Saturday, November 7, 2015

Home, Sweet Home!

We own a house! An honest to goodness, not connected to another residence house! For some that's not a big deal, for me who's spent 95% of her adult life living in apartments, condos, and townhouses... well, it's a huge deal!

You see, back in 2008, after being in apartments for several years as a I bounced from state-to-state, I decided to settle down and I purchased this little nugget. Now, don't get me wrong, I loved it for years. It was absolutely perfect for the single woman with 1 car, 2 cats, and a very demanding job. Then I met Mr. Rogue and it was still great for the years while we were dating. Once he moved in, things got a little cramped, but still manageable.

My car fit in the garage okay with his 2 motorcycles. So what if his car was always relegated to driveway parking, right?! ;-) And like that we lived for 5 years despite the fact that the garage started getting a bit more cramped during the cold months with my Ninja tucked behind my car, his Multistrada parked on the side, and the Husky relegated to our storage unit several miles away. It wasn't a perfect arrangement, but it we made it work. Hey, when the real estate market tanks that badly, you think long and hard about selling a house that you owe more on than it's currently worth.

Thankfully the real estate market picked up enough that it didn't hurt quite so much for me to let my little townhouse go. So, on October 19th we handed over the keys to a new set of owners and we signed the papers on a gorgeous new house with a 3 car garage! Yes, it's true... 4 months after selling my fun little car because I was tired of our motorcycles being stuck outside spring, summer, and fall in combination with the fact that I barely drove it 2k miles a year, we moved into a house with a 3 car garage. Oh the irony, she burns!

Speaking of garages... can I just reiterate how wonderful it is to have one with a ton of space and an entire area dedicated to motorcycle parking? In the spring we'll add the garage door opener to that bay, but in the mean time, I'll just keep enjoying how awesome it is to walk into the garage and not trip over rear stands trying to get to the car.

Monday, September 28, 2015

Oh Loki, My Fluffy Little Boy!

My Christmas Helper
September 22nd, 2015... it started out just like any other Tuesday - work, play with the cats, a little more work... watch a couple of movies with the cats (is there a common thread here?)... and then as we were readying the downstairs for bed, everything in our house went quite pear shaped and my fluffy boy died in my arms.

Happy boy!
Loki was my fluffy, fluffy boy - always happy, forever stuck in kittenhood due to a very serious illness he suffered in his early months that left him with mild brain damage. He was a perpetual toddler and everything was new and wonderful each time he awoke from a nap.

That dreadful day he was his usual playful self right up until the end. He spent his day napping in the sun, playing with his sister, and hanging out in the garage checking up on his motorcycles. He loved motorcycles more than any cat I've ever known! He was always ready to watch MotoGP. Need to work on one of the bikes? Better leave the door into the house open so he could come and check up on your progress and manage those bolts for you!

Braaap!


Just before it happened he had hopped up on the sofa to watch the end of 'Top Gun' with us. He was cuddling, stealing popcorn, and being his usual adorable self. Then he hopped off the sofa and acted as if he had a hairball. The next thing we knew he had fluid coming from his mouth and collapsed. I scooped him up, hugged him tight, and soothed him telling him how perfect he was - for he was absolutely perfect. And then he was gone and with him, a huge part of my world. His sister also stayed with him, right up until the end. The vet said it was congestive heart failure. Was giving it a name supposed to magically cause it to make sense? I think not.

Unofficial Shoei Inspector

Not finding his tufts of fluff in my helmet feels so strange.

I miss him more than words can ever express. I have 2 other cats, but this little guy held a huge part of my heart in his overly fluffy paws and he took that with him.

Sunday, September 27, 2015

Life Happens

It's almost October? How did that happen, where did summer go? Again I didn't get to do half the riding adventures I had hoped. Between work, life, and weather it's been a hectic year which will hopefully settle down soon and I can get in some nice fall rides to see the gorgeous foliage.

The key thing that has eaten up so much of my time has been my townhouse. The husband and I decided to do a nice remodel of the entire downstairs this past spring. We estimated $8k and 2 months to complete everything. The reality was $13k and 5 months of virtual hell. Why so much longer and so much more expensive? Well... the short answer is that our new refrigerator became damaged when the delivery guys attempted to switch out our very dented door with a new one. They managed to crack the water coupling inside the fridge and it slowly leaked just enough to eventually make our floating floor become truly floating. So, we had to add some drywall repair and flooring replacement to the plan. New floor looks great, though, don't you agree? That's actually a tile floor that looks like wood. No more worries about water damage! We also added the stone finish along that back wall. We also had new granite counter tops and a custom cut stainless steel backsplash done for the kitchen. Finally we had the downstairs just the way we wanted it! Hooray, we're going to enjoy the fruits of our labor for a couple of years and then sell the house. Yep, that was our plan. Life had other plans, though.


Jump forward to July and my husband's job situation changed significantly. His company lost the government contract to which he was assigned. The new company decided they wanted to keep him on and transitioned him to their staff. Great! No job loss stress, whew!! The new company though, has his job assigned to work remotely - meaning he doesn't go into an office anymore. "But Rogue, how could that be bad," you ask? Let me explain... you see that cozy (read small) 1 car garage with 2 bedrooms townhouse on the right? Yeah, that's our residence. We used to Tetris my car and 3 motorcycles into that garage for winter. This past summer, I sold my car since I never drove it anyway, and it's been very roomy motorcycle parking. Add to the small house that I've been working from home since the fall of 2010 and you start to see the problem - being close is great, being close 24/7 is not. It became very obvious the first week that we had to get a larger place. 

After much searching, we found a great 3 bedroom, 3 car garage home with a large unfinished basement about 25 minutes from our current home. Let me say that again: Three. Car. Garage! I don't know about the mister, but I've already picked out my next 2 motorcycles! We each get an office, and we'll have plenty of space from the start and more than enough to keep us happy for the next 15 years once we finish out the basement into a dedicated office space, equipment room, theater room, and wet bar. Our townhouse sold rather quickly, which was a true blessing because trying to coordinate showings when you both work from home and you have 3 cats and a dog is not an easy task. Finally last week all the details were nailed down and we were looking forward to being able to relax with our furkids for a bit before the upheaval of the move. That was the plan....

And then on September 22nd the our whole world went pear shaped in a matter of minutes. That nightmare can be found here.

Monday, August 31, 2015

It's not a scratch, it's a beauty mark!

No my bike does not have scratches! It has beauty marks! At least that's how I refer to them. Honestly, I can't say that I know one rider that hasn't dropped a bike or two in their day. We're not talking tales of the 'I had to lay her down' sort because there is never a situation where it's a good idea to intentionally turn a several hundred pound chunk of metal into an uncontrolled sliding projectile. We're talking about those 'Doh!' moments where you fall over at or near a complete stop because sometimes bikes just need a little nap.

Nothing hides a little scuff like a big, pink hibiscus! 
I've managed to drop my Ninja not once, but twice. The first time I had just over 100 miles on the odometer when I toppled over while dismounting the bike because I forgot to put the kickstand down. That one resulted in a bent shifter and clutch lever. The shifter I was able to straighten out, the clutch lever wasn't so lucky. Good thing that OEM part is quite reasonably priced! The second time was at a stop light with uneven pavement. The ground was just a wee bit further away than my 28" inseam was anticipating. Had I used the tripod method (scoot off the seat, left foot down, right still on the pegs) I would've been just fine. Ah well, live and learn then get stickers! At least that mishap only cost me a little of my pride.

The next time your bike decides to take a nap, take heart in knowing your not alone - we've all done it and we'll do it again. It's heartbreaking the first time it happens, after that you sort of just sort of start accepting it as being part of owning a motorcycle. The only way to keep a bike pristine is to never ride or touch it and where's the enjoyment there?


Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Crawl...Toddle...Walk...Run!!!

After much time toddling around the neighborhood, it was finally time for me to start taking supervised rides. I spent the better part of an entire season riding in front of my husband so he could keep an eye on me. During that time, he had me traversing traffic areas, back roads, twisties (for what they are in Iowa - they're hard to find, but they exist), and even gravel roads. He was a tough, but thoughtful teacher. Each ride had something for me to learn. Sometimes it was obvious, like making me deal with miles of gravel and mud. Others it was less so, but looking back, each one was a building block for a solid foundation. I'm lucky to have had the experience.

After about 1500 or so miles of being followed, I finally graduated to being able to ride behind him. Hooray for becoming a walker! So much less stress when you know someone isn't watching and critiquing your every move! It doesn't seem like a huge deal, but to me it was monumental - I finally felt trusted to lag behind a little and just enjoy myself rather than needing to focus on every little skill. 

Because of those miles and miles of tutelage, I'm sometimes the trusted 'sweeper' for group rides. During that time it's my job to keep an eye on the less experienced or skilled riders and make sure we all get to return home safely. Sometimes that means I spend more time on my Sena headset talking to the lead rider, my husband, than I do listening to music and that's okay because while those aren't my most relaxing rides, I get a great deal of enjoyment helping other riders learn the ropes in a safe environment.

It took dedication, practice, and perseverance, but I finally consider myself a runner. To this day I still practice parking lot skills - something I don't ever plan on giving up; but at the same time, I know all those lectures, stern talkings to, and hours of sometimes frustrating practice have made me a good rider. There's literally no place I feel uncomfortable on a motorcycle. In fact, I've embraced two wheel life so much, that I sold my car last month because I used it just enough to circulate the fluids on a monthly basis. If I need to run an errand, I hop on the bike; if I need to carry something larger that won't fit in my tank bag, I grab my trusty Alpinestars  backpack and take off. I am unstoppable.

Friday, July 10, 2015

You Must Crawl Before You Can Walk

Woo hoo! You passed your MSF course, passed the written test at the local DMV, and the helpful person behind the counter just handed you a shiny new license with a motorcycle endorsement. Now what do you do? Well, if you're the love child of Valentino Rossi and Marc Marquez, you hop on a supersport and take right off. If you're me, you spend a fair amount of time crawling before you start to walk and eventually run.

What does that even mean? Well, once the mister brought my shiny new bike home, I spent a lot of hours in a nearby parking lot working on the drills I had learned in class. One reason was, having never ridden my own bike prior to the class, I needed all the seat time I could get. The second reason was to get to know Ninja a lot better. If you can comfortably control a bike at slow speeds, you'll have a much easier time controlling it at faster ones. My practice lot was a scant quarter mile from home and I still wasn't comfortable riding over there. Oh my, 35 mph felt like the speed of light at the time.

After many hours in the lots near home, my husband rode my bike over to a nearby state park so I could ride around the camping area. It was mid-week and not the height of the season yet, so it was mostly vacant. Once again I followed my sexy bike in the car. Once again I was extremely frustrated to not be the one behind the bars. The park had a lot of speed bumps, less than perfect pavement, a lot of turns from stops, and a little oncoming traffic all while keeping the speed limit at 25 mph. It was a perfect place to practice real world riding in a safer environment. After a few times in the park, I was just itching to get out on the street and put my new skills to the test.

Finally it was time for my first real street ride! I was a complete bundle of nerves and excitement. My husband took me on about a 20 mile ride and I think it only gave me about the same number of new white hairs. I went into a tight, gravel covered traffic circle way too fast and accidentally turned down a gravel road instead of into a paved parking lot. I never dropped the bike, though he was convinced I was going down when I hit that traffic circle. When we talked about it all, I did a lot of things right and a lot of things incredibly wrong. It was a learning process and I still had a lot of walking to do before I could run.


Tuesday, July 7, 2015

We All Start Somewhere

I don't remember a time that I wasn't fascinated by motorcycles. I have memories of being a small child and being on a bike with my much older brothers. I would sit on the tank - hey, it was the early 70's and kids were still riding in cars with no seatbelts and playing with lawn darts.

Fast forward many, many years and I met a guy (it happens to the best of us.). He rode a Ducati - a 2000 Monster 900ie to be exact. Her name was Sophia, his Italian Redheaded Mistress. He'd ride over to my house, always arriving apologetically late, smiling. That was the summer of 2009. I never rode with him on the Monster; I had to get my 2 wheeled fix on the back of friends' bikes. It was great fun at the time and I was brought up in a household where 'good girls did not ride motorcycles.' Well, I determined a long, long time ago that I must not be a good girl because I wanted little more than to ride anytime I had the opportunity. But I never got my license or my own bike. 2010 I had planned on doing just that for my 40th birthday present to myself. My body said otherwise - with health issues to deal with, that dream was on hold... again.

August of 2011 Sophia's master sends me an instant message "I think I should get a new Multistrada and you should get a husband." Ha! I got a great laugh over that as we'd never even discussed the possibility of marriage. That was on a Monday; Tuesday I got the same message. By Wednesday it had changed to "Well, did you pick out a ring yet?" I was floored and all I could respond with was "You were serious?!"

We were married on a cold, snowy, Friday the 13th in January 2012. We waited (un)patiently for Angelica to make her way from Italy and across the states to Iowa. She finally arrived on March 21st.

I spent the entire summer on the back of that bike, but I was still wanting more. The spring of 2013 rolled around and again, I was eager to get out on 2 wheels. In fact, I frequently wanted to ride more than my husband. After one too many "not today" responses to my plea of "Are we going riding?" I had enough. I found the schedule for the local MSF course, paid my fee and announced I was getting my license. We spent an entire weekend looking at bikes in my size range for Rogue is a bit vertically challenged. Everyone had the same suggestion: get a used Honda Rebel, get a small Harley... erm... I'm going to have go with 'no.' Those just aren't my preferences. I'm a sportbike girl. I sat on a Ducati Monster 696 (it was okay, but didn't excite me), I checked out the Honda CBR250RR (no one should ever make that face sitting on a brand new motorcycle), and finally the new Ninja 300. As soon as my hiney hit that seat and I leaned over the tank, I knew I had found my bike. But, I wasn't going to set myself up for heartbreak - I had a course to pass and a license to obtain.

I passed my class the next weekend, went to the local DMV with my pass certificate, took the written test, and just like that I was a fully licensed rider. I was qualified to ride any bike I wanted around a vacant lot! (This will make more sense in a subsequent post.) Off I went back to the Kawasaki dealer where this gorgeous thing just followed me home!

And on May 25, 2013 the Adventures of Rogue began! Well, sorta... they got off to a slow start because there was no way that I, with my parking lot qualifications, was riding a shiny new bike 20 miles home through major traffic during rush hour.