Joe15 - I'm done

Horsetooth Reservoir - a much needed breath of fresh air

I'm really over Internet dating. I hate the interview process. I hate the false hopes. I hate how people can totally misrepresent themselves. If I'd met Joe15 in person, I probably would have thought he was a nice guy. No. Let me be perfectly honest. I never would have spoken to him.

I haven't gone back to look at his profile again, but I should. It would be helpful to know if I... I just did. No, I didn't read anything into it. He looks at least 10 years younger in his picture. It also clearly states that he loves to ride and goes to Sturgis all the time. Riding is one of three interests of his. Despite the fact that he said he's a good ex-husband and supports his ex-wife (because that's what he committed to), I gave it a shot. We decided to meet on Saturday morning for a cup of coffee. I picked 11:00, because I was hoping that the driveway would be cleared of snow and ice by then. He wasn't sure if his bike would start.

It turned out that he was walking over because his son borrowed his truck. That was fine. I thought I was going to have to drive, but about an hour before I needed to leave, I went out into the road and picked a path that would get me safely out to the main road. I was going to ride. Yay! I left early because I still hadn't washed the bike since getting caught in the snow. I rode over to JJs and gave it a quick rinse, then I pulled it over to dry it. I texted Joe15 to let him know I was early and took off for the restaurant.

I never would have picked this guy out as the guy in the picture. He was wearing expensive Harley jewelry. I don't want to eliminate someone altogether because of jewelry, but other than a wedding ring or a watch or maybe a cool bracelet (thinking of Dana's chrome chain bracelet or William's tire-looking bracelet), I'm not crazy about jewelry on guys. Not big gaudy stuff anyway. It looks like the guy is trying to show that he has money in an incredibly tasteless way.

The money. He told me about all his successful business ventures and properties he owns around town - and how his ex-wife owns half of everything. He talked about motorcycle trips. He seemed surprised that I'd only been to Sturgis once, like that was the mark of a real biker. He rarely looked me in the eye. He's looking for a long term relationship, but he doesn't want to get married. There's a big surprise.

We got through it, but nothing clicked. When we walked out, he came over to my bike. He said he had an '04 Springer Softail. He asked if mine was a Wide Glide. How does one mistake a Softail for a Dyna? How? I get not being able to nail the modifiers, as in "Heritage" or "Custom" or "Fat Boy", but how do you not see that there are no visible rear shocks and the frame tapers down to the rear axle.

He proceeded to say that he was thinking about trading his bike in, but he'd be lucky to get $12,000 for it after putting $25,000 into it. I commiserated, saying I'd be lucky to get $5,000 with all the miles I have on mine. I asked him how many miles were on his. 6,000. Yes, this biker has 6,000 miles on his '04 that he bought new. He mumbled something about trailering the bike to Sturgis with the RV while looking away. I got on my bike and left.

I know that some people don't ride as much as others. Jobs, family, health issues... stuff happens. But 6,000 miles in over 6 years? Again, that's OK if you aren't into riding as much as I am, but for goodness sake, do not try to pass yourself off as a biker on a dating site. I supposed there are women out there that would love to dress up in their biker best and drive up to Sturgis to play pretend badass for a week. It isn't me.

I'm done with Internet dating. I want to meet friends in places I normally go, doing things I normally do. I'm sick of the posing, the interviews, all of it.

Time to go to bed and get some rest for a Valentines ride tomorrow. Whoopee!

Back to it - Joe14: Ape Hanger Hater

This is exactly why I was doing this. Joe13 has a lot of great qualities. He's an amazing mechanic. I'm leery about some of the aspects of Joe13's lifestyle, even though I'm confident that if/when our country descends into anarchy and/or complete financial collapse, Joe13 will be just fine. The positives about Joe13 well outweigh the negatives, but I can't live with the negatives. (edited to add - while they are negative to me, they may not be to others. I want to stress that he's an awesome guy. Love him, just don't want to live with him) I thought it was my lack of trust -  no, my total fear of trust - that caused the doubts, and I didn't want to lose such a great guy. So I crossed the line from dating to long term relationship. Exactly what I didn't want to do. Or not that I didn't want to do it, but I knew I shouldn't. I don't know why it's so easy to see looming pitfalls in someone else's life but not in your own. If you figure it out, let me know.

So here I am again. I wasn't planning on dating so soon, or ever again really, but an e-mail came through on Plenty of Fish, and I clicked. I initiated contact with one guy, and I heard from a few others. Then I turned my profile back off. I managed to date a couple more Joes before getting totally disgusted with online dating once again. Here they are.

I'm not positive of the time line, but will run with what I've got. Joe14 and I IM'd for a bit one night and spoke for quite a while the next. While he was easy to talk to, there was a conversation about my handlebars that gave me great insight into the man. I can't remember how we got onto the subject, but I told him I had ape hangers. He was quite opinionated about them. I told him that I too once ridiculed ape hangers, but after a short conversation with Charley Barnes, I decided to give it a try. I don't write a lot of dialogue, so bear with me while I recreate the conversation...

When I took my bike over to Charley's, he was thinking about a photo on Facebook when he said, "I thought you had ape hangers."

"No. That picture was taken by a guy with ape hangers. I'm riding in front of him."

"That would be really badass."

"Yeah, it would."

So thanks to Willie at Righteous Ride in Greeley, I got a smoking deal on the bars and cables I'd need and gave the ape hangers a try. Not too long after, I took off on my 6,000 mile trip around the country. LOVE them. Love them, and I look badass.

Well number 14 couldn't handle that. He threw up several reasons why ape hangers were bad. I had an answer for all of it. I told him that I had felt the same way before I tried them, but at a reasonable height, they really were comfortable and completely safe. He could not give it up. He was trying to tell me that I was wrong about how I felt about my handlebars. Whatever.

We were going to meet at his business the next day, but I had other things to do. I made it over the day after. He has a successful business, and it's a cool one. In the hour or so that we talked, he repaired several items. He clearly knows what he's doing and is well respected in his field. He was easy to talk to. By the end of the conversation, we were speaking pretty openly about what we were looking for in our relationships.

My profile says I want to date. He said he doesn't need another friend. He also said he isn't interested in getting married again. This led me to the conclusion that when a guy in an online dating forum says he wants a long term relationship, that means he wants sex without commitment. Dating would be hanging out. Marriage is a commitment. Long term relationship means you've gotten past the intro and are now sleeping together. 

I like friends. I love my friends. I enjoy riding and playing games and eating out with my friends. I definitely want to be friends with a guy before going "long term." Wink, wink. But you know what? I don't want to cook meals, sacrifice my valuable time, be concerned with someone else's welfare, maybe even help out with kids or grand kids, and give a guy a piece of ass without a freaking commitment. Sure the idea of a live-in housekeeper who meets all of your needs is great. I'm not selling that feature. We can hang out and become friends and see where it goes from there, or you can kiss my ass - figuratively, of course.

Anyway, we had a lot to talk about, but I felt like he saw himself as the ultimate keeper of all information in the universe. He also has two sons who aren't even teens yet, one of whom was at the business that day because he was "home" sick. When Joe14 called me the next day on his way to work, his son was still with him. He said that the school wouldn't allow him to send his son back. Really? I know things have changed since I was a parent of a school-age child, but since when does the school determine if the child is well enough to go to school. This is on the heels of a couple of days off because it was too cold (0 for a high). I started to say that schools are really going overboard on protecting kids when the phone went dead.

I was busy. I know he was busy. I didn't bother calling back. Neither did he. I texted him a few hours later and said if he wanted to call later, that would be fine. I guess he didn't. That's OK. Actually, that's good.

Next!

Seemed like a good idea at the time

I recently moved into a new place. I had my motorcycle at Joe13's shop until I could get it to the new house. The problem is that the snow doesn't melt well in the driveway and the part of the road leading from the garage to the main road. Thanks to the warm Chinook winds of the last couple of days, the driveway was finally clear. I hadn't planned on moving the bike over today, but when I went upstairs from my basement apartment, the woman who owns the home I'm living in was dressed in leathers and was going to take a ride on her Deluxe. The thought immediately flashed through my mind that I could bring my bike home today.

I called Joe13 to ask if he'd be able to follow me back home and bring me back to his place to get my car. All good. As I left the house, I noticed some scary looking clouds to the north. Thankfully I was heading south. I stopped at my friend's coffee shop on the way. I wasn't there five minutes and noticed that the sky had become very dark. I figured I should get moving, and when I walked out the door, the snow had started. I called Joe13 and asked him to be ready because of the snow. He insisted it was a beautiful day where he was, not more than 10 miles south - if even that. Although it was starting to snow, I was confident there'd be light flurries with no accumulation. Maybe a little cold, but nothing serious.

When I got to Joe13's, the flurries had followed me. I raced to put my gear on, pulled the bike out, and got on the road. Joe13 had decided to take the car, and I noticed he wasn't right behind me. I knew that he had a general idea where I'm living now, but he hadn't been there yet. The temperature was dropping fast, and the snow was now blowing across the road. I don't think I'd gone two miles before one of the lenses on my sunglasses was frozen over. My plan was now to get home as quickly as possible, and I'd call Joe13 and tell him how to get there.

I turned north and realized I was now riding in a blizzard with visibility of maybe a quarter mile. When I turned east, I could see further ahead, but then I was riding with a hard cross wind. Snow was starting to accumulate in the center of the lane. I'd given up trying to clear the right lens of my glasses and was happy with the one good eye. When I started north again, I was losing visibility in the remaining lens. I couldn't tell if it was general visibility or my glasses. This was when I started praying. Seriously praying. I was staying in the track of the car in front of me and hoping that the road wouldn't freeze before I got home. I was praying that the left turn lane I would be using up ahead wouldn't be frozen up. I wasn't far from home at this point, but I could barely see, the snow was piling up, and I was concerned that I'd missed my window of opportunity with a clear driveway.

I was stressed with the left turn. I was counting on any oncoming cars to have their lights on, because if they didn't, I wouldn't have seen them. More prayers. Made the turn, made it around the rotary, and then came up on the house with a nice slick coating of snow on the driveway. I walked the bike up the driveway under power, with the rear wheel sliding from side to side. I stopped at the garage door and went inside to get some help. Before I moved another inch, I wanted someone there in case I started to drop the bike. Fortunately it didn't happen, and my bike was home.

I'm really thankful I made it safely. I think I'll check the weather report before heading out on a dark January day. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

Good bye, Electra Glide in Blue

Dear Jeff,

When I got the e-mail from Dave this morning, my heart was broken. I hurt for Dave. I prayed for your family. And I kicked myself for thinking that since we were geographically so close and have a few friends in common, I could meet you in person any time. I was going to wait until your battle with cancer was over, but it never occurred to me that it would be anything other than a win for you. I'm so sorry.

I remember your post about Rattlesnake Reservoir. I didn't make it up there to write that time I said I was going to, but a little while later I rode up there with some friends. I didn't know that's where I was going at the time, but when we got up there, I recognized it from your pictures. When weather permits, I'll ride back again and maybe grab a pebble or something to keep in my saddlebag - something to carry with me to keep your memory on the road with me. You also wrote a really cool piece about me and promoted my blog. A lot of people came to my site through yours, and I really appreciate it. I am honored.

Dave told me that you and your wife loved the quilt I made for you. I'm glad. I wanted you to have something to comfort you through your chemo treatments, and I thought that having the quilt with all of your friends' signatures would do that. I was a little concerned that you might find it to be a sissy thing, but after what Dave said and a couple of years selling quilts at the Denver swap meet, I've come to the conclusion that the only bikers who don't like quilts are those who have never been loved by a quilter.

And speaking of Dave, thanks for talking him into moving up this way. Our district is so blessed to have him as an officer. He's such a great guy to have around. I remember when he and I rode up to Copper Mountain for a meeting and you posted on my Facebook asking if I was taking care of your brother. I'll try Jeff. I'll do my best to be there for him during this very sad time. I know he's going to miss you greatly.

So goodbye Jeff. I know there are many people out there who will feel the loss.

From my heart,

Abby

Jeff Mashino was the author of Electra Glide in Blue, a motorcycle resources blog. Jeff just lost his battle with a rare form of cancer. You can read Jeff's blog here.

Flying at Christmas - You can't go home again

Detroit Airport 

I never did finish that novel by Thomas Wolfe, but as far as I got, I can see how that would happen. With my book, I'm not too worried about going home again. No huge secrets being told or nasty comments. But that's not exactly the kind of home coming I'm talking about. I traveled to New England to see my grand baby once again, only this time I was flying.

No big deal, right? Eh, I started home yesterday about this time, and I'm still not there. In fact, I'm now west of Denver waiting for my complimentary hotel breakfast at the airport Quality Inn. Bad weather caused my flight from Burlington to Detroit to be delayed about 3 hours. That meant I sat in the Burlington airport for 5 hours. This, of course, caused me to miss my connection to Denver. Using my new iPad in the Burlington airport, I changed my reservation to take me to Salt Lake City and then to Denver, arriving around 9:30. Only four hours later than my original arrival time. No big deal.

By the time we landed, I had to walk what felt like five miles from the farthest gate in concourse C to the farthest gate in concourse A, and I had about five minutes to do it. Moving sidewalks helped, but it was a long way, there were huge gaps between the conveyor belts, and I wasn't wearing great shoes for walking. I arrived at A73 sweating and almost panting, desperate because there was no plane at the gate. Yes, despite the announcement on the screen in the terminal that said the flight was on time, it was actually going to be another two hours before that flight was heading out. I wasn't the only one that was happy, irritated and exhausted all at the same time. Another wait, and another check to see if I was going to make it to Denver. Nope.

I talked to the guy at the gate, who had one of the most soothing voices I've ever heard, but there was nothing else leaving Salt Lake City, and he wasn't promising anything. That's fine. At least I'd make it to my time zone. We finally boarded, and I was sitting in the middle seat with a woman and her nine-month old baby boy next to me. The guy in the window seat found a seat next to his wife a few rows back, so I was able to move over, and we had room for the adorable young man between us. Pre-granddaughter, I might have been really tense about the situation. But while I have the most beautiful baby granddaughter in the world, this kid was easily the cutest baby boy in the world. I know his mom was concerned, but I was perfectly happy with playing with him. Besides, there was free Internet on the airplane. How cool is that? I even found an app for my new iPad that allowed me to text my sweetie (Joe 13) in Colorado and let him know I probably wouldn't be making it home.

Sure enough, I was not making it out of Salt Lake City. A man at the gate told me where to go to talk to other Delta agents. As soon as I walked up, they asked if I'd missed my connecting flight. Yes. She asked for my boarding pass, so I handed her my phone with the boarding pass that had been texted to me in Burlington. In less than a minute I had a voucher for a meal, a hotel room, and my new boarding pass for the first flight in the morning.

With my $6 meal voucher, I hit the Burger King in the airport. I was the last person there, and the guy cleaning up looked as weary as I felt. Probably even more. When I got up to leave, I left a buck on the table. I know it wasn't much, but having worked for minimum wage plus tips, not too long ago, even a simple dollar can be greatly appreciated. I know it isn't customary to tip at Burger King, but I wanted to know that despite my long and frustrating day, I could still be a thoughtful person and maybe make someone else's day a little brighter.

I was so happy to see the shuttle show up to take me to the hotel. It must have been apparent. The driver told me that I was the first person he'd seen smile all day. Again, I felt good that I hadn't let the trials of the day cause me to be a dud, like a burned out Christmas light. Instead I was the only bulb lit on the string. A group of three people got on the shuttle with me. They were a generation ahead of me, plus one, but they also rode a motorcycle in better weather, and we talked about motorcycles and rallies on the drive to the hotel. When we got there, I wanted to tip the driver, but all I had was my last five dollar bill. I was hoping to see one of the other passengers pull out a wad of bills so I could ask for change, but nobody was reaching into their pockets. What the heck. I gave the guy my five. It's Christmas, right? I don't have a ton of money, but being able to amuse myself with my new iPad and MacBook and Droid phone on my way across the country, it's hard to feel like I can't part with five bucks for a guy who has obviously had a really rough day for very little pay.

The hotel itself was a little rough on the outside, but my room was nice. I spent too much time on the phone with Joe13 when I realized that I had to get up before five to get to the airport in time. I enjoyed my nice hot shower in the morning and packed. Again, I chose to be thoughtful to the person who's probably making minimum wage cleaning my room. I always try to put all my trash in one can in the room. I piled the used towels on the closed toilet seat so it's one less time the housekeeper has to bend over, and I threw away my unused portion of soap. It isn't much. It doesn't take a lot of time. But it does make that job just a little easier.

I suppose my time last winter working for minimum wage, working harder at nastier jobs than I've ever had, as given me a new appreciation for the people who are stuck doing those jobs their entire lives. Sure the economy sucks, and we have less money and less security than ever, but that's when we need to have compassion. If we can afford to travel or eat out or text on our Internet-enabled phones, we can afford to show a little Christmas spirit to those we don't know, regardless of the time of year.

--------------------------

Now that I'm at the gate. I thought  I'd add my piece about airport security.

Denver at 8:00 am on a Thursday: Large airport, never stopped moving, no screening out of the ordinary, didn't see much of anything crazy going on.

Burlington at 10:00 am on a Monday: Small airport, lots of TSA agents with not much to do. While there were only about 10 of us there, we all got special treatment. I got tested for bomb-making residue, which was totally non-invasive. My bag got a thorough inspection. I think it was the 3 pound block of Seriously Sharp Cabot Cheddar cheese that made them suspicious.

Salt Lake City at 6:30 am on a Tuesday: Large airport, although not quite as large as Denver. Longer wait just to get to the part where they check your boarding pass and ID. I had to do the thing where you stand on the two yellow footprints and raise your hands. They show you a picture of the detail they'll see. I'm glad I don't have a penis. I just hope my bra was doing its job. Again the bag search and the block of cheese. This time they were interested in what looked like a wrench. Yes, I carry a 10mm wrench wherever I go. It's my rabbit's foot. If you read my cross-country trip blog of three years ago, you get it. If not, you'll have to wait until the book comes out. Anyway, I might hold off on the wrench for the next trip, but I'm sure I'll need it to loosen and/or tighten the nut on a battery if I leave it at home. After much consideration, they decided the wrench wasn't a threat, thankfully. It's my best 10mm wrench with the ratcheting box end.

More fun with Joe13

Joe13 has an impressive collection of motorcycles. A couple of the more late model Harleys he rides regularly. His '46 Flathead has been registered continually for a few decades, but it hasn't been on the road for about a year. As with anything, especially a 64 year old motorcycle, it needed a little coaxing.

When Joe13 rolled the bike out of its resting place, it needed a little work. Since he can do anything in his shop, this wasn't a problem and didn't take long. However, the kicker gears are just about shot, and because it had been sitting for so long, Joe13 pulled out his homemade... I don't even know what to call it. I would not have believed this "tool" existed nor safely worked had I not seen it in action. And in reality, I didn't see it work, because using the tool was a two-man process, and I was the second man (person). That probably makes even less sense. Let me explain.

While expecting Joe13 to be rolling out the bike, he took off to the back yard and pulled a small pickup truck around to the front of the shop. Thinking he was suffering from a severe case of shiny object syndrome, I kept my mouth shut and waited to find out what project we were working on now. It was then that he pointed out this strange steel contraption on the floor of the garage. It was about six feet long and two feet wide. Mounted on it were two large rollers running the length of the... thing. I'm still at a loss for what to call this.

Joe13 had me back the truck up so that the right rear wheel was positioned between the two rollers. He chalked the front wheel of the truck. Then he pulled the Flathead out and placed the rear wheel of the Flathead between the two rollers. He told me to drive. I was sure he was going to die. But he didn't. The truck tire got the rollers moving, which then got the Flathead's rear wheel moving. Within a few seconds, the Flathead roared to life, having been push started without any crazy running around of human beings.

Maybe you've seen something like this before. I never have. Joe13 made it himself many years ago. While it does require two people and a truck, if you live in the country on dirt roads without any downhill slopes from the shop, or if you and your friends are just plain old, it's a valuable tool.

Having started the motorcycle, Joe13 took it for a quick spin to clear out the cobwebs. It ran amazingly well. When he got back, I asked if he'd take me for a ride. It had been twenty years since I'd ridden on the back of a rigid frame with such sparse accommodations, and I wanted to reminisce. With the rear footpegs being only about six inches below and six inches in front of my seat, it required a bit of effort to get situated. I reached between my legs to wrap my arms tightly around Joe13 while he took off. It was awesome!

We rode into town, Joe13 using the suicide clutch and tank shifter as though he'd done it all his life. He's ridden that bike on the street since he was 15, so he has done it most of his life. It was dark at this point, with the moon poking out of some stray clouds, and as we passed the old drive-in, I felt like I was living a David Mann poster. Riding like that came back to me quickly. Wanting to shift my weight without throwing off Joe13's balance, I waited until he pushed down on the clutch and the bike slowed slightly to move my butt forward a little on the p-pad. I loved it when he leaned back and threw his left arm over my knee. I smiled when I considered that if I'd seen another woman riding on the back of a bike like that, I'd have been extremely jealous.

We got gas. Joe13 went in to pay and told me to pump. I took the cap off the right side of the tank but noticed the word "oil" stamped in the tank under that cap. There was oil in there. I replaced that cap and filled the left side with fuel. We took off back for the shop, losing power along the way. The spark plug wires had seen better days, and it was time for a replacement. Despite that small maintenance requirement, the bike ran great. The 99 degree August day had cooled to a pleasant 75 degrees and was finished off with an unexpected ride on a true antique motorcycle. Life doesn't get much better than that.

A quick Sturgis trip with Joe13

Last year I wrote about a trip to the Black Hills during the last week of August. it was a beautiful time to be there. Not only were the motorcycle crowds gone, but almost all the tourists had left, leaving some great riding in perfect weather. This year I decided I'd give the rally a try. Having never been to Sturgis during rally week, I figured I'd go for a day to see what I was missing. I'm glad I went.

I'm glad I went early. Sturgis officially started today, August 9th. I rode up with a friend on the 7th and back on the 8th. It was a last minute decision to go, so no plans were made. We left Loveland before noon, and with a detour to my favorite quilt shop in Hill City, we got to Sturgis just before sunset. We hit Main Street, parked, and walked around for a bit, stopping to visit Webb from Joker's Wild in Fort Collins tattooing at the Tattoo Cellar. Cell service in Sturgis is terrible, but I was able to text a friend who told us to meet him at Full Throttle Saloon.

We figured out how to find Full Throttle and headed out. When we got there, we parked next to Geico's Dyna Drags trailer. My friend loves motorcycle racing, so we hung out and watched. They wanted people to race, which was $30 for three runs, plus you got a t-shirt and print-out of your racing statistics. I'm not sure what made me think it was a good idea, but I thought it looked like fun, and I wanted to see what my bike would do. I paid my $30 and went for it. I was the first woman of Sturgis 2010 to race on the dyno. Nobody went while I was there, so I did it alone. I say alone, but the crowd got pretty big. The guys running it were hyping it up, and someone was filming the whole thing. I was nervous, never having done this before, but I had a blast. My last run was 13.25 seconds for the quarter mile, with a speed of 107 MPH and 71 horsepower. Wow! I was so excited all night that I couldn't sleep.

Oh yeah, sleep. We had made zero plans for a place to stay. Someone told us about a campground a little way out of town where we could get a spot for one night at a time. This was different from a lot of the really big places that only sold week-long spots for big bucks. We had no idea where we were going, and it was getting really dark and desolate, but after a while I saw some lights and a lot of vehicles turning down a side road. Sure enough, I'd found the Shade Valley Campground. The rate there is $20 per person, per night. They have a pretty impressive shower house way in the back for the tenters, but beware of cow patties everywhere.

The next day we went back into town for breakfast, where I was promptly recognized from my run on the dyno the night before. Very cool! We paid $7 for an all-you-can-eat pancake and biscuits and gravy breakfast at a school. Then we went into town, parked on Main Street again, and checked out the vendors. My friend owns Two Guys Motorcycle Shop in Loveland, so it was a trade show for us. It was a lot of fun meeting the vendors and learning about their new products.

By noon on Sunday, between the lack of sleep, heat, and crowds, I was on overload and was ready to head home. I'm not a big fan of crowds, and I'd reached my limit. It's easy to see why there are so many wrecks during bike week. It's hard to focus on everything you need to in order to ride safely. Riders are of all different experience levels, and you never know what the person next to you is going to do. I'm glad I went, and I'm glad I went early. I'm not sure I'd be able to tolerate much more traffic and noise, and the official week hadn't even begun! I'll probably go back, but not for much longer than I did this year.