Word of the Week - Incommode

Today I'm starting a new theme with this post. Oh, it'll still be about bikers and such, but being a person who adores fun words, I've decided to choose a word of the week and center a post around it's meaning.

Many words in the English language (as well as others) can be traced back to Latin. As a lover of interesting words, as well as Latin words, this weekly post is partially for my own enjoyment. I hope you enjoy it too.

This week's word is "incommode".

Now, when I saw this word, the first thing that came to mind was "in the toilet". And it's not far off the mark, especially if I use it to describe what politicians do (or don't do). However, it's not pronounced that way (no matter what your "hooked on Phonics" teacher said).

incommode (in-kuh-MOD) verb tr.

To inconvenience.

[From Latin incommodus (inconvenient), ultimately from the Indo-European root med- (to take appropriate measures) that is also the source of medicine, modern, modify, modest, and modulate.]

"Politicians and law makers (and some lobbyists) are unwilling to consider banning cell phone use while driving because this will seriously incommode their own selfish desires."

Now, I'll be the first to admit I'm human and human nature is inherently self-serving. We conjure up all sorts of reasons for the things we do, but ultimately most of the things we do are self-serving. Whether they are selfish or not depends on how those acts affect others, as in the violation of the human rights. The right to live is one of those rights, wouldn't you agree?

We obey traffic laws because they were created to allow others to travel safely together on the same roads. If we do not obey these laws because it's an inconvenience, we're distracted, or we simply don't want to, it's a selfish act that may cause another to lose his or her life. That disobedience or unlawfulness becomes a violation of human rights for which is punishable according to the law.

Just as driving under the influence of alcohol impairs our driving ability, driving under the influence of cell phones also impairs our driving ability. Notice I didn't say driving with a cell phone in hand, or driving with a cell phone in the car (and a hands free device in your ear).

Under the influence in this case means: something able to affect the course of events or somebody’s thinking or action, or more simply put, an intoxication.

Our society and form of government allows us to vote for law makers who will uphold our human rights. They work for us, and are paid by us, the common man. We expect them to protect our human rights. Where do lobbyists fit into this equation?

Consider the following snippet by RC of Big Bend Bikers for Freedom, posted on Bruce-n-Ray's biker Forum on a comment the current acting President of ABATE, and also a paid lobbyist, James D. "Doc" Reichenbach II, made:

"The President of the SMRO in this state (fl) has voiced his "need" to use a cell phone while driving. He qualified that statement by adding that of course he uses a hands free device."

What makes this quoted statement self-serving, as well as a selfish one, is he (the President of Florida's SMRO) is voicing his need to use a cell phone and implies that a hands-free device makes this OK to do. Given the studies and information so readily available, as reported by MADD, Mr. Reichenbach clearly contradicts what ABATE stands for.

A hands free device eliminates the use of hands, but in no way keeps the driver centered on driving only. During his or her conversation, when he or she is listening to another voice or composing and delivering a voiced reply, their thoughts are NOT centered on driving.

I consider myself to be a good driver. I certainly have a good driving record. However, I know that cell phone conversations distract me while driving and it would be a lie to say they don't. My bet is the majority of people would say the same, if they were honest. Sounds to me like Mr. Reichenbach is more worried about losing his right to use a cell phone while driving, than my right to live and ride safely.

The really sad part of the quoted statement above is he has a great influence on legislators, and law makers, and is supposed to stand for the human rights of Bikers in Florida. In one fell swoop, he is effectively proclaiming that every one of us, who have had to dodge a cell phone intoxicated driver, are suffering from an overactive imagination.

He even goes as far as warning others not to "antagonize the Transportation Committee", in his posted letter, S620 Cell Phone Bill Update 3/29/2007 on the ABATE of Florida website.

Consider if you will, the Mission Statement on the ABATE website:

• We will lobby and educate the government and general public to promote motorcycling in a safe and positive image.


• We will endeavor to enlist the cooperation and participation of all organizations and individuals who share a similar interest in preserving our American tradition of freedom.


• We will involve ourselves in fund raising to achieve our goals.

Now, this Mission Statement also claims that their paid lobbyist (Mr. Reichenbach) works closely with the Board of Directors to coordinate and formulate favorable bills. So one can assume from this that Mr. Reichenbach is not alone in his statement above. Therefore, ABATE of Florida is not working toward a common interest in preserving freedom, for to ride free one must still be alive to do so.

And if Mr. Reichenbach does not speak for ABATE in his apathetic comment, then why does the ABATE board of directors not rein him in? For he is clearly speaking from a selfish and self-serving point of view. It is an abomination that he be allowed to make such a comment, when all organizations who promote and work toward our freedom to ride safely, clearly must agree. A division of common goals is surely the path to failure.

Supporting ALL Biker's rights does not seem to be the trend here, and supporting a ban on cell phones while driving will obviously incommode Mr. Reichenbach's selfish right to use one, and endanger the lives of others while doing so. Apparently he believes that sticking a hands-free device in his ear makes it all OK. It would seem that Mr. Reichenbach is using his influence to advocate his needs, rather than ABATE's.

And by the way, don't tell me what I can and can't do Mr. Reichenbach, for I have the right to be safe from you and others using cell phones while driving.

And I won't be any safer, helmet or not, until cell phone conversations are banned while operating a deadly weapon, such as a motor-driven vehicle. It is appalling that hard earned money from donations to ABATE is used to pay for Mr. Reichenbach's services, for he clearly is not serving the greater good of Bikers everywhere, and certainly not in Florida.

Until more people "antagonize" the government to curtail this particular driver distraction, our lives and limbs are the payment, and I'll write to any legislator I choose to on any subject that is near and dear to me, if it means I might be heard.

So here's a message to Bikers everywhere: If you believe you are in danger of becoming a victim of a "cell phone intoxicated driver", I encourage you to "antagonize", albeit in a polite and respectful way, any legislator who may have influence over this issue.

And most certainly think very hard about donating your hard earned money to ABATE of Florida, at least while it supports Mr. Reichenbach.

This Latin phrase applies here: Justitia omnibus: "Justice for all"

My motorcycle license plate has the Latin word for "Heaven" on it. I'm not ready to go there just yet, but riding my bike is a little bit of Heaven every time I ride. I'd like to keep it that way.

I'm Baaaa- ack! (Doin' the "Walter Brennan")

Saturday, August 4th, I woke up to overcast skies, and cooler temperatures. 8 AM is an ungodly hour for me, given that I work into all ours of the night and cater to my night-owl tendencies. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes anyway and took a quick shower, knowing that as soon as I fire up my Dyna I'll be ready for the day

This was the monthly Diva ride, planned and organized by the Tallahassee chapter of the Chrome Divas. We were to meet up with others and ride up to Lake Seminole in Georgia to have lunch at a restaurant on the lake. I was looking forward to the ride.

I mounted up and rode a few miles over to Jeff and Christina's house. Jeff is among the most unique people I've come across in many years. His wicked sense of humor could make even the stoniest of faces break into a smile, while the rest of us wipe the tears from our eyes from laughing too hard. His beautiful wife, Christina, looks on with a tolerance born of the understanding of who Jeff is, and quite a few years of a good marriage between the two of them.

Jeff is one of the "Diva Dudes" of our chapter. So named because Christina is a member and he rides with us often. I for one, love having Jeff on our rides. He is one of those rare individuals who can fix most anything, and he carries nearly every tool known to man on his bike. Jeff keeps things in perspective too; soothing and helping the rider who has dropped their bike, or just lightening the mood when everyone is hot and sweaty and tired. We love him, and he holds a place of respect and honor in our group.

I recently was honored with meeting Jeff's parents down in Panama City, and was rewarded with two very wonderful people, who validated my suspicion that no other than they, could have born such a one as Jeff. In my life, this has always been so. Meet the parents of a unique individual with a blend of higher than standard qualities, and you meet two more of the same.

Christina, who is small in stature but big in brains, rides a wicked little Sportster, modified for sound and power, customized for looks, and all by her husband, Jeff. OK, now I'm really envious. How good can it be to have a husband like that?

[I found someone like that a few years back. He rides too. He is the only thing I left behind in my move to Florida that I truly miss. He comes here often to visit. Perhaps one of these times he will come to visit, and stay. But that's another story for another time.]

Another Diva, Jewels, was at Jeff and Christina's house Saturday morning to have Jeff put her new seat on. Jewels is also another one of those unique individuals, with her own brand of humor designed to make you laugh. I love listening to her Georgian accent and visualizing what type of people Georgians are. I may eventually be let down, for I suspect that Jewels is also a one-in-a-million "gem" among Georgians. There cannot possibly be another Georgian as sweet and funny as Jewels. To really know her, is to see her heart of gold.

We rode together, the four of us, over to another Diva's house and picked her up. Kristy is one of our newest Divas, and also new to the sport of motorcycle riding. Having just completed her Rider's Safety course, and passed with flying colors, today's ride was only her second time riding solo. For a second ride in her life, I was impressed at her tenaciousness in joining us, for we were to ride nearly 200 miles. Beyond a few engine stalls, she rode like a champ. We were all very proud of her. She navigated every turn we made like a pro, even a few U-turns, and kept up even when we hit 65-70 mph on Hwy 27 during the return home.

The gathering place before the ride was Capitol City Harley Davidson in Tallahassee. There were about 12 riders when we left, give or take a few. Quite a surprise, given that it looked as though it might rain any minute. Not long after we left, the sun came out and it looked to be a gorgeous day for riding. My light weight jacket came off at our first rest stop. I still have trouble convincing myself I don't need a jacket here.

Our ride was to a region I'd never been to. We took the long route up the west side of Lake Seminole up into Georgia. The day was bright and sunny, and the route was rural and relaxing. Because helmet laws are in effect in Georgia, everyone wore a helmet. The temps were moderate for an August day in this part of the country, and the wind in my face, along with the rumble beneath me, were everything I needed, and why I love my two-wheeled ride.

Riding is rather like an addiction, and anyone who's ever been addicted to something would understand. It's the one thing I do and have done most of my life, in my pursuit of the ultimate rush, that I'll never give up. It's the only place where I am free to think without interruption. I can dream there, reminisce there, or simply not think about anything at all beyond riding my bike. It's my drug of choice.

Fortunately, my body is not prone to chemical addiction. In my youth I tried everything at least once, hard drugs, soft drugs, alcohol, and many different types of extreme sports. To this day, I can't drink more than two beers and not be buzzed beyond the point of impairment. I refuse to drink alcohol when I ride, unless I know I'll be there for hours afterward, and then I drink only one. I gave up hard liquor many years ago, after having unexplained blackout periods. Though I escaped those few episodes unscathed, it was enough to swear it off for good. But I never drank and rode my bike. Never. Drugs made me feel out of control, so those got scrapped in a hurry. I don't even like to take medications now, except aspirin. There are so many highs in life, who needs the artificial ones?

As a young adult, I lived like I was immortal, and enjoyed every minute of it. My mother states that I gave her every gray hair she has. I don't doubt it one bit. My failed personal relationships in life have been with men who were insecure and could not keep up with me (this is when I learned the phrase, get over yourself).

I am a strong personality, and love life to the fullest, every chance I get. I've been told I can be intimidating, and indeed I probably am, for I am tall (strike one), sure of myself (strike two), and educated (strike three). I can't help the first, and I won't apologize for the second and third. I may be sure of myself, but I know when to ask for help. It's how you learn. I chose to be educated, so I could maintain my independence and get ahead in this world on my own steam, but it doesn't mean I don't depend on others.

I have a very strong need to feel everything to a very intense degree. And I have a very strong need to give, be it to society, or an individual, or to the ones I love. There's no in-between for me. When I am happy, I'm VERY happy, when I love, I love deeply and completely, and when I'm sad, I can go down into the depths of hell. I can be sensitive to a fault, but that is all part of the extreme levels of who I am. Those who really know me, know that I have a soft heart, and would give anyone the shirt off my back. And the only one who is close to me now, is just like me.

I was born with a insatiable zest for life and all it had to offer. I like to tell people that I'm 25 years old, with 26 years of experience. My brain will always feel 25, even if my body does not. Our Chrome Diva chapter has a member who is in her 90's. She still rides. She is tougher than nails, has attitude, and a zest for life that has not dimmed with age. My respect for her is immense. I want to be like her when I grow up. She is proof to me that only your body grows old, not your brain, and even then, if you're lucky, your body will still be there for you when you're 90.

My first experience with "hardcore" bikers happened when I was 15. I grew up in a family that went Dove hunting every year. In September we'd pack up the camper and head for northern California. We camped along the higher reaches of the Tule river among the lower region of giant redwoods. The Tule empties out into Lake Success, east of Porterville, CA. This river, during most years, was just a series of waterfalls and deep pools you could swim in to your heart's content. Damn close to paradise as I remember.

One year, a group of Hells Angels arrived in our campground and set up their camp next to us. I'd never been this close to a real "biker" before, and was totally intrigued (in my 15 year old girl teenage starry eyed way). I left with my mom to go somewhere (don't remember where) but we came back to find my dad and one of his hunting buddies drinking beer with these guys. One was a doctor, my dad told me later, and this biker got so drunk he started up his bike, took off, and got it stuck between two large boulders. He got off it and rolled in the dirt laughing.

At 15, I was in awe of these guys. Apparently this awe was obvious to my dad, for I was forbidden to visit them or speak to any of them (or it might have been my mom who dictated this). Having children myself now, I can totally see his reasoning, but I was mad as hell for days about this directive. However, you didn't disobey my dad and get away with it, so I didn't go near them. They packed up and left a few days later. I never had any chance meeting or connection with any Hells Angels after that, but my view of bikers was set for life. They rode machines to make any mouth water, and were people just like anyone else.

When you ride, it's a free feeling, and a chance for reflection. Some bikers will tell you they ride to relax and for peace of mind. That's an understatement for me. The only other thing that gives me close to the same feeling is cruising in a "muscle" car with the top down (the car's top - get your mind outa the gutter), with my man at the wheel. Riding behind him on his bike is close, but riding my own bike takes top billing. Riding my own bike is the ult.

Georgia countryside is beautiful and not much different than the panhandle of Florida. The roads are good (no snow, salt and sand to create those never ending potholes). The soil is red, red, red, and easy to see when going through construction spots. I'm not fond of the nasty little gnats that will swarm your face at stops, but they are insignificant when you're moving. The ride was peaceful and exhilarating, all at the same time.

We had lunch at our destination, Pop's Dockside Cafe. They were unprepared for a group of raucous women, and two men (our Diva Dude, Jeff - and we had a new Diva Dude with us as well), riding in on all manner of motorcycles. I'm not sure I'd recommend this place to anyone as the service was very slow, even though the place was nearly empty. But the food was OK, for a place out in the middle of the boondocks. On a different day, it might be better, who knows. By afternoon it had become very warm, and the occasional pockets of hot air buffeting us as we continued our ride, made me check to see if my bike was overheating. We made another stop at Big Jim's, to cool off before heading for home.

I never rode with large groups much in the past, except I often rode pillion behind a friend on organized benefit rides in the Boston area when I lived there (rides that drew hundreds of bikers, and were controlled by law enforcement along the entire route). Mostly, 3-4 of us would head out somewhere, or I'd just take off by myself for an hour or two.

I am finding, however, through the camaraderie of the Chrome Divas, as well as the Patriot Guard Riders, that group riding is a very fun thing to do. They ride safely and sanely, and I can share the ride with them and know they are feeling the same as me. At the same time, I can find the peace I need in the midst of my sometimes chaotic life. There is safety in numbers as well. Other drivers are less apt to "not see us". It's not a complete "safety net" but it helps.

My riding in the last 5 years has been sporadic and those few rides were short. In 2002, not quite two weeks after selling my Honda Sabre and buying my brand-new-delivered-in-the-crate HD Dyna Wide Glide, I fell in a freak accident in my backyard (not on my bike). I snapped both left leg bones off, just an inch or so from the ends, dislocating my entire foot completely. You know the drill; surgery to install hardware to hold it together, wearing a cast for months, then a walking cast and being forbidden to walk on that for another 4 months or risk not walking right ever again.

I spent months sitting on a stool polishing my already clean bike, and watching others take it for a spin. I added new pipes, and drooled some more. Six months later, I was walking with a limp, but had no leg muscles left with a noticeable difference between the size of my calves. In addition, my Achilles tendon had atrophied from being in a cast so long, and caused me extreme pain to stretch it one way or another. In short, I couldn't trust myself to support the left side of me, or my bike, should I experience any extreme pain in that ankle while riding. Pulling my shift lever up with my toe was out of the question too. It was a year before I could walk without limping, and another year before I had the full range of my tendons and ligaments back.

In 2004, the position I held in my job took off, and I began traveling nearly nonstop. It seemed that either I was away from home on a trip, or if I was home it was raining and/or snowing. I also lived alone, and my bike was housed in a portable shed to keep it out of the weather. The doorway was too narrow to maneuver it on my own. I was not entirely sure I could ride anyway. The memories of the long road to recovery were still very fresh. I didn't want to drop or crash my brand new bike. So I left it stored, and went out to look at it from time to time (in-between work trips), to make sure there weren't any critters making nests in it, and resisted the urge to sell it.

One of my main goals in moving to Florida (among many) was to have a place where I could store my bike (a garage) and ride every chance I got, in spite of my travel schedule and any diversity of weather. I never know when I have to jump on a plane and go somewhere and I wanted to have the option to ride all year, at every opportunity. The aches and pains from living such a physical life, accentuated by cold winters, drove me to a warmer climate as well (getting older does have its pitfalls).

So, when I started riding again in earnest, I reverted back to an old beginner habit of scoping out the entrance or exit for the "easy" route. I was protective of my ankle too, and still had a twinge now and then. Eventually though, I stopped worrying and just rode. And rode. I guess all that hardware in my ankle does the job it's supposed to do.

So, on Saturday after the ride, I came home with a very satisfied feeling. The day went by in total enjoyment. Not once did I feel any complaint from my ankle. I cruised in total comfort, ever watchful, but relaxed and letting my thoughts drift back in time to adventures gone by. No worries. Life is good.

A friend of mine taught me the "Walter Brennan" jig, which is a little dance that particular actor used in many a film performance, sort of like a "ta-da!" (Walter was one of my favorite actors in the old westerns back in the 60's). So, after pulling into the garage, I hopped off my bike and did the "Walter Brennan" right there next to my parked bike. I'm in control again, and damn it feels good.

Riding after a long hiatus was another learning experience for me. It made me feel unsure of myself, and that's a place I don't like to be. Never take anything (or anyone) for granted, I keep reminding myself, and just because I've ridden one type of bike or another since my teens does not make me a confident and adequate rider. Hours of riding many miles does. It's been 5 months since hopping back on my bike and riding several times a week to catch up for lost time. Whatever made me think I could resume riding consistently the first time out (or even second time), is beyond me. Ignorance can be fixed, stupid is forever. Life is just a series of learning experiences. I got through this one a little smarter and a little wiser.

And, when I'm really honest with myself, I doubt very much I could get on a dirt bike today, and jump into the fray with much success, even if I still had the body strength I once had. Though I know I'd have a good time and pay BIG the next day, it ain't happening.

One thing I do know for sure - it'll take an act of God (or Congress) to keep me off my bike for any length of time, until the day I'm unable to walk out there and fire it up myself.

Ride to fly, until I die.

We're Mad and We're Not Gonna Take it Anymore!

Recently, on Bruce-n-Ray's Biker Forum, as well as RC's blog, posts have appeared that accentuate the fact that the growing number of "inattentive" auto drivers is a clear and present danger. Bruce, who is on his way to Sturgis Biker Rally had no less than 3 near-misses with "inattentive" auto drivers, all talking on cell phones, in the 1st 36 hours of his trip.

So, what is "inattentive" exactly? This is a very broad term. I could list them all out for you, but you know what they are. Everyone is guilty of it at some point. Consciously paying attention to driving legally and obeying traffic laws is not enough. You must be aware of every everything and everyone around you. If you're not, you're an "inattentive" driver.

Makes me think of the comedian, Jeff Foxworthy....

You're an inattentive redneck driver if.....

Let's examine common driving practices. We all have our pet peeves, but let's just look at the ones that kill motorcyclists the most in particular; failure to yield the right of way, and merging errors.

My dad didn't teach me to drive, drivers ed did, but he taught me to drive safely. He was a Sales rep for a large automotive parts company back in the 70's and covered southern California, from the Mexico border up to Sacramento. He drove a lot of miles and never had an accident, a ticket, or even a near miss.

"Always know who's behind you and beside you," he told me, "Don't make exaggerated moves. Use your turn signals. Be considerate of others. Go with the flow. Never drive over your limitations. Know where your blind spots are, and always turn your head to look before changing lanes." Does anyone do this anymore? I do, but if I didn't my dad would kick my butt from here to next year.

Good advice? You bet! Do you ever see this in a written state driving test? Oh please. It's far more important to know how many feet exactly before that corner that you should turn your signal on.

Now, I'm not saying I've never had an accident. I remember it very well, about 15 years ago. I was distracted and didn't see a stopped vehicle ahead. What was I doing? And here's the ironic part, I was looking through my mail and saw a notice that my soon-to-be-ex-husband had cancelled my auto insurance. I looked up, hit the brakes, and bam!

I learned a lot from that accident, the least of which was, you never really know people, even when you're married to them for 19 years. No one was hurt. I had a truck, bent the bumper. He had a truck, bent his bumper. He was nice and didn't sue me, I was nice and paid for both bumpers. The thing I learned most is it never pays to do anything but drive when you're driving. Having never rear-ended anyone before, I also learned there is NO way out of that one. You pay.

Not so for a failure to yield the right of way. When I was a very young driver, I swooped around a corner in my screamin' Camaro, down-shifted into 2nd gear and roared into traffic at a high speed, and cut off a police car in the process. I didn't see him, obviously, but that's because I didn't look. I got a slap on the hand for that one. What it taught me was, failure to yield the ROW was a minor offense and if I had to do it once in a while, well that's OK. (My dad re-educated me on that one!)

A young person recently commented to me about a driving law; the one where you should stop completely, before the line, and then inch forward to see beyond any obstructions. She didn't know that one, and failed her driving test. To me that's a no-brainer. She also asked me how she should know when it's her turn to go at a 4-way stop intersection. I just looked at her like she was from another planet. But seriously, how many people know the answer to that one? Ask a few people. You'll be amazed at the answers you get.

Many long-time drivers, I swear, have no clue what the term "Yield" means, or the term "Merge". And if they do, how come they don't drive like they do? How many times have we seen a car coming onto the freeway and they just fade into your lane like they have blinders on? Merge does not mean keeping going, oncoming cars beware, it means merge into traffic at a safe speed and look for others when doing so. The same goes for oncoming traffic. Would it hurt to slow a little to let someone in? It's called common courtesy. American drivers don't know what that means anymore. Hurry up, don't let that car or bike in front of you. You might get there one minute later than him.

The dictionary defines yield: to slow down or stop in order to let another vehicle pass. It's a verb, an action. What part of THAT do people not understand? Do they think the DOT puts up those yellow signs to beautify the roadway? But hey, fail to yield and kill a biker, it's just a slap on the hand, right? "I didn't see him" means "I didn't LOOK".

In New England (and other backward parts of the country) there are traffic circles known as "roundabouts" or "rotaries". These are something I did not grow up with or even was aware of before moving to the Boston area in 1999. Some insane person or persons stayed up late one night on drugs and came up with this hair brained idea that traffic circles were a good thing for traffic flow, but never thought about the potential for accidents. What were they thinking???

Those who live in New England are very adept at cutting you off, and/or running you off the road in these traffic circles, oblivious to the yellow signs displaying the word "Yield". I came to learn through driving my car in these traffic circles that they should be renamed "suicide circles" for motorcycles. if you go into one, it's every man/woman for themselves. In one state, you have the ROW inside the traffic circle, in other states, those coming into it have the ROW. I doubt anyone really pays attention except getting in as fast as possible and getting out when you want to, everyone else be damned.

Another traffic law that results in many accidents (cars and bikes) is when it is legal to pass on the right (like in Massachusetts). OK, I can live with that, though it's illegal to pass on the right in most western states. But drivers make it an unspoken rule that if a single lane is wide enough for two vehicles, and there are no painted lines, it becomes a two-lane road instead of one. I'd be riding up some main road through some town outside of Boston and a car would pass me on the right at radical speeds. If there's enough room, and there's too much traffic slowing you down, simply create a new lane, voila!

There's a reason that Massachusetts was once rated the #1 worse drivers in the country, and has probably never been out of the top five. The auto insurance alone is enough to create road rage.

OK, so now you've got drivers (all over the country) who either do not understand traffic laws, don't know them, or don't care, and never have to be retested on them again. In addition, you can violate them, kill someone and get away with it. Gotta love American justice, eh? Add to that all the distractions people purposely add to their driving time and you've got dead bikers.

I once saw a woman pass me in the breakdown lane at high speed (another east coast thing designed to ease traffic conditions during rush hour, but it is so badly abused that the breakdown lane actually becomes the "fast lane"). It had snowed the night before, but was sunny that morning. The salt and sand trucks had already been out, so the road was wet and the snow was cleared. the breakdown lane had just enough room to drive in, if you paid attention to the snow and slush on the edge of the road. It was the high point of the morning rush hour. When she passed me doing close to 65 mph, my lane (the far right one) was creeping along at an average of 40 mph. She was putting on mascara while driving.

Another 20 minutes down the road, I saw a car off to the right, nose first into a tree, buried in knee deep snow, and the tire tracks leading to it had to be 100 feet long. She'd faded into the slush on the edge of the road and couldn't control her car. three other cars were involved, but fortunately no motorcycles. I pulled off the highway to speak to one of the officers on scene. The woman who had been driving the car was sitting in one of the patrol cars waiting for an ambulance. She had what looked like a small cut on her face, and was holding her arm, probably broken.

I mentioned to the officer that she had been putting on makeup when she passed me. He looked incredulous at me, and we walked over to the car to look inside. On the floor of the passenger side was her makeup bag spilled onto the floor. The mascara tube was still uncapped. Her cell phone was also on the floor. The officer picked up the phone and looked at the call history. She had been talking on her cell phone AND putting on makeup. She was 36 years old.

While young people are inexperienced drivers who still have the "I know everything" outlook on life, distracted driving has no age limit. Nor is it limited to gender, or even profession. I think the older the person is, and the longer they've been driving, the more they think they can multitask and operate a car with no problems. Just like the person who claims that they drive with a bluetooth headset, and therefore are not distracted while on the phone and driving at the same time. What a load of crap, and an arrogant comment too.

I once passed a man driving erratically in the fast lane and when I got up beside him and looked over, he was leaning on the center console with a cell phone to his ear, talking animatedly. I paced him and watched him for quite a while. His speed was anywhere between 50 mph and 80 mph. Cars behind him were pulling out in frustration and cutting people off, just so they could get around him. I had only been living in New England for a short time, and had not yet experienced road rage, and indeed thought road rage was when someone pulled a gun out and shot at you (I'd heard rumors of that), or when two people pulled off and duked it out over some argument over driving. Well, that is road rage all right, but wait till you hear what happened next.

Eventually he looked over at me, and being the big mouth that I am sometimes, I mouthed the words, "Hang up the phone and drive", and then sped up to the speed limit, intent on leaving him behind.

The man immediately pulled in behind me and turned on police lights hidden in the front grill, and pulled me over! He was a cop off duty, albeit out of his jurisdiction, but a cop nonetheless. About that time, I was cursing myself for meddling, but I just couldn't let it go without alerting him to his horrible driving. He stomped up to my window and proceeded to literally yell and scream at me about making comments to other drivers on the road. He accused me of road rage. I sat there dumbfounded and listened without a word, trying to appear calm, in the presence of a cop no less, who was displaying such anger. Though I didn't think he had the grounds to haul me off to jail, I didn't want to push it. Hey, he had a gun and I didn't. Finally he stomped back to his car and took off, nearly causing an accident as he pulled into traffic. He was probably arguing with his wife on the phone.

Both of these episodes happened while I was driving a 4-wheeled vehicle. I owned a 3/4 ton truck then. And I used it to my advantage. I could travel down a one-lane road wide enough for two cars, but if I drove in the center of it, other cars couldn't pass me (more of that audacity I'm famous for). People watched out for me because I had the size and they didn't. But remember, I also owned and rode a motorcycle. I was always aware of them. My eyes were always on my mirrors, watching for whoever is around me, as my dad taught me to be. Whenever I could, I used my large vehicle to shield or protect motorcycles from other cars, allowing them to pass me while holding others back.

Now, I won't say I don't use my cell phone while driving. I do. I usually limit my conversations, and in dangerous areas or very heavy traffic, I just don't answer it. Chances are it isn't my kid calling to tell me of an emergency. I know I need all my attention to be on my driving. If I really need to continue to talk, I pull off. It is not my God-given right to use my cell phone while driving. Nor is it anyone else's, if it endangers the lives of others sharing the road.

It goes without saying, and most would agree, that eating, putting on makeup, shaving, reading, and doing things with your hands other than driving, is a dangerous practice. Children need to learn manners in the car too. Mine did, or I pulled off and let them know in no uncertain terms what would happen to them if they didn't. As a parent, it was my responsibility to assure that I was not distracted by them. When you sign up to be a parent, you take on the responsibility for them. They learn by your example, so set a good one.

A huge portion of distracted driving is caused by conversations on cell phones, not the actually holding of one. Nearly every man woman and child over the age of ten owns a cell phone in this country. So OK, ten year olds don't drive. How many does that leave? Most or all of them who drive, use their cell phones while driving. Look up the census records yourself and do the math.

Society has gone from wired phones, with a stool by the wall. Then on to cordless phones which still had to remain in your house, and then cell phones that could go anywhere. I even have one of those cellular cards that plug into my laptop for internet connection. I use it in cities where I can't get good internet connections. I was astonished to hear of people who surf the net while driving! Can you say S-T-U-P-I-D? Whenever I see that commercial, "Can you hear me now?", I fill in with "Can you kill me now?"

Cell phone use while driving, however, is currently your choice. Can you consciously make the right choice? Can you leave your arrogance and selfishness behind and eliminate its use, or at least limit its use? Even with the awareness I have because I ride a motorcycle, I know of times when the miles went right by without knowing what I passed, because I was on the phone, and I've always used a hands free bluetooth device. Without cruise-control engaged, my speed is erratic, causing other drivers to become irritated and angry. Hellooooo. Can you say road rage? Human beings have the tendency for erratic behavior when angry, or distracted. Being on a cell phone while driving not only distracts you, but it has a ripple effect, distracting others. Distracted driving kills people.

What this all adds up to is motorcyclists are dying everyday because of auto drivers' failure to obey traffic laws, and driving distractions, primarily cell phones. And BTW, someone pa-leeeease explain to me how a helmet helps an auto driver drive better and not hit me? And why is it that the phrase, "I didn't see him" excuses these actions?

People who have families like you and me, and who have the right to share the road safely with other vehicles, are dying, and the guilty get a slap on the hand. Is this a violation of MY human rights? You bet it is! And it makes me mad!

Now let's examine some prejudices. We go out of our way to make room for bicycles on the road. How often do you see signs telling you to share the road with bicycles? While I can appreciate city DOT's putting those signs up, where is the same for motorcycles? Motorcyclists are just as vulnerable as bicyclists, so why aren't they given the same consideration?

And insurance companies aren't much better. Do they also discriminate against you if you own and ride a bicycle? Mine doesn't, but I pay more for life insurance because I ride a motorcycle. One goes faster and further, both riders die if hit by an auto. Why aren't bicyclists harassed about wearing protecting clothing, or full face helmets?

Politicians are oblivious to these facts, no matter how we print, speak or broadcast it. They are fixated on helmets, or the lack of. Journalists and bleeding heart liberals (redundancy at its best) fuel the fire by spouting off inaccurate and/or incomplete statistics. The general public looks down their noses at a motorcyclist who rides bareheaded, as they are yakking on a cell phone and swerving into your lane.

Speaking of helmets, let's talk about those for a minute. Most motorcyclists will not have a minor crash with an auto that let's them walk away unscathed or with minor injuries; crashes with autos are never minor. Motorcyclists die all the time, helmet or not, from blunt force trauma to the brain. When struck by an auto, we are separated from our much smaller vehicle and become faster than a speeding bullet fired into a brick wall, usually head first. Whether it's your helmet hitting the auto, or your head, it's still most always a fatal.

Our heads are but one part of the body. Is it preferable to live, if we don't know we're alive? Unless you put a metal cage with airbags around a bike, a crash will cause debilitating injury, helmet or not. Many tell me they don't want to wear a helmet so they don't survive a crash to become a vegetable. That's reasonable to me. And it's certainly my right to choose.

Perhaps in the distant future, some scientist will invent a force-field for motorcycles and we won't have to worry about being run over by autos anymore. Beam me up, Scotty!

I don't look at helmets the same way as seat belts in an auto. Seat belts save lives with a much larger percentage than helmets do, by virtue that, if you stay in your vehicle, in a protected position, you are less likely to be critically injured.

So let's be clear, helmets help prevent your head from splitting open and your brain from spilling out. It does not prevent brain injury or death. And frankly, if I am hit by some inconsiderate, self-absorbed, arrogant, anal retentive, cell-phone impaired auto driver, I don't want to live in a vegetable state the rest of my life, or wonder if I'm ever going to stop being in constant pain from the umpteen surgeries I have to have. Just put me 6 feet under, thank you very much, for the Lord loves me far more than the politians and journalists do.

Now, granted, if I was a speed demon on my bike, taking chances on curves, pulling wheelies, I'd think it was prudent to wear a helmet just to protect me from myself. And I could just kill myself anyway. But when will lawmakers accept the fact that helmets don't save the majority of lives, good auto drivers do?

Approximately 2/3 of motorcycle deaths can be attributed to auto driver error with no fault of the motorcyclist. The excuse is nearly always, "I didn't see them". (What? Did you expect to hear someone say, "sorry I was putting on my makeup and didn't see them"?) Drivers are expected to look for oncoming traffic, before pulling out, or changing lanes. Last time I looked, motorcycles were included in that term oncoming traffic. When an auto driver violates my rights by running me over, there should be hell to pay. Not only do prosecutors need to stand up for those rights, but - and here's a novel concept - how about owning up to your mistakes? And then work toward correcting their behavior?

Motorcycles are different than autos in many ways. They can accellerate up to the speed limit faster. They can stop faster. Use your brains, figure it out. A truck can't stop as fast as a car (I found that out the hard way). It's pure physics. Next time you're tailgating that motorcycle, think about how much that person appreciates the use of his legs and BACK OFF. Many a biker has lost life and limb when a tailgating car squashes them between the auto behind them and the next one. [Oh wait, he wasn't wearing a helmet, so that must be why he died.]

It all comes down to one thing; auto=big and heavy, motorcycle=small and light. It's simple, but then most people can't see the simplicity of anything, and try to make something more complicated than it really is.

Now let's examine the vehicles currently sharing the road with motorcycles. Next time you're sitting at a stoplight, count the number of minivans, SUV's and trucks. Now count the number of cars. If you do this enough times, you'll have your own statistics. So I'm not going to print them for you. The reality is, there are far more utility vehicles on the road now than ever before. The era of the family stationwagon is over.

What does this have to do with anything? It means that when a motorcycle broadsides one of these vehicles, the rider no longer is thrown over the roof of that vehicle, as with a sedan or low profile car. It's like hitting a BRICK wall. What part of brick wall is not understood here? You die, sometimes you die instantly if you're lucky, instead of being thrown over the vehicle and onto the ground, where you may have had a chance.

So, there are more light truck and SUV's on the road, than low profile cars. The number of automobiles has increased. The number of drivers has increased. The rate of awareness for motorcycles has NOT kept up with the first two points. The number of motorcycles and riders has increased. Well, Jeez, of course the number of motorcycle deaths have gone up. And that won't change until drivers learn to obey traffic laws and stop the "inattentive" driving habits.

And how do we get auto drivers to obey traffic laws? Make the punishment fit the crime. You kill a person with your vehicle, you go to jail. Simple. Don't most law abiding citizens refrain from breaking the law because of the consequences? I doubt, no I know, people will not stop using cell phones while driving unless a law is passed. human nature is way too selfish for that. Sad but true.

These facts are also ignored by our politicians and journalists. If you're one of them reading this, try being open-minded instead of indignant that I've pointed out your selective blindness. Drivers of light trucks and SUV's must be even more aware of motorcycles now. If they didn't "see" us when they drove a car, do you think they'll see us when driving the kids to soccer in the family minivan or SUV?

Here's another point to ponder. SUV's sit higher, and have more visibility of the surrounding traffic. Yet, motorcyclists are still being killed more than ever. Think they're looking? Not on your life.

Do we educate drivers on the safety factors involved for motorcyclists? Sadly, no. We don't even educate them sufficiently on driving autos and we don't require people to retake a written driving test again beyond their first one at 16 years old, outside of exceptions involving suspended or lapsed licenses, or moving to a state that requires it. Most don't.

There is a huge push to educate motorcyclists on riding safely, but the fact that auto drivers are responsible for most motorcycle deaths never even registers. Doesn't it stand to reason that educating auto drivers just might reduce the number of motorcycle deaths caused by failure to yield the right of way? My, my, my, wouldn't journalists everywhere eat some crow if the death rate dropped by that 2/3 caused by auto drivers. Hmmm, maybe that's why they refuse to see the writing on the wall. It's far easier to pin the blame on the dead biker who wasn't wearing a helmet.

I am delighted to hear that more and more people are riding motorcycles these days. At least I know that someone driving a car, who also rides a motorcycle, is not likely to be the one who runs me over on mine.

To quote a favorite quote from my younger days, "What we have here, is a failure to communicate." And on a big scale too. In my line of work, if something keeps failing, we evaluate the broken process and fix it. We don't "bandaid" things. The helmet law is a "bandaid" fix for a very broken process. Using your cell phone while driving an auto is a selfish act that can and does take lives, so why is it allowed? Failing to yield the right of way kills people, so why is a slap on the hand suitable punishment?

Let's fix the root cause. Let's educate auto drivers everywhere, not just on motorcycle awareness and safety, but on obeying traffic laws. Let's change the laws and make the punishment fit the crime. We all want to see that murderer get time. Failure to yield the right of way and killing someone in the process is vehicular homicide at the very least. ROW laws are there for a reason. "I didn't see them" is just another way of saying, "I didn't look, or look hard enough". The burden of proof of innocence should be on the auto driver when the dead biker is unable to speak for himself, doncha think?

Get MADD. Make a difference. Even if it's just you that changes the way you drive, or stops using your cell phone in your car, it will make a difference. But beware, bikers everywhere are watching, and there are changes in the wind, cuz we're mad, and we're not gonna take it anymore.

I know this post will most likely be read by other bikers, and I'm just "preaching to the choir", but perhaps someone who doesn't ride will read it and pursue the need for more information. Or maybe it'll be another biker like me, who has only just begun to fight.

Check out the websites in my links list, specifically MADD, and Big Bend Bikers for Freedom. Educate yourself on these issues, educate someone else. Stop the killing.

This "big bad motorcycle mama" will thank you for it.

Don't bug me

I was going to start this blog on the virtues and nessecities of stopping on the vertical. I've dropped my bike a few times in the 30 years since I learned to ride. And I see people, mostly us weaker women, drop them all the time. But I got to thinking about the one time when instinct and habit took over and saved me from a drop, but it was also the moment when I knew men had the edge for sure when strength comes into play. That's why we women must work harder at riding correctly to avoid such things as dropping our bikes. So I'm going to tell you a story that still entertains me whenver I think about it.

I've been told of all the wonderful flora and fauna here in Florida (hmm, sounds like that could be a song or something), and indeed, my own backyard here in Tallahassee is a virtual jungle by now. Having left my lawnmower behind when I moved, I am trying desparately to ignore the front yard out my kitchen window that could hide things such as (gasp!) snakes and aligators. But seriously, this blog is about other things besides snakes and aligators, neither of which I've seen yet.

It's really about bugs, and the things us humans do in our interaction with them. Every place in the country has bugs. Florida has no monopoly on bugs. Though everyone else in the country seems to think it does. You're moving where?? Don't you know they have BUGS?

Now, I'm not necessarily squeamish about bugs in particular, but when they are larger than my big toe, and run from me at a rate that I can't keep up with, it becomes a matter of who is bigger than who. Ultimately I win. I always have my flip-flops on, and they make a great smacking sound (grin). These critters don't have a chance. The first time I saw a 3 inch long centipede in my house, I was so intriqued I poked at it for a good five minutes before I flushed it. I'd never seen one of those before. Or a bug that tried to fight back.

In Washington state, we we used to talk about the "barking beetles" you hear in the woods and other places, but never see. If you don't know what those are, I'm not explaining.

Oregon had snakes, everywhere. Mostly small ones, and none of them are venemous, but they get into your house, and hide in the most unsuspecting places. I know those aren't bugs, but they are still unnerving to find in your closet. Yellow Jackets are everywhere nine months out the year too. It was not uncommon to find more than one nest holed up in soggy spots on your lawn and wake them up while mowing. Oregon has an average of 300 overcast days per year (a little statistic for you). It's why I left. You do the math, without getting wet.

I'm not a "save the bugs" person. Not by a long shot. I believe the only good bug is a dead bug (well except for ladybugs). I have all manner of ways to make them dead. Riding my bike, however, does not give me any advantage, unless you are going very fast so they die on impact. I've been hit before by flying bugs while on my scooter. Big bugs, small bugs, bugs that thump me hard enough to feel like a bullet, and others that simply hit and become a wet spot on my vest. Once I was hit dead center in the forehead by some bug and it left a bump the size of a goose egg and even broke the skin. I hope that bugger died a slow agonizing death. I never saw what it was.

I've had near misses with other flying objects too. I tend to give big tractor/trailers lots of lead room, especially after having one shred a tire in front of me and miss my head by inches. I saw it coming, and tilted my head by a scant amount, not much but that's all I had time for. I could smell the burning rubber as it flew by. Several smaller pieces did hit me, one on the arm, and another hit my windshield. I had a Honda Shadow Ace back then, and the windshield was huge. I stayed upright though, through some miracle of miracles.

Another time, a cager threw a cigarette out and hit me. Typical. Aren't cagers wonderful?

I saw that trucker who lost the tire a few miles down the road, after he decided he should pull off, and I stopped to talk with him while he waited for a service truck. I got off my bike and took my helmet off, shaking out my hair (I love doing that, just to see the looks - I can always tell when they are surprised to see a woman riding a motorcycle). He told me he saw the rubber fly by me and was grateful it didn't hit me and knock me down. Me too, I was going pretty fast on the interstate.

Anyway, back to the subject of insects. I am very alergic to venemous bugs, such as bees, wasps and hornets, and the like. Yes, I carry an epinephrine injection with me most of the time. The last thing I need is for the headlines to read, "Biker goes down, dies of suffocation due to bee sting.... she was wearing a helmet!". I know some ass-bite misinformed journalist would make it out to be MY fault.

But I do wear a helmet (most of the time), and when I do, it's because I choose to. It does not have a full face shield - that's where I draw the line. My hair looks all messy most of the time anyway, so what's the difference? Hairdo by helmet, as the stickers say. I know if the Lord decides to take me, wearing a helmet isn't going to change much anyway. At least my kids could bury me with my brains intact. So I put it on, wear my leather gear like a good girl should, and hope no one hits me and breaks my arm, making it necessary to cut my $300 leather jacket off.

Riding down a 4-lane divided highway one spring morning, I see at the last minute that a small swarm (is there such a thing?) of some type is dead ahead in my path. Of course I slow down, but one of them hits me in the chest. And I look down to see a wasp embedded in the front of my shirt, AND IT'S ALIVE. Could it have possibly hit my leather vest? Oooooh noooo, it had to hit me just above the V-neck of my vest. Why it hadn't yet stung me, I'll never know. Maybe it was trying to shake off being T-boned by a biker?

Now, mind you, I'm already on the clutch and brake, getting over to the right lane, and looking for a place to pull off. Panic is setting in, and I'm thinking to myself, OK, it's just a wasp, take it slow, watch the traffic, if it stings, you'll live. I'm fighting the urge to keep from looking down at my chest and focus on the traffic, when a driveway appears on the right all too quickly, between more of that jungle stuff I was mentioning earlier (we had that overgrown jungle stuff in Maine too), where I can safely pull out of traffic.

I suppose I could have just driven right up on the sidewalk, but that thought never occurred to me at the time. Bikes aren't allowed on sidewalks. Remember, I was cruising at about 50 mph. Not all that fast, but looking for cars that might run me over while changing lanes, looking for a driveway to pull into, braking as much as possible without losing control, and all while thinking about being stung by a wasp that will surely close off my airways in a matter of minutes. There simply wasn't time to think of other things, like what I was gonna make for dinner or did I pay the electic bill - those were WAY down on the list.

Some of you may wonder why I just didn't grab the thing and throw it off me. But I remember thinking I didn't want it dropping inside my shirt, and fumbling around while trying to maneuver in traffic was not an option. And my gloves prevented me from knowing if I was grabbing it or not. I wear fingerless gloves now, mostly for that reason.

So I head for the driveway coming up faster than I want, and a safe place to de-bug myself. But, (and you knew there was a but) I nearly dropped my bike in the process of stopping, because it was one of those driveway that goes nowhere. It just stopped after five feet past the sidewalk with a nice 2 foot drop-off. They just put it there for future whatever, and the rain water had eroded the soil away over time. Beyond that drop-off was a lot more jungle-like stuff and a 45 degree downward slope. OK, time to really hit the brakes I'm thinking, in-between wasp/traffic/and where the heck is my epinephrine kit stored anyway?

My foremost thought was stopping in time, but behind all that was the veritcal position of my bike upon stopping. I nearly had it right too, but braking with both front and rear caused the rear end to slide a bit and put me in a slight lean to the right.

Well, I stopped within a hair's breadth of the edge but you know that line between balancing 650 lbs between your legs and letting it drop because you have to? It ain't far from vertical, let me tell you, especially on a Honda. I gave it all the strength I had and there was a moment when I thought I'd lose. All I knew was, thank you Lord, I wasn't going down that hill into the jungle, and most likely head first if I had.

But I did stop, and I kept it upright. And as I'm searching for the kickstand with my heel, my arms and legs shaking with the adrenaline rush, I glance down and see that nasty little wasp is still there! Before I can pick it off me though, it drops down between my seat and my left thigh and, yes, it stung me, right through my jeans. It must have saved up what little strength it had left to nail the person (me) that had the audacity to drop it (the wasp) in mid-flight.

I guess I should be thankful it didn't drop dead center, right? A wasp sting (on me anyway) hurts like a #@!!!@##&** and just because it was on the inside of my thigh and not somewhere else more sensitive.... Well, you could have heard me all the way to Manhattan I'm sure, and it wasn't pretty. Every colorful expletive I knew came out of my mouth, one after the other. And I'm sure the passing drivers, some of whom were slowing down to do that "looky-loo" thing, but not stopping, thought I probably had to use the bathroom, because I was hopping around with both hands between my legs. I'm sure it looked that way.

Oh, and by the way, I took great pleasure in stomping that wasp into the ground with my jack boots. I mean honestly, it could have just died, or dropped away without stinging me right? Fortunately, I needed to find my kit and that gave me a minute or two to cool off and count my blessings. I didn't go flying into the jungle, I didn't drop my bike, and I was still alive.

Now I've done this [Epinephrine shot] one other time before, and I wasn't too worried this time. But the time before that, I didn't know I was alergic, and I'd been stung just below the eye. Within minutes my eyes were swollen shut. I had to call 911 that time, and wasn't able to tell them what was wrong, beyond that I'd been stung, because of the wheezing and lack of air. They came anyway, and I didn't die. Someone once told me that 'close' only counts in horseshoes and hand-grenades. But I'd still say it was too close for comfort.

So once I got over that I'd been stung, and how much that little bugger hurt, I found the kit, sat back propped against my seat and prepared the shot. I was wheezing slightly already. As I'm about to stick myself, this older gentleman walking down the sidewalk and stops to look at me. What he sees is me poised to poke my arm with a needle and syringe, and the look on his face was priceless. Was I a 'druggie' stopping to get my fix? Hmmm, leather jacket, big motorcycle, hair covered in a do-rag with a skull on the front. He actually looked ready to turn around and run. I've been accused of being intimidating before, but not like this. I thought maybe my makeup was running (oh wait, I don't wear that stuff unless I'm going out prowling or to a job interview).

Suddenly I burst out laughing hysterically, and it took me several minutes before I could tell him what had happened. After all, if you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at? I amuse myself daily, and probably a lot of other people too. He never admitted to me what he was thinking in that moment, but he offered his assitance if I needed it. He said, in that peculiar Mainer accent, "Ayuh, you have a good day missy". He continued his walk, and I mounted up and headed for home. I had a swollen lump the size of a baseball on the inside of my thigh for days before it receded.

I still have these visions of what cagers saw as they drove by me that day. And what that elderly man must have thought. It always makes me giggle (women giggle, men guffaw). Thank God no one caught me on video. For weeks I watched World's Funniest Videos expecting to see myself on it. I still cringe too, whenever a bug hits me while riding.

And staying upright on a curve/stop? I still worry, but that makes me ride better and safer. It's all a matter of doing things in the right order; brake evenly, pull in the clutch, turn yourself upright and straight just before stopping, and depending on how much room you have and how fast you are going, those steps may have to be done each in a split second. Like if you turn into a driveway that goes nowhere.

Oh ya, and always keep your smiles close-lipped while riding during bug season. Trust me, it's a good idea.