I thought while I fought the crosswinds’ relentless rattling, why do I subject myself to this? These conditions, the mechanical panic of being stranded, or having critical gear fly off the bike due to my own stupidity.
This is where I discovered I wasn’t alone as I thought, though the good souls visiting the eddy would not have been ideal to ask for assistance since they were all naked. Yep.
I’ve been in between bikes for too long, which is long enough to question my skills, though I’ve been riding for more than thirty years. And that’s probably a good thing, taking toll of all abilities motorcycling. This isn’t something with which anyone wants to get completely comfortable. Add a new bike to the fray…
This A/B living is interesting in what it does to my psyche. A being home in SLC and B being back in StG. It’s the transitions that give my noodle pause, the in-between, the commute where time and miles are now measured in thoughts instead of per-hour. Thoughts like hoping the lawn hasn’t overgrown beyond the mower’s…
Not one pic from this commute. As the KLR climbed the switchbacks to the Zion tunnel the sunrise light was dappled against the canyon’s west walls where there’s a discernible tree line. The light hit it perfectly creating this amazing highlight running along the lower third of the mountain leaving the rest to go to…
Great tips about hot weather riding.
Too used to Highway 9, a road through pioneer history, and another flat.
Took my breath away and the air out of my rear tire.
Motorcycling forces me in to and out of my seat and that’s a good thing, a rose-smelling thing, except on this trip, my initial stop was to smell the smoke.
Then it all changes. As the road approaches the Cottonwood Wash, the earth shifts gears into Technicolored terrain and formations.
A motorcycle is an amplifier, it magnifies everything that runs across your nervous system.
If you want to be immersed in Utah’s funky rural contexts, 89 is the most expedited way to do so.