Thanks for all the comments! 

> On Feb 3, 2018, at 12:27 PM, Ken Waller <> wrote:
> Nice purposeful looking bike ! I love the mechanicals.

Thanks Ken!

> On Feb 3, 2018, at 8:50 AM, Paul Sorenson <> wrote:
> And where did that 75 miles take you?

It's kind of a tour around the lower end of Silicon Valley, including some of 
the mountains to the south and west of the flats:

The red/pinkish line denotes the outbound ride from Santa Clara up to Alice's 
Restaurant; the purplish line denotes the inbound ride back to my place in 
Santa Clara. 

> On 2/3/2018 10:45 AM, ann sanfedele wrote:
>> Boys and their toys...
>> but it actually is an appealing shot, even though motocycles are not one of 
>> my favorite things.
>> But what did you SEE on that lovely ride?

Oh, it's a little difficult to explain … :-)

There's much more to this than just "me and my toy." In some ways, a ride like 
this is actually hard work.

A ride like this is concentrating on the motorcycle, on the road, on the 
kinesthetics of being in motion and developing control skills … and on what it 
takes to be going … not on 'looking around' or sightseeing. But that doesn't 
mean I'm not looking as I go. I look at *everything*, often cataloging in my 
mind places I might want to return to and make photographs (or just to sit and 
watch the sunlight change), specific details of scenery and situation. I don't 
stop much to make photographs on this kind of ride because every time I stop, 
it breaks my concentration and disrupts the learning I'm working on, as well as 
interrupts the flow of the ride. 

But on this ride: Going up through the wooded sections of Hwy 9, the 
temperature dropped near Steven's Creek and I could smell the clear, fresh odor 
of a mountain stream rushing past below me as I passed over the two/three short 
bridges. There were a pair of deer in a field, near where I was almost killed 
by a fawn in 1994, up on Skyline. The vinyards (past that and out of the wooded 
area just beyond) are dormant right now, cut back and waiting for more 
consistent sun and warmth to start sprouting leaves. On the right, past Page 
Mill Road, there's a viewing area that overlooks the valley: the air was very 
clear and Stanford University campus was laid out below in a beautiful setting, 
like a bas relief painting. A bit past that is Windy Corners where the view to 
the left (west and south-west) stretches south past the mountains, down the 
dales and rolling hills, to the Pacific shore and the ocean beyond. It was 
mostly clear with little wisps of morning fog still lingering here and there to 
the trees on the wooded slopes. 

The road through is a continuous, sinuous ribbon of pavement with bits of tar 
and rubber overlaid into fascinating patterns. In many places on the wiggly up 
and down bits, the road's edge and the verge to the slope or cliff beyond is 
dramatically short and can give you a bit of vertigo, if you're inclined that 
way. I watch the way the sun tries to obscure my vision in various places, and 
how the water that spills off the side of a steep cliff splashes onto some 
things below and steams up in the sun, with twinkling lights refracting through 
the droplets from reflections of the sun… 

I SEE a whole lot, every time I run the route, about how the road has changed, 
where the slippery bits are, where the dry and grippy bits are, where the tree 
root has put a bump on the apex of a corner that I need to be aware of so I can 
ride through smoothly without being bounced in to the next lane, where the sand 
from wind off the ocean has been deposited on the road and then shaped by 
passing cars and trucks. And on and on. 

When I get to Alice's, I see other riders and other visitors, all chatting 
amiably with their friends. The guy I offered a seat at my table to lives 
nearby and is a regular at the restaurant: I asked him what he did (carpenter 
and farmer) and how those things were going at present. He asked me similarly 
and I extolled the joy of being retired and being able to take a day like this 
one and do a ride. He laughed: "I do that anytime I want too, because I'm 
self-employed and don't care to spend all my time working." We both laughed and 
had a great conversation following that… 

I see so many things it would be easy to become distracted, and part of the 
purpose of this ride, these rides, is to learn how to see and NOT become 
distracted; how to stay focused on what I'm trying to learn and work the 
problems I find in that. The thing I missed the most about stopping my 
riding—when I simply couldn't any longer due to the pain in my hip 15 years 
ago—is that for most of my adult life, rides like this have been my Zen, my way 
of focusing and letting go so that I could see the world for what it is, not 
what I wanted to see through the glasses of my inhibitions. I missed that 
terribly, a hole ripped out of my heart, and to have it back again now is just 
so amazing I cannot even begin to describe the emotions. 

This is life, this is real, and the universe of perceptions is there in every 
moment of the ride.

“The biggest hindrance to learning is fear of showing one's self a fool.” 
 - William Least Heat-Moon, Blue Highways

>> On 2/3/2018 5:56 AM, Godfrey DiGiorgi wrote:
>>> It was a beautiful day out yesterday so I took my Racer out for a nice 75 
>>> mile ride!
>>>    photo:
>>> Full ride report for those who might be interested @

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