I'm dying to see Bart's new race bike - an Aprilia RS250 - but he is storing it at Dennis' house and I've been too busy to get over there to have a look. It is a true race bike, not street legal. I won't get to hear it or see it until March when Bart takes it out on the track for the first time (I get to be the pit babe, don't I?).

Dennis has been bikeless for weeks while he waits for his bike to be re-built. I've been wondering how he could keep his hands off that little Italian job that is sitting under a veil in his garage, just waiting to get turned on. Then I get this message from him:

So I go down to my garage this morning [this is true] and I eyed that beautiful black and silver motorcycle in my garage. A peek outside confirmed the forecast for a warm, sunny day.

What the heck...I threw on my gear, fired up the bike and bolted out to Redwood Road. [All true, as I said.] Checking right, left, ahead and behind for cops I worked through fifty miles of twisties with the sinister joy of a pre-teen playing hookie.

Bart...Bart...BART...Somebody give Bart the smelling salts -- I think he's fainted. Relax, the ride was on Karolyn's bike (thank you K) and the Aprilia remains locked up under the cover. Have a good MLK weekend, all.

DJ.

If you are curious about this bike, check out this review.

Rode on 880 to Berkeley Aikikai this morning for the 6:30am class. It was dead-of-winter dark and foggy at 5:30am. I missed my turnoff onto Highway 24 which takes me around the very high 80 overpass that scares me even in the car. I didn't want to turn off the freeway, the surface streets were in an industrial part of Oakland that I am not familiar with. High overpasses are a big deal for me, I won't even ride over the San Mateo bridge because it is a high bridge. This morning I left myself no other option but to take the dreaded Highway 80 overpass. I knew I could not do so at normal speed, say, 60 mph, but I could it at 40mph with my emergency lights flashing if there were a lot of cars on my tail.

In addition to being on the edge of acrophobic panic, I could not get my visor cleared. I kept opening it to get the moist air out. Each time I could see that the air outside my helmet was more clear than the air inside my helmet. But I could not clear the fog, and I couldn't see very well. I was nearly at the apex of the overpass, going about 45 mph, and not happy. Not at all.

What's so scary? Let's go to the hopper of irrational acrophobia nightmares and see what we get. Oh, #23! This one is good: "An 8.5 earthquake will start while you are on the overpass. The overpass will undulate, flipping you and all the cars around over the side. You will fall about 200 feet to your demise." Ugh. I'm not afraid to be dead, but I am afraid of falling or choking to death.

As I started merging into the northbound Highway 80 traffic, I wondered if maybe the fog wasn't on the inside, but on the outside of my visor. I swiped the outside with the edge of my leather-gloved forefinger. The cars instantly came into sharp focus. Sigh.

Coming back from Berkeley headed to Alameda I had to traverse two metal bridges - you know, that steel mesh stuff? Both bridges have warning signs for motorcyclists posted. I had seen these signs when I was in my car, and I remember the cautionary notes in my motorcycle license exam preparation, so I was prepared. Still, ice skating on a densely-packed field of ping pong balls even at 25 mph is disconcerting, if not creepy.

By the time I left work it was the darker side of dusk becoming a headlight glare lit night. So many opportunities to lane split, but I had experienced enough "firsts" today. I stayed in my lane, and got home safely.