Warchild
Banned
So winter is pretty much at the doorstep here in the High Desert of eastern Washington. Not the most optimal time to buy a new Busa and break it in. Oh, well.... like that's going to deter me.
This morning I was determined to take the Busa to work. Local weatherman says we should be free of snow/ice, but it's still pretty cold. No problamo; I don the winter bibs, balaclava, the whole 9 yards. I hit the garage door opener, and as it starts to raise up, I hear the tell-tale "pop-pop, ting-pop" sounds as thin ice on the door panel creases break open.
Hmmmm... that don't sound good. I stroll down the driveway and into the street, dragging/scuffing my boots to try to get a sense of available traction. Doesn't seem too bad, no frost on the roadway, etc. Still, it's just below freezing, about 30 degrees. Even though the FJR's fairing and barn-door sized windscreen is really looking good about now, I'm motivated. I'm dedicated. I'm taking the Busa.
I ease out of the garage and roll it on down the street gingerly to check things out. Hmmmm. Doesn't seem too bad. Won't be a whole lot of leaning going on this morning, but that's okay. At least I'm riding. It's only 7 .5 miles to work. What could go wrong?
Well, I found out what could go wrong.
Freezing fog along the Yakima river. Which is between me and work. I run into the freezing fog, and the shield is opaque in an instant. Can't see diddley. I am force to raise the visor. Oh, that helped... now I can't see diddly because the eyes are tearing up when the frozen fog particles hit them. Sweet.
I take it nice and gentle into work. The splendid H7 low-beam cuts a sharp swath of whiteness before me. Fortunately, commuting to work at 5:30am means little traffic. I reach the only big intersection on the commute, and catch the red light. As I'm waiting for the light to turn, a blue-hair lady rolls her window down and shouts, "Are you insane, riding in this weather?!" I flip open the visor, roll my eyes back into my head so only the whites show, and slowly turned to her while letting out a big dragon's breath of steam.
The lady quickly rolls her window up. Guess she didn't want to chat with a zombie the Living Dead.
The light turn green for my left turn. As I begin to move forward and GENTLY push the left grip down, the rear end steps out 2-3 inches to the right before it hooks back up. WTF? Oh, that's right... big white painted cross-walks at this intersection. Duh. Probably should have engaged Mode 'C' right out of the gate! I do so now on-the-fly... very nice. Thanks, Suzuk!
Now I'm almost at work, and as I pull into the parking lot, it is apparent that it is a sea of black ice. Fück me running, this is a prescription for disaster! Guess I am motivated, dedicated, and DUMB!
I throw the legs out like outboard runners and slooooooowly ease into my parking spot without incident. Whew!
Supposed to warm up to a balmy 40 degrees by the time I go home this afternoon. Sweet.
This morning I was determined to take the Busa to work. Local weatherman says we should be free of snow/ice, but it's still pretty cold. No problamo; I don the winter bibs, balaclava, the whole 9 yards. I hit the garage door opener, and as it starts to raise up, I hear the tell-tale "pop-pop, ting-pop" sounds as thin ice on the door panel creases break open.
Hmmmm... that don't sound good. I stroll down the driveway and into the street, dragging/scuffing my boots to try to get a sense of available traction. Doesn't seem too bad, no frost on the roadway, etc. Still, it's just below freezing, about 30 degrees. Even though the FJR's fairing and barn-door sized windscreen is really looking good about now, I'm motivated. I'm dedicated. I'm taking the Busa.
I ease out of the garage and roll it on down the street gingerly to check things out. Hmmmm. Doesn't seem too bad. Won't be a whole lot of leaning going on this morning, but that's okay. At least I'm riding. It's only 7 .5 miles to work. What could go wrong?
Well, I found out what could go wrong.
Freezing fog along the Yakima river. Which is between me and work. I run into the freezing fog, and the shield is opaque in an instant. Can't see diddley. I am force to raise the visor. Oh, that helped... now I can't see diddly because the eyes are tearing up when the frozen fog particles hit them. Sweet.
I take it nice and gentle into work. The splendid H7 low-beam cuts a sharp swath of whiteness before me. Fortunately, commuting to work at 5:30am means little traffic. I reach the only big intersection on the commute, and catch the red light. As I'm waiting for the light to turn, a blue-hair lady rolls her window down and shouts, "Are you insane, riding in this weather?!" I flip open the visor, roll my eyes back into my head so only the whites show, and slowly turned to her while letting out a big dragon's breath of steam.
The lady quickly rolls her window up. Guess she didn't want to chat with a zombie the Living Dead.
The light turn green for my left turn. As I begin to move forward and GENTLY push the left grip down, the rear end steps out 2-3 inches to the right before it hooks back up. WTF? Oh, that's right... big white painted cross-walks at this intersection. Duh. Probably should have engaged Mode 'C' right out of the gate! I do so now on-the-fly... very nice. Thanks, Suzuk!
Now I'm almost at work, and as I pull into the parking lot, it is apparent that it is a sea of black ice. Fück me running, this is a prescription for disaster! Guess I am motivated, dedicated, and DUMB!
Supposed to warm up to a balmy 40 degrees by the time I go home this afternoon. Sweet.
