I, being of semi-sound mind...

I, Michael J. Maier of Indianapolis do hereby declare this to be my last will and testament should my motorcycle adventure go awry.

To my loving nephew Andrew who, despite having working blood flow to the brain, was always glad to see me. This was appreciated every time. You get my extensive comic book collection, guitars, bass guitar, all drums and any toys hanging around you want.

Samantha, I have no idea what you'd want out of my stuff. But if you see a few things, take them and enjoy. Mom, keep her in check here, you're in charge.

Okay, that's about that.

Mom, as said earlier, I name you as executor. Keep anything you want that isn't mentioned above, settle the fights over any remaining crap and sell the rest. I'm guessing the motorcycle's trashed if you're executing this and it wasn't paid for anyhow. But it WAS fully insured.

I would only say life was sometimes pretty cool and I died doing something I truly enjoyed. I could have made my life much better if I'd bothered to do so. But playing X-Box was just to easy to do.

Something I learned yesterday morning...

My friend Yokie can drive like a NASCAR Master! We were driving to work this morning and this idiot pulled out in front of us and then STOPPED dead in front of us!!! Yokie hit the brakes and swerved hard to dodge the retard, pulling into the street he'd just pulled out of.

So Yolanda started freaking out a bit and I immediately tried to head off an emotional episode by giving her a big HI-5 and telling her she was awesome. It worked. I seriously felt like puking from the adrenalin dump, (I was dragging ass from insufficient sleep) but we were otherwise fine. I'm also glad I distracted her from being upset.

I really hope he was just leaving home. It's a dead end street. I think I'm going to wait a few weeks then go to there and egg the hell out of hit red IROC. He sure as hell deserves it since he didn't stop to check on us or anything. I also hope he wraps his car around a telephone pole and lives to suffer for it.

Things I learned this weekend...

One, twisties take a lot longer to go through than highways. Amazing, huh? Who woulda thunk?

Two, bunnies are smarter than squirrels.

Three, nothing about my riding gear is even remotely waterproof.

Four, having no rev limit besides the redline is sweeeeeeeeeet.

My next lesson will be how much it costs to dry clean a leather jacket to get it dry. Oh, and likely how much my leather gloves are going to shrink after being sopping wet.

Things about riding I learned this weekend...(long version)

Thing I Learned Number One: Twisties take longer! Looking at a map, SR 135 between Nashville and Freetown plus SR 58 over to SR446 doesn't look far.

It is.

It's a lllloooooooooooooonnnnnnnnng ride. Great roads, fun as hell to ride on. But not at all the sort of road you want to use if you actually want to get somewhere fast.

Let's backtrack. Last week, I got an invitation to join my friend Deb, her husband, Lois from work and her husband Steve for a night of camping at a horse park down south of Bloomington. I usually have some reason for not doing it, but this time I didn't and wanted to go. But my brother was leaving for Boston today. No problem, he told me he'd be leaving town about 1pm. Cool. I waited around and packed my bag. Then I took the Mapquest directions Deb gave me and gave them a look over. They were from her house in Danville to the campground. I entered my address and the destination address, then printed the map.

Well, as is typical with Dave, 1pm turned into 4pm or so. Which was fine since I didn't wake up until after 3pm. After he left, I jumped in the shower, washed my garlic-y armpits and got dressed. I double-checked my bag, put it on the bike and left.

I went down south again, going via I465 to the US31 exit. Then over to Cycle Outfitters again, then over to SR135 and down to the Target store. Dave told me Star Wars Battlefront II was only $19.99 for the X-Box at Target. So I stopped and bought that, some earplugs and a travel bottle of vodka for partying with the Dunns & Millers. I putted down thataways, down through Wrafalgar (that's what it says on my map and damn me if I'll call my map wrong...) and west into Morgantown. Morgantown has a bee specialty store I'm going to check into someday. I would guess they have lots of honey and honey products. I don't know for sure, I've never been in. Of course I've said that every damn time I've passed through that town. And that's been over 10 years ago I saw that store the first time, if I recall correctly. Procrastination? Naaaahhh... I honestly just always forget about it after leaving town. Unless I see their store info at the state fair. Which I've skipped the last two years. So quit hounding me, okay?

In the center of Morgantown I turned south, through Beanblossom and into Nashville. Then I followed 135 east for a few miles, then south again. I thought I might be in trouble right after turning that way. The twisties started almost immediately. A few miles in, I realized I wasn't going to be making any kind of time on these roads. But I persevered in a "Please don't throw me in the briar patch" sort of way. The turns were fun and I saw lots of wildlife.

There were wild turkeys, bunnies and a box turtle. Plus the usual farming horses, sheep, dogs and moo cows. But it was getting late and dark. Incidentally, today was the first time all year I've been even one iota pleased with the vilest evil known as DST. I like riding at night, but I am always anxious I won't see the patches gravel or, most importantly, the oil slick my nemesis has surreptitously spread from the Dodge Neon in front of me. Or those retard deer things.

So in the "town" of Norman (if that's a town I'm hung like the dude in "Every Given Sunday". Well... actually, I am. But keep that to yourself. I like to surprise the ladies...) this drunk guy getting into his pickup gave me directions. He told me to look for a truck place that wasn't there. But he WAS drunk. Nice, but drunk.

So after a few more bad turns, I found the horse park. But no Dunns and no Millers could I find. I putted through the park twice (maybe even thrice, can't remember), trying not to panic any horses and Christopher-Reeve anybody. (I can hear the moans even through the Ethernet wires...)

So after realizing I couldn't find them, I headed back home. I was more than a little concerned. It was getting dark in Deer Country, I was dead tired, thirsty as hell, starving (since I was waiting to get to the camper to eat) and at least 1.5 hours from home. I hopped on SR446 towards Bloomington, figuring it's just a few minutes.

Except for those dang twisties again. So after almost an hour, I arrived in Bloomington. The teen/college/whatever punks working at Wendys closed the dining room at least five minutes early. So I went to Applebees instead.

I brought my bag and gear in and ordered a burger, fries, an iced tea and some asprin. I was at this point ready to check into a hotel. I also considered getting something alcoholic to drink with dinner to help with the aches. But I decided to wait until after dinner. Good thing. The food woke my brain up quick and the hydration and asprin cut into my head and body aches in no time flat. So while waiting for the check, my waitress asked if I wanted some free cheesecake in honor of their 11th Anniversary. No fool am I, I took it.

Quick aside: I made good cheesecakes. Or so everyone else tells me. So I figured it wouldn't be any good. But it was, of course, free. The taste was good if not excellent. But the texture was very, very light. The raspberry sauce was a nice touch, as was the whipped cream and powdered sugar. They went all out and I was actually very impressed.

So I paid and left, heading up to SR37 and home. The road from Bloomington is quite nice. Only a handful of stoplights. There's a nice amount of separation between the opposing lanes so your eyes don't lose their night vision so badly. And the Ninja's high beams are wide and bright enough to easily see any deer standing on the side of the road. This eased my mind big time for my impending trip to Bahston.

So while I was a little tired, I got onto I465 with no problems. I was mentally alert and, more importantly, I broke the 1000 mile marker. I cranked the engine a bit, but after the I70 split, I got the bike up to 90 indicated. (I read on www.ninja250.org that the speedometer reads high by up to 10%. So if it says 99MPH, it could actually only be 90MPH. I don't know how my bike works in this regard.)

Then I made it home to type this and go to work the last two days. Only a few more days til I leave for Independence Day at the BIRTHPLACE OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION!

Great job, guys! Too bad the country was only free for less than century...

More slugs!

I forgot to write this last night. I stepped on another damn slug! What's with these things? Why must they torture me? I need to open another beer and refills my traps. Or maybe I can get some better stuff at Lowes tomorrow.

Maybe I should convert to Christianity and beg God to keep the slugs away from my house so I won't get mad and kill them.

EDIT: I forgot to write that this was in BARE FEET! That slug goo was just as hard to get off the bottom of my foot as it was my hand in the first post below. But this time I went straight for the Kleenex. It sure does seem as though I'm always using Kleenex to get goo off of my body...

Best day of riding yet in my life! (So far!!!)

Okay, so I got my bike back from its first service yesterday. It was done earlier than I expected and Bob from work was nice enough to drop me off to fetch it. The cashier rang me up: $30 less than they cited me on the phone. Not too dang shabby! Flat Out motorcycles will definitely get my business again.

At Flat Out I bought a nice new HJC helmet in bright white. It has the flip-up jaw protector. Which might not hold up so well in a crash as well as a solid jaw type, but my glasses forced me to compromise on that issue. My brother Dave says I look like a Stormtrooper with it on. He's a dork.

I immediately headed for the highway, questioning my brain if this was wise as I was not dressed for the bike at that point. I was in micro-thin dress pants and my Pacers windbreaker. But, no matter! I pulled out on 465 and headed home. The new 6000 RPM limit is much more fun, though I still have to go higher than that by 500 RMP for 55 on the highway.

The helmet is interesting. I've never had a full-face helmet before, but I wanted one upon reading that 20% of the impacted area of helmets in mishaps are to the jaw. The helmet is great, it cuts the wind better. But it makes me feel more impervious to harm. I don't think this is a good thing. But I'm still being very mindful of my surroundings so I guess it's not too bad of a side-effect.

So when I woke up at 3pm this afternoon, I decided to go put a big dent into the rest of my 1000 mile breakin period. After which I can rev the engine all I want.

I putted down from the East side of Indianapolis to Cycle Outfitters on the south side. It's a nice store and I got to see a few bags I'm thinking of buying. The Tour Masters/Cortech Tri-Bag tank mounted bag is very nice, but a tad smaller than expected. And $169 for the magnetic mounting one, it's a bit spendy. I asked one of the guys at the counter if he had any helmet bags. He just out and gave me one and said I should have gotten one with my helmet. I think I'm going to stop back at the Flat Out place and complain that they didn't give me one. Then I'll have two since I'm sure I'll lose mine in no time.

From Cycle Outfitters I zoomed down Madison Ave until it met up with US31. I proceeded through Greenwood, Whiteland and Franklin on the way to Edinburgh. Pretty scenery, much more trees than around here. Although I really miss my nice Blue-Blocker clip-on shades, they make all the colors much more vibrant and somehow make my depth-perception much better.

On the way I passed a gas station whose signed declared "Now with PAY AT THE PUMP!". I couldn't help but think "Welcome to the 1990's!!" But honestly, I like the folks in the middle of nowhere, even though they tend to be trend-deprived. They're usually so much nicer. I try so hard to be friendly in the city, but it's hard when a good number of the folks around look as though they want to cut your throat. And those are the sales clerks that are trying to get your money! I really need to move out of this hood I live in.

So anway... I stopped in at the Outlet Mall in Edinburgh, going into the Hush Puppies store. The very cute brunette with the very, very short semi-see-thru skirt helped me pick out a nice pair of 10 1/2 EW brown shoes. (I have the hardest time finding anything to fit my wide feet!) I think she saw me checking out her legs and this may have prompted her to move behind a display. She leaned up against a display with it between us. But there was a nicely-placed mirror behind her. So with me on the floor, trying on my shoes and her leaning over I got to see even higher up her skirt. If I had moved forward a foot or so I could have seen what colour panties she wore. Very nice legs too. The kind you wanna suck on for a day.

After paying for the shoes I filled up my tank at Thornton's and headed inside for a drink. I almost ran over another cutie, this time a blonde with glasses. I said "Sorry" and she said "Oh, you're fine." I replied with my standard wiseass comment: "Well I know I'm fine." She laughed. And right there I thought of a better comeback. I should have said "Thanks, you're not too bad yourself."

I checked my cell phone back at the bike and saw 2 missed messages from my brother Dave. So I called him back and he asked if I wanted to catch the Da Vinci Code tonight. I said yeah. It was about 1745 at that point. I wanted to get some more riding in, but didn't want to cut things too close for the movie.

So, a little disappointed in a shortened trip, I headed back north on US31, but decided to take the really long way home. I cut over west on SR252 and intended to go over to Martinsville and head up SR37 back to Indy. I passed the turnoff for Camp Atterbury and came to a stop sign that had a sign saying "Prince Lakes". I thought: "Hmmmmmm.... lakes. Might be some pretty scenery." So I turned south and yanked the throttle open.

The road went up and down some hills, making some nice dips. I cranked it on the down sides, slowing at the tops to keep from going to fast over the blind. I was enjoying myself when I had to stop in the town of Nineveh.

I happened on a split that showed a dam on either road. I cut east. The dam was about a mile down the road. The road was actually the spillway, with the dam lake on the north (I think, not sure). But it was a little lame looking. Very small. So I headed back to the split and went the other way. About another mile and I came upon this lake:

The pictures are lame, I know. They were taken with my picture phone. The haze was quite high and I very much missed using a real SLR camera. The polarized filters alone would have made these pictures much nicer. I forgot my Fuji digital camera, but even with that I would not have had the results I wanted. Oh well.

I kept south and headed into some very nice turns. I gave it plenty of gas in the straightaways, and kept my cornering speed high. But I didn't go around any curves too fast to exceed my sight lines. And I only went over the yellow line once. That was on a road where I was setting myself up for the next turn. There were no cars coming and I could see that for sure, but I chatised myself for the error and made sure I didn't do it again for the rest of the day.

And I didn't, even in a harrowing hairpin curve that got my heart pounding in a good way. Actualy, in an AWESOME way. The 6000 RPM limit makes things much nicer. I could brake with the engine in the twisties and didn't touch the brakes for miles. I put my little Ninja into more turns today than ever before. I was hitting the lines I wanted and couldn't wait for the next one. And I honestly don't think I once rode faster than I could safely see. Which was hard, considering some of the huge hills, dips and turns that suddenly appeared in front of my handlebars. But I held off on the gas in the blind turns and did myself proud.

Bring on Deals Gap!

My new pimpin' Ride!

There it is! My baby Ninja 250. It's a brand new 2006 model with just under 500 miles on it. I need to bring it in for its baby checkup and then I can start cranking the engine all the way to 6000 RPM! Of course, I'm reading it takes 8000 for the power to really kick in, but that's only 500 more miles to go before I can tear it up.

I still need a helmet since I cannot find my old Captain America one. And I lost the gloves that I liked so much and had to buy new ones. Then I need a tankbag, a tailbag and/or saddlebags for the long hauls like the one I'm intending to make from Indianapolis to Boston at the end of this month. I think a GPS unit would be overkill since I'm going mostly on highways and such.

I also hope to fit the ABATE/MSF course into my schedule this month for some more training. I've been all self taught up to this point and I'm doing okay. But I know I can be tons better too.

I appreciate three of the four blog links to the right giving good advice on motorcycling (that's Nate, JACIII and DJ) and reading the book "Proficient Motorcycling" by David L. Hough was time well spent too.

Finally! Some pics!

Okay, after some false starts with Yahoo! crappy picture sharing thing that SAYS it's a public gallery but somehow AIN'T! -- Okay, I'm calming down now...

Here are some pictures from last year's vacation at my Grandma's house in Wellfleet, Taxachusetts. Enjoy!

These pics were taken at the very last minute, rushing out the door to go see the Red Sox lose to the NY Skankees. But the cool thing is I got to meet Zakk Wylde from Ozzy's band while getting ketchup & mustard for my hot dog. And of course, I forgot to get a picture taken with him!

Anyway, back on track... about this house, I think it's over 100 years old. It smells like history and there are treasures to be found in the bookshelves. I started reading my great-grandfather Leland Baker's diary last year. The pencil is still very legible. There's also a beautiful family Bible from a branch of the family I'd not heard of. I'm hoping to head out there at the end of June and stay for two weeks.

Those slug bastards!

Soooooo... I'm winding down from a nice busy day of doing nothing much and want a nice little Mint Julip. The idea sticks in my head even though I'm low on Bourbon. So I say "Fuck It!" and go outside to grab some fresh mint out of my garden.

And LO and behold! There's a stinking slug on my pot holding said peppermint! I grab his slimy ass and slam it down onto the rocks in my gravel driveway. I decide (rather smartly, I must say) to wash my hands before picking my mint.

Good call on my part. I go to the bathroom and start washing my hands. There's a viscous goo that's not coming off with soap clinging to my fingers. I scrub like a motherfucker but nothing doing. It holds fast. Let me take a moment to describe this stuff:

It's crystal clear. About an eighth of an inch thick and there are these little bits of something in the goo. I can't pull it off, I can't rub it off, I can't scrub it off. It's clinging with the vengeance of a slug demon.

I get out the FAST ORANGE and it still doesn't come off! Now if you don't know what Fast Orange is, I bought it back when I used to change my own motor oil on my car. It's gritty and cuts through 10w30 like it's hardly there. But there's still this shit sticking to me.

Now I start freaking out a little bit. I don't know why, I just did. I was wondering if there was some exotic foreign slug that exudes flesh-eating bacteria or something. You know, like something some damn illegal Mexican would bring over.

But I grabbed some dry Kleenex and used that to wipe it off. Then I used the Fast Orange again and then lots of hot water and soap.

Then I ran outside with the flashlight, found the bastard's slimy corpse and found an empty planter plastic thing. Then I put it on top of the slug and stomped it until my foot hurt. Then I took THIS PICTURE!












Then I took these little plastic cups and put them into my garden. Then I filled them with beer to lure and drown these slimy shits before they can munch on my garden anymore. Good fucking riddance.

Acutally, I still feel queasy describing it. And I actually started this blog JUST to write about this disgusting episode. So there you have it.