Introduction – Everyone knows newer motorcycles require less maintenance than older ones, and that their engineered service life is longer. Despite those advantages most of us continue to ride our less-than-new machines, and we generally love them and want them to continue to be safe and last as long as possible. The only thing in life there is a limited supply of is time, which is why it’s so appealing to procrastinate motorcycle maintenance and repair. No matter how good taking care of your bike may feel, this work remains far less fun than actually riding. And despite millions of free ‘how to’ YouTube videos covering the most arcane maintenance and repair procedures, some jobs remain intimidating enough to seldom get done when they should. With this in mind, and having spent many years diligently acquiring both procrastination expertise and a selection of basic hand tools and shop manuals, here is your guide to deferrable motorcycle maintenance and repairs: Burned Out Lights – Without a headlight you can’t see at night well enough to ride safely, and without a taillight and brake light those following cannot easily notice you. Lights are important enough to be required by strict vehicle code regulations so if an authority (cop, sheriff, highway patrol, etc) notices, you’ll be pulled over and given a friendly ‘fix-it’ ticket. Fortunately, the correct bulbs needed for repairing lights are near-universal and inexpensive, which means the auto parts store at the corner will have the exact one you need. But for all you lazy procrastinators, replacing burned-out instrument and turn signal lights may be postponed just about forever, especially if you seldom ride after dark (and don’t mind taking on a bit of additional risk when turning). Bulb replacement is screwdriver plug-and-play simple on many models but for headlights buried beneath layers of plastic inside complicated fairings check YouTube videos before beginning. Lastly, be careful not to over-tighten the tiny screws holding taillight bulb-covering lenses in place because some of those are easy to crack this way. Marginal and ‘Iffy’ Brakes – This is another item which cannot be put off for long and is intimidating for many DIY mechanics. Yes, you can get by for a while with only one working brake (or forever if you ride an old-school chopper) but all riding experiences are vastly improved when both brakes are spot-on. Changing brake pads or shoes requires ordering the specific part(s) for your make and model, so if you plan on keeping the machine for a while it’s a good idea to have these on hand and ready. Bleeding hydraulic brakes is not difficult after you know how, but if you’ve never done this, you’ll need to watch YouTube tutorial(s) before doing it for the first time. Same for fixing or adjusting old-fashioned cable and rod-controlled brakes, which are common on older bikes. Engine coolant – Totally procrastinatable unless you have an actively leaking hose or clamp. If that is your situation, you’ll either need to refill as frequently as necessary, or fix the leak. Liquid cooled (and oil-cooled) ICE’s won’t run very long without these fluids. Think of it as blood. Engine lubricant (oil) – Relatively procrastinatable, unless for some reason you want your machine to meet or exceed its engineered service life. If that is the case you should replace its engine oils with high-quality oils of the correct type slightly more frequently than recommended in the owner’s manual and change the filter (if you bike has one) every time you change the oil, and replace the drain plug ‘crush’ washer with a new one. This is usually a much messier job than you think it will be, which is why it is so easily procrastinated. First, you need to gather the correct amount and type of oil, the correct filter, gaskets, or ‘O’ rings, plus an oil drain pan, a funnel, and a roll of paper towels. In a perfect world it is also nice to have some way to safely lift your bike a couple of feet off the garage floor to make the job a bit easier on your body. That’s all one extreme. On the other hand, you never actually need to change the oil at all if you don’t mind a gross tarry sludge developing inside the engine. Just occasionally check the level and add more when needed. Your cheapness and procrastination probably won’t lead to any bad short-term consequences, but you should still plan to find someone gullible enough to buy your prematurely worn-out bike after you’ve enjoyed it for a few years. How long you want your bike to last is your choice. Bikes do not feel pain the way we do. Transmission and gear oil – On some machines this may be separate from engine oil, but follows similar rules and procedures. Simply monitor the level and add more of the correct kind whenever needed. If you are a lazy procrastinator, you may ignore this just about forever because unless there is an obvious leak somewhere, the level almost never goes down. Chain oil – Again, like engine and transmission oil this also is quite procrastinatable, especially if the chain is an ‘O’ ring type with internally ‘lifetime’ lubricated link pins and bushings. On those, what wears out fastest are the individual link rollers and the teeth on the sprockets. Your bike will stay a lot cleaner if you decide to never lubricate those rollers and chainrings and when they finally do wear out it will be obvious – all the teeth become hook-shaped nubs and the bike won’t go. If you must lubricate, again there are two extremes: A cheap and messy way is to generously goop on stinky 90wt gear lube. The expensive and not-quite-as-messy way is to regularly carefully apply a great product like BelRay Super Clean chain lube. The working life difference between ‘no-lube and ‘good lube’ practices may be measured in miles. Thousands. Valves and spark plugs – Totally procrastinatable, especially on Japanese bikes for reasons which are too complicated to explain here. Plus, changing and adjusting plugs and valves is complex enough to be seriously difficult to do well unless you are experienced. If you must know how, watch a YouTube tutorial on your particular bike and learn how to do these jobs correctly. You’ll be supporting Alphabet Inc, and all those who took the time to make these videos. General Broken and worn-out parts – Usually procrastinatable. For example, dented steering head bearings will not stop anyone from riding, but they can make handling a bit less precise. Same for swing arm bushings. For a procrastinator these may be left this way for years, and if you are like most riders, you will barely feel it. Similarly, a slowly leaking fuel line, fork seal or carburetor may be ignored almost until the end of time. There are only a few notable exceptions, including: If your bike's alternator dies (which is extremely unlikely), you won’t get far without the electricity it makes. And if an ignition coil or CDI system fails, your bike will immediately be dead until these parts have been replaced. With YouTube and some hand tools replacing such things usually isn’t super time consuming and the benefits of doing so are substantial. Your bike will go again. Wheel bearings – Totally procrastinatable until one day when the affected wheel will stop turning as easily as it should. When a bike’s front wheel has been raised off the ground, if it spins for a good long time after you start it going, you are ok. Unfortunately, you cannot do this simple test with a rear wheel unless you first remove the chain or use a wheel-balancing stand. Expert procrastinators know wheel bearings can be half-bad for years and still work sort of ok, but when they do eventually fail, you’ll have a small mess on your hands. Replacing them can be done using ordinary hand tools. A hammer and a socket extension usually works to pound the bearing out, and the correct size (diameter) socket to fit the outer bearing race when you are ready to pound a new replacement bearing back in. Replace the separate dust seals whenever you replace wheel bearings. Tires and tubes – Believe it or not this normal wear-item is usually semi-procrastinatable. You can ignore worn tires for a reasonably long time and still be ok, especially if you avoid riding in rain or cornering hard, but remember as tires wear down riding becomes incrementally less safe. Should you happen to be experiencing a slow air leak there are many convenient places and ways to keep adding more compressed air as needed. Separately, riding happily along and then experiencing a sudden tire deflation is no fun at all but it’s usually a survivable ‘adventure’. If your bike uses tube-type tires you shouldn’t completely cheap out on replacing innertubes along with the tires, since they age-deteriorate in ways which will eventually lead to a sudden air loss. I once did this with that result. My story about it is here. Lastly, a great solution to everything is to simply buy a new bike every year and foist your old one off on some (hopefully gullible) other rider. Again, brand new bikes seldom need any kind of maintenance. The downside of this plan is largely it’s significantly higher cost, both at the outset and for insurance. Plus you’ll miss the joys of neurotically worrying about the bad consequences of all the jobs you have been procrastinating and not doing. So “Ride it like you stole it?”, or “Ride it as if you plan to keep it forever?” Or something in between? It’s your choice because it’s still a (mostly) free country. Be careful but take a few chances.-- Mr. Subjective, 2-2022This blog post is dedicated to my friend Tom, www.geezerwithagrudge.com, who told me a story about his maintenance-procrastinating grandson which inspired this guide.

The least expensive and most convenient form of personal mobility is walking, followed by public transportation where available. One step up are bicycles and e-bicycles followed in ascending rank by motor scooters, small motorcycles, larger motorcycles, smaller cars, larger cars, ‘crossovers’, SUVs, and at the top end, light trucks and vans. If one has enough resources, they might enjoy full and convenient availability of each form, but for one reason or another most of us must compromise. The need to do this is probably fortunate since it forces one to make decisions about personal mobility which probably help to slightly reduce our individual environmental impacts, and also may cause us to be slightly healthier. For example, if I have enough time, and the distance to where I need to be isn’t too great, and the weather isn’t too severe, and I don’t need to carry much, I’ll walk. If it’s a bit farther and the load, weather and time allows, I’ll pedal. My small daily-transportation motorcycle comes next and after this there’s a larger motorcycle and a medium-size car available. Beyond that and my car can pull a small open utility trailer whenever necessary. Anything greater than these options I must rent or hire. Having access to all this makes me luckier than most. I’ll generally choose the minimum suitable option for two reasons of roughly equal importance: A.) Lower cost with a reduced environmental impact, and B.) greater enjoyment and fun. For me walking is enjoyably calming and pedaling is similar but slightly more exciting. Next, absolutely any old crappy motorcycle is still tremendously more fun to operate compared to any car, even the coolest. Unless the weather also happens to be atrocious. But I have some nice gear for that. Keeping all these options in my mobility quiver means occasionally resoling or replacing worn shoes and doing some of the maintenance and repair work necessary to keep the various vehicles safe and functional. Again, I’m luckier than most to usually (but not always) be capable of doing this work myself. Depending on the vehicle and job. Not everyone thinks about their mobility this way. Linked below is an interesting recent essay by a guy named Harrison Markfield who writes for an academic press called ‘The Iowa State Daily’ which is a publication of the Iowa State University in Ames. He writes well about how ICE vehicles are bad for the planet and in his view electric vehicles are hardly better. He is also of the opinion our innate desire for comfort, convenience, status, range, and control (why automobiles became popular), may be a societal dead-end. This last assertion seems like academia ‘Ivory tower’ hubris and BS, so with some very small moto-centric reservation I must disagree. Mr. (professor?) Harrison Markfield misses or ignores motorcycles and scooters ENTIRELY as socially, economically, environmentally beneficial, fun and responsible mobility options, and he also ignores how almost everyone from poor to plutocrat intuitively self-manages a quiver of their mobility options, which can (and does) change as a result of ever-shifting surrounding influences. In aggregate, we humans are nothing if not flexible and resourceful. Which is where everything begins.Read it here (two pages), or download it here (PDF). What do you think? – Mr. Subjective, 2-2022

If you commute every day or nearly every day, in all kinds of atrocious weather, this is for you. For those riders who are Road Grimed Astronauts and use their bikes for daily transportation, errands and last but not least, who commute as much as they can. If you ride mostly for fun, sport, entertainment and relaxation, or if you commute only when the weather is perfect, you may still like - and relate - to some of this, too. I am one of those everyday commuters. Either via a bicycle, an e-bicycle or my motorcycle. I almost always ride there. All three of these machines are relatively filthy with use, wear and weathering. My commute is an easy five miles, all on surface roads and a few blocks of dense congested traffic with crowds of pedestrians everywhere. My groceries and shopping errands require freeway miles and some steep hills. I choose which machine depending mostly on the weather, and on the time available. The more perfect the day, the more likely it is that I’ll pedal. But throw in a little wind and cold and I’m on the e-bike. Add to the mix a little rain, sleet or even a little snow, or if I’m running really late and then I’m motoring.  The protection offered by my R-3 suit, Elkskin gloves and Nolan Xlite modular helmet is just too nice to pass up. These three machines are far from pristine examples of the latest-greatest models, too.  The pedal bike is an ancient 26” wheeled folding bike called a Montague which supposedly was originally developed to be air-dropped with landing troops. I bought this as a basket of parts for $120 from a somewhat shady fellow who may have acquired it dishonestly some time earlier. I’ll never know. All he told me is he’d enjoyed riding it for a few years and then things on it started breaking and he took it apart to fix them and never put it back together. It’s been a fabulous cheap commute bike, and is today covered in a patina of abuse and long wear. It’s on its second fork, third or fourth chain and chainwheels, brake pads and various small parts. When I get to the local grocery co-op and lock it to the bike rack next to all the clean modern bikes there, the younger hipper riders either give it a wide birth or stare at it questioningly.  It stands out, it is different, it works great and I really like it. Folded, it fits nicely in the trunk of even a small car or the back of a compact SUV, which is a real bonus. I love riding it. The e-bike is similar but is only four years and 4,000 miles old.  It was bought new from an online selling e-bike company called FLX, and like the Montague it’s a little different looking in its acquired grubbiness.  It was delivered in a big box and was easy to set up.  Because it is a lower-end machine it’s had its share of mechanical problems, but nothing I haven’t been able deal with. Its aluminum frame was incorrectly designed and cracked after a couple of years where the seat post is connected to the top tube. That has now been repair-welded three times: first badly, the second time well and the third time also well plus a small fabricated stiffing gusset.  With the extra long seat post I added, and the nice gusset, I think it now is fixed for good. The semi-crude repair job is unpainted, and I have no plans to change this. The frame mounted 500w motor’s handlebar mounted instrument and control panel had to be replaced at around 3,000 miles to correct a problem and its now on its third or fourth rear cluster and its second front chain wheel and chain. The forks have been apart once to fix a locked-up-solid problem, and the brake pads recently wore out and were easily replaced.  Like the other bikes, its grips have worn smooth in places, too. But basically it is a pretty good bike for what it is, and for how I use it. Like the other bicycle, switching this one from its original 1.9 x 27.5 semi-knobbies to smooth treaded and slightly oversize pavement-only tires (Schawble 2.4 x 27.5 Super Moto X) has been a wonderful improvement. This year its original 17a 36v battery has started to fade, but I just bought another one directly from China, thanks to the amazing internet. The motorcycle is the easiest to describe. It’s a 1994 Honda XR650L which I bought new that year and which is still chugging around just fine on its second piston.  There’s a long list of modifications which you can see on this video I made about it in 2021: When you choose to ride this way, you don’t profile well to both the general public and among other motorcycle and bicycle riders.  For example, you’ll walk into a business meeting after riding through terrible rain to get there and water will be pooling around your feet and some otherwise intelligent person will ask:  “Did you ride your bike?” The room will get quiet and you’ll just stand there dripping and holding your helmet grinning like a fool. Like the fool everyone in the room thinks you are.   It's not a competition to see who is the hardest-core rider, either. This isn’t a contest. We all want to fit in.  And to be popular. To have the approval of others. The only contest is within ourselves.  Some of us want to ride as much as possible. For their own psychological, neurological, physiological, environmental and financial reasons.  Psychologists have given a name for the universal wanting-to-fit-in stuff: allodoxaphobia.  According to this essay in the Atlantic Monthly magazine, it means: “In the worst cases, anxiety about the approval of others can blow up into a debilitating fear, a diagnosable psychological condition called “allodoxaphobia.” Even if it doesn’t become a mental illness, worrying about the opinions of others can lower your basic competence in ordinary tasks, such as making decisions. When you are thinking about what to do in a particular situation—say, whether to speak up in a group—a network in your brain that psychologists call the “behavioral inhibition system” (BIS) is naturally activated, which allows you to assess the situation and decide how to act (with a particular focus on the costs of acting inappropriately). When you have enough situational awareness, the BIS is deactivated and the “behavioral activation system” (BAS), which focuses on rewards, kicks in.” - excerpt from Atlantic Monthly article, 'No One Cares' by Arthur C. Brook The essay says there is a cure: Ignore them. The yahoos. The normal people. Own your sh-t. Here’s what the author recommends: “1. Remind yourself that no one cares.  2. Rebel against your shame.  3. Stop judging others.” The full Atlantic Monthly article, ‘No One Cares’ by Arthur C. Brook, is here.  It’s not too long and explains all the underlying stuff a lot better than I. I say only one thing.  Ride there if you can.  Just ride, if that is what you want to do. Riding will quickly become easier and easier, and safer and safer, because the more you do it the more accomplished and fluent you’ll become. And yes, you’ll be better off for it. Within a week or two, riding for utility transportation will become the best part of your day, no matter what the weather or destination. - Mr. Subjective, 11-21 PS – I do own a car, two actually. One I bought new and have had for 48 years, maintaining it almost entirely myself. It has just over 100,000 miles and these days carries ‘hobby car’ insurance limited to under 1000 miles of driving a year. The other car is on my homeowner policy and is typical car insurance. On an early summer day about twenty years ago I brought that one in to the usual place for an oil change. They’ve taken care of it for me for many years and at that time they’d recently started keeping computer service records for each of their regular customer’s cars.  When I came in to pick it up a day or two later, the service writer looked up from his screen as he handed me the invoice and key and said:  “I think your car’s odometer might be broken. Our records show only 136 miles since you brought it in last fall.”  I grinned and replied: “No, that’s correct. I just don’t drive it very much.” PPS - This means I’ve become a comparatively awful car driver. Before coming over to the single-track side (the dark side, Luke), I drove ok. Both cars have manual transmissions and I enjoy driving them, but I’m pretty terrible at it now. PPPS - This is what transportation riding during the winter here looks like from one of our webcams. It’s far riskier and less safe than riding the rest of the year. You have to pick your days and ride extra cautiously. An added and constant problem is road salt, which admittedly makes the streets rideable more days. The practice causes two problems: 1.) When it’s warm enough so the salt melts the snow there is a brown runny watery brine everywhere that is messy as hell to ride in. Every passing car (in both directions) leaves a fine mist of it hanging in the air which gets all over the bike, clothing, gloves, helmet, face shield. It’s terrible. 2.) When the temperature drops so the salt stops working, the roads dry up nicely but whenever you are behind any other vehicle the displaced air and tires kick the salt/brine dust into the air and you have to breath it. If you ride any distance in conditions like this when you arrive anywhere you want to take a wet paper towel and wipe the dust accumulation off your face. Using your tongue you can taste the salt dust on your lips. Salting roads where it is not critical is terrible for the environment, buildings, vehicles and people. There is almost nothing good about it. It is a hold-over from the days gone by when snow removal technologies (plows, etc) were not as good, and cars did not have all-wheel drive or snow tires. There is no excuse for it today.  Except by the people who mine and ship and apply it, who have an interest in keeping up the costly practice for economic reasons. PPPPS - Hoping to put up a short vlog post about how this 'winter' bike was set up soon.

Start with a merino wool base layer.  We sell this but Smartwool and many other companies offer similar.  And if you can’t deal with wool, there are excellent synthetics these days.  We sell this made in USA one and several others. Skip the cotton boxers, briefs or t shirts. Commando is (works and feels) best for this end-use. Over the merino, either microfiber, jeans or fleece pants, depending on temperature, wind and length of exposure. Or even a mix of all three if you can get the layering fits correct. You’ll want something semi-slippery which will smoothly and easily glide over your merino base layer because this provides maximum low-fatigue freedom of movement. It’s also got to be highly breathable. Remember, err on the looser side, look for breathable and a bit slippery.   Side note: Loose-fitting sliding layering is extremely important. In 1999 the frozen body of expert mountain climber George Mallory was found on the side of Mt. Everest. Back in 1924 he and his partner Irvine were attempting to be the first to summit the world’s highest mountain. After the body was recovered his period clothing and gear were analyzed. Researchers found the combination of cotton and wool layers he wore (which were the very highest tech then available) provided this exact ‘slippery’ quality which yielded the most fatigue-free layering solution for working and climbing in this extremely cold and windy environment.   Over your mid layer add a down or synthetic ‘puffy’, who’s thickness can vary depending (again) on temperature and anticipated length of exposure.  Over everything goes a customized Aerostich R-3 light tactical with its impact armor removed, and after being altered as follows: This example (mine) was about $1,700.  I started with an R-3 one size larger than what I wear during the spring, summer, and fall for commuting.  Then I shortened its legs and sleeves slightly, added an extended side gusset on both sides (from elbow to thigh) to make it bigger around my middle and allow much extra insulation, and then added the ‘forward rotated sleeves’ and ‘back panel ellipse’ appreciated by riders of sport bikes with low handlebars and high footrests. All this leaves plenty of room for moving around freely and adding or subtracting insulation layers as needed. This example is the second one of these suits I’ve owned, and at my age now (68) I’ll hopefully wear it for ten or more winters ahead.  The first one of these winter R-3’s was made for me five years ago when we were doing our Zero Below Zero project. This one is brand new, and in a few weeks, I’ll probably clean up the ZBZ one which was made slightly smaller and sell it on our sale list as a ‘product development sample’. What this all means is I have one oversize suit for winter (which around here means three months of very cold winter weather -- Duluth is statistically the coldest or second coldest city in the lower 48 states, with periods of weeks each winter when the ambient temp may not get above 0ºf -- and another suit for the rest of the year. This year that regular R-3 is going to be seven or eight years old and is still working fine. It took me years (decades) to conclude that I needed to have two of these suits to be able to ride year-around in comfort here. What I learned along the way is a lightly altered R-3 lIght combined with some good base layers make an R-3 light just about the world’s finest snowmobile suit. Or winter extreme exposure suit for watching the Green Bay Packers during the playoffs at Lambeau Field in January. Or for snow blowing a foot of snow off your driveway at night in a stiff wind. So, if you have the money, try one.  We’d appreciate your business, especially at this ‘slower’ time of the year. Note that our fit-experts will set you up with the exact correct size 97% of the time (or some similarly high percentage), and if it doesn’t fit, you may send it back for a full no-questions-asked refund within thirty days of receiving it. Once you have it, you’ll use it more than you expected to. I have. Mr. Subjective, 1-15-22 *Also, downhill skiing (especially deep powder) and ice fishing. Can’t forget ice fishing.

...or like a sociopath? Almost nothing one can do during course of their ordinary daily life is as socially ostracizing as when one gets bundled up to ride somewhere for utility transportation through cold or crappy weather. You’ll receive the strangest comments, reactions and looks if you find yourself riding when, in the mainstream’s comfortably-sealed-inside-a-car worldview, one isn’t supposed to be out there riding. I’ve always wondered if this could be slightly similar to what it feels like to be a mildly sociopathic individual. Not a Ted Kosinski or anything so extreme, but still somewhere on that same craziness spectrum. Right now, it’s a moderately windy 35ºf (and about +5ºf ‘wind chill) at noon and still almost twilight-dark beneath a thick gray-cloudy sky. A typically depressing and moody early winter day, but the local roads have been dry and clear for a week so I rode to work yesterday and on Tuesday, a one-way distance of five miles. I also rode to a short business meeting, a storage rental place, a bank, and a grocery store.  The bank was a very brief stop to drop something off, so I walked right in without even removing my modular helmet. It was cold enough I didn’t want to mess around. This move was practical, time-efficient, and comfortable, but I might easily have been mistaken for a grubby suicide-bombing terrorist all bundled up in a dirty black Aerostich R-3 and carrying a worn backpack with a small carabiner on each strap from which dangled a loop of parachute cord, a door key and two small remote garage door opener transmitters. I sure didn’t look (or feel) like any kind of recreational, ADV, touring or sport motorcyclist you’ve probably ever seen. It’s possible I’m too sensitive. Or too dumb. I’ve written about this before. Here are the bullet points: Riding is fun and always feels good. Really good. Riding can sometimes be logistically a lot harder than simply walking, riding a bus, or driving. Riding can make you look pretty good to others if done ‘correctly’.  I.E. – in ways that seem right to non-riding observers. But only if you are wearing the ‘right’ kind of gear for the bike you are riding, and riding the appropriate bike for the situation, during the most acceptable type of weather. Riding done the way non-riders expect riders to look. “As seen on TV” or whatever. Non-riding observers cannot fully understand or appreciate the ‘why’ of riding. The only way to appreciate the multi-layered wonderful experience of riding is to actually ride. In America, non-riders are the vast and overwhelming majority, and they outnumber us riders by a very large percentage. Almost all non-riders in America view motorcycling as an optimal-weather-only form of recreation, sport and/or leisure, and not as any kind of useful or practical all-weather transportation. “Almost” means 98.483% of them, except most spouses and siblings. There is probably a determinable ratio describing the degree to which riding ostracizes one, corresponding with the adversity or horribleness of the weather. Maybe it’s 1:1. Perhaps when the weather is bad, the rider is ostracized and if the weather is twice as bad the rider is twice as ostracized. In all my years of riding, this 1:1 ratio is about how it feels. And this has become so predictable it’s also quietly more amusing than you might imagine. For example, yesterday my first stop was a business meeting, and as I put the bike on its sidestand and keyed off its engine a woman looking to be somewhere in her mid-forties turned, stared, and said to me: “Aren’t you freezing?”  She was wearing a nice puffy goose down jacket and had just emerged from her comfortably heated car after pulling into the parking space adjacent to mine. “Not really.” I replied with a smile. That was our entire conversation. She took in my reply with a mildly incredulous expression, then turned away and briskly walked into the nearby building. I followed a few moments later after removing my helmet and gloves, carefully putting the bikes key into my riding suit’s pocket and making sure the Velcro pocket flap was secure. Moments like this happen all the time when you choose to ride in crappy weather. I collected additional looks and comments at the bank and then at the rental storage rental place where I had to renew a rental agreement at their office. Only at the grocery store did the cashier say nothing. I could see in her eyes and general manner she thought there was something a little off about me, though. I also noticed the same look on the faces of the drivers in the cars surrounding me at stoplights and sign-controlled intersections. A look like what, exactly? It’s hard to describe. Going from most-to-least maybe it’s a blend of condescension + mild resentment + irritation + amusement + envy? Most notably not a shred of curiosity, either. It’s possible a tiny approval/envy percentage comes from other riders who were on this day sensibly sealed inside their warm and safe cars. You really do feel like an idiot whenever you are riding for simple transportation during bad weather. But conformity can be for suckers, and maybe discomfort is partly an illusion, too. Yesterday I was comfortably in my regular street clothing above a pair of ankle-high riding boots, with almost everything else beneath a light goose down sweater ‘puffy’ layered within a slightly oversize black Aerostich R-3 Light Tactical one-piece suit. With a small “Road Grimed Astronaut” embroidered patch on the left shoulder. Was I that astronaut, or another everyday transportation riding sociopath?  I was both, and it was great.  - Mr. Subjective, 12-21 PS – Or a stupid dumb f**k idiot?

Thanks to the internet, a far-away and never-met long-time motorcycle friend (Paolo, who lives in Turkey and operates this interesting motorcycle, philosophy and culture website) recently emailed me an amusing short essay about the misleading environmentalism of electric power-in-general. A link to a downloadable .pdf of that essay is attached at the bottom of this post, but before you skip directly to it, here’s what I thought about it: Paolo,Thanks for sharing this very clever essay. It is fabulous on two levels: Very creative. Clever and well-written.  Seems true. (I’m neither for or against ICE or electric vehicles, though.)I’ll share a copy with a couple of friends of mine, and it will be interesting to receive their comments. Every technological advancement adds a slightly heavier load upon the planet. There are no exceptions. The computer I’m typing this on may be more energy-efficient, powerful and durable than the computer that proceeded it, just like the latest bike is engineered to be more energy-efficient and better overall than the previous model, but when every comparable is factored in, the total load on the planet is always heavier the newer the product is: A 1915 Ford Model T has a greater environmental impact than a horse drawn Studebaker wagon made of hardwoods and iron, and a 1965 Land Rover car has a greater environmental impact than the Ford T. It follows that a Tesla electric car has a greater overall impact than an old Land Rover.   There’s not much we as consumers can do about any of this. We can consume and enjoy, or become a monk or nun and join a monastery and grow beans and apples and wear hand-woven robes and humbly ride old bicycles. Or we can become an Amish, Mennonite, or Hutterite farmer* and pull our steel-bladed plow with draft horses. But as ecologically good for the world as those choices are, I’m not interested. I like convenient ice cream, scotch whiskey and pizza too much, and I’m not giving them up. Not to mention riding motorcycles as much as possible. Life is about compromises. And being a hypocrite is unavoidably part of this package. Regarding actually protecting our environment, Greta Thunberg is at one extreme and most of the world’s autocrats, plutocrats, merchants, traders, technologists and strivers are at the other. Somewhere along this virtuousness spectrum and possibly not too far from the middle, is me.  When it comes to my own cars and motorcycles, I do my best to consume and enjoy what I: A) can afford and B) meld into my life with some awareness that there is no ‘free lunch’. My bike and car consumption values are expressed by having models which: A) tend to feature longish production lives, and B) tend to be on the ‘basic’ side of the spectrum of today’s available technology, and C) are comparatively more durable. Those values have changed little since I began my adult life as a worker and consumer.  It may not be a mainstream way to consume automobility. For example, because I mostly ride or pedal, if it happens to rain when I am inside a car, simply watching its wipers clearing the windshield is always a satisfying miracle. Computer-assisted driving (and everything else new) is great, but for me all taken together the latest technology doesn’t beat the wonder of even the simplest one-speed windshield wipers doing their trick. I am grateful to have, and deeply enjoy, the incredible wealth of two automobiles. One was bought new at a young age and is now 48 years old with about 105,000 miles behind it. It was manufactured in a series of incrementally improved versions from I think 1948 until 1984, and mine has never been back to an authorized dealer. The other I bought used (I’m it’s 2nd owner) at 5 years with about 100,000 miles. It is now 15 years old and has about 115,000 miles. This newer one is hugely better and far more high-tech: Fuel injection, disc brakes, climate control, power windows, etc. It is far safer, faster, quieter, easier to use and tremendously more long-term durable. But both remain equally enjoyable: One with its single-speed wipers and the other having several wiping speeds with multiple adjustable-wiping sub-modes. Both are equally miraculous for motoring through rain. My bikes are similarly owned. One’s 1975 and another is a 1994, both single cylinders, both Hondas. The 94 was also bought new, and oddly, Honda still manufactures this model, which turned out to be lucky for me because many important repair parts for the earlier 75 are now unobtainable. There also are two old BMW airheads with about 500,000 miles between them. Both were bought a couple of years after they were new, and both are now enshrined in dry storage in the basement of our home thanks to an incredibly understanding wife. And there’s two ’newer’ bikes, an 03 Suzuki 400 DRZ and a 07 BMW R1200R. Both were acquired three or four years after they sold new to someone else. The Suzuki is (again, fortunately) still in production. I choose to attempt to do most of the recommended maintenance and occasionally required repairs for all these bikes except the OBD-ported fuel-injected 07 BMW. Partly because I’ve always been nearer the hammer-and-pliers end of the mechanic spectrum than the engineering-degreed race-tuning technician end, and because I’m running out of time to invest in learning new things, which forces a more careful evaluation of what to spend one’s time learning. I can always read a shop manual, and like everyone else these days I learn a lot (and get confidence) from infinite YouTube how-to-videos. I consider myself fortunate to have these fine machines under my administration. By accident of birth location and historical timing I deal mostly with such circumstantial ‘first world problems’, and this is more than a cliché. When I’m thinking clearly, I’m thankful for each problem, no matter how intractable or difficult it may seem. And when it comes to the products my small business makes, and which I originally designed and continue to attempt market and improve, I’ve taken the same approach. Make things that work well, are reasonably reparable, and which last a long time.   Like nearly everyone I’m doing my best to get along with the people in my life, and to take care of the world in the tradition of my birthright’s Jewish teachings, of which I know only the most basic elements. But it’s been enough. The world we all live on seems to be a very ancient solar powered organism or system, following actionable rules we have evolved an ability to somewhat formulate, share and use. And however imperfect those rules are, at any given moment they just have to do. I strongly suspect this situation will continue long after us and all our descendants are gone, and don’t believe interplanetary colonization will be financially practical any time soon, if ever. Regardless of that possibility all of us live in the here-and-now and must do the best we can with the reality we find directly before us. The only thing I know for sure is that reality always wins.   - Andy PS - The greatest thing which has been achieved during our lifetimes has not been putting a man on the moon or eradicating deadly diseases or the ‘green revolution’ which helped mostly eliminate large-scale famine. Or any of the thousands of other incredible technological and intellectual advances which have occurred during our lifetimes. No, humankinds’ single greatest recent accomplishment has been unwinding the DNA code, which for the first time shows indisputably how all humans are 99.8% genetically exactly the same, and finally proving that after all is said and done ‘race’ is merely another cultural construct being put before us by those who on some level or for some reason believe they have something to gain by doing so. It will probably take a few hundred years for this recent discovery to sink in everywhere, just as it did when the earth was eventually proven to actually be round and not flat, and (separately) that our planet goes around the sun, not vice versa. The coolest thing about life, from both a practical and a philosopher’s point of view is how reality always wins.  *For American readers. For international readers, insert here any of the world’s more orthodox, fundamental, and traditional religious (and/or moral) life-guiding belief-systems. Whatever applies in your location. Download "Batteries, Did You Know?"

When I was younger (mid 30’s) I did two sort of endurance rides. Neither was specifically planned to be an endurance ride. I simply wanted (needed?) to see if I could get somewhere which happened to be fairly far away, in as little time as possible. I was not trying to set any speed record, though. Just wanted to get there without lallygagging. The bike for both rides was my old R100/7. No windshield other than a small home-made fairing from the headlight nacelle ending just over the top of the instruments.  A period photo of the machine is shown at the top of this email and here (dry-stored in the basement today, near our clothes washer and dryer). This bike started out as an ‘RS’ but shortly after I purchased it from its original owner in about 1981, I converted it to a /7 naked bike and sold its fairing and everything else that was ‘RS’. I still have this bike and would guess it has about 100-150K on its odometer (which was not working for a few years, twice). It has the RS’s bigger 40mm exhaust and a few other ’RS’ items. With the help of an extremely talented friend, and over the course of several winters, I hot-rodded it the way I wanted (at that time…): /2 ‘high’ handlebars, Kehin ‘slant slide’ pumper carbs, high performance cam, bigger pistons, mono lever swingarm, oversize Heinrich tank, frame stiffener bars, extra holes in its cast aluminum airbox, drilled-out straight-through mufflers, lightened flywheel, special clutch, etc.  It made 68HP on a dyno, which is a lot for one of these, and would wheelie on the throttle in 2nd with only a light effort. Which stock versions of this bike won’t do. It’s a tank, but back-in-the day was still a lot of fun to build and ride. One of my two quasi-accidental endurance rides involved two back-to-back 900-mile days riding home from Bike Week in Florida to Duluth Minnesota. What made it an endurance ride wasn’t the distance, though. It was the low temperature. The second day it was below freezing the entire time. When I reached my residence, it had gotten down into the low twenties, I think. There were quite large snowbanks on the sides of the roads from Chicago north, but the road itself was dry all the way. In my driveway when I got home there was about a foot of accumulated snow. I was so tired I ploughed into it as far as I could and then just left the bike on its sidestand right there, surrounded by great clouds of steam coming from the hot engine melting the snow. Then I staggered inside leaving a trail of shedded gear all through the house like a three-year-old and slept for ten or twelve hours. Woke up famished but alive.  The other long-hard ride was the year the BMW National Rally was in York PA. I rode there from Duluth in one very long day and when I pulled up at the gate at three or four AM wanting to camp, the entrance security would not let me in, so I got back on the bike and rode down to somewhere near the shore of the Chesapeake Bay, where I watched the sun come up over the water, then turned around went back to the rally site, got right in, set up my tent and slept until noon. I think the total miles of that ride was about 1,250-1,300 and the total hours was around 22 or 23. I don’t consider myself an endurance rider, but for most of my years when riding on road trips a good day is around 750 miles and an easy day is around 500-600. Today at age 68 I’m satisfied and comfortable with anywhere in the 3–600-mile range and have nearly zero interest going for more. The well-known cliche: "The older one gets, the faster one was” is sometimes true, but both hard-ride accounts are as close to accuracy as I can remember them. Famously, whatever doesn’t kill you hopefully makes you stronger.  What were some of your hardest/fastest/longest rides?  - Mr. Subjective, 11-21

The minimum we recommend wearing under an Aerostich suit (Darien, R-3, Cousin Jeremy, all of them) is a T shirt and shorts.  For most of the  warmer part of the year that's what I wear.  Specifically, these shorts, ‘commando’ (without boxers or briefs): Mid-Weight Cotton Shorts and usually a Polo-type shirt like this.   This combination is comfortable and absorbs moisture well. The Polo-type shirt is a slightly heavier 100% cotton fabric than a T shirt, and a little fancier/dressier, which somehow feels better in most off-the-bike situations such as stores and restaurants, etc.  In my imagination the cotton shorts similarly look more socially presentable than other options in off-the-bike situations, however when I’m riding all day or on a multi-day trip, I like to wear AD-1 armored pants over them, and they typically remain on continuously until riding ends for the day.  All Aerostich gear is deliberately designed to be as lightweight as possible to improve rider comfort, and to also be sacrificial in crash situations.  When we were pioneering armored textile gear back in the 1980’s, this way of thinking about protective gear was unknown and for some riders was radical and unacceptable. At the time leathers were the only 'serious' option and they were all designed to be heavy and thick enough to withstand repeated crashes.   (I've always felt that if after a crash a rider stood up relatively ok and then the rider's completely shredded garment fell to the ground in tatters and smithereens around their ankles it would be perfect. Sort of like a scene from one of those old Warner Brothers Road Runner cartoons. And then the hapless rider would buy another suit - Acme brand, of course.) We see a lot of crash-damaged gear because we offer repair services. Studying these garments has taught us a lot. One can break down abrasion damage into two overlapping kinds: 1.) areas where the garment was under higher load as it rubbed along the pavement, and 2.) areas where it wasn’t.   The areas which usually are under high load are the elbows, shoulders, hips, and knees. In our gear these places are reinforced with multiple layers of abrasion-resistant fabric, and beneath the fabric there are additional layers of material associated with the impact armor. We’ve never seen crash abrasion wear penetrate through all of those (usually five or six) layers. Other areas of a garment which are not under load are typically only scuffed, but there are exceptions. For example, if a rider slides on his bottom (seat/butt) a long way during a very high-speed crash, a layer of fabric can be worn through, which is why there are two layers of abrasion resistant fabric there. The faster the get-off and the longer the slide, the more potential there is for abrasion to wear through even very strong fabric. We design our gear to withstand even higher speed crash-abrasions while also recognizing they are rare. Riders who frequently ride in mid three-digit speeds (120-170 mph) should wear race leathers.  Even though I’ve become relatively old, I’ll still get briefly into the 100+ speed range several times a year (typically when I’m passing several cars in a string on a two-lane road, etc), but normally I’m riding somewhere the 60-85 mph range when on highways outside of my urban area. Aerostich gear is designed to provide acceptable abrasion protection for all of these (and my) riding scenarios, regardless of what one wears underneath. Winter, however, is another story.  -- Mr. Subjective, November 21

"Good god no. I'm nowhere near old enough..." - Excerpt from a recent online (Revzilla Common Tread) discussion about "Building A Better Brand" and the R-3 and Roadcrafter Classic one piece suits    

Before we know it our ICE (internal combustion engine) motorcycles will be replaced by electrics. And not specifically because the bikes we currently buy only slightly contribute to the greenhouse gas effect, but more because they are too costly to make, too difficult to ride and too tedious to maintain. Even today’s most fabulous and desirable bikes will meet the same fate as old-fashioned steam locomotives. They’ll be appreciated mostly as inspiring historical relics which required too much cost and effort for so little power and result.  Many younger people already view older long-time riders as "the last of a breed" (gearheads/petrol-heads or whatever…) and consider our beloved ICE machines too costly and requiring too much of an ownership and maintenance commitment. Future riders will aspire to own and ride electrics partly because of their far lower maintenance requirements*, magic-carpet smooth silence, and no gear shifting. Some of the future electrics will be a lot faster than the latest and fastest ICE bikes now available, too.  Speed, acceleration, efficiency, and synaptic-level nimbleness are all core reasons for the enduring appeal of motorcycles and scooters. It’s just hard to believe that the accompanying sweet tunable exhaust noise, along with all the vibrations and acoustical harmonics which have always been such an integral part of motorcycle experiences, are about to fade into history just as the romantic and inspiring sounds of a steam locomotive’s ‘choo-choo-choo’ hissing and chuffing, and the piercing shriek of their steam whistles has.  I’m already nostalgic whenever I hear (and smell) a passing two-stroke ICE bike “on the pipe” -- the narrow near-wide-open-throttle RPM range when the engine’s carefully engineered tuned exhaust scavenging hits its perfect harmonic, and the bike crisply leans itself out just a tiny amount more as it produces maximum power. In some ways I’m not quite ready to feel that way about the sound of a four-stroke ICE engine coming onto its cam, but it probably won’t be too long. After it’s mostly gone I’m gonna miss that music, but future generations of riders won’t. Two general ‘news’ moments during my lifetime stand above the rest: I’ll always remember with a kind of granular clarity exactly where I was when I first watched astronaut Neil Armstrong step onto the moon live (though delayed 1.25 seconds by the distance), and similarly I will always remember where I was when I turned on a television and first watched the terrible attack that destroyed the World Trade Center buildings in NYC. Seeing repeats of those two news videos will always stop me cold. Though not comparable in significance or emotional impact, two motorcycle-business ‘news’ moments have also stood out. About fifteen years ago I read a press release from Honda (of Japan, not their USA distributor American Honda) announcing they were going to put fuel injection, anti-lock brakes and catalytic converters on every bike they made. EVERY model, including all sizes and types. As the years have passed, they’ve done this. From their cute ‘Monkey bikes’ to their best-selling-motor-vehicle-in-the-world, the C-50 Cub (now both are 125’s) to the luxurious Gold Wings, everything they produce on two wheels has, or will soon have, these technologies. That long-ago media release was Honda saying there would always be motorcycling, for at least for as far into the future as they could see. Some of the very smartest people in motorcycling and ICE engineering telling everyone they believed it was worth the huge investment to redesign their long-ago-paid-for and highly profitable products like the Cub. It was Honda telling the world there would be motorcycles for as long as there were people, and they intended to always have some of this business. This news could not have made me happier unless they’d have also added they’ll be giving these updated bikes away free. Then there was the day several years ago when the late movie star Peter Fonda announced he’d hired the famous Sotheby’s (or Christies?) auction company to sell off all the props and memorabilia he’d kept from the movie ‘Easy Rider’. His ‘Captain America’ leather jacket and everything. This told me the market for Harleys was about to turn downward and that after their truly phenomenal thirty year run of success, from a struggling and near-bankrupt company to a $2 billion dollar plus ultra-profitable company which along the way became a global fashion-darling, that this growth, and the coolness of this brand, was about to start to decline. Which it has. The actual tipping point from ICE to electric bikes has not happened yet, but it is coming. The elements of riding which are the most fun and important are not all the cultural constructs, fashions and socializations surrounding riding. Rather it’s the physiological, neurological, and psychological experiences of actively balancing and guiding the machine. Riding feels as great at 5 mph/8kph as it does at much higher speeds, and most importantly, the benefits to riders -- and to the society which surrounds all of us -- remain the same, too, regardless of what technology makes the machine go. So even though someday not all that far off it may be unfashionable and impractical to ride an ICE bike for transport, leisure or sport, there are certain to be multiple super-fast and/or super-great electrics available for doing just such riding. They’ll be more affordable, more reliable, easier to ride and require less maintenance than the best bikes of today. And even faster, too. Many of tomorrow’s e-motorcycle riders will come into riding as a natural transition upward from a pedal e-bike just as they’d earlier moved upward to those pedal e-bikes as a move beyond their pedal-only bicycles. When they decide to become licensed motorcyclists, the transition from pedal e-bikes to electric motorcycles will have been notably smoother and easier than what most of today’s ICE bike riders experienced.  Pedal bikes have always been a gateway drug to motorcycles. Soon pedal E-bikes will be the gateway drug-of-choice to you-know-what.  And the rest is history. - Mr. Subjective, Sept 2021PS – There’s irony in the fact that earlier technologies which are relatively more challenging to operate and maintain are often (and maybe perversely?) more strongly loved by their users and caretakers. In a paradoxical way people seem programmed to balance more difficult physical, mental, and emotional challenges unconsciously yet rationally with correspondingly greater emotional attachments and satisfactions. It’s inversely proportional -- The more difficult something is, the more its seemingly valued. There’s a humorous eternal truth in the classic question: “Why do you keep banging your head against a wall?” and its inescapable answer: “Because it feels so good when I stop.” Future riders of electrics may not bond quite as strongly with those bikes as we do with our ridiculously and wonderfully antediluvian ICE bikes. Which I think will be ok. It will still be more than enough. *I’m far from a good mechanic, but still find the process of working on an ICE bike an enjoyable challenge, and the results extremely satisfying. Setting valves, changing tires, balancing wheels, changing fluids, bleeding brakes, replacing or mending broken parts, tuning, farkeling, setting adjustments for best operation and much more. I’ve accumulated a mixed assortment of the necessary tools and have always been able to arrange a small acceptable space to do this work. I get into trouble occasionally and must rely on shop manuals, friends and YouTube videos for support. It’s always too much work, and not for everyone, but with the luxury of time (though not enough is available sometimes) it generally feels nice to be able to take care of my two-wheeled friend.

A Short Mr. Subjective Blog Post See attached. This model Honda is in short supply, and high demand. Last night (Sept 6th) this auction closed at midnight.  Location: Chicago area.  The MSRP on these is $3899.  This one had 180 miles on its odometer. Whomever sold it probably bought it to flip. He or she just made a pretty easy $600. Screen shot is from 5 seconds before the auction closed. When something in demand is scarce, this type of price-gouging happens.  At the start of the covid pandemic it was toilet paper. If you find someone to sell you one of these at MSRP you could do this also. Or you can ride it. Tough choice. Or, if you flipped six of these you could buy number seven for yourself with the proceeds. In an era when most motorcycle models are being discounted, this is the rare exception. - Mr. Subjective, 9-21 PS – This model Honda is I think made in their factory in Thailand, one of the world's largest motorcycle factories.  More of these are on the way as I speak/type. PPS - The history and origin of this fun and useful bike goes back to the 1960’s and is one of the most interesting stories in modern motorcycling. Much more than fashion was involved. Honda’s official history of it is here: https://hondanews.com/en-US/releases/honda-ct-series-history

  - Said more than a few Roadcrafter suit wearers... When the Roadcrafter was first designed in 1983 it was intended to be an easy-to-put-on-and-remove armored coverall for commuting, constructed along the lines of a leather rider’s suit, but made using lightweight, breathable, abrasion-resistant waterproof textiles. Because of those priorities and considerations, it was never expected to be, or presented in our marketing materials as a perfectly waterproof rain suit, or to be ideal for extended rides and severe rain exposures.   We were looking for Roadcrafters to be able to handle about a 20-minute daily commute during a typical moderate rain, while still being much easier to wear on an everyday basis than heavier and harder to change into non-water-resistant leather gear. This is why all Roadcrafter and Roadcrafter Classic suits were (and are) fully lined like leathers, and why, because of the lining being stitched-directly-to-the-outer-fabric construction, and the easy entry zipper arrangement, they may sometimes leak slightly in the crotch in some wet-weather situations.   About seven years ago the original Roadcrafter coverall was superseded by a more advanced R-3 model, and was renamed the ‘Roadcrafter Classic’, and it remains in production today. Many riders still prefer its fully lined design even though it isn’t perfectly waterproof and does not meet today’s ‘Rainwear Without Compromise’ Gore-Tex waterproofness test standard. (That formal certification standard did not exist at the time this suit was created.) All Roadcrafters and current Roadcrafter Classics come with detailed instructions teaching how to easily apply a liquid seam sealer to a few vulnerable areas, which, if carefully done, almost entirely eliminates the wet weather vulnerabilities of this design. These instructions are also downloadable here. Even a slow drop-drop-drop leak every minute or two may cause a large, wet area after an hour or more in wet conditions. It can help to arrange the way the fabric folds across one’s lap in ways which do not help pool or gutter rainwater runoff directly into the zipper and its adjacent stitching. The newer R-3 armored coverall design is fully waterproof and meets the ‘Rainwear Without Compromise’ Gore-Tex standard. Because this design is unlined, a few internal high wear-points may develop after long and hard use which may allow small leaks.  But repairs, if needed, are simple, inexpensive, and easy. A heat-activated seam-sealing tape (or a liquid sealant as above) can easily be applied over any small worn areas which eliminates associated leak (or leaks). This occurs only after lots of hard use. Further information about this and all other maintenance and repair procedures is available during business hours (central USA time zone) at 218 722 1927 or repairs@aerostich.com. - Mr. Subjective, 4-21

“When you own your story, you get to write the ending.” Brené Brown Because Aerostich gear isn’t hanging in cycle shops, and is made in America, and is available only factory direct, media exposure is important. Almost any kind of exposure in social or traditional media is good, which gives professional journalists and ‘influencers’ the space to take their Aerostich gear stories in just about any direction.Personally, I’ve always appreciated stories about Aerostich gear ownership which include the idea that riding gear can be a little more about the function, durability, and practicality -- than the latest ‘tech’ style and fashion stuff. This includes the idea that useful refinements and improvements are incremental and are not driven by a marketing need to announce “new and improved” redesigns every year or two. The idea that if you hope and plan to ride for the rest of your life, then having durable, functional and comfortable gear which is less influenced by fashion (because it was never ‘in fashion’) is a good thing. And the idea that an investment in quality gear one can wear for many years and still get a zipper fixed, or a little crash damage taken care of, is a smarter choice than chasing whatever is the latest-greatest.I also look backward at Aerostich gear as a unique and pioneering original. The still-popular Aerostich Roadcrafter one piece suit was first to combine all the important ingredients for what has become the standard recipe for armored textile riders gear. In the beginning this recipe was so unusual most motorcyclists were reluctant to try it because it didn’t look ‘correct’ in the accepted moto-fashion sense. Sometimes even the more experienced and expert a rider was, the more reluctant they were to accept this entirely new and different way to dress for riding. See this Steven L. Thompson story from a 1986 issue of Cycle World magazine.Today the Aerostich R-3 one piece coverall and the Aerostich Darien and Darien Light suits embody everything we know about making superior quality better wearing equipment and gear to help people ride their motorcycles more easily and comfortably, to a wider range of destinations, and through the widest range of weather conditions and situations.Many riders actually don’t want to ride more. Rather, their priority is to be able to ride better, farther, and safer and faster whenever they do decide to ride somewhere. They also like to look like they know what they are doing, regardless of if they do or not. Online forums are full of posts by enthusiastic and experienced riders strongly testifying how and why their latest ‘it’ jacket is well worth its (high or low) cost. I’m sure they all are. But when I look a little deeper, at least few of these online emperors-of-riding-expertise can seem slightly undressed, at least when measured against my well-known arbitrary Mr. Subjective goal of riding more conveniently, safely and often.If you are reading this far, you already know that in most of the rich and advanced parts of the world motorcycles are toys and riding is consumed primarily for sport or recreation. I too enjoy riding because it simply feels cool and is such great fun, even when it’s raining and/or cold. Riding helps me feel I’m somehow a bit superior to the nearly infinite masses of people which seem to require at least four wheels to get themselves from A to B. It’s so much fun I just want to do it as much as possible, thus the Aerositch coverall.And in addition…Consider that some types of useful gear may be a bit like those original and now classic denim work pants, the ‘Levi’s 501 button fly’ jeans. According to some skillful marketers these jeans can be even further improved with added decorative pocket stitching, or by adding pre-engineered torn, weathered, and distressed areas. All the better for fashion-marketing reasons, except those versions do not make functionally better all-around general wear and work pants. Yes, they may be excellent for signaling to others (and to oneself, when seeing one’s reflection in a mirror) how cool one is, and how directly connected they are with the latest fashion trend. But if one simply wants a good pair of jeans for a wide variety of wearing situations, those basic 501’s (and all the Wrangler, Lee and other very close copies) remain tough to beat.Specialized armored textile riders gear marketing is a lot like that, so don’t go to an online rider’s forum and call out someone who just spent $1,600 on the latest-greatest riding jacket. Those ‘latest-greatest’ versions really are good jackets, and their wearers will be offended the same way a teenager would be if a parent criticized her carefully considered (and costly) pre-ripped jeans. That fashion-aware kid will pout and be offended because how can anyone be so clueless to not understand the importance of looking cool? Peer approval is one of our most strongly hardwired needs.Despite all that, simply choosing to ride any motorcycle is one way to partly step away from our species-wide social-approval instinct. It’s a legal way to throw some of the societal norms about personal mobility under the bus (sorry…) and simply do what feels most right.So (in conclusion) I’ll always enjoy any media exposure for Aerostich gear which celebrates or at least recognizes the un-coolness-coolness aspects of riding a motorcycle, and the related un-coolness-coolness component of most Aerostich gear, because it is motorcycle and scooter riding itself which is so cool, and anything which helps us make it easier, more comfortable, and safer is cool. So, enjoy the ride, and from time to time take a few chances. PS – Here’s my first-ever vlog. The oldest vlogger and most boring vlog you’ll probably watch this week. About thirty minutes exploring and explaining an uncool old bike I ride.

An essay by Mrs. Subjective… Last week was the first time I rode on the back of a motorcycle in more than ten years. It was the first time I rode with my husband, Aerostich’s “Mr. Subjective”, whose life revolves around the activity, or what he would call ‘a social good’. In my years of knowing him, he has talked more about motorcycling and the benefits of motorcycling than anything else. The first time he launched into a monologue about it, I thought he was a bit off, even a little weird. Who was this guy, so passionate about motorcycling? I already knew he was a philosopher. That is one of the main attributes that drew me to him. But I didn’t understand his drive (pun intended). I was intrigued. Throughout the years, I have heard him talk about these beneficial factors to countless people; friends and family, strangers, and more. And he’ll talk about it anywhere. At a dinner party. On the airplane. Even at our wedding. So when we headed up HWY 61 in Duluth the other day, I knew that I was in good hands. But I was still a little scared. It had been so long since I had been on a bike and even though I have my motorcycle license, and owned my own motorcycle once, I hadn’t ridden in ten years. And I forgot. During our ride, I was surprised how quickly I went from feeling scared to feeling alive, calm, and more in tune with the present moment. It dawned on me that I had forgotten so many things about motorcycling that I liked, the ones that drew me to get my own license eleven years ago. I forgot what it felt like to see the world from a new perspective, one without windows intercepting my vision. I forgot what it felt like to notice things on the streets I have driven down countless of times. Mouldings on buildings. A lady sitting on her front porch step smoking a cigarette. The child learning how to ride a bicycle. I forgot what it felt like to feel the wind push against my body. I forgot what it felt like to fly. I smelled the fresh spring flowers and the fresh spring rain which had just come down earlier that day. So much freshness is not something you encounter when sealed in your car. I connected. I smiled at people. The elderly couple at the stop light next to us. I waved. She waved. And gave me a little grin. And the younger couple at the stop light on the way home. They smiled and looked at us a little quizzically. I even stuck my hand down to wave at another biker as we passed in opposite directions. I also connected with my husband. Feeling my body press against his. His left hand patting my left leg, letting me know he was thinking of me. I tasted.I tasted freedom. And the fresh Lake Superior windblown air. I heard.I heard the sound of the bike rumbling against the pavement. I heard the birds chirping in the trees. I heard the wind as it brushed against my helmet. At one point he said, “We’re whimsical”.I liked that. I forgot all of these things. And that short ride up HWY 61 reminded me and solidified everything he’s been telling me about riding since I met him; motorcycling is a human and a social good. It brings us closer to others. It gives us better awareness of our surroundings. It helps one to see more details and to be aware at all times. It makes us better all-around citizens and car drivers. How one can connect with others, and oneself, easier. And how motorcycling can bring one to the present moment, experiencing all of the senses at once, in a new, and transformative way. All of these attributes make me a better car driver. I am now even more aware of those around me, looking out for others who are not in cars; motorcyclists, bikers, walkers, etc. Motorcycling is a solo activity, one which connects one to others in a profound way. I don’t love motorcycling the way Mr. Subjective does. I probably never will. But I have tasted a new sense of freedom within and I want more of it. It’s been five days since we first took that ride together. And three of those days, I’ve asked him to take me again. I have drunk the Kool-Aid. There’s no going back and I’m a better person for it.

If you want to ride a motorcycle often it’s always part of a system. Simply owning a motorcycle is great, but by itself that bike isn’t quite enough if you wish to ride a lot. Just like most individual recreational activities, riding (and racing) require a support system of parts, tools and equipment. And the more frequently and longer you want to be riding, the more extensive a support system you’ll need. If you’re mostly a fair-weather and/or occasional rider, you may only need a place to hang a riding jacket and possibly a shelf for a pair of gloves, or gloves + a helmet. But if you want to ride nearly every day in all kinds of weather, and occasionally travel long distances by motorcycle, you’ll need more. Much more. Long-time high-mile riders usually have a closet full of old gear and a garage full of parts, tools, lubricants and assorted bike-related junk/crap/stuff. Maybe even an extra (or alternate) motorcycle or two. One for daily riding around town, and another for traveling. Or one for when the other one is broken and/or awaiting service, or perhaps another one as a “project bike”. It can be quite a commitment to ride a lot, year after year. For a few riders all of this extra stuff is worth it simply because it means they get to ride all the time. And this is important: every time they ride -- rain or shine, day or night, long or short, hot or cold -- it’s always fun. No matter what. Riding provides one with a nice subtle (but measurable) dose of neural and physical medicine. You feel a little better after riding somewhere, even if it’s just going to the grocery store or wherever you may work. Bonus: If you choose to ride this much, you are also doing the planet and everyone sharing the roads a little favor, too. One Less Car and all that. Road-builders, carmakers and oil companies won’t appreciate that, but they’ll probably manage to get along ok without quite as much of your business.  Side note: I’m fortunate to live in a single-family home, with a non-riding but extremely riding-understanding wife. Our house isn’t unusually large (+-1800 sq ft) but being in this circumstance makes having a system a bit easier. In an apartment or condo there’s a similar system, but it is necessarily a bit smaller since most apartments and condos are smaller. In these places your riding gear usually goes into the entry closet and your helmet and gloves go on the shelf just above. Having a system does not require living in a freestanding home. There’s this, too. I’ve lived in two residences over the past fifty years and my system hasn’t changed much. It involves a garage large enough for a single car, a smallish adjacent space for a few shelves and a clothes-hanging bar positioned high enough so even a one-piece coverall riding suit can hang without touching the floor. In some ways this personal bat-cave setup is as important as the motorcycle itself, just because it makes near-daily riding so much easier and quicker: Get up, out of bed, brush teeth, get dressed, make some tea, read email and/or watch some news while drinking that tea…and it’s time to go.   For me this means walking down a flight of stairs into a basement containing a furnace, water heater, laundry sink, a washer and dryer, too many boxes of stored items, and most importantly, a garage space with an electric door. (Side note: For many years this garage door was not electric. I’d open it, roll the bike out, put the bike back on its side-stand, then go close the garage door. Now that’s all done with a button dangling from a mini carabiner clipped to the shoulder strap of my small backpack.) Mr. Subjective's suit hanging set up: Previous house -- current house. On go the boots, then the riding suit, then the helmet, then the gloves and then (finally…) “I’m outta here!” Off and riding! Best part of any day, rain or shine. The clothes-hanging bar where my jackets, pants and riding suits hung at my first home was a water pipe which ran along the ceiling at a spot near the furnace, but still far enough away so there was no danger. Where I live now, I had to make a hanging bar with supplies from the local home/hardware store, but the job was simple. It’s a piece of wood screwed to one of the floor joists above, supporting one end of a closet hanger rod. The other end is held by a hanging-rod-saddle screwed to the adjacent wall. This whole thing took less than an hour to make and is only two feet long, but there is plenty of room for my gear. And it makes all the difference in how easy it is to go riding. The other bat-cave installation is a narrow set of freestanding shelves reserved for riding gloves, a couple of helmets and assorted small items like ear plugs, bike keys, face shield cleaner and other incidentals. At my first home this stuff was located in a corner of the garage right next to the bike. Where I now live it’s located about three feet from the clothing hanger setup with the riding gear. Both worked just as well. (The little shelving thing was fully assembled and came from an unpainted furniture store and cost less than $100.) That’s all there is to it. Same idea as Batman had for his bat cave, except my system doesn’t involve fighting evildoers. It’s simply about getting around on two wheels more often and easily. Nothin’ fancy.  Motorcycling is a system. What's yours?

My reply, whenever people ask, “Aren’t you hot?” is “Yes I am.” But my favorite reply to any question about wearing Aerostich gear on a hot day came from my friend John Chase. Thirty years ago, we were riding back roads and cross-country dirt trails heading diagonally north-west from Phoenix Arizona toward Yosemite National Park in California, and trying to ride about as close to an as-the-crow-flies route as possible. The route-chart guide for this journey was privately developed by an old desert-explorer rider named Allen Naille, who was an Aerostich customer. He ran one of those leased-from-the-park-service ‘concessionaire hotels’ on the rim of the Grand Canyon, and had a bunch of cool ‘Lucky Explorer’ Paris-Dakar bikes. (Alan, if you are reading this, I’d love to hear from you.) At that time colorful Aerostich and Aerostich-type armored textile gear was still uncommon. Our route hopscotched across the west, stitching together two lanes, dirt roads and two-track trails. In some sections getting gasoline was a problem. One section required us to detour about twenty miles up a dead-end road to a little copper mining town where there was a single small gas station. This combination C-store gas-station was just a worn-out metal building with a couple of small windows and selection of old worn-out tires on the roof. There were broken and/or junked cars over to one side and the entire town looked like maybe it could be movie set or a perfect place for some strange cult to hide out, except it was actually all there to house workers who were paid to remove underground veins of copper at as low a cost as possible. Every soul there (three hundred?) will leave the place as fast as they can, the moment the mine closes. As we were filling our tanks under a blazing hot sun a rough looking biker guy rode up on an older stripped-down chopper looking as if he’d just ridden out of a scene in one of those awful biker B movies made in the 1960’s. A rusty, greasy shovelhead, I think. He leaned the unmuffled machine way over onto its sidestand at the pump just ahead of the one John and I had just been sharing. As he got off and turned toward us, I could see strapped to his right thigh a holster carrying a well-worn 45 cal revolver hanging low on a wear-burnished leather cartridge holding gun belt. Hard to miss that kind of big hog-leg riding accessory. John and I were standing there sweating in our colorful Cordura-Gore Tex armored nylon Aerostich suits, almost ready to go, but both our helmets were still hanging from our bike’s handlebars as this rider turned directly toward us, and said in a disapproving challenging voice: “Hey, why are you wearing all that stuff?”. He might have waved a hand gesturing at the helmets. I instantly felt a little shot of adrenaline, and didn’t know what to say. But without missing a beat my friend John gave this guy his widest toothy smile and replied in a serious, sincere questioning voice: “Because I fall off mine all the time. How do you stay on yours?”. Silence. Then the dusty gun-toting outlaw chopper rider from Central Casting smiled and let out short laugh. A brief friendly conversation followed. Scene: Two riders in the middle of nowhere, standing under a broiling sun beside two beat-up dusty rusty gas pumps, sweating inside their armored sci-fi outer space Martian astronaut riding suits. Just another relentlessly hot Arizona summer day talking casually with some broken loner 1880’s cowboy-outlaw-biker who’d just ridden up on an old-school oil-dripping exhaust-belching hardtail chopper. Wearing a well-used Colt revolver. Another proof that you really do ‘Meet the Nicest People on a Honda’. On every other motorcycle, too. “Aren’t you hot?” You reply while smiling: “Hell yes I am,”, or, if you’d prefer to reply a bit more like ‘Forrest Gump’ might, then after a pause to consider this question, you use your slowest most serious and earnest voice: “Yes I am.” It works every time. People just want to know. They ask only to somehow reassure themselves that you are the idiot, and they are not. Mr. Subjective, 5-2021 The Best Aerostich suit for riding in Every Weather? For our first fifteen years, all Aerostich advertising was headlined: “ADVANCED TECHNOLOGY RIDERS CLOTHING” with the smaller sub-headline: “COOLER THAN LEATHERS”. Every suit came with a detailed four-page Owner’s Manual, and part of it explained how to dress in layers for varying temperatures. (Hot = shorts and a t shirt. Cold = base and insulating layers) Today riders still receive an updated version of this guide with new Aerostich gear. We now offer several completely different types of armored riders gear. Leather. Waxed Cotton. Synthetic textile. Basically, all the synthetic textile models, the Roadcrafter Classic, R-3, AD1, Darien and the ‘light’ versions of these suits, wear slightly better in warmer conditions, with the ‘lights’ being a bit cooler-wearing than the regular versions, and the lighter colors (tan, gray, Hi-Viz) also being a bit more comfortable when it’s hot and sunny. In extreme heat conditions all can still be very cool if you add ice to the outer pockets, but this is seldom necessary. (Note: Water from pocketed liquifying ice flows to the outside through the needle holes around the perimeter of each pocket, not to the inside of the garment.) When it’s over 95ºF the suits work best when all the vent zippers are closed. Especially in desert areas. This helps create a slightly moist internal micro-climate which is healthier than exposing your skin the desiccating/dehydrating wind blast. (Which is why for countless centuries Semitic and nomadic peoples living in the world’s hottest desert areas prefer wearing hot-looking long robes and tunics.) For cooler rides, and in order of their warm-ness, first is the waterproof leather Transit suit. The next warmest wearing (this is a tie) is the Falstaff and Cousin Jeremy waxed cotton suits. And like the synthetic textile models, this gear also has a wide comfort range thanks to multiple zippered air vents. Both the Corium leather and waxed cotton are relatively breathable if the ambient humidity is not super high. You’ll freeze in the synthetic textile models if the temps drop into the 60’s (ºF) and you are just wearing a t shirt and shorts, but worn this way the Transit, CJ and Falstaff will still be pretty cozy down to the 50’s (ºF). – Mr. Subjective, 6-2021

This post/essay is included in Section 5 of the book "The Riders" (pictured below) available for purchase here. The smaller and more obscure a road is, the more interesting it usually will be on a motorcycle. This size/interestingness inverse proportionality is well known to experienced riders. Motorcyclists naturally want to find out what is just over there, on the other side of the horizon, and around the next few bends in the road. We do this again and again, often via ever smaller and less crowded roads. If enough reasons exist to get from wherever we are to somewhere over there, a small pathway will first develop, which, over the course of time as more people want to go there, will become a larger road. The more travelers, the wider and straighter a road will become. At one extreme are superhighways with as many as eight or more lanes in each direction, and at the other end of this spectrum are endless squiggly, seldom-used, single-and-double track trails. The genius of every motorcycle ever made is its unique ability to help us traverse and enjoy this entire range. No other motorized vehicle is able do this. Road networks develop in ways similar to the branch and root systems of trees and the evolved meandering pathways of river and circulatory systems. Mathematicians sometimes describe this natural branching using algorithmic formulas for fractals, and riders experience it more directly whenever they choose to head off down roads that become successively smaller and less commonly used. Thus, roads that don’t seem to go anywhere important often make for very desirable journeys on a motorcycle. I’m located in the north central part of the United States, and from here to the West Coast it’s about 1,800 miles (2,900 km) by road or about 1,500 miles (2,400 km) by air on the shortest-distance great circle. Covering this distance are three more-or-less parallel and reasonably comparable routes: Interstate 94, US Highway 2, and Highway 200. From top to bottom on a map, US 2 runs near the US/Canada border, Highway 200 does the same roughly 50 miles (80 km) farther south, and I-94 crosses similar country about another 100 miles (160 km) lower. “I-Ninety-Four” is the newest. It connects largish prairie cities like Minneapolis, Fargo, and Billings with a smooth kind of efficiency appreciated by engineers, accountants, long-haul truckers, and drivers with places to go and things to do. This road is about speed, safety, and making good time. At the other extreme is the much older “Two Hundred” that connects countless little farm and ranch towns and is occasionally intersected by even smaller crossroads and driveways, each unique. Lastly, “US Highway Two” evenly splits this difference in traffic, average speeds, roadway age, safety, and architecture. The Interstate (aka “Freeway”) is about as straight, flat, and smooth as is humanly possible to achieve. It comes complete with a wide, nicely mowed, grassy median separating the opposing lanes, of which there’s always a minimum of four, so it’s usually simple to safely pass other vehicles at any time. Its paved shoulders are extra-wide, and 50 feet (15 m) beyond them is a sturdy wire fence to help keep local wildlife out of your way. There are no stop signs; all crossroads involve bridges, underpasses, or on-and-off ramps. You simply lock down your bike’s throttle at the chosen speed and this endless slab of near-perfect pavement supports you and your bike until the machine needs gasoline, or you get hungry and thirsty, or you need to pee. The magnificent Great Plains pass by in the distance and produce an effect that is simultaneously awesome and soporific. Highway Two Hundred is at the other extreme. With a few exceptions, there’s little traffic and you’ll find only two opposing and fairly narrow lanes the entire way. The endless prairie, foothills, and mountains begin a couple of feet from the edge of a slim gravel shoulder and extend in every direction to the far-off horizon. There’s no median and no wildlife fences. You are right in the environment. Along one side of this ribbon, an infinite row of evenly spaced telephone poles has been planted. Every so often you’ll notice a hunting bird perched atop one of them. Each of 200’s small towns, motels, roadhouses, and gasoline stations is slightly different, and between them every few miles are occasional lonely-looking ranch mailboxes. You’ll also occasionally see someone out walking, riding horseback, or bicycling. Those you may stop to talk with will be polite and sometimes a little quirky. The quality of 200’s pavement is generally very good, but during the spring thaw, a few low places may be a bit flooded. You’ll see mountains, forests, rising foothills, small streams, rolling prairies, near-endless billiard-table flat areas, and great expanses of naturally variegated terrain—the Great Plains up close. Occasionally there will be a required 90-degree turn at an intersection in the middle of nowhere, so if you want to remain on this highway, you need to pay attention to signposts. Even out there with almost nothing else around you, it’s still possible to miss an important turn. Sometimes more than an hour will pass without seeing even one other vehicle, and it’s easy to run out of gas if you don’t stop to fill up where you need to. Though this road (like all roads) can be cannonballed, taking 200 usually means riding about 600 miles (966 km) each day, which makes either reaching or returning from the West Coast an easy three-day project. Both directions are a ride you’ll remember. It doesn’t take a genius to correctly guess which roads deliver the best riding experiences. When you have the time, it’s nearly always the road less taken. Enjoy the ride.

“Social media is less a reflection of who we are, and more a performance of who we want to be." - Drew Harwell and Shiori Okazaki, May 11, 2021, in a Washington Post front-page story featuring a life-long motorcycle rider. Here’s a link to the full article. The story is about a 50-year-old male rider in Japan who successfully pretended to be a beautiful young female rider on social media by employing a popular face-image altering app. This technology helped him develop a large social media audience. When he eventually revealed the truth about who he actually was, his social media audience became even larger. Missing from this exceptional article is how similar such online behavior is to traditional real-world cosplay, and, extrapolating further, how closely linked cosplay-in-general is to the huge commercial success of the Harley Davidson company as they provided a mass-produced river of carefully developed bikes and ‘costume’ gear which allowed a generation of average people (baby boomers) to dress up and enjoy riding around casually projecting the appearance of genuine 1% biker outlaws. At least a passing resemblance to those riders. Putting aside how actual criminal bike gang members may have felt about being elevated to aspirational fashion icons by thirty-five years of Harley’s brilliant marketing programs, at the bottom of this story is (…predicably) William Shakespeare and his famous stage-scripted line about how “…all the world’s a stage, and we are just players.” That is a paraphrase from the opening soliloquy in “As You Like It.” (which might partly be about how marketing works, but I’m guessing). There’s no place else to go with this except to note a sentence from Steve Thompson’s 1985 Cycle World Op-ed essay “Dressing Up”, which was written about his confounding and revelatory experiences using one of the very first Aerostich suits. At that time even the most enlightened and expert riders did not understand or appreciate high-tech armored textile coveralls. Summarizing this, he wrote: “…there is an obvious reason why riding gear for street bikers is so style sensitive: Riding a street bike itself is largely a matter of style.” We had always sorta hoped otherwise. Shakespeare knew better. All the world IS a stage, and this inescapably includes all of us Road Grimed Astronauts. Here’s the rest of Steve’s prescient 1985 one-page essay. - Mr. Subjective, May 17, 2021

Today, we're highlighting our top three favorite parks for motorcycle rides. Share your favorites with us in the comment section below or on our Facebook page! Location: Virginia and North CarolinaThis 469-mile-long scenic road connects Shenandoah National Park in Virginia to Great Smoky Mountains National Park in North Carolina. Features: Mountain views Wildlife Over 100 species of trees Rich in history Did we mention it's 469 miles of riding? Learn More » Location: Southern California"Two distinct desert ecosystems, the Mojave and the Colorado, come together in Joshua Tree National Park." - National Park Service website Features: 800,000 acres of park Camp, hike + more Desert wilderness Joshua trees (of course) Diverse wildlife - reptiles, birds, etc. Learn More » Location: Northern CaliforniaNamed for Lassen Peak, the largest plug dome volcano, it features many miles of riding through diverse terrain. Features: 30 mile parkway 3 additional roads to remote areas Waterfalls Lake views Steaming fumaroles Numerous volcanoes Learn More » About Riding In National Parks...All National Parks have their own police enforcement. They write their own federal moving violation (and other) tickets, so speeding or hooligan riding there is a bad idea. One pretty afternoon crossing Joshua Tree I was pulled over simply for riding blithely along standing on my bike's footrests. Not going fast, just enjoying the incredible views from a slightly higher vantage point. When you ride this way, standing up, your rear-view mirrors don’t work, so it was a quite a while before I realized I was being pulled over. This was embarrassing. Several other park visitors drove past the Park Ranger and I, frowning at the scofflaw biker. Fortunately I received only a verbal warning. Laws are strictly enforced in all National Parks. All of Blue Ridge Parkway is a National Park. When I last rode it I think the speed limit was only 45mph. For me at that time this was frustrating. It also seemed difficult to get on, or off, this road. Access points were limited. But the parkway’s pavement is manicure-perfect everywhere, and there are endless rows of pretty flowers planted along the shoulders almost the entire way. The earth right next to all those flowers was unblemished bluegrass, trimmed, mowed and groomed about as perfectly as the greens on a golf course. Hardly a blade of grass out of place. You almost need to see it to believe it. This is an unreal Disneyland of a road if you have the patience, and the views across the broad valleys are spectacular. And if, like Clark Griswold looking over the edge of the Grand Canyon for just five or ten seconds, you don’t have the patience, there are tons of fun and very curvy regular roads winding every which way around and through those mountains, with roadside scenes of houses, cabins, small towns and farms where real people are living real everyday lives. Lassen in California has a smaller footprint, but you’ll never see anyplace else in the USA remotely like it. Lots of steeply banked corners pirouette you and your bike closely around small and not-so-small bubbling pools of turquoise, orange, white and yellow mineralized water, bubbling up from the dormant lava-hot volcano literally only a short distance beneath your bikes tires. If this place wasn’t a National Park, half of Hollywood's sci-fi exoplanet movie locations would have been located here. Like most National Parks, every so often you’ll want to stop on the shoulder and just take it all in.- Mr. Subjective, 4-21

This is a great question. We don’t actually know much about this, and very little useful information is available online. What we’ve found there is not precise. The Gore-Tex® membrane on the back side of the Cordura fabric does not seem to have a wear-limit in normal use. It’s good as long as it’s cared for and the outer Cordura fabric is good. All fabric durability varies by fabric type, weight, weathering and wear. The Cordura we use is fairly heavy weight, which helps it last longer and resist wear and UV exposure better. Our direct material and workmanship warranty is for two years, which I felt would cover the most severe wear scenarios. I.E. - Someone who rides over 150,000/miles a year for two years, on a bike without a windshield or fairing. Only a very few Aerostich customers ride that much. Based on what we see every day in our repair department, wear varies greatly, and this is very different than age. Some garments still look almost new after ten or even twenty years, but on average most begin look fairly used-up after about 12-15 years of ‘typical wear’. For those ’typical wear’ scenarios we see come through our repair department, we know the Cordura 500 provides effective crash abrasion-resistance for approximately 12-15 years. We know this from examining many crashed garments which have been sent to us for repairs. Obviously the newer the garment the better, crash-wise, but for ’typical-wear’ garments the protective performance difference between 'brand new' and '10 years old' seems pretty negligible. If you visit our facility, you can see this yourself by looking at a display of about fifteen crash-damaged suits hanging on the wall. These days we occasionally receive very old garments which show much more age and wear than ’typical wear’. Our repair expert (a co-worker with years of experience) evaluates all of them. If the fabric feels too worn-out based on overall experience, our expert will tag the garment as ‘unsuitable for protection’ before sending it back to the customer. We may still repair a broken zipper (or whatever) even if it no longer meets our protective-function requirements. I’ve forgotten precisely what the ‘unsuitable for protection' tag reads, but it’s something like (paraphrasing): “This garment no longer meets our minimum requirements for rain and crash protection.” In summary, we don’t know the exact life of the fabric without first inserting all of the above qualifiers. Separately, there also is a rider-psychology aspect to this: ‘Fonzie’ (of TV’s ‘Happy Days’), famously imbued his old worn leather jacket with a kind of special quality protecting him from harm in some kind of magical way. Many riders do this to some extent. It’s natural. Riding produces happy-chemicals in one’s brain, and some of this happiness-feeling is transferred to a rider’s favorite gear and also to their bike. All motion activities produce this happiness effect, which is why skis, bicycles, surfboards and the like are usually also extra-special to their users. Similarly, most very small children (including me when I was very young, and Linus Van Pelt from the ‘Peanuts’ cartoon strip) imbue a favorite blanket or something with a similar kind of special magical value in exactly this way. So, when we see a twenty-year-old well-worn suit, which is all faded and floppy and looks like it’s ready to fall apart, it probably is. After its zipper (or whatever) is fixed it is tagged as no-longer meeting our functional requirements and shipped. When the customer receives it back, it’s out of our control. -- Mr. Subjective 4-2021

Did you and your contemporaries ever call notoriously slow cars and bikes ‘stones’? For example: “That old van sure is a stone…” When I was growing up my pals and I always referred to all underpowered vehicles as ‘stones’ or ‘slugs’, so I’m not sure if the new ‘Moto Guzzi V7 Stone ’ is an example of truth-in-advertising, or if someone at the company was unfamiliar with twentieth century midwestern American slang, or maybe they felt a reverse-psychology name for this bike would attract younger, hipper irony-craving buyers. Those youthful sophisticates who call their cars ‘whips’. How cars and bikes are named is one of the minor mysteries of the universe, and so is how some models receive affectionate nicknames from the public. Such nicknames are usually better than the original manufacturer-given names. For example, a ‘flivver’ is a much better name than ‘model T’, and a ‘Bug’ or ‘Beetle’ are both leagues better than the official name of that original Volkswagen car, which was ‘Type 1’. Fiat named it’s similar tiny car the Tipolino, which in Italian is ‘Little Mouse’. The Italians have flair. This name is better. Several of my favorite vehicle nicknames involve motorcycles. The old Suzuki GT 750 (with its capable three-cylinder liquid cooled two stroke engine) was universally known as the ‘Water Buffalo’ (in the USA) and the ‘Kettle’ (as in tea kettle) in the UK. Its unusual idling exhaust burble sounded almost like water boiling in a stove top tea kettle, but I have no clue about the origin of ‘water buffalo’. While this model was in production, and for many years afterward, one could go anywhere in the world and tell any other rider you had a ‘Water Buffalo’ and they would instantly know exactly what you were referring to. Same as ‘Hog’, which of course identifies all larger Harley Davidsons, and ‘Airhead’ for all older BMW’s and ‘Lead Wing’ for all Honda Gold Wings. ‘Water Buffalo’ might be the best affectionate bike nickname on record so far. Several of these old Water Buffalos have in recent years actually been ridden in the famous Ironbutt 11-day endurance event. Many people simply enjoy pronouncing those two incongruously joined words. ‘Water Buffalo’. My wife has a quirky tradition of naming her cars after characters from the movie ’Napoleon Dynamite’. Her last car, a black Toyota Corolla which she’d purchased new eleven years ago, was always named ‘Kip’. For the past several months her new black Volkswagen Tiguan has gone back and forth between ‘Uncle Rico’ and ‘Rex’. At the moment it looks like ‘Rex’ is winning. I’ve never named any of my vehicles, except when they are not cooperating with my pathetic efforts to repair their occasional faults. At that point they all temporarily receive this name: ’The Pig from Hell’. It’s a name never to be spoken aloud just in case they can hear. If there is one company with a gift for coming up with great names, it would have to be Rolls Royce, with names like the ‘Phantom’, ’Silver Ghost’, ‘Wraith’, etc. You can’t do much better than those. The Mercury ‘Zephyr’ name comes close, but it was a fluke. Who wants to drive a Marauder or Grand Marquis? Moto Guzzi makes some great motorcycles. One long-produced nearly indestructible early model featured a large forward-pointing horizontal cylinder with a massive external flywheel attached to the left end of its crankshaft. This was a bit of an odd-looking bike in a military-steam-punk-meets-antiquarian-moto-technology way, but everything worked well, and the bike was apparently quite good. I’ve seen a couple of them at random bike nights. Their very long production run ended about a dozen years before I began riding. That big spinning external flywheel is spectacular when the engine is running. A higher-performance version of this model had a superb name: ‘Falcone’ which is Italian for Falcon. They probably also had some cool nickname, likely referencing that huge naked flywheel, but Falcone was such a great name whatever the slang name might have been could hardly top it. Moto Guzzi has long had a knack for model names. Their larger contemporary sport bikes have frequently been named ‘Le Mans’ after the famous French racetrack, and the smaller sporting ones are called ‘Monza’s after another famous Italian track. The Monza race facility must be a bit smaller than Le Mans. Guzzi’s luxury-class bikes were long called either ‘Eldorado’s or ‘Ambassador’s. Those models were popular world-wide as police bikes and also for ceremonial or parade escort use, so those names were appropriate to the institutional use these models often served. I remember them being Harley-solid dreadnaughts which were easy to maintain, super durable, comfortable long-distance bikes. They competed most directly with alpha-numerically named BMW’s. If you were a daily-riding motor-officer, which would you rather tell someone you rode? The tutonically-named R-75, or an Ambassador? (Side note: Both of those good names were also used on popular automobiles. Cadillac once sold lots of Eldorado’s and a few years earlier American Motors/Rambler also sold a fair number of Ambassadors.) The new Moto Guzzi ‘Stone’ seems like a nicely modernized mid-size old-school bike. Well-engineered, practical and a bit uncommon. If you are shopping for bikes and believe any particular model is likely to remain in production for a long time, uncommon-ness is a real virtue. Earlier versions of the ‘Stone’ have been produced for many years, so it is likely future versions of it will be made for a long time ahead. This is a good thing. If you happen to be looking for a bike about like the Stone, you could do a lot worse. Say (for example) you were comparing it with a Triumph Tiger or Speed Triple (great names, great bikes), several of the excellent Ducati ‘Scrambler’ iterations and, for good measure, also the wonderful Suzuki SV650/Gladius. All are current versions of long-running models. Your choice might simply come down to if there is a better Guzzi, Triumph or Suzuki shop nearby. As a thought-experiment imagine answering the common question: “Hey, what kind of bike is that?” with: “It’s a Stone. A Moto Guzzi Stone.” (“Bond. James Bond…”) Does that seem like it would be more fun than pronouncing the names of the similar machines? “It’s a what?…A Stone?” Maybe “Stone” is a cool bike name after all. Not quite in the ‘Water Buffalo’ coolness league, but definitely in that same ballpark. I double-dog-dare any Japanese, Korean, Indian or Chinese bike manufacturer to name a new motorcycle their XYZ ‘Slug’. “So, what are you riding?” would receive this great deadpan reply: “It’s a XYZ Slug.”. You couldn’t say that without grinning inside. This would seem to be difficult to top, though Renault-Nissan once offered an overly cute small car called an ‘Escargot’ (Snail), so maybe there are no absurd name boundaries. Perhaps in the future some boring nerd book will be written about the universe of interesting, cool and odd bike and car names. Bikes like the ‘Monkey’, ‘Concourse’, ‘Ninja’, ‘Blackbird’, ‘Hurricane’, and ‘Rune’. Already there’s this random bike name generator out there on the internet three languages. Whatever you call your chosen conveyance, its name is cool. -- Mr. Subjective 2021 PS – As far back as I remember I’ve had a soft spot for the vehicle name ‘Roadmaster’, which Buick used for decades on one of its larger cars. And long ago my younger brother gifted me the luxuriously chromed plastic model badge you see here (right). On Buicks this badge added about five miles per hour to the top end, and on this home-made garage boombox I’m positive it has always added two or three more decibels.