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Old 05-31-2009, 06:32 PM   #76
mommer
bring on the world!!!!
 
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Joined: Oct 2005
Location: maui, hawaii
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Quote:
Originally Posted by neduro


I love this bike.

wow, i knew that those bikes look scarry cool, but i didn't know that i had to have one till now.... still scarry lookin
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Old 06-01-2009, 01:04 AM   #77
Gravel Seeker
Thomas
 
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Joined: Apr 2002
Location: Dreary old Norway, dreaming of adventures past
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Region Riley
All I can say is wow...that is some description. Now, if they would only make a bike like that for short people.
Don't let a "small thing" like that come between you and nirvana...

Gaston Rahier won the Dakar Rally for christs sake



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Old 06-01-2009, 08:50 AM   #78
olebiker
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Joined: Jul 2008
Location: Kingston ON Canada
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Yep I have had a number of bikes that I had to slide my butt over and just get one leg down. Off road I never saw that as a problem. I am either moving or not with the odd dab, more than that and the bike and I are taking a nap.
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Old 06-01-2009, 10:03 AM   #79
FatChance
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Joined: Jun 2003
Location: Durango, Colorado, USA
Oddometer: 10,079
Quote:
Originally Posted by neduro


I love this bike.
Geez, get a room you two!








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Old 06-01-2009, 04:03 PM   #80
thejosh
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Joined: Jul 2007
Location: BKLYN-->ATL
Oddometer: 454
So Sweet!

But where did the faring come from?
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Old 06-01-2009, 10:58 PM   #81
Nixels
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Joined: Sep 2006
Location: West Oakland, CA
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Neduro's doing a Ride Report?

Might just have to read up.






The guy can ride write like a nympho in heat.

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Old 06-02-2009, 07:23 AM   #82
neduro OP
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Location: Colorado Springs, CO
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There will be no sandals worn in the shower tonight. Authentic, traditional, adventurous, quaint, historic; none of these adjectives will apply. Air conditioning, a swim-up bar, and all the fresh towels I care for are the menu.



I spend the day chasing apexes through the mountains down to the coast, and I know that when I arrive, I’m going somewhere that takes plastic.

No one comes this way any more, there are faster roads both North and South of here. I park in the middle of a bridge for half an hour as I fiddle with the camera and watch my piss arc down to the valley floor.



Later, I watch a family play as they wash their clothes in the creek, the children splashing the mother and she laughing and splashing back. I am unable to put a camera between myself and them. I recognize a logo on one of the shirts, and think about the mad, mad world we live in where people who grow their food in the back yard, and count their wealth in goats, buy low-tech things made in China because it’s cheaper to transport crap halfway around the world than it is to make something good here. I attempt to file this experience under the folder marked “gains from trade” but I cannot reconcile myself to it. I move on.



I pass through these lives like a ghost. I don’t belong, but riding the motorcycle means I’m part of it, not above or outside it. People see me and wave, accepting and dismissing with ease.

I’m in the zone. I’ve been traveling long enough that packing comes easily, the saddle feels like home, and my gear has passed from clean to dirty and then back to stasis at “worn”.




The GPS shows a road near here, but the map is so imprecise (wrong?) that every 10 minutes or so it throws up it’s hands and says “No road near destination”. I put it out of its misery. There is more moisture here, so I must be getting close to the coast.

I stop at a small pass and realize the road ahead is visible for some kilometers. I have already ridden 250km since gas, so I decide to coast. I make it 25 klicks before I’m impatient to go faster.




I ride faster than I should but slower than I wish. I know there is risk, but I balance it against skill and luck and that act is a big part of why I ride motorcycles and why I bother with a trip like this.

I arrive at the coast road and turn South. It is humid and hot, and I savor it because I know that my house is cold and dry right now, and I’m going to save some of these BTUs up for when I return.

It’s time to try my Visa card for the first time in weeks. I am looking forward to not struggling with my clumsy Spanish, to eating food that costs too much, to swimming in a pool that smells like chlorine and coppertone. I am looking forward to not being the foreigner in the room, but instead being just another guest.

I ask for a room over the ocean, they ask for $300. I offer $50. We settle on $75. I haven’t paid this much for a room in weeks, but I’m sure it will be worth it.







As I walk into the lobby carrying my saddlebags, I realize I’m not going to get what I wanted. Guests fly here. Guests are pasty white and double check exchange rates. Guests ask for bottled water and worry about produce. Guests see “us” and “them”, and I’m neither. I’m still a ghost, still passing through these lives in a way that they can’t reconcile, except that dad looks jealous and mom looks worried.

I drop my bags in the room and grab a free margarita. I disguise myself as a touron with a swimsuit and a button down. I’ve been carrying this damn thing for 5000 miles, I may as well put it on.



More margaritas follow. I experiment, and decide the correct ratio is one swim in the ocean, one margarita, one swim in the hot tub, one margarita, rinse, repeat. By the time nightfall comes, I’m ready for trouble.

I walk up the beach to discover the gringo bars are nearly empty, devoid of the daughters I’d been hoping for. I’m not ready for bed, so I start touring the hotels on the beach. No one questions why I’m here, my tourist disguise is working. I wander into an all-expenses-paid place, and find myself in a big casino. People are laughing and gambling, I find a group that looks friendly and introduce myself. I ask about the casino, and learn that the chips are included in the package and the winnings aren’t worth anything.

And there it is, all wrapped up in a neat little package with a bow on top. There couldn’t be a better metaphor for this whole experience. I excuse myself, disgusted. I can’t decide if the smiles I see are fake, plastered on because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re here, or real, the product of willful ignorance, and I’m the sucker who is making this all too complicated.

One thing is for sure. I don’t belong here. I go back to my room and lie there, puzzling over the problem and deciding that I’m sure of only one thing: the smile that I wear when I’m leaned over, tires biting and engine pulling, is very real, and that’s enough.
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neduro screwed with this post 06-02-2009 at 11:07 AM
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Old 06-02-2009, 07:37 AM   #83
ganshert
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Joined: Mar 2005
Location: Colorado
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Quote:
Originally Posted by neduro
No one questions why I’m here, my tourist disguise is working. I wander into an all-expenses-paid place, and find myself in a big casino. People are laughing and gambling, I find a group that looks friendly and introduce myself. I ask about the casino, and learn that the chips are included in the package and the winnings aren’t worth anything.

And there it is, all wrapped up in a neat little package with a bow on top. There couldn’t be a better metaphor for this whole experience. I excuse myself, disgusted. I can’t decide if the smiles I see are fake, plastered on because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re here, or real, the product of willful ignorance, and I’m the sucker who is making this all too complicated.

One thing is for sure. I don’t belong here.
You've neatly summed up what I've been struggling with for the last 3 years of my career. "...the winnings aren't worth anything" and "I don't belong here".

thanks for sharing your experience
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Old 06-02-2009, 07:44 AM   #84
AntWare
Lost In Translation
 
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Quote:
Originally Posted by neduro
...and I’m going to save some of these BTUs up for when I return.


How'd that work out for you?
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Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family.
Choose a fucking big television.
Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows,
stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth.
Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home,
nothing more than an embarrasment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself.
Choose your future. Choose life.
I chose not to choose life, I chose something else instead.
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Old 06-02-2009, 07:58 AM   #85
mommer
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Joined: Oct 2005
Location: maui, hawaii
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man ned, you should write a book or something
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Old 06-02-2009, 07:59 AM   #86
ian408
Oh?
 
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Talented rider. Talented writer. Very nice.
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Old 06-02-2009, 08:21 AM   #87
Misery Goat
Positating the negative
 
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Location: Paradise Valley, AZ
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Gracias Ned.
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Old 06-02-2009, 08:49 AM   #88
Treadless
used 2 b aventuring
 
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Joined: May 2005
Location: Santa Barbara Ca
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Quote:
Originally Posted by mommer
man ned, you should write a book or something
Quote:
Originally Posted by ian408
Talented rider. Talented writer. Very nice.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Misery Goat
Gracias Ned.
Agreed!
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Old 06-02-2009, 09:26 AM   #89
trailuser
take the backroads
 
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Location: Illinois
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thanks for the enlightenment
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Old 06-02-2009, 09:38 AM   #90
Rellik
o-KAY!
 
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Joined: Sep 2007
Location: Calgary
Oddometer: 589
Quote:
Originally Posted by neduro
I park in the middle of a bridge for half an hour as I fiddle with the camera and watch my piss arc down to the valley floor.

I watch a family play as they wash their clothes in the creek, the children splashing the mother and she laughing and splashing back.
I certainly hope you were "golden arcing" on the downstream side!
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