Coop's Corner: Not Really A Book Review

Monday, March 11, 2013

Not Really A Book Review

Early Sunday morning I stumbled upon a book that caught my eye after seeing a review on a scooter website. I grabbed the image only to share with you here; there is no link to "Look Inside".

I wasn't aware of BJ Strass or his Scooter Rider magazine but I'm certainly enjoying this little book. I 'borrowed' it as a Kindle Prime customer. Mr. Strass, at least at one time, began his riding from Corvallis, OR, a place that I know a couple of other people begin their rides from as well. The first story in the book is about his departure from Corvallis, heading west and when he gets to salt water, he turns "right". Vancouver and surroundings are part of his quest before heading south again to his home in Oregon.

The author freely admits that he takes a few liberties with the English language and I appreciate that, though he doesn't abuse it like I do. His tours/rides are often extensive, sometimes done alone, often with his wife. He uses mid-size scooters, machines he's moved towards not unlike I have, from larger displacement motorcycles.

He mentions various gear he's tested which is fun but the very best part of the book for me is having an open map beside the chair while reading. I've never been a fast reader, but I slowly savor the descriptions and mention of places as I follow along using my maps.

Like the author, I'd jump on one of my 250cc scooters and head for either coast at any time. Here in the Midwest I've got more choices about avoiding busy roads than he's sometimes had along the busier edges of our country.

6 comments:

UnknownMarch 12, 2013 at 10:11 AM
Coop:

It would be just great if you could hop onto your 250cc and point West. I can tell you that when you hit our mountains, the 250cc will be a bit inadequate for our mountain highways. Much better on a Burgman 400 or other maxi-scoot.

http://wetcoastscootin.blogspot.ca/2009/07/okanagan-weekend-july-2009.html

sorry that webshots shut down and my photos got deleted
http://wetcoastscootin.blogspot.ca/2008/07/ride-report-feed-bear-scooter-rally.html

I know you like maps so I included one for you last time

bob
Riding the Wet Coast
ReplyDelete
Replies
TrobairitzMarch 12, 2013 at 10:35 AM
Someone wrote a book on scootering from Corvallis? Who knew.

Thanks for the tip on the book. I'd never heard of it and I am intrigued.
ReplyDelete
Replies
UnknownMarch 12, 2013 at 5:31 PM
Trobairitz/Coop:

found the author for you

http://www.burgmanusa.com/forums/viewtopic.php?f=2&t=60125

bob
ReplyDelete
Replies

Add comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Others say....

"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)