Thursday, I found that the bolts used to hold the crankshaft in the new race car motor were not meeting the specification defined by Toyota, so I ordered some new ones (and a few other small pieces) from a specialist company on the west end of the state. As it turns out, there was a rally event taking place not too far from there; ah sweet synchronicity. But Friday was still in the offing…
With no further work possible on the motor, and no shooting events scheduled, a motorcycle ride was the only logical choice for me. I wanted to get to some roads that I hadn’t previously covered, but honestly, there aren’t many in the state I haven’t seen. Knowing I was going northwest the next day, I headed southeast to climb Mt. Lemmon. No matter how much I want to like Tucson, the fact that there is no freeway other than the interstate passing through the southern portion of town really irritates me. After riding through the various business districts and neighborhoods, I finally got to the road up the mountain. There was little traffic, and fortunately, no cops. My particular machine seems to love the slightly banked, twisty mountain roads. I was a bit surprised to see snow on the north faces of the mountain while the thermometer on my bike read +55°F; it read +85°F thirty-minutes earlier. The roads pretty much top out at 8,000 feet above sea level. The ascent and descent were scenic and uneventful. For the ride home, I faced into the setting sun. As the sun retracted behind a few wispy clouds, saguaro cactus, and distant mountains, the sky did it’s oft ignored transformation from blue to black; it was an absolutely breath taking sight. Once in the black of night, I was riding among soon-to-be-planted fields. Aside from the feel of the wind, I think the smells are one of the best things about riding a motorcycle. Cattle, orange blossom, diesel, grass, sweat, dust. If you have the means, I strongly encourage you to get a bike and breathe-in the countryside.
The next day started before Starbucks opened. Riding west, the sun rose behind me, but found it’s way to my mirrors. It was like getting laser eye surgery; I was blind to everything behind me. This was mostly freeway riding, so expectations of excitement were pretty low. I made it to the Toyota specialist with no problems and they proved to be a wealth of information. From there, it was out to The Peoples Republik de Kalifornia to lend a hand to a few racing teams. I had only been there long enough to down a bottle of water when the call came over the two-way radio that one of the teams we were supporting was out of the race and needed the trailer. We loaded up a truck and headed out to where the stricken racer was waiting. He had done a bit of damage to his Ford Ranger, but was in good spirits and, most importantly, neither he nor his co-driver were injured when he failed to stay on course. We got him loaded onto the trailer and headed back to the pit area (about 50 miles away). About halfway back I realized I left my non-tinted glasses on the trailer. We stopped and looked, but it was way too late; they’re part of the desert now. With only prescription sunglasses, I had to leave the race to get home before sunset; mission accomplished.
I heard from a friend that the local Triumph club is considering a border to border ride; done in 24 or 36 hours. If I do it, it’ll be tough to blog in-situ, but it will be photographed and maybe I’ll have a helmetcam rolling for a few miles. The most entertaining parts will probably be the 20 minutes food/bathroom breaks from Mexico to Canada. Stay tuned as this one develops.
Before I left for the westbound ride, I got a hold of Joe Satriani’s new (to me) CD “Professor Satchafunkilus and the Musterion on Rock”. This was quickly transferred to my MP3 player for a 2-wheeled listening. I have Etymoic ER-6 headphones which work very well under a helmet; the sound quality at 75MPH (or faster) is fantastic. I have been a fan of Joe Satriani since I first heard him in 1988. His last couple of recordings have been a bit of a departure as they feature maturing compositions, not just “thinly veiled excuses for a guitar solo” and this record may be his very best. The syncopated, contrapuntal “Revelation” breaks new ground for Satch. It is a beautiful study in harmony and counterpoint rhythm. The last two songs are odes to Turkish musician Asik Vaysel. I don’t really know how to describe how amazing these songs are. Joe has been nominated for 15 Grammy Awards and has yet to take the trophy home; add this to the list of things I will never understand. There may be faster guitar players out there, but none equal the feel, composition, technique, and introspect that Joe Satriani consistently puts into a record. John Cuniberti who co-produced also deserves much respect. The recording has a great sound and they seem to have recaptured the sound that Joe was making on his earliest records (that Cuniberti also produced) that set him apart from all the other players on the planet.
I found out (second-hand strangely enough) that my truck should be ready for retrieval from the far-west fab shop in mid April. This means it probably won’t be ready in time for the Baja 500 in June, but the B1000 is in November. This blog should perk up a bit once it’s back here.
I know this was a long one…thanks for hangin’ to the end.
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