Lies with Numbers

Clara is back to life! After standing in the back of the garage in San Diego for years, blocked by flooring, and then in a storage unit in Denver for months, she finally is legit in Colorado and the weather is cooperating. All hail the Girl!

One of the first things I did was familiarize myself with motorcycle riding rules in the state. I knew that California is fond of bikes and the lobby there (formerly: here) has worked hard on making motorcycle riding safer and more expedient, resulting in changes to the rules of the road. Motorcycle riders can ride on any HOV lane (unless expressly forbidden), can ride in staggered formation (one rider to the right, one rider to the left on a single lane), and most importantly, can share lanes with other vehicles.

Mileage

It used to be the case that I could ride for about 230 miles before I started thinking about buying new gas, but ever since I returned from Hawai`i, it’s been only just about half as much and I am wondering what caused the change.

At first, I thought it might be tire pressure (although even on bare rims I should be able to do more than that). I went to the gas station down the hill, who had air but no pressure gauge, and added a little. It made a huge difference: the bike got all bouncy, like a racing cycle fresh from the shop!

Dropped?

I had parked the bike at a motorcycle parking spot to go to the barber. James buzzed my hair shorter than usual, making me look about 15 years younger (I was actually carded for the first time in many years!). I get back to the bike, and the bag is flying up straight. I circle the bike trying to find out what happened, and a guy comes out of the store behind it. He tells me the bike flipped over, and that he and someone else lifted it back up.

Running Out of Juice…

When I jumped on the motorbike yesterday morning, I realized I had left the key in the ignition, with the lights turned on. As I twisted the key back and forth I had to witness how my once roaring bike had gone numb on me. There was no way to coax the purring engine into doing anything other than being a cold block of cast iron.

At least, I knew what it was… I left in my car to help Elizabeth move, returning some time in the late afternoon. Then it was time to get the starter cable and the instruction manual out. I would repair the battery myself. (Btw: did anyone notice how weird it sounds when someone files battery charges???)

Commuting on 280

{moszoomimglink:Crystal Springs Reservoir – San Andreas fault}I decided on a whim to ride down 280 instead of the more obvious choice, 101. It’s a much more beautiful ride, but it entails a 15 minute rush through Menlo Park, which is book-ended by the two freeways.

It was a gorgeous day; maybe a little chilly, especially considering it is almost April. The sides of the freeway were that lush green that happens only for a few weeks every year, and no fog greeted me at the Half Moon Bay gap. Traffic was mostly light, getting congested only where three or more cars would go up a hill in parallel, slowing down everybody behind them.