The Unwritten Language of Motorcycling

Numbers like 12, 89A, 191, 212, 550 might not mean anything to most people. But when you drop two wheels onto long twisty stretches of asphalt, a pattern emerges from those numbers.

Despite the oceans that separate our continents, and despite the differences in language and culture, there's still an understanding common to all who set out on two wheels. The G-forces that pull you back, the centrifugal-forces that pull you down, the friction of rubber against the road, is a feeling that can't be explained but yet needs no explanation.

"So what were the most memorable points on your trip?" I asked Gary, who was on his last day of a five-month long motorcycle adventure across the United States.

"There was the Million Dollar Highway between Silverton & Ouray (US 550), there was Highway 666 (Coronado Trail US 191), the 89A through Sedona and Jerome, Bryce Canyon in Utah (SR 12), and the Beartooth Highway (US 212)." he answered, though not in those exact same words.

He had just read off some of my all time favorite roads ever. Even though Gary comes from England, from another continent, from another culture, and even though he's traveled all across these United States, the first roads that left his breath were the same roads that I would have spoken of. Gary might have been a foreigner, but I could easily recognize him as one of us.

I smiled and nodded my head in approval.


Later on, Gary was telling me about a moment when he stood at a viewpoint, photographing some really cool twisties, and someone asked him what the heck he was photographing.

There's an old saying, "If I have to explain, you wouldn't understand." But amongst those of us who understand, it doesn't have to be explained.

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Electric Motorcycles and Freedom

Riding motorcycles has seemingly cultivated a love for freedom within me. It's either that, or I've always had a love for freedom, and naturally gravitated towards riding motorcycles.

In any case, it's no wonder why I love motorcycles that get lots of range on a tank of gas. I like to keep riding and riding and riding.

But where is the freedom in an electric motorcycle if only gets 40 miles range on a charge?

Not all electric motorcycles are so limited, the Mission One, produced by Mission Motors, can go up to 150 miles range on a charge. However, it takes about 2 hours to recharge. Not quite practical when doing a month-long trip to Alaska and back.

Mission One Electric Motorcycle, Mission Motor Company

Today the California Energy Commission reported that it awarded $9.6 million to eight different companies, which includes $505,000 to the said Mission Motors to help bring its electric motorcycle to market.

The California Energy Commission, is of course, a California State agency funded by taxpayer dollars.

Perhaps there's a market for electric motorcycles as a commuter vehicle, but until technology can improve to a point where electric motorcycles can get 200+ miles range, and recharge in the same amount of time it takes to fill a tank of gas, there just isn't going to be a market for such vehicles for touring, or even weekend joy riding.

And if I pull into an electric charging station, will it cost me more recharge than to buy a tank of gas?

And are electric motorcycles truly "green" if it requires electric utilities to burn more diesel and coal to generate more electricity?

I don't know.

At this stage of my riding interest, I don't care about exhaust sound anymore. I can accept an electric motorcycle, as long as it contributes to my enjoyment of freedom. But a 2 hour recharge? Not likely.

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It's All Coming Back To Me

Three full weeks is a long time for a motorcycle rider to go without riding. Somehow, the planets must have aligned just the right way for me to finally to get out.

The fact is that the planets had aligned the right way three weeks ago when we got the call we had been waiting for the last several years. A perfect kidney matching the right blood type and tissue type was available, and I rushed my wife to the hospital. After a week there, Lisa was discharged and has been recovering well.

Adjusting to the new medications have been rough for her, and the staples holding the incision together keep snagging on her clothes. But she finally seems able to walk through the house and take care of herself.

"So when you do think you'll be able to get out for a ride?" a friend of mine asked.

"I don't know, maybe soon. Depends on how she feels." I said.

"How about this Saturday?"

"I don't know, probably too soon. Maybe next week."

So, I get a message from his wife offering to stay at my house and keep Lisa company while I go out riding. I asked Lisa if that would be OK with her. How could she say no after I've been waiting on her the past few weeks?

Eight of us left Temecula headed over the Santa Rosa Mountains and down into the Coachella Valley and over to Palm Springs for lunch at the Blue Coyote. It was a great time, just like the old times, good riding and lots of laughs.

On the way home, Mike's bike decided to quit. We called Tracy (who was keeping my wife company) to bring the truck and bike ramps. By the time she got there, it was getting dark.

Jack wanted to take Hwy 243 back home. If you don't know about this road, it's only one of the best roads in all of Southern California for motorcycling. 30 miles of 30mph sweepers that winds it way up the San Jacinto Mountain range taking you through Idyllwild and on to Mountain Center.

Except Jack and I rode it in the dark, and we doubled up the speed to 60mph. By the time we got to the top, it was fogged over. I think I slowed it down to just 55mph.

And I still have on the same set of tires I rode to Alaska with last June/July. A little over 13,000 miles on a set of Michelin Pilot Road 2's. They're right at the wear bars, but that only means I still have some decent tread left.

The funny thing is that when I left home that morning, Lisa pleaded with me to be extra safe, and so I set out with a frame of mind to just lay low and take it easy. The last time she was stuck at home for medical reasons, she was recovering from radiation therapy for thyroid cancer. I left home on a ride that day and crashed my bike and was laid up in the hospital for eight days. Lisa went nuts not being able to leave home to visit me.

But somewhere along the way yesterday, everything seemed to come back to me and just fell into place. You start out trying to take things conservatively, but the road has a way of bringing out the real you.

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