Defensive Driving on a Motorcycle

My young daughter called last night, shaken about some driving mishaps she had last night, and fearful to get back on the road.  One of them was a car running a red light when she was crossing on green and the car almost t-boned hers before it could stop itself.  The other was on the interstate home, a semi truck ran her off the road, where she sat stuck in the snow in tears, until a good Samaritan stopped to help her get her car back on the road.
This reminded me of the good defensive driving that I have learned since riding my own Harley Davidson.  There are several things I now do when driving my car as well, that keep me safer, just because I have learned them for the motorcycle.

• Intersections:  Always be watchful.  Never take a green light for granted.  Watch drivers faces - do they see you?  Watch their wheels - are they turned as if they are going to make a turn into you (sometimes turn signals are not reliable)?  Make sure cars coming to their red light on the cross street are really slowing down before running yourself into that intersection.  Are you in a blind spot to someone else in the intersection - perhaps to the left or right of a bigger vehicle blocking other cars from seeing you.  Intersections can be deadly to a biker.. slow down and be especially watchful.
• On highways:  If I find myself in the blind spot of a car or truck, I quickly move either far enough behind or in front of them so that there sudden lane change doesn't box me into a dangerous situation.  Interstate accidents at high speeds can also be deadly to us- we don't win a battle with a car or especially a truck.  I also try to stay to the left, to avoid cars merging onto the interstate.  There have been too many times that those drivers seem to think they can have the lane I am in, as if it is their right.  So I am alert at those on ramps.  Staying in the left lane not only gives me an excuse to go a little faster (love that!) but also usually gives me a safe shoulder to escape on if need be.
• Rain for a biker is like snow for a driver.  It can be a little slick, so I am mindful of road conditions.  It is usually slickest when the rain has just started falling and the road is just getting a bit of water mixed with the oil and grime.  If I can pull off the road for a few minutes (usually to change into more appropriate gear), then that gives the street a bit more time to wash away the top layer of muck and is a bit safer for riding.

Basically I drive my motorcycle as if no one sees me, and I stay well out of  their way, always watching others and doing my best to anticipate trouble before it happens.  Being mentally alert and incredibly relaxed at the same time is part of the thrill of the ride!

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 If this doesn't get you in the mood for riding weather in the dead of winter, you are hopelessly NOT addicted!

My Harley Davidson Softail is Crying in the Garage

Seriously, I am considering moving to LA or Tampa Bay...  We just finished a blizzard for the last 24 hours, snow on the ground, ice underneath, the attached garage is about 30 degrees and the temperature outside is about 0.  My Harley is crying. 
I go out to visit it several times a day and just look at it.  I think it looks beseechingly at me to get on and ride, but I cannot this month, or next month, or probably next month....   ever since I began riding my own, the winters have seemed longer and longer.  I long for a 50 degree day, when I am aching for that freedom and power underneath me, traveling with the semis on Interstate 80.  I will gear up eagerly, putting on as many layers as I can, come March. 
For my comfort, I cannot physically stand to ride in weather colder than about 45 degrees.  At that temp, the interstate provides too  much wind chill but I can make it short distances in town.  To gear up I will wear long johns under jeans and perhaps my chaps (I found them in the closet today thank goodness - they had been awol for several months),  I will put on long sleeved shirt, sweatshirt, and leather jacket.  A hat on my head does the trick and I have not resorted to a full face mask yet but may consider it soon.  It is usually my hands that get the coldest.  I have glove liners that I wear inside of my thickest riding gloves but without the fairing, my hands seem to take the brunt of the windchill.  I have been shopping for some heated gloves that heat up independently with a battery pack in the wrist sections that is rechargeable.  I think those will do the trick for next spring.  Any heated gloves start at about $200 and up, but they will be worth it, for that is the only thing preventing me from riding below the 50 degree mark.  After all, I live in Iowa.  We spend a great deal of time below 50 degrees so I spend much too much time hearing my Softail crying in the garage without me.
I can't wait until spring!

The day I lost my bandanna on Route 66

In the summer of 2009, we skipped out Sturgis trip and headed to California via Route 66.  On the third day, we took off heading west.  I always wear just a bandanna if I am not riding in a mandatory helmet state.  The bandanna was important to keep my chin length hair out of my face and keep it presentable for stops.  Having a mid-length hair style makes it tough on women riding Harleys because we do not have enough to ponytail or braid, yet we certainly have more than the guys that choose to shave their hair or wear crew cuts.
You will have to keep in mind that this was my first real summer with my own bike, and I was feeling my wild oats that day on route 66, as the warm sun was beating down on us, and the scenery was so beautiful.  I felt wild, and in control at the same time, following my husband west on the route. 
As we were riding, a sudden gust of wind took my bandanna off of my head and sent it flying.  Following him, I would not suddenly stop and retrieve it or I would lose him, so I waited until I could attract his attention to stop and finally told him about my lost bandanna.  He asked if I wanted to go back the five miles or so to look for it but I was too excited to keep going and I told him "no, the wind and sun will feel good in my hair", so we continued to ride.
We were on the road a solid 4 - 6 hours after that until we stopped at a hotel along the route for the night.  Sitting in my room, tired, and with a sunburned forehead (again, read the lesson about the sunscreen - I am a slow learner), I began to comb out my hair to get in the shower.  I tried and tried to put a comb and then my brush into my hair and free it from the tangles.  It looked like dreadlocks by then, seriously beyond any human effort on the comb.
You guessed it, I started to cry (again).  I was so angry at the world that my head was painful, that I sent my husband riding to the nearest drug store to buy detangler, and a bottle of vodka.  When he returned, I was in no better mood but after about 1/2 the bottle of detangler and 1/2 the bottle of vodka, I could almost comb my hair, shower, and then put my weary body to bed.
I see women riders with their long tresses blowing in the wind behind them and I wonder what their secret is.  Someday I will stop one of them and ask them how they comb their hair after riding. 
Lesson learned:  contain the hair or pay the consequences!

Discrimination against Women riding Harleys

As found on dictionary.com discrimination is defined as "treatment or consideration of, or making a distinction in favor of or against, a person or thing based on the group, class, or category to which that person or thing belongs rather than on individual merit".  We usually think of discrimination along with the term prejudice, which is defined as "an unfavorable opinion or feeling formed beforehand or without knowledge, thought, or reason". (dictionary.com)
When I began learning to ride my own motorcycle, I considered it the realization of a life-long dream; to conquer that machine, to enjoy the thrill of the ride at my own discretion, the wind in my hair, the beauty of the countryside.  Never in my wildest dreams did I believe or even consider that there would be people who would look at me differently because of the mode of transportation I chose.  Call it naivete on my part, but I did not know there was a pre-conceived notion out there among "mainstream America" that people who ride motorcycles were all bad - prejudice.  
I chose a Harley Davidson, simply for the fact that they are built a big roomier for the comfort of my larger frame, and they hold their retail value a bit better than some other brands.  I love the look, feel, and freedom of all motorcycles.  I even considered buying scooter for awhile, just to take to and from work in order to save gas money, but I ended up buying a full sized Harley Davidson Heritage Softtail.
It wasn't until I started riding my own Harley Davidson that I began seeing a bit of negative judgement from people, including most of it from some of my co-workers.  There were comments made to me that didn't make a lot of sense to me, including "you don't see a Vice President riding a Harley".  How I had become a "biker" instead of the professional established business woman I had been before was unfathomable.  There had been no transformation inside of myself, except the joy and thrill of riding when I could.  Many days the only riding I could do was the 10 mile commute to work and home.  After all, I had a responsible job and a family to care for and they would always come first, but the ride relaxed me on the way home and invigorated me on the way to work.  I was still the same person, contributing to both environments in the same manner as before learning to ride.  
Prejudice seems impossible to transform into acceptance, for prejudice involves no knowledge, thought, or reason.  Although the world talks "value of diversity", it really does not walk that talk, as evidenced to me in my work environment.  It was just a few short years after beginning to ride, that my "position was eliminated" and I found myself unemployed.  While I do not believe that my chosen mode of transportation was the only reason for my being let go from my job, I believe it was a contributing piece.  
I tell you this story so that you can "check yourself".  Look deep inside yourself and see if you have some pre-conceived notions about a type of people.  If you are a woman riding a Harley, be aware before you decide to introduce your Harley Davidson into your professional world.  Mind you I did not say "don't do it", but be aware that there are people who will judge you not on the person you are, or the contributions you have made or will make, but will consider you a "biker" of lesser value than those who drive something with 4 wheels.

After days on the road

After a fabulous time riding the black hills, visiting Sturgis, Deadwood, and other cities, it was time to head for home.  We were suntanned to a leathery sheen and we had survived our first long ride together.  It really was a fantastic, exciting, and relaxing experience....  until the ride home.
The day we headed east on Interstate 90, the wind was wicked.  Coming straight out of the north, Mike drove well, leaning the bike to the left, to counteract the wind, while I whined on the back.  I was exhausted.  I was getting deafened by the wind in my left ear; it sounded as if I was in a wind tunnel and it actually hurt.  Not wanting to finish that ride home that day, I would have insisted we stop, if we did not have a commitment to be home that evening.  Not only was it windy, the sun was bright and hot, without a cloud in the sky.  The wind caused us to make frequent stops along 90 at rest stations to get off the bike to rest and get fluids.  About 2/3 of the way home, we stopped at a rest stop and I was in tears.  My ear hurt from the wind, and the backs of my hands actually had started to sting.  When we stopped, I took a good look at my hands and noticed I was so sunburned that I was blistering.  I had neglected to sunscreen the backs of my hands!  All these past days, I had religiously rubbed sunscreen in my hands and rubbed it on my back, arms, and face, but not the tops of my hands!  I could only cry at that rest stop.  Without gloves, I had no choice but to try to wrap some extra bandannas around both of my hands and climb back aboard that damn bike to continue to head east.
At the next rest stop, an angel was sent to rescue me!  Standing by a soda machine, we happened to look on top and saw an older pair of leather gloves that fit me to a tee!  I looked around and saw no one there to claim them, so I put them on my sunburned hands and rode the rest of the way home with my blisters protected from the cruel sun.  I still have those leather gloves... they will always be dear to me... and I want to thank the biker that lost them, for they went to a gallant use that day.
The most comical part of the trip though was just 30 miles from home.  We were taking an entrance ramp back on to Interstate 80 east.  The ramp was a very sharp turn, graded at 25 miles per hour.  We were traveling so slow on that ramp, that the bike actually just fell over.  As we felt the bike go down, my left leg instinctively came off of the passenger peg and firmly planted itself on the pavement to hold us up.  Mike also had his left leg down to hold us up, but the weight of the Harley Davidson was too much for us and we had to manage to jump and wiggle out of the way as it slowly sank to it's side... right in the middle of the on-ramp.  We were either very lucky or extremely unlucky that no one was around, because somehow we managed to pick up 760 pounds of metal.  How embarrassing!  We slunk the rest of the way home, happy to find our little girl waiting for us with open arms and more than happy to find air conditioning, our own beds, and clean clothes.
We were already plotting next year's trip!

Back Seat Riding in the Black Hills

I am surprised I lived through that first trip!  I remember sitting perched behind my husband like a queen sun worshipper, relaxed on the interstate and trusting him to get us where we were going. 
One particular day I got so relaxed that I fell asleep!  I was awakened sharply from my nap by my husband slowing down and yelling over his shoulder at me.  Apparently when I fell asleep my head and upper body slumped a bit to the side and threw us off balance.  He felt the bike lean but didn't know what was happening, and as he was correcting the lean, he realized I had fallen asleep.  I am lucky I didn't fall off and also lucky he didn't just boot me off and leave me on the roadside.  The only thing that kept me on the bike was back of the nice padded seat of a Harley Electra-Glide.  I tried really hard to stay awake after that day but didn't always do so well.  I can fall asleep at the drop of a hat. 
The other thing I remember about riding behind him that year was how nervous I was on the sharp curves of the Black Hills.  We rode all the scenic routes that we could but I must have been a huge pain, with my back seat driving (literally).  Whenever I noticed a speed zone before a curve, I looked at his speedometer and told him to slow down.  Even when he was going the speed limit for the curve, I thought he ought to slow down.  I was just not comfortable with those curves and the rocks on either side of me.  There were also dozens, maybe hundreds of other bikers around us, passing us, getting close to us, and otherwise making me a nervous wreck!  Now that I ride my own, I know how patient he was with me that trip.  If someone were behind me harassing me, I would have had a thing or two to say to them about that.  So if you are a woman riding behind, you better trust your driver completely and relax, but not to the point of toppling off the back of the bike after going to sleep.