rain, rain go away

Well, it's rained pretty steady since thursday. Snow forecast for tonight. Bah. I want to ride.

I'm really packin' it on

Well, it was bound to happen eventually; I was out shopping and spotted a print that I really liked at Winners, and had to buy it. The problem was that I was down at the mall on my scooter, and the print was about 3 feet long and 1 foot high, not exactly 'carry on' luggage.

Now, I have tried a few different things for carrying things on the scooter: I have successfully carried a slurpee home in a shoulder bag, less successfully carried a double mocha home, but it was fine since I wrapped a plastic bag around the mocha. All I had to do was pour the bag back into the mostly empty cup and voila, here's your mocha hunny!

So I bought the giclée painting, and then went to staples and bought a roll of packing tape. I figured the rest of the details would sort themselves out when I got to the scoot, which they did. My first plan was to tap the thing sideways across the rack like an airplane wing, which would have been hilarious, but likely somewhat dangerous both to me and to the painting. But when I saw the bike, with the flat footboard, and the extentions that head back towards the tail end of the bike, it came to me like a flash. You can see the results below.



Who says they aren't practical for carrying things?

Praise to the Evening

On sunday night I lamented out loud the fact that I had not had a chance to ride the scoot all weekend. Anie, my lovely and understanding wife, said "Why don't you go now?" Now being about 6:30PM. Without wasting a second, I hopped on Couchette and headed for the hills.

After a bit of indecision, I decided to try my favourite local ride again, but backwards. I headed through the industrial park and out towards the St. Eugene Mission golf resort, which is a strange and beautiful place, a juxtaposition of wealth and poverty, pain and redemption, and the resilience of a people. The Mission used to be one of the nefarious residential schools, where hundreds of native children were sent to have their ways 'corrected'. They turned it into a resort and casino now, and it is quite something. The building feels haunted though...

Anyways, the road to the mission leads across the Qtunaxa First Nation reserve. The road is windy and turns in and out of dry grassy hills, leaving a ladder of shade in the late evening. Riding past the Mission, the setting sun turned the building into a silhouette, making it even more eerie looking.

From there it leads over a bridge across the St. Marys river, and back North towards the Cranbrook airport. Again, the roads are winding, and more forested here. Very few cars end up coming this way, so the road was deserted and peaceful but for my two stroke tearing the silence in two.

Out towards Wycliffe the road crossed right past the airport, then levels off on a large plateau of acreages and wild grass that serves up a view of mountains in every direction. I stopped there and took this picture, which is typical of the views I have to ride with.



The road then cuts back West, and crosses the highway to Kimberley, and then drops steeply to a one-lane wooden bridge across a chasm cut by the St. Marys again. I would love to have a closer look, but I am always to worried about the wheels getting stuck in a rut and dumping me.

After climbing back out of the little valley, I cut off to King Street, which leads back towards Cranbrook. It too follows a small valley bottom, and as soon as I lean into the first turn of the road, the air cools off quickly and it hits me like a blast from an air conditioner. Feeling refreshed, I goose the throttle and feel the little bike surge out of the turn and into the next. I am just getting into the rhythm of the turns when the bike starts sputtering, so I reach down and click it over to the reserve tank. I have about 10kms to ride, and I should be able to make it. Just to be sure, I ease back on the throttle and decide to enjoy a leisurely homestretch.

Pulling back into Cranbrook, i feel like a king. Wind in hair. Bugs in Teeth. And a bit of the weight taken off my mind for the coming week full of work. As I pull down the garage door, I give Couchette a pat on the seat and say 'good work'. I needed her to run well for the next day's test, which she did.

passing grades

Well, I passed. I now have a full Class 6 license with a restriction 24, which means I am restricted to motor scooters. Which is fine with me. Good to know I am done with that. The road tester said I 'sure knew my regulations'...they take you through just about every tricky place in town...uncontrolled intersections inside school zones, playground zones with partially hidden signs, 40km/h sections, U-turns where half the road is gravel (and they say "When it's safe make a U-turn" so you have to make sure that you finish your turn on the wrong side of the road, on the paved half, to make it safe. I didn't fall for his little tricks, however, and as far as I can tell I only made two 'stop position' blunders, whatever that means.

Bring on the rallys!

mug shot

Well, the word is getting out...

I am sitting here, eyes watering from ammonia bleach, which is also burning my scalp. I am exiled to the office to keep any stray ammonia fumes away from my prego wifey.

My mother has this crazy, hip friend that is one of those cussing ministers that are so cool, and a few years ago (before couchette was a twinkle in my eye) I drew a little 3" x 3" picture of a Vespa and she bought it from me. Well, it's come full circle, and I guess she was waltzing down the aisles of London Drugs and came across this fine example of non-licensed Vespa merchandise.


I now have my morning Americano out of this cool, cool mug.

I bet you are all jealous, well, why don't y'all head down to London Drugs and pick one up.

Crap, i gotta write more...

I just realized that I am just about 3 weeks behind. Everything's going well, i just am sooo busy with work, and this long weekend, instead of kickin' back with a cold one, I kicked it up a notch and took the boots to my bedroom floor with the help of my Youthful Padre.

Crazy.

More soon.

Promise.

Oh...by the way, I passed my 'skills test' on friday with 0 (zero) demerits. The tester used the words 'Very Impressed' when discussing my skills. He also linked them together with 'On a machine of that size', which I have yet to decipher since it is certainly bigger than a 50cc twist-and-go, but smaller than say, a Harley. So what did he mean?

Oh well. I passed and my road test is booked for the 11th of Sept.

Crazy.