Coop's Corner: VJMC Annual October Gathering

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

VJMC Annual October Gathering

Chip was kind enough to once again host the MN VJMC October event in Mpls. Once again fooled by the predicted weather, Sunday dawned bright, windy and with the promise of low 60's. It was that way when I mounted the '82 Honda 400A but before I got very far, a dark and very solid bank of clouds blew in and blew in they did! A strong wind from the NW (headwind) was almost too much for the Honda and was the exactly wrong type of riding condition that promotes good fuel economy.

I left home with 67 miles on the trip meter which would have been about a gallon's worth based on our sedate Slimey Crud riding conditions. Sunday into the wind, the roads had higher limits and the wind was relentless.

On top of that I had foolishly neglected to not only wear but bring an additional layer. Why was that necessary on a sunny 62 degree day between the hours of 1-4?? The 'Bib would have done me nicely and I actually meant to bring it along. I was at the end of the driveway, a total of 970 feet from the garage when I remembered, then told my self, "not necessary."

Big mistake.

Though it wasn't like I would be making the 75 mile trip in one swoop. It was the wind that guaranteed that. I filled in Red Wing, 10 miles from home and about half way there, had to quickly flip to Reserve. Stopping in Hastings, 23 miles later, I had to tack (and quite literally tach) my way to avoid heading dead into the strong wind. .7 gallons for a truly economical not quite 33 MPG. I stopped again right on the border between St. Paul and its Twin, Minneapolis at 34 miles for another fill, this time taking .9 gallons for an improved 38 MPG.

That fill took me home, wind at my back, I'm sure an average speed of 60-67 MPH.

I didn't stay long, just long enough to say hello, get something to eat, snap a few photos and get WARM. There was a quiz once we broke up into groups about historical Japanese motorcycle facts and figures.....I was totally out of my league around those many experts. Now if they'd have asked me the best, not necessarily the shortest route between Alma and Arcadia, I'd have ripped that one off in seconds.

It would be another strong hour and a half home which took a bit longer when I stopped once more in Hastings for a 20 ounce very hot coffee.

Some images......

Thanks Chip!!

2 comments:

TrobairitzOctober 26, 2016 at 4:02 PM
Oooh look at those shiny vintage machines.....
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Coop a.k.a. CoopdwayOctober 27, 2016 at 7:17 PM
Brandy, there are some classics in that room. Some I remember, even a couple of them once owned by me but many of them older than my riding career.
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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)