Year End Blog

Today I went to the DMV again. Seems that I have been there way too many times this year plus The Auto Club's DMV counter. Today was the quickest, although not the cheapest, visit of the year. Back in January my mutant teenager required a visit for his license, his written test, his driving test, the two cars he acquired, and later my two dirt bikes. One of the bikes I have had for several years, but it had never been registered, that took three DMV trips plus two additional visits to the CHP office. That mess required hours of waiting, 40 miles of driving for each of the trips (three total) and much frustration. The second dirt bike took less than ten minutes after a three week wait for an appointment in spite of the fact that there were several errors on the pink slip, wrong name and dates. The lady at the counter said "when did you buy the bike" as the sale date entered had not occurred yet. My explanation was that the seller post dated it as to have plenty of time to register it and she said, "No problem, I will just change it." When using the Auto Club counter nit picking problems can make a simple transaction a nightmare but that will take more time than to explain than I care to spend now.

Last week the high desert was covered with snow and a week later the snow was all gone except for patches . The riding was great as there wasn't any dust, mud or puddles. Mother Nature knows how to drain things much better that the Corp of Army Engineers. When ever the lake bed get wet the rangers close it to protect the surface from all the crazy folks that want to drive on it and make great ruts and holes, plus getting stuck causing more damage. The Southern California Association races cars and motorcyles across the lake bed when it is dry and has been doing that for probably seventy years. My first trip there to see the races was in a new 1956 Dodge. The surface needs to be smooth as speeds exceed two hundred miles an hour on the faster rides. Going really fast on a rutted course is not a lot of fun. Been there done that.

Riding in the Snow

Well the rain and snow that came through Wednesday left its mark in the desert. My plan for Saturday was to go out to El Mirage and ride my Yamaha but I was afraid it would be too dam cold. The weather report for the area was showing a low temperature report of 14 degrees in the morning and a high of 41.

So I included bundles of clothing and a blanket but that wasn't necessary as a t-shirt would do as the sun was bright and the blanket of snow reflected the sun's energy to make for a more than pleasant day. Riding with a parka on in the snow made you to warm and trying it without it made you too cold. The effort to stay straight and upright required a great effort in muscling the handlebars. You never knew if the rear tire would break through the snow and give you some traction.

If you got the bike moving fast enough it would float through the snow making riding woops or sand washes a total blast. Powder would blow up off the front wheel and your rear wheel would throw up a giant rooster tail which would land on the back of your seat. After a while your butt would get wet and cold so would would have to stop and dry out and rest your arms. There was snow everywhere and without tracks as nobody had been out riding since the snow dumped.

The lake bed has been closed since the previous rain but with all the snow cover cross country skiing may be an option (if you like it flat). All the white flatness reminds me of Bonneville.

Nunc est Bibendum

Went to the desert over the weekend. Well I went to what is left of the desert and where we camped out is now part of a park ran by the BLM (Bureau of Land Management). The area surrounds a dry lake called El Mirage and the lake bed is used by assorted fans of this vast flat surface for racing, sailing (with wheels), jeeps, motorcycles, gliders, normal airplanes and those not quite normal. As of October 1, 2008 the BLM started charging for entrance to park. They had been building a fence around it for several years and the rumor was some day they would start charging and now the day has come. I am not certain when the word BLM came into my vocabulary but among desert riders it was a very hated word then.

And there is my portable mobile hair dispenser who thinks the desert is maybe paradise and she rides shotgun seat or floor depending on her mood. Her name is DeDe, two Ds and she got that name by being a desert dog. She came into our family via a cardboard box that was placed in front of Stater Brothers market in Phelan which is located south of El Mirage and used to be the only store of that size for a zillion miles around. Myself, my son and his friend had stopped at the store for supplies and it was a few weeks before Christmas and I am a sucker for puppies. Her first ride was from the store to El Mirage where we went riding dirt bikes for the day. She probably had her first can of dog food (actually two small tins in the back of a Chevy pickup) and had just been weaned. When she was a wee pup she was a cute little ball of fur now she leaves her hair on the boat, our carpet, the van and anywhere she lays down. DeDe has been to the desert many a time but this trip was the first time she had so many buddies and friends to play, bark and chew with.






Before we left the flat lands to head for the desert we had to climb the feared toll road mountain that divides plastic southern Orange County from the mighty Santa Ana River that runs next to the fastest jam free 91 Freeway. Several wagers were made my the mutant teenagers than the VW van would never make it over the dreaded toll road mountain and the wages were even higher than it would never, never climb over the mountains to the high desert which is between 4 or 5 thousand feet at the summit. I tried to explain than the van was born close to the German Alps and would scoff at these small California mountains and indeed it did. We went flying over the toll road at 42 mph pedal to the floor and crested the summit going over into the desert at a brave 44 mph carrying a full size motorcycle parked inside next to the stove and kitchen sink. And nothing was removed or altered to carry it inside the van.












With several families sharing stories, excellent food, my daughter's Margaritas, and an unending supply of fire wood for the fire DeDe simply refused to get in the van when it was time to go home.
Since I use the word zillion as a simple plural I must guesstimate the number of flies inside my yellow rolling pent house with an upper floor bedroom to be more than a mere zillion but a zillion zillion (that is a zillion squared to those math majors) and the small stubborn flies refused to leave or be blown out by the violent winds that came through my wind wings when I reached 65 mph going down the mountain grade. We are already planning our next adventure to go motorcycling riding and next time will remember to bring matches, cork screw, and fly spray.