Thirteen degrees outside this morning. Somehow I’d talked myself into believing that the riding season would never end, that somehow I’d just skip this year’s hibernation. I was wrong. Truth be told, though, I’m almost okay with it. Except for the fact that I almost earned a return trip to the hospital on Sunday.
I’m on a bit of a personal mission at the moment, and that mission reads like this: Get the odometer on the CB1100 to the 3000-mile mark before you put it up for the winter. As of Sunday morning, I was at 2,924 or something like that. Therefore, when a consulting customer of mine asked me to come up to her office that afternoon, thirteen miles or so to the north, I made sure to take the big Honda even though it was 27 degrees outside.
The ride up was chilly but not impossible. My new Hillside jacket is good down to thirty-two or so but I had a pullover on underneath. My Allen-Edmonds Sturgis 2.0 boots are so warm in the winter it concerns me about the hellish hotboxes they’ll be come June. But here’s the key thing: I rode up in daylight. As I left the client, two hours after my arrival, the sun had set.
I knew I was in trouble when I pulled out onto the two-lane between Delaware, Ohio and my hometown of Powell. The snow was blowing thick but that didn’t worry me. It was the shine on the road. I tried a little roll of the throttle and the CB1100 responded with a zisssssss! of the rear tire. Okay. I needed to search for dry pavement like I was in a NASA race at the beginning of a rainstorm. I looked down the road and plotted my trips between dry spots where I could adjust my direction. When I hit each dry spot I’d wrench the bike towards straight, and then I would do nothing at all until the next one arrived.
Thankfully these old farming communities are connected by county-line-style roads that are as straight as legislation and human effort can make them. Unfortunately for me, the mirrored visor on my Arai was too dark for me to see the dry spots in the twilight, so I raised it and enjoyed that 19-degree weather blasting my face at 50-60mph.
It’s a habit of mine, while I am riding, to simply sing a line or two of a song over and over again in my helmet, sometimes for hours on end. I remember the whole summer of 1994 that I had my 600 Ninja, singing the Frente song:
Why do I feel like I can never find you?
Why do I feel like I’m the only survivor?
Why am I thinking of you and me and the labor of love?
This time I found myself repeating the post-Waters Floyd tune:
Ice is forming on the tips of my wings
Unheeded warnings, I thought, I thought of everything
No navigator to find my way home
Unladen, empty and turned to stone
There were two sources of trouble ahead. One was the likely arrival of a car or truck behind me that would want to do more than sixty miles per hour. Thankfully, one never arrived. The other was the certain arrival of a big S-curve north of Powell that joined one old straight road to the one that led to my house. When that curve showed up, I checked my mirrors, sat straight up, and slowed down to about 30mph. Moved my lazy ass off the seat to let the bike turn without leaning. Both the front and rear tire seemed to be coated with Teflon and they squirmed beneath me.
I envisioned myself hitting a patch of ice and low-siding out into the farmer’s field behind me hard enough to snap legs and rip bolts out of bones. I practiced my suave report for the emergency-services personnel. Being suave in those situations is important and the only time in my life I haven’t managed it was when I was holding my son in knee-deep snow, my broken hip grinding audibly in my ears and my eyes half-blinded by the powder of the airbags. But this time I’d do it right, and I would say:
“My Tauntaun froze before I could reach the first marker.”
No need, alas. In the space of twenty uncomfortable, self-critical seconds the big curve was behind me and I was free to ride straight all the way to my neighborhood. My face was beet-red when I made it to the comfort of my dinette table and there was ice coating my visor. Took a solid hour for my legs not to feel cold to the touch.
The odometer reads 2,949. Thursday is supposed to be 46 degrees and rainy. I guess that’s the day to get those final miles. Then it will be time to close the blast doors and let Ohio impersonate the planet Hoth until March.
Winter is a good time to think, and to write, with deliberation and care. In a perfect world, I’d finish the original content for my book and release it just two years later than I said I would. We’ll see. In the meantime, stay safe, everyone.
Glad you made it home safely, Jack! I’m getting snow tires put on my ’99 Jeep Cherokee tomorrow.
Jeeze Jack ;
Having fallen on black ice I’m very skittish about snow/ice riding these days .
Glad you’re O.k. , change the oil and filter and put the Moto up for the Winter .
Nate
Most people would consider riding a motorcycle in the snow a momentary lapse of reason. And then there’s Jack…
”
Most people would consider riding a motorcycle in the snow a momentary lapse of reason. And then there’s Jack…”
FWIW , snow riding can be really fun ~ when my Son was much younger we’d take Honda CT90 Trail Bikes into the snow past the closed road gates and have a ball .
-Nate
If you’re actually predicting, watching and processing on a motorcycle, there’s almost always more traction than you think.
Almost nobody rides more than 7 or 8 tenths.
The ones that get you are the ones you hadn’t anticipated or hadn’t seen or hadn’t processed and when you expect to be able to spend 70 cents worth of traction, the contact patch is only granting you 40.
Glad I don’t have to read about another Baruthian crash though.
For context, before I comment, this is coming from someone who nodded in agreement when you were writing about using the median for passing - and who still thinks so. Having given my bona fides, Jack - that was dumb. When you wrapped up with the client and knew what conditions were like, it was time to call Bark and get a tow. When you know the ice is out there, its time to hang it up. (Or in my case, the gravel. I don’t have the BMX time you do, and its amazing how fast a 650 can get squirrley when the pavement lacks any pave.)
Glad you’re okay. Go forth and conquer that 3k.
I was thinking “Get an uber and pick it up in the morning” but I probably would have done the same thing if I’m being honest. I rode my motorcycle in 13 degree weather once. I haven’t done that again
I have found that if you’re gonna ride in the winter, it’s best to do it in south Florida (my current location).
Of course the abundance of “Q-Tips” white knuckle driving at 45 on I-95, and the “fresh off the boat” drivers with no concept of traffic etiquette do sometimes make the snow covered roads seem attractive.
I went over a notable pass near me on New Year’s Eve a couple years ago in unseasonably warm weather. The weather was cold but I was prepared, there was snow in the shaded gullies but not on the road itself. What I had not accounted for was all the wet sand. Pretty terrifying.
It’s a good thing you made it back before the blaster doors closed…
WTF?
Maybe you almost need to be an upper-Midwesterner to understand why this isn’t dumb - getting yourself out of a jam is seen as personal challenge, something you embrace head-on. Granted, calling on others for help might often be the smarter and safer thing to do, but surviving experiences like this by your own wits and skill is worth something too. Driving too late into the season or starting to early is just what a lot of us short-season bikers do.
Looking back, getting my Honda 500-Four on the road in early-March just because we had one or two consecutive days in the 50s, only to have to ride it home [with no traffic] from my high school job at night on snowy, wet roads taught me a lot about how to stay in control when traction is limited. And when I did get into trouble at higher speeds on dry, yet salt-and-sand covered roads, I was able to stay in control (clutch in, stay off the brakes) and live to tell the story.
Sometimes, taking chances like this doesn’t show a disregard for your own life, but an appreciation of it (and a deep gratitude for having the opportunity to experience life to the fullest.)
November 1993, after spending twelve hours writing a term paper in my uni library, I came out to find my CB900 buried in snow. Thankfully (or stupidly) it fired right up and I rode several miles home, using my feet as outriggers to hold us upright. I arrived home literally frozen solid, as the falling snow had clung to my front half in a solid mass. I was likely getting hypothermia (beware the umbles - stumble, mumble, fumble) and frostbite, but a hot shower and youth saved me. What you did is stupider: cold tires don’t grip, black ice is invisible and deadly to bikes, and above all you have a son. Instead, live to relish the complexity of throwing a bike into the Corkscrew at Laguna Seca (really only the third-most difficult corner there on a bike); live to ride BC’s stunning Duffy Lake Road at triple digits; or rip through Ireland’s Tim Healy Pass on a rented Ducati…
Sorry, my intense surge of jealousy at your contemporaneous CB900 ownership led to me throwing my laptop away and not reading the rest! What kickass bikes those were!
What year CB900 was it? I had the 82 900F, absolutely loved it.
Jack, my friend and brother, much of what Brian said about taking it as a personal challenge, in order to rise to the occasion, is indeed true. But remember also that 3,000 is just a number, and it will not be a personal failure if the weather shuts you down before you reach it. And if for no other reason, you have a son who loves you, needs you and looks up to you.
Part of growing older, as I sadly had to admit, is that we must sometimes let go of some of the daring we used to show, almost as a point of pride, in order to be loyal to other obligations and goals that we now own, some by circumstance and some by choice, but all obligations that we might be able to ignore, but cannot dismiss no matter how much we wish to.
Please be careful out there, and either wait for the right time (and the best road) to clock the remaining miles to 3000, or let it go, and live (and be whole) to ride another day.
One of the hardest things I ever had to do, as part of growing up (well past 21), was to admit that I could no longer do whatever I wanted to do, whatever I might be able to survive doing, just because I wanted to prove to myself that I still could. Had I not done that, there is a good chance you would never have known of my existence (not that that would be world-shattering, but still…), I would not have met and married the one true love of life (amidst all the false starts and love-gangsterism of my younger days), and there never would have been my son, whom you have met, and I would bet consider that the world is better for having a young man like him in it, as it is with your son in it, also.
It is your choice to make, but you will not be less of a man or less of an adventurer if you occasionally let a challenge go by, rather than rolling the dice one more time, just because you have been able to do so successfully in the past.
And the world will not be much impoverished by the absence of one more good ER speech by Jack Baruth. But it will be significantly impoverished if we, your loyal readers, are deprived of not only your automotive writings, but your musings and comments on life in general.
And if it is so for us, think how much more so that, plus the rest of your life, will mean to those that are near and dear to you. Even if you believe that that circle is limited to just one now, your son.
“If you have a friend on whom you can rely,
You are a lucky man!”
I will drop you more of a line, especially of thanks for the time you spent with my son, when I have finished the short time I have left with him here, after I drop him off this weekend at his intended new abode.
Until then, I am both trying to maximize the time that I get to spend with him, and minimize the amount of thought that I expend on what comes next. Even if it is his destiny, and right for him, it will be a sudden and unwelcome (otherwise) turn for me, and is coming all to soon.
That is, for me, one of the hardest parts of all about growing up, and I’m not sure at all that I am well-equipped to deal with that, even though I have been saying to myself and anyone who would listen that my role and duty to him is to watch him grow into a man who is capable of being on his own and capable of building and living his own life.
Now that that time has come, I find that it is no easier for having told myself that for all those years.
Got to go now…that’s all I can say about that for now.
But thanks again for giving him a chance to meet a friend of mine on his own, another part of his growing up.
I understand you asked him to describe me to you, and he said he wasn’t sure how well he did. I’ll make you a deal…I’ll send you my description next week, but would like to ask you to write me the impression you got from hearing his description. That should be an interesting experiment, at the least…
I really like the picture you took of the two sons. If you want to use it for anything that you write, you have both my and Matt’s permission to use the picture of him. All I ask is that you avoid using more than his first name and minimal other identifying info, for obvious reasons in this crazy whacked out world. But to me, the picture says many things to me, all of them good, in spite of the fact that I probably could barely articulate them.
And for whatever it is worth, my wife, who is conservative in her praise of others, especially those that she hasn’t met, said “what a cool guy!” when I told her what you had done. So thanks again from all of us. If you are ever out this way, you are always welcome…just give us a quick heads up and we will gladly welcome you. We are twenty minutes train ride from the Philly Auto Show and about an hour and half or so of train rides or driving into NYC. So, as the saying goes, don’t be a stranger…
Yes ;
‘ Empty Nest Syndrome ‘ is a bitch but you’ll get through it in time .
-Nate
Nate,
Right you are. Though it is made a bit easier by knowing that there are people such as yourself whom I like and respect, who have gone through the same thing, and understand, and who help me to see it in perspective.
The latest news is that the introductory trip has been postponed…the ostensible reason is that her father has just had a heart attack. Though I would be sorry to have that happen to anyone, I am hoping that she is giving him the straight story, and that it is not a way to pull back a bit, at least for a time, for whatever reason that there might be.
If she is the real deal, it is likely best that they have decided to move more slowly, rather than grasp at the relationship and being driven primarily by need or self-interest. On the other hand, I have to wonder if she didn’t think it would develop as fast as it did, and that she might have some other unfinished business she isn’t ready or able to give up or come clean about.
At this point, all I can do is advise him to be open-minded, continue to be real, and to watch carefully for signs “just in case”.
As I have noted before, I have mixed feelings about the whole thing…I met an MRI tech a couple of weeks ago while my wife was getting an MRI, and when we chit-chatted about what was going on, she pointed out that she and her husband had been together for forty eight years, and had met when she was thirteen and he was sixteen, so as much as I feel the odds are on the side of first loves not being true loves, odds are just that, probabilities and not certainties.
Since my son has a good head on his shoulders, I can only hope that he keeps his eyes open, and that perhaps he may have really “hit a home run” his first time at bat in the big leagues of life.
I also know that finding out I was wrong more than once hurt like hell, but didn’t kill me, so I know he may be fated to go through that pain…but it is time for me to let him make his choice and follow it through to its final outcome.
Right now, I am just taking it one day at a time, and am remembering he is only going to meet a woman he thinks he loves, and not going to get his ass shot off halfway around the world, or so many other things that might give me a really strong reason to worry.
Only time will tell, and he has been more willing to involve me in his decision making process than I was when I was his age, so I really have no right or reason to complain, only to be concerned that he not set himself up for a crushing heartbreak. But as much as he has been willing to learn from me, that is one thing I can only suggest to him, not shield him from. But at least I have the peace and satisfaction of knowing that he is not viewing this as an issue that strains or breaks the bond we have built over the years, as he says he does understand why I am concerned, but that he is willing to take the chance.
So the time has come. He knows he can still ask for my advice or help whenever he feels the need for it, but in this one, he can only “pay his money and take his chances.”
And deep down I know that even though it might be easier if he just let the whole thing go, it is better for him that he is becoming the kind of man who will take a chance on a person or a situation that he strongly believes might be right for him. At least it means that he won’t sit on the sidelines for thirty years, watching chances to be happy with someone else come and go, afraid to take a chance.
My brother-in-law, who is a very nice person, unfortunately, has done just that…twenty plus years caring for his mother after a nasty divorce, while doing twenty in the Navy, and now, in midlife, with a new grad degree and a good second career, he lives alone and in a lonely life, because he has decided in advance that there is little to no chance of finding someone to be happy with. He is a fine, decent human being, but he is what would be called gunshy in a dog, and he is unlikely to ever change. I like him and respect him as a person, but it is not the life I would want for my son, and with his willingness to step up to this opportunity and risk, as difficult as it seems to me, he is also showing me that he will reach out for what he feels might be right for him, even if it does mean taking some risks, including a major heartbreak.
So I worry for him, but not as much as I would have, if he were perennially dodging the issue until one day he wakes up and finds out he is fifty and single.
He is a good son and a good young man, and although I will miss him, he is not passing out of my life forever, and we are already plotting how to use new technology to stay in touch better, and talking about when and how we might move closer to him if this does work out for him.
But given that I have always known that my job as a father was to prepare him to go out on his own into the world as a man, I am shocked and surprised to find how much it has effected me, even though I always knew that a day like this would likely come, and that before my time is up.
So I will learn to enjoy what time I am still able to share with him, and will enjoy seeing him starting to build a life, if that is what is going to happen. And if it doesn’t play out that way, we will sit down together and talk about it, like we do about every big thing, and many little things, that we go through in life as both father and son, and as best friends.
I did read a book recently that mentioned in passing that almost every Sicilian son feels that it is his duty to live near his father. Kind of makes me wish I was Sicilian. But I am not, so I just have to take it as it is.
But for now, I am just glad that he will not be leaving this weekend. That is enough for me for now.
dumbass
I can relate, as I also set arbitrary goals such as “I’ll commute at least 50% of the time on my V-strom, rain or shine”. And I’ve been caught out in bad weather too; rain, hail, sleet, floods, etc. So I understand completely.
And I can honestly say I’ve been incredibly stupid and stupidly lucky to still be alive afterwards. I can still remember the sheer pain when I finally got feeling back into my frozen limbs. Having to crack the ice in my frozen clothes to pull them off. Wondering how all those cars sliding around on ice missed ramming me.
Past a certain age, all those things should be memories. Distant memories. I’m just as tough now as I ever was, but I draw the line at 38 degrees. I pay attention to the forecast. I dress appropriate. And I take the truck more often, regardless of the goals I’ve set. There’s still too much living to enjoy, and killing myself driving home from work isn’t how I plan on dying.
If you set goals, you should occasionally fail them. Otherwise, the goals aren’t aggressive enough. Consider this one failed and do better next season.
Just be careful for a few months and let the bones heal a little more.
I have a picture of my 99 R1100RS at the great divide in front of 4 feet of snow and snowing on road itself.On Facebook I had a whole album of trying to cross the pass during the Colorado Elephant ride. In fact the whole time I rode in Colorado I never had to put the bike away, there would always be a few days a month where the sunlight and temps would clear the roads for a few hours to grab some wale needed 2 wheel time. Failing that, my buddy Scott and I would hit Capt Jack’s trail (no relation) on our DRs.
I agree with your above buddies sentiment, growing up means letting a few challenges go by, but I would add it also mean not letting them all by. Even if it doesn’t work, we still need experiences to keep developing character.
So add in my voice to the chorus of “Bad jack, don’t hurt yourself, we all dig you too much.” I also have to admit I would have done the same thing.
M3ntalWard, a good counterpoint to my cautionary suggestions to Jack. I do agree with you one hundred per cent, that while some challenges might best be let go, we continue to need some new challenges all of our lives, if we are to continue to grow (and to be happy, for that matter).
Dylan said it well “He not busy being born, is busy dying.”
^^^ Had both an 82 CB900F and an ’81 CB900C (the shaftdrive that weighed @1478 metric tonnes). Great bikes!
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