May 18, 2008 - Solo Seattle Ride - Preamble

An important event is taking place in the Zen community in Seattle, I've decide to ride up. Mapquest says the trip is 850 miles one way. I'm going to try to do it in one day as a baseline exercise for an Iron Butt (1,000 in one day). Living one's life means addressing one's fears, right? This ride is solo. And to help the economy, I bought the Garmin Zumo 550 and the Scala headset. At least I have the comforting delusion that technology will help where a lack of sense of direction is a fear-filled void.

I decided to ask CalMoto to wire the GPS into the bike's CanBus system because I didn't want to screw it up. When I picked up the bike, the service manager, Devin, showed me that the GPS turns on automagically when the bike starts up. Okay, good. That part of the puzzle is done.

Now I have get the headset to "hear" the GPS. First I have to fit the headset to the helmet. That takes an hour because you have to find just the right place for the bracket and just the right place for the speaker that sits next to your ear - you don't want that disc jabbing you every time you pull the helmet on. But why can't I hear the GPS with the headset? After another hour the GPS is smolderingly silent while my tummy growls because I can't eat until I get it to work. I calm my tummy with bread and cheese but go to bed annoyed and frustrated (most likely due to lack of a proper dinner).

The next morning I have an appointment with the optometrist to get new computer glasses. It doesn't matter that I can't get the headset to "hear" the GPS, I just want to ride the bike. The bike makes its standard beeping noises when I turn the key, but is silent when I press the start button. One look at the head lamp tells me all I need to know - the battery is almost dead. I strip off the bike gear and throw on street shoes and drive the car to the optometrist, leaving a message on Devin's voice mail as I drive. What did he tell me about the GPS that I didn't remember? What did I do to drain the battery?

After the optometrist, yoga. I don't get back home until 2pm. I play with the headset and the GPS some more. The instructions for the headset are terrible, and the ones for the GPS aren't much better. Then I find what I'm looking for, you have to "pair" the headset to the GPS as if the headset were a Bluetooth phone. Right. Of course. I'm an idiot. When the two devices finally find each other, I'm so relieved that my brain starts working again and I remember that I turned the phone off for yoga and maybe there's a message. Sure enough, Devin asks if I can bring the battery in for a load test.

CalMoto closes at 3pm on Saturdays. It's 2:30 p.m.. The locking strap on the battery, and a mounting bracket above the battery both require a torx wrench which takes me a while to find. (It was in the tool box, exactly where it was the last time I used it. Time pressure clouds the mind.) The screw holding the strap gives way easily. I'm not so lucky with the bracket. Finally, the battery can be removed if you have strong hands and long fingers. I have to shim up the battery from the bottom of its holder until I can get a grip on it to fully remove it. I put the battery on the floor of the car, drive it to CalMoto with filthy hands. I park the car at a rakish angle and rudely hand the battery over the shoulder of a customer to Devin. Well, not quite that bad, but the customer gave me a dirty look. Sigh. I sit outside on the bench and let the sun warm my face and wait.

The battery was flat-lined due to age. I scurry home with a new battery, install it on the bike (this time with a strap around it to facilitate pulling it out the next time), and the bike fires up like a champ. Hurrah!

But wait, the GPS isn't turning on. I release it from its mount and Shit! Shit! I drop it! Shit! There's a crack on the housing! Shit! But this is a motorcycle GPS - it has to survive more than one drop on a garage floor. I get on the Garmin website and use the service data base of questions to find an answer. Now I need a 2mm hex to open the back of the GPS, take out the battery for 5 seconds then put it back together. Re-seating the battery works! Now it is time to test the headset/GPS en moto.

I remount the GPS on the bike and fire up the bike, the GPS starts up just like it should. I fire up the headset, and heaven love me the I hear the GPS talking to me. I give the GPS an address and off we go. The setup works like a champ on my test run. There's still a lot to figuring out to do with the mapping software and the GPS unit's features, but I've done the proof of concept.

For all my frustration, the gods were kind. The battery failed at home, not half way to Seattle. I have added the torx and 2mm hex wrenches to the bike's tool kit. I get annoyed and cranky when I can't figure out how to make things work. It was a good thing my other half was away because I could barely stand being around myself while I was frustrated with these devices.

Of course, now that I have the headset, do I really want to listen to the same few songs that I loaded onto the GPS over and over again? Should I get the XM radio transmitter? What is it with us humans? Are we never happy? Right now I'm so relieved that I didn't drop and break the GPS and I'm delighted that the GPS and headset work together so well.

This list of best practices for distance riders just came in from reader Dave Gill. Thanks, Dave!

Wish me well on my ride! I'll report back on my experience in contrast/alignment with best practices.

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Reality Check: proof that you don't need a big machine to ride cross country. Check out Shreve Stockton's Vespa Vagabond blog. She rode from San Francisco to New York on a Vespa in 2006. Here's her her June 19th, entry, "Gassing Up".

" I pull into a gas station and a giant RV is parked at the adjacent pump. A condescending and pointless remark from the man as he pumps gas: "there you are girl - we passed you ages ago." Well, here we both are, Dick. The woman looks at me wistfully from the passenger seat and tells me how brave she thinks I am, that she could never be that brave. I believe she could.

I pull into a gas station, fill my tank, clean the face shield of my helmet with the window
squeegee, down some water. An older couple approaches me from the other side of the station. They're carrying a green disposable camera and ask if they can take my photo. I laugh and blush and say sure. We chat, they snap; after a few hollow clicks of their plastic camera they thank me and walk back to their car arm in arm.

I pull in to top off my gas in the middle of nowhere Nevada. It's not even a town; it's a place with a sign. I'm about ready to go and the tallest, thinnest cowboy pulls in. I smile, he looks at me and says with a slow, lyrical drawl, "You drivin' that thing across the country?" I say yes. His drawl is almost slow motion. "If it weren't impolite, I'd say that takes baaalllls."

I pull into a gas station that is swarming with Harleys. I'm fairly intimidated, riding into the mix on my sparkly little white pony. The moment I stop I am surrounded with bikers, full of smiles and questions and stories. They invite me to Sturgis. The women who ride on the backs of these Harleys fall completely in love with the Vespa. They righteously declare that if their men don't want them driving motorcycles, then damn! They are going to get Vespas!

I pull into a gas station across the street from a Senior Center. There's a carload of elders - three very old ladies in the backseat and two old men up front. I smile and wave as they drive out in front of me, staring. One of the women gives me such a smile back, it seems as if she is concentrating all her energy and willing herself into my skin, into my body, even into one of the snaps on my jacket, just to be along for the ride. "

- Shreve Stockton, 2006

Shreve's current blog is Daily Coyote, the story of how she is raising a coyote pup in Wyoming.

"Charlie came into my life when he was just ten days old, orphaned after both his parents were killed. He lives with me and a tomcat (Eli) in a one-room log cabin in Wyoming."

She posts pictures of Charlie on weekdays. I'm addicted - she writes well and her photographs are a great way to start the day.