's an illusion.

I end up in Seat 4A.

I put my helmet in the overhead bin, but I lose my mind if people move it. Since today, I have my CC Filson backpack and hand-bag, I put my handbag in the overhead bin in front of my helmet. So, now, I'm thinking that it is safe from molestation. Like, when people start juggling my helmet around and moving it to different bins, I seriously become a person that you don't want to be near on the plane. I lose my mind. Like...leave it the fuck alone. Just because the space I need to occupy is smaller than your herculean sized Travel Pro does not give you carte blanche to move my helmet t the back of the plane. It doesn't work that way.

Adjust the seatbelt, lights, and the air jets in the middle seat to your own satisfaction before anyone sits there. Adjusting the seatbelt makes it easier for them to sit down. Turning the light off and the air on (if you're hot) is just a heads-up move as the person that will sit there is probably retarded.

Now, the middle seat is empty beside me, and I see that she has lied to me. I want to go back to the gate agent and smack her hands with a ruler.

I didn't even try my line, which I normally use.

Normally, I turn to the person in the aisle seat when she first sits down and I say "a woman is sitting in the middle seat, but she's in the bathroom. So, if anyone asks, the seat is taken."

Now, the rear of the plane is regurgitating passengers. Apparently, they passed up open seats, got to the back, and found that there was no room to sit. These people.

Now, the gentlemen are standing up, removing their items from the overhead bins, and making space available for these lepers.

I'm like...If you touch my helmet, I will kill you and your family.

It occurs to me that this is my last flight to California.

And, so what if I was fired. Who cares? It was certainly a good run. I'm tired of flying to CA every week. It could have been a lot worse. I could have crashed my bike out in LA.

---- on the plane.

So, I saw this week that they closed Tioga Pass, and I almost lost my mind. Like...if I can't ride over Tioga Pass on the KTM, then I don't think that I can go on living

Tioga Pass is my route from SF to Denver. And I've driven it countless times.

And then, today, I checked again, and I see that Tiopga Pass is reopened. I'm like...Oh Hell Yes!

Like, without Tioga Pass, I honestly wouldn't know how to get home. I mean, I guess I could take I-80, but I do not want to do that. Not at all. Not ever.

The beauty of riding across the Nevada Desert between Ely and Tonopah (it's prounounced Toe-NOE-Pah, I recently learned) just can't be described. I mean...the desolation of the deserts is surreal.

Now, all of the times that I rode my KTM down to the beach after work makes me feel like it was a good investment. Like, instead of going home to my AirBnB for the night, I went out and saw Santa Monica or Malibu or Venice Beach. Now, it all seems like I did it right. Like, I got to see the Los Angeles basin finally, and learned how to get across the city, albeit on a motorcycle.

So, I spent a lot of time in Riverside, Cal Poly Pomona, and UCLA. Which was nice. Now, when I see UCLA on TV, and it's supposed to be Colombia, I know that it's UCLA, because I can recognize the buildings.

Like, it was great as a sort of final project to get back to SF and Los Angeles areas. Sort of like a victory lap.

We push back from the gate at 8:40 a.m.
Wheels up: 8:50 a.m.

Im experimenting a tiny bit. I'' carrying both of my CC Filson bags to see how it feels on my shoulders.
I have 2 cameras and a tablet, wifi keyboard, iPhone 4S.

Like, it dawns on me that this will be my last flight. Lord God.

Like...that's crazy. It makes me want to look out the window and take some photos this time.

I'm in 5A, so I can see my house. Our subdivision. Maybe I'll shoot some pics and stay awake today.

But it's cloudy and I put all of my camera batteries in my other bag, which I put in the overhead bin to protect the helmet. If it was easy, everyone would do it.

Now, I start thinking about the KTM.

Will it be there? When did I park it?

It was 3 weeks ago, roughly, so that would have been....Thursday August 31st, I think.

Then, the week of the 4th, I was home/remote.
The week of the 11th I was on site in Oakland.
The week of the 18th I was home/remote and sold the DUKW.

I check my phone for photos of the KTM. This is how I keep track of where my toys are. You take a photo, hop on a plane, and disappear for a month. You might forget where you left one of your bikes.

So, the KTM has been sitting in short term parking at LAX for ... uh... let's see...2:00 pm PDT on 8/31/2017 until I get there at about 10:00 a.m. on 9/24/2017. So, nearly 24 days it's been sitting there in 1D in short-term parking. Will it still be there? I dunno. I sure hope so. If not, I'm royally hosed.

If it's there, then when I plan on doing is:
gassing up the bike at the first opportunity
drive to UCLA campus and hit up Diddy Riese (the cookie ice cream bar place.)

Then, try to make it 100 miles before noon.

See... 100 miles before noon is a mantra. Basically, it means that you get up, get off your ass, and start moving down the road. If you can do 100 miles before noon, then you can easily ride 200 miles in the afternoon, and you have a nice day of riding the bike.

If, on the other hand, you stay in bed until the housekeeping lady is threating to murder you if you don't get out of the room immediately, then it's much harder to make 300 miles a day.

The flying waitress comes by. Yes. I'd like a cup of ice. And a can of diet coke.
And I realize I forgot to tun off my phone when we took off. Argh.
So many little things to remember.

Now, I'll look at my travel plan for today.

It looks something like this:

These will be the points where I'll gas up along the route:
1) Mile 0 - LAX/Sepulveda
2) Mile 133 - Buttonwillow / Bakersfield (I-5 Exit 257). (133 miles from last stop).
3) Mile 261 - Firebaugh (I-5 Exit 385) (128 miles from last stop).
4) Mile 375 - Oakland. (114 miles from last stop.)

The weird thing about being let go is that it's sort of like breaking up with your girlfriend. Like...part of me wants to go back to see the campus. To wander around the campus aimlessly, taking photos of the buildings for posterity's sake.

But then, part of me thinks that I'm really not welcome there any more. That I'd be escorted off of the premises. Maybe they'd even call the police. Like showing up at your ex-girlfriend's place at night, unexpected, and unwanted.

So, you sort of feel like you've been ostracized, but it's not like it matters.

This is the time, I think, when religion becomes appealing to the huddled masses. Christianity teaches us that God is watching over us. Everything happens for a reason. If he didn't think that you could handle this, then he wouldn't have put this burden on your shoulders.

I don't believe any of this, of course, but it is an attractive proposition. It's a comforting blanket, and I certainly see the allure of it.

So, I try to take some pieces from the religion of Christianity. Basically, what I get out of it is, suck it up. You can make it. Look on the bright side.

I got to see the Los Angeles Basin. I got to see it from Palm Springs and Palm Desert, to Malibu, Santa Monica, and Venice Beach. From Big Bear Lake down to Marina Del Ray.

I rode up the coast from Los Angeles to San Francisco last summer. And from Los Angeles to Ragged Point and the Mud Creek Slide about two months ago, on the weekend of July 29th.

And, this is my struggle. Like...I have a little bit of money saved up. Not a lot, but some. And part of me wants to go ride my bike down to Tierra Del Fuego. And part of me wants to save the money and not do it.

Like...fear has nothing to do with it. Finances are my only concern.

But then, part of me thinks...no...this is why I did it. This is why I took this contract. To make some money, and then have some time off to go and ride my bike around the planet.

So, maybe what I need to do is set up a "Go Fund Me" page, and see if I can get Honda and/or my friends and family to help off-set the cost of my trip.

Part of me thinks it would be financially foolish to go. Part of me thinks that, if I don't go, then I don't really know why I'm alive. Like...ok, so they let me go before I was expecting to be let go....so what? Who cares? Who really gives a fuck, in all honesty?

The bus has stopped. They say it's time to get off. Maybe I wasn't expecting it. So what. It makes no difference. All that I can do now is sort of make the best of the situation. I honestly don't want to go back to work. Ever.

Like...how nice would it be if I could just wander around on my motorcycle for a month or two.

One of my concerns with the KTM is that I don't have the gas can on it any more. Like, I used to have a plastic gas can on it, and, when I rode out here from Denver, I ran out of gas in between Tonopah and Ely. Even with the 2.2 gallons of gas, I coasted in on fumes, as I recall. Mainly because it's 183 miles between these two towns and there's not a sign indicating "No Service For Next 183 Miles" or anything.

Of course, I can pick up a gas can and a strap at a Wal-Mart, if I can find one.
And, probably I won't need it if my planning works out. I checked the forecast and planned my gas stops along the route. This is something that I learnd from Igor.

Like...for someon who doesn't believe in God, it sure as hell is hard to explain me running into Igor down in the Baja.

I mean....I was on a Honda XR650 Thumper, kick-start. And the extent of my planning was to through some things into a backpack which fell onto the interstate before I got out of the United States. I went down there without a map. Without a cell phone. Without a guide. Without a plan, really. And I ran into Igor. Someone who'd been around the world on a BMW R1150GS, with panniers, spare tires, and an 8 gallon tank (I think).

5 continents. 123 countries. 300,000 km. That's what his bike said, as I recall.

So, it certainly was fortuitous that I ran into him, and learnd the basics of riding cross-country from a pro.

And then, up in Montana, when I ran into those other bikers that were racing from Key West to Alaska. They were the ones that taught me you could ride 1,000 miles in a day if you just pushed yourself a little.

And now, I find myself again, perched on the very precipice of a grand adventure. This trip will have me bragging that I've been from the Arctic Ocean to Tierra Del Fuego (but not in one trip.)

The only thing I need is to figure out is how to offset some of the costs of the trip.

There are a few places I never saw in Southern California that I'd like to see. Like, the Salton Sea, Slab City, Joshua Tree National Desert, etc. So, maybe I can roll through these on the way back down into Central America.

Like, my plan is to ride the KTM up I-5 to Oakland/San Francisco. Then, work next week in Oakland. Then, maybe spend a day or 2 rolling around SF and Oakalnd shooting murals. Then, roll back to Denver on the KTM, across Tioga Pass (which had better still be open), and then home to Denver.

From Denver, I will spend about a month getting ready for the trip. Ordering things, planning out the trip, getting a 52 page passport, finish painting the house, and finish putting new shingles on the roof.

Then, I'll ride the Honda Africa Twin down to the Los Angeles basin, passing through Joshua Tree, the Salton Sea, and then down through San Diego into the Baja.

When I cross into Mexico, I will get my passport stamped this time. (Have to figure out where to get passport stamped.) Then, down the Baja to La Paz/Pichilingue, to catch the ferry over to Mazatlan.

Now, I have to think about today's ride. What to do now. Must focus on that.
I'll check the oil on the bike when I gas it up. Make sure it's got enough oil, and add a quart if it's low.

I now have a legal driver's license. (Big improvement, since they told me it had been suspended since last August/September).

So, I have a driver's license. I need to get the title straightened out on the Honda Africa Twin. So, I'll call him on Monday and ask where in the world is my title to the bike.

I'll appy for a new 52 page passport and have them expedite it.

I'll move the mount for the Garmin over to the Honda. And make sure that i have all of the maps current for the countries in South and Central America.

Posted by Rob Kiser on September 24, 2017 at 10:39 AM : Comments (0) | Permalink

Mennonites at the Airport