I feel alive; the blaring roar of my engine as I row through the gearbox, feeling the front tires fold and tuck, in and out, in and out, while the rear scratches and claws for traction, always pushing me around and twisting my bodies, steering wheel twitching, hunting and darting, bouncing and pulsing, seeking that perfect inertial drift . . . wheels cocked sideways, counter-steering and on the pipe, perfect flow, perfectly flowing, smooth and raw and brutal - all pieces working together to separate, translate, re-direct and transfer energy from fuel and air. Barbaric, clattering, an Exercise of Power. Loud Noisy, Everything Howling, my Existence is Now - and more is coming. I have the tools and the desire to forge ahead, to see beyond my past and experience connection. I'm ready.

This feeling comes and goes, the briefest of touches, a caress and the flip of hair into my hand on a warm, windy sun-filled day. I can feel the spray of the waves licking at my face, no longer stinging my eyes, welcoming me home. I am so proud and grateful to be learning again; I am feeling more fulfilled, more productive, and more connected. It is bliss. I missed you. I am sorry I forgot what this feeling was truly like, but I will honor you. I have taken the last 4% of my life to find some measure of peace again. Everything is coming together as it should. I am seeing myself in the equation and how everything affects me, and how I, in turn, affect everything. The missing pieces are drawing closer, tidal waves and the gravitational pull of my life force, the heartbeat of the universe is within my grasp. Circles. Always Circles. My earthquake is building. I have held the sun in my hands before, but it was not something I could hold on to. To know this feeling is to want it, to chase my dreams and aspire that warmth again. I'm out there. I will be one with myself, for I am everything I was meant to be. Let life become ever deeper and more meaningful.

I encourage you to watch this video on full screen.
Ulrich Schnauss: Monday Paracetamol

Conditions weren't the best; heavy rains the week prior had washed a lot of dirt and debris onto the road, and several corners were still awash with little rivulets and streams, making for some hurried decelerations. The day prior I had run with a crew and the rider in front of me managed to rear end a postal van on Pescadero. Tis' the season . . . to be careful, cautious, and remember the mantra of the mountain rider. "Make it home."

I remember my discussions with powertrain engineers during the development of the SuperQuadro engine (or SuperQuadrata as it was known in its early stages), a radically oversquare v-twin that was destined for extreme RPM's, and I remember the difficulty we had on the GP teams with the packaging of our complex and sophisticated electronics control devices. I won't be getting into the precise details of the materials tested and chosen for the production version of this machine, but I would like to take a few moments and discuss what I feel are the noteworthy and ground-breaking aspects of the 1199; a machine that I will simply refer to as "God-Bike". The laws of physics have been bent; gaps in logic forced open and closed with the high speed precision that can only come from Ducati's signature desmodromic valvetrain. This is truly a stunning machine, especially when the clothes come off and we're left with the naked truth.

Music has been a constant in my life from early days, and it's why I share so much of it here. Oftentimes, I find it replaces words and can more accurately replicate or instigate a mood or feeling. Smile more :)

Don't just sit there.

I spent Saturday morning running through the Santa Cruz mountains on the way to meet up with a "True Grit" rain or sun ride with a group of hardcore motorcycling enthusiasts. They will often ride in gnarly conditions to learn more about available traction while practicing advanced bike control, and just to have a good time challenging the weather while most folks stay inside (roads are typically more empty, almost no bicyclists, etc). Unfortunately, I didn't quite make it to the starting point of the ride and ended up calling it an early day. I crashed.

Eras end above us
Eras end above us

I see the headlight halo
I see the headlight halo

Eras end above us
Eras end above us

I see the headlight halo
I see the headlight halo

As a rule, I don't like the rain. It always means more cleaning for me, as the tires on my bike kick up a lot of dirt and rocks, and I simply don't like how the moisture gets everywhere (sometimes into nooks and crannies that I can't easily clean). Rain can bring about odd and intermittent electrical problems by causing corrosion to form in the bike's connectors and ground paths, and it can chill you to the bone if you're not geared up correctly. I really don't like being wet unless I'm sitting on a longboard waiting for the next set to roll in, or in a warm bath/jacuzzi! There is something very special about surfing amidst the rain in Hawaii; warm water turned cool from the winds, and the rain drops appear to be jumping up out of the ocean. Very surreal and empty, an existentialist plane with a rolling, black-water spiked surface. Here in San Francisco, the rain usually brings dark skies and a natural depression that causes most to curl up with a warm, snuggly blanket and some soup. But . . . . it can be incredibly fun and challenging to ride in the rain, and the ability to do it well is truly an art. The connection between bike and rider becomes that much more tenuous, but can also be enhanced by the danger and treacherousness of the conditions, in part from to the increased focus necessary just to keep it on two. For this reason, I tend not to shy away from riding through the mountains when the rains are upon us. Riding through a storm is a natural way to test your physical and mental capabilities against the elements, to test the fortitude (and water-resistant designs) of your machinery, and to cry havok and unleash the power of your will upon the roads.

Air - Moon Fever, video from '63, Andy Warhol's "Kiss".

Writing, how I have missed you. The self-imposed sense of deadlines and deliverables, this need to put something down and communicate in a way that uses neither my voice or body language, these thoughts floating 'round in my head are finalized into bits and pixels and expressed digitally. This is my new song.

Jules then took a picture (I know, go figure) of the post ride beer he was enjoying.

We spent some time just catching up and managed to record a decent segment for the Motopod show (formerly MotoGPod, but now Motopodcast). We spoke on a number of subjects (not all about racing) and it was truly special to be able to spend some time just being open and honest with an old friend.

Here's the full episode, "And so ends our winter of discontent" Jim Race, Martin Darlington, Brett McCormick, and Simon Pavey also feature, and at 2 hours and 43 minutes, it's quite a long show.

Here's the recording of Jules and myself. I think it does a good job of conveying where I'm at these days, hope you like it.

I've documented a few of the changes that I've made to the front end of my Fireblade, but I haven't really explained all the changes I've made to the rear - so now it's time to pay up! I tried my best to keep the front end of the bike as simple and elegant as possible, while still creating my own unique "face" and using this to accentuate the broad shoulders of the frame spars. I wanted my headlight to be small and discreet, to blend into the forks and triple trees, and I feel I've succeeded nicely. The powerful HID works exceptionally well and has held up to the abuse of rainstorms, hard landings from wheelies and 10-15(!) foot jumps up and down Mansell St. If you use Google street view, you'll see the four distinct crests coming up from the freeway exit, and while a seat bounce at 45 MPH will get your wheels in the air, a blast up any of these at 60+ will almost clear both lanes of cross traffic and allow you to land on the next rise . . . . but I digress.

I've been watching my friend become more and more advanced as a photographer, and this inspired me to pull out my "big gun", a Canon Rebel XT that I'd bought in '05 in preparation for my travels overseas. I found my tripod in the boot of my car, and the last few nights have been an re-exploration into framing, composition, and overall picture quality. I've mostly used my big gun for capturing high definition photos of GP bikes, so I could examine and study the detail changes between iterations (see top right corner), but now I'm enjoying using it more for artistic expression. Once the hardware is paid for, digital photos are basically free, so it's a fairly cost effective hobby and it's yet another way to transmit emotion and information. Thanks for showing me some new techniques, Brad!

I began experimenting with building a carbon fiber bucket, using plastic take out containers from a favorite Thai restaurant and a margarine tub as bases to take molds from. While I was imagining what I wanted to create, I started to see the final product, and I knew it would be a simple aesthetic of carbon and aluminum.

After all . . .
CARBON IS THE NEW BLACK.

When creating something, it's important to have vision. So many great ideas are corrupted by time, complacency, and lack of focus and/or appreciation. I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted my next bike to be, but like all projects, it would be an exercise of compromises. Very rarely does anything turn out exactly as imagined, or exactly as planned. Because of this, I renewed my mental resolve to take as few shortcuts and compromise as little as possible when building my bike. I did not want to ever think, "Ahh, it's good enough.". I wanted to hone my skills further, through practice, and finish what I started. Here's the rough design brief about the bike I was to create.

My Goal:

Keep it clean, keep it subtle, make it appear factory built but lighter and stronger wherever possible. Keep the giant frame a dominant feature with its gorgeous welds. Keep the chassis/suspension all Honda/Showa, but upgrade it to current levels of performance . . . or beyond.

This green bike appeared to be a '93-'95 CBR900RR frame and radiator, with an '04-'06 R1 tailsection (custom alum tube subframe), Acerbis headlight, and CBR954RR front forks and wheels. The swingarm had been "boxed" (aluminum plate added for rigidity), the exhaust modified, and aftermarket rearsets, cf frameguards, and an Aprilia RS250 front fender added. Dirt bike handlebars completed the transformation from Sportbike to Streetfighter. The license plate indicated this was a European machine. It looked obnoxious, aggressive, short (nose to tail), and purpose built. I liked it, and I liked it a lot.

Over the course of this project, I found another Fireblade Streetfighter build that I really liked, this time in Australia. Why were there no cool 'Blades on the West Coast? Could it be that no one was committed to building them or that StreetFighters simply weren't being given any attention/press? I suppose this style of motorcycle is something of an acquired taste, but having come from a background of customs and choppers, then high tech sporting goodness, I see these conversions as real pieces of art, and the true successor to the Chopper mantle. The same principles and goals apply - Strip it and Rip it - make it faster, make it stronger, make it stylish.