Today I thought I would be in the Experience Riders' Course, the follow-on class after the MSF beginners class. The last time I tried to take this class, I had the desire to learn, but not the prequisite road miles on the bike. This time, I had the prerequisite time and miles on the bike, but not the current proof-of-insurance card in my wallet. While I was disappointed, I understand that the rules are there for everyone's protection and these sorts of things usually happen for a reason, so I'll just sign up for a third time.

The morning wasn't entirely in vain. I didn't get up early enough, by the time I was on the bike I was running late for the 7:15am class. There was no one on the Dumbarton bridge. I regularly ride that span in the morning at around 80 mph. Last night I was thumbing through a Valentine's Day present from Peter, a book about the Iron Butt ride, in particular, the 48/8 rally where riders visit the contiguous 48 states in eight days. No, they aren't observing the speed limit.

So I'm on the bridge riding into Newark. This morning the road surface is dry, there is no wind, and the road stretches a l o o o n g way ahead of me. My speedometer reads 80 ... 85 ... 90 ... 95 ... 98 miles an hour. This doesn't feel bad at all. Is there enough time to go for three digits? Not really, I can see my exit, it's time to start slowing down.

Reflecting back to just six months ago when I was uncomfortable at 60 mph, and I wouldn't take my bike over 5000 rpm because it turned into a different beast, all I can say is I'm glad I've taken it slowly. You may laugh, but each day I ride I remind myself to pay attention (zanshin). I tell myself "You don't need to prove anything to anybody and you don't need to go any faster than feels safe." I pray that the gods of the Road and the gods of Chaos and Entropy will continue to accept these offerings.

...

Bart, Dennis and Karolyn are going to ride Laguna Seca early in March. There's space on the rider list for me, but I am not psychologically ready to ride a "regular" track day yet. I'll be the pit babe for the three bikes. I expect the Aprilia will require the most attention. Bart will be breaking in the bike for the next few track days which gives Dennis and Karolyn a short window on faster lap times than our aspiring racer. After the break-in period, assuming he doesn't slam himself into a wall with that bike, we'll be eating his exhaust.

...

Peter bought a new Honda Interceptor (also known as the VFR) specs: 781cc liquid-cooled 90-degree V-4, 4 valves per cylinder, but most cool (from my point of view) is the VTEC technology. The short summary is that below 7000 rpm, the bike gets great fuel economy and has a good low rpm throttle response running on two of the four valves. Above 7000 rpm the cams open the other two intake valves and exhaust valves for each cylinder and the bike takes off like a rocket. This technology comes from the Honda automobile line. He is now parking his car in the front of the garage so he doesn't have to move the car to get the bike out. He's also talking about signing himself up for a Novice Day at a track. The Interceptor is a bit big for me, but what a ride!

...

I have received several emails from riders who have kindly written to tell me that they are using my journal to encourage their wives to ride. I'm amused that the husbands consistently mention my "female" perspective. In particular, one fellow mentioned that his wife resonated with my experience of trying on leather pants. I can say with conviction that when I took Peter to Road Rider to try on leather jackets, he rejected jacket after jacket in short order until we got to the Italian-cut jackets, and suddenly he was very interested. Yes, it is just "gear" but he looks good in his well-designed jacket, and he knows it. Appreciation of function and style is not a gender-specific trait. So, I can hypothesize about what characterizes my perspective as "female" - focus on the emotional aspects, no shame in talking about what scares me, lack of moto tech talk. It is what it is, and if this journal helps more women start riding and develop past the beginner stage, I am most gratified.

Learning to ride a motorcycle is one of the most empowering events in my life. The others are Title IX, wearing pants despite family disapproval (yeah, I really am *that* old), traveling through Asia on my own in my early twenties, and sticking with a martial arts practice for more than a decade. Riding a motorcycle gives me an intense visceral, emotional, and intellectual satisfaction.

Thursday was a law enforcement day for both Peter and me. Peter got stopped for speeding on his way to work, I got stopped for being in the car-pool lane after hours coming home.

Peter wasn't exceeding the speed limit too much, only 54 mph in a 35 mph zone, so by Bryan's standards Peter didn't really earn the ticket. But Peter knew he was speeding so when he got stopped by a motorcycle cop, he was resigned to the inevitable.

Peter told me later, "It is impossible to go the speed limit on that bike. I mean it (going the speed limit) feels like you're on a Vespa. What are you supposed to do, just sit and scratch yourself? Lie down and read the newspaper? I was going as slow as I could, practically crawling even, 'cause I know the four places that the cops hang out."

What he wasn't expecting was for the guy to want to shoot the breeze about Honda VFRs and the Milpitas Honda dealership; the cop has a 1999 model of Peter's bike.

I missed my exit from 880 onto the Dumbarton bridge. I got off at the next exit and discovered too late that access to the car pool from Thorton was off-limits. A logical barrier is painted on the road, two sets of double-yellow lines. I know you aren't supposed to cross them, but heck, it was only 6:35pm. The car pool lanes on 80 and 101 don't close until 7pm. Since there was no traffic, I crossed over into the car-pool lane. Big mistake. Two big mistakes, as I was about to find out.

As soon as I got into the car pool lane, I saw the light above the lane was red. Cognitive dissonance rattled my brain. I saw something that looked like a red clothesline with triangular flags hanging down across the lane. I started braking, but my addled brain could not process the fact that the car pool lane was closed and I did not steer the bike two lanes over to a toll booth. I actually passed by on the side of the car pool lane and came to a dead stop ... behind a cop car. I was very confused, it wasn't 7pm, why was a cop there?

The cop was all over me verbally for trying to evade payment. I opened my visor, but did not remove my helmet because I had the feeling that this guy would give me a hard time for the ear plugs. I tried to explain that I thought the lane was open until 7pm as it is on 80 and 101, that I had no intention of evading payment. This guy was determined to give me an earful. At one point I asked him why he was giving me a hard time since I wasn't giving him a hard time.

"Because I want to." he replied.

"Well, I wish you wouldn't. It isn't necessary. You're right. I didn't pay attention to the signs saying no car pool access from Thorton, I did cross the double-yellow lines. But I was not trying to avoid paying - I thought the lane was open until 7pm."

He asked to see my license and asked my age. He did a quick calculation on a piece of paper and told me I looked young for my age. I was thinking, "...and you, sir, you should think about getting your weight down or else you're going to have jowls in a few years" but I kept my mouth shut. He asked me how long I've been riding and I told him. He looked at what I call my "ninny" safety vest. I don't commute without it. I don't care if it doesn't look cool, I know that many drivers see the vest even if they don't see me.

I think my admission of guilt, my assertion that I was confused about the car pool lane closing times, and my ninny vest softened him. He let me off with a warning. I deserved a ticket, but I'm happy I don't need to go to traffic school. Next time I won't miss my exit.