A lovely young French lady tells us (in French – so I can’t understand her) about moto taxis.
Good shots of motorcycles splitting lanes and cruising through traffic.
motorcycles
Snow, snow, and more #snow
At least they can ride…
Got a day off today to handle a bunch of things that have been lagging, due to snow coinciding with my work schedule.
- Rake that roof. Put some additional extender poles on, and see how much I can get down.
- Go out for a long drive in my humble little car to see the countryside. I don’t do much driving, now that my commute has been shrunk to a fraction of what it once was, and I have to admit, I kind of miss it. Put on those shades, and go stylin’ on President’s Day.
- Get some physical therapy for the aches I’ve developed from sitting too much on the one hand, and moving so much snow on the other.
A couple of other logistical things need to be handled, but other than that, it looks like the day is shaping up nicely.
At least it’s not snowing again … yet.
I may take some time to do some sitting later. I could probably use it.
Then again, I tend to favor the idea that any activity you focus on completely enough to lose all thoughts of yourself, is as good as a “sit”.
So, I’ll go with that.
So, I was on a ride in the Santa Cruz Mountains…
Out in the Santa Cruz Mountains (Source: http://www.pashnit.com/forum/showthread.php?5938-WAY-out-in-the-woods-Santa-Cruz-Mountains-ride)
… riding pillion behind a fairly inexperienced driver, who had only recently gotten their license… and a fairly large BMW.
Sorry, don’t know the model — it was over 20 years ago, and all I really remember was that it was white and new, and it was too big for the driver.
Anyway, I was on a ride with a gathering of a bunch of motorcycle clubs who had converged on a camp to hang out, party, dance, and ride. And seeing as I was working the gig with some friends of mine who were providing some of the entertainment, I was invited along for an afternoon of rolling through the Santa Cruz Mountains, and on down to the Santa Cruz boardwalk.
Amazing. What an afternoon. Just riding along, as free as anything… never mind that my driver almost got us hit a couple of times because they weren’t quite as defensive as they might have been. But what the hell. I’m still here.
Anyway, all of a sudden, I smell brakes burning. You know the smell — asbestos brake pads vaporizing under plates… white smoke coming off the back of a bike up ahead… Others smelled it, too, and then it was, Whoah there – let’s pull over.
We did, and we spent the next 20 minutes trying to figure out what was going on. Both the driver and their passenger said the bike felt weird. Not as responsive as they’d like. It was taking longer to slow down and come to a stop. They said it must be the brakes.
“It’s your brakes,” I said. My nose knows.
How-ever, as I’m not a seasoned rider, nobody actually took me seriously, because after all, what does some pedestrian/cager like me know?
In the end, it turned out okay, because the rider offloaded their passenger to another bike, and we all took it slow back to the camp. We arrived safely.
And that’s all that really matters.
Last two chapters winding up
Last two chapters are winding up… The book turned into a much bigger project than I expected. What was originally supposed to be a little story about how I got on the back of a motorcycle and flew through Paris traffic, has turned into something more involved.
Zen, business travel, French-American relations, global business, motorcycles, and a handful of realizations that kick-started my energy…
Once you start looking a little closer, it’s surprising what you find.
And now, here’s a little something to pass the time:
Zen and the Art of Moto Taxi Survival 