He Did It! A Honda Rebel Run - Las Vegas To N. Carolina & Back!

Our friend Ken over at Walk the Razor's Edge which you heard about in one of my previous posts finished his ride for charity on his Honda Rebel 250. He's now safely back home in Las Vegas after a 21 day journey covering a distance of 5,836 miles. And he did it to help support the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence. Good job Ken and congratulations!

And speaking of charity, Pro Italia, a California Ducati dealer is sponsoring a raffle to help support the International Rett Syndrome Foundation. Anyone can purchase online a $25.00 raffle ticket (or 5 for $100.00). First prize is a 2009 Ducati Monster 696. Second prize is a $550.00 "America" leather jacket from Vanson.

The deadline for purchasing tickets is October 24th and the winners will be announced on October 26th, so better hurry!

Purchase Tickets Online
Questions? Phone 818-249-5707 or sales@proitalia.com

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence (NCADV)

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Leaving Today -A 6,000 Mile Moto Odyssey on a Honda Rebel 250!

Ken Linder of the blog Walk the Razor's Edge is leaving today on a 6,000 mile, 23 day motorcycle trip on his Honda Rebel 250. That's a long way to go on such a small bike. Why would anyone want to do such I thing?

The answer comes in Ken's own words, "A map, a motorcycle and a cause. This is a ride from Las Vegas, Nevada to Kitty Hawk, North Carolina (and back) to raise funds for the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence and help awareness of domestic violence to the public."

A man on a mission, a Rebel with a cause.

Ken could use our help. On his webpage Ride for NCADV there's a donation link to help fund his trip and support the NCADV. Click on the site navigation bar to find out about the planned route and more about his cause. Send this post along to others and feel free to publish it on your own blog.

I deeply respect Ken for undertaking this project. He is the stuff true heroes are made of. Society is quick to admire and reward celebrities, but its ordinary people doing extraordinary things that really deserve our attention. People like Ken Linder, who with very little resources, a small motorcycle and a big heart, rides the high road toward a better world.

So, what do you think?

Ken's Ride for NCADV

Walk The Razor's Edge

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence (NCADV)

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Basic Maintenance I DVD for all Motorcycles

Leatherman 830039 New Wave Multitool with Leather Sheath

Motorcycling & Rafting On the Streams of Time

Highway 22 shoots like an arrow out of the western Oregon city of Salem towards and over the Cascade Mountains and the high desert beyond. The busy highway rockets hurried travelers past small towns like Aumsville, Sublimity, Stayton, Mill City, Lyons, Gates, Idanha, Detroit and Marion Forks.

Last Sunday turned out to be a glorious day. With late season warmth and sunshine, it was the last hurrah of summer before the cold winds swept it all away.

This made for an almost overwhelming temptation to turn the day into a ride. So off we went my son and I down Highway 22. We had no destination in mind, just a ride for the sake of riding and spending time together.

A thousand scents filled my nostrils and sparked memories of other days and other rides; diesel exhaust from a truck up ahead, wood smoke from a warm fire in an unknown home, meat cooking on someones backyard barbecue, the musk of the earth and dying leaves.

A numb butt, hunger and a full bladder from the mornings coffee forced a stop at Poppa Al's which was right off the highway in Mill City. The overly optimistic person who named it a city probably didn't foresee the end of big timber days. Over- harvesting, clear cuts and the late arrival of sustainable forestry practices doomed this would be city from the start. It's a town and will always be a town and that's as it should be.

Poppa Al's was a past frequent haunt of mine back in the river running days. My two older boys, now grown and distant, friends now gone, and I, would pull our kayaks and rafts up on the bank of the North Santiam River at Mill City. Then we would walk up the hill to Poppa Al's for a burger and hot chocolate. We shivered dripping wet in our clothes, semi-hypothermic as we waited for our orders to get filled. Those were the days before we knew about more adequate clothing like polypropylene for the ice cold white water.



As my son and I sat at an outside picnic table, dry and warm, we watched my Sportster attract other motorcycles like a magnet. Within minutes an older couple on a Victory pulled up, then a boy on a sport bike pulled into the other end of the parking lot, then came Harley's, about 3 of them.

Old memories came alive and my mind drifted back to the last time I was at Poppa Al's. I couldn't have known or even imagined back then that it would be more than 15 years before I would return.

All too seldom do I think about that whenever I'm doing something that it might be the last time, or possibly a very long delay before I could do it again. Maybe if I were more conscious of that I would appreciate and enjoy things more.

Poppa Al's looked outdated even 15 years ago, but with lots of character. The old place is reminiscent of a simpler, slower, and more care free time. I've done a lot of changing over the years but not Poppa Al's. Except of course the price of a burger and a coke.

We pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the river for a look. I thought about how the boy, my son, would all too soon be an adult. He grew up different than my older boys; he never got the chance to experience the river. I wondered how it was that we were at that place and at that time. It was an unplanned ride after all. I don't believe much in chance or coincidence. I tend to think everything has a purpose, a message, or a lesson to be learned.

The sound of the waves as they surged and splashed over car size boulders were like a siren song. A call to return to the river. I glanced toward the horizon and the sun was going down, it almost seemed to pause its descent for a moment before disappearing completely behind the mountain. "It will be back in the morning" I abruptly said out loud, startling my son who was glancing toward the highway in the other direction .

Yep, I decided it was time, I would come back again with a river raft and we'll be dressed in polypropylene, my son and I. And I will not take that moment for granted.

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Motorcycle Ride. Re-Visiting & Re-Thinking a Gunfight

My bike "Liberty" parked at "Spong's Landing"

Today's post is about my ride out to the scene of a shooting. No need to worry though, the gun-smoke cleared away some 140 years ago and time the great eraser had done it's work, rendering the incident all but forgotten.

One of the cool things about going for a motorcycle ride is the added benefit of being able to pursue secondary interests. In my case, I'm a bit of a history buff.

The other day I had an opportunity to take the bike out for a spin and spend some time at a place along the Willamette River with some little known history behind it. I grew up nearby and spent countless hours there swimming, picking wild blackberries, catching crawdads, skipping rocks and exploring. Sometimes with only the ghosts of the early day pioneers to keep me company. Often I would sit on the river bank and try to visualize the scene as it would have been a hundred years ago and more, -imaginary steamboats rounding the bend.

Back in the nineteenth and early twentieth century the Willamette River was the main means of transporting goods and people up and down the valley. Riverboats navigated these waters with regularity. I have heard it said that in the old days if you sat on the bank of the river one could see at least one steamboat at any given time.

Towns and river boat landings along the river were alive with human activity. Towns sprang up along the banks of the Willamette almost overnight and many disappeared just as fast when the river lost out to improved wagon roads, bridges being built, the laying of train track and the final swan song of the river boat was the advent of the internal combustion engine and the building of highways.

Now the river sits mostly silent except when it passes through towns like Eugene, Corvallis, Independence, Salem, Oregon City and Portland. The rest of the river is protected by a “greenway” where no development of any kind is allowed near its banks. So mostly there is only the gentle ripple of the waters, the wind blowing through the trees, the rustle of dry leaves racing to wherever dry leaves go, and the occasional call of a Blue Heron.

A once busy ferry landing was here.

About 10 miles north of Salem and 4 miles west of the present day life blood of the Willamette Valley which is Interstate 5, is a lightly used and out of the way rural park called “Spong's Landing.” It was named for Alexander Spong who came to Oregon on a wagon train in 1851 with his wife and child. He took up a donation land claim in 1853 along the Willamette River and began to farm. His land was heavily wooded and a natural place for steam boats to stop and load up wood to burn in their boilers. He started a ferry service as well to move people and crops from one side of the river to the other.

Looking west from Spong's Landing toward the Ghost Town of Lincoln.

Across the river from Spong's Landing is the site of the once bustling town of Lincoln.

The town was fairly large for the time, it consisted of about a half mile of riverfront warehouses and wharves. It was platted by an earlier emigrant to the area in the 1840s, a man named Andrew Jackson Doake. He also was running a ferry service across the river from that location which apparently caused some bad blood between Misters Doake and Spong. Local lore has it that the two even exchanged gun fire on at least one occasion, luckily nobody was hurt.

The town of Lincoln along with steamboats lost their usefulness when bridges, railroads and eventually improved roads and highways came. Lincoln has long since disappeared from the western bank of the Willamette. Reclaimed by Mother Nature, a riparian woods thrive as though the town never was. Mr. Spong's farm, his boat docks and ferry landing are all long gone too.

Steps down to the landing and back in time.


"The Grandfather Tree"

This magnificent old oak tree sits on the side of a trail that must have been the original wagon road leading down to the river and to the place where steam boats once sat at dock and the ferry landing used to be.

Too small to feed the hungry boilers of the steamboats of the 1800s it was spared the axe. The tree now big and grand watches silently over those who pass. Some even notice the tree, mostly old folks, small children and the like. Those in-between often seem too pre-occupied to see the beauty and wonder that lies all around. Once in awhile I bring my kids over to the landing and my girls don't pass the tree without giving it a hug. They call it the "Grandfather Tree".

Eventually Mr. Spong won out and his family operated the ferry business for many years after the shooting. Mr. Doake at some point in time ceased ferry operations and sold his Lincoln land in 1860. Eventually Lincoln the town was gone too.

Did Mr. Spong and Mr. Doake resolve their differences peacefully and become friends? Or was it an uneasy truce? History does a poor job of recording thoughts and feelings. One can only guess, given the facts what we would think, feel and do under the same circumstances.

War and peace, conflict and cooperation, human nature is capable of going either way. Hopefully Mr. Doake and Mr. Spong came to a mutual agreement for the common good and chose to live out their days in peace. Life being too short to let ambition and selfish interests get in the way. I wonder.

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Garmin Zumo 450 Portable GPS Motorcycle Navigator

"Liberty's" Last Ride? Motorcycling to Silver Falls Park -Oregon

I rode my motorcycle to our campsite in the middle of a rainforest with my 14 year old son on the back, my wife followed in a van with the rest of the kids. The twisties up the canyon were invigorating, the scenery breathtaking. The Sportster rumbled along flawlessly as always. Would this be the last time I took to this saddle as Captain?

Though this was to be a fun family adventure, it was a "bittersweet" one. The thought of it being the last run for my old friend, the motorcycle I've named "Liberty" weighed heavily on my mind. Economic circumstances being as they are, make it impossible to hold on any longer. The payments too large for my low-income job. With a family of 5 to feed the struggle has become no longer sustainable. I recently lost my opportunity to work overtime and when monthly expenses exceed monthly income, well, somethings got to give. The only thing I have left to give is my Liberty, who has given me so much of the very same.

I will continue to commute to work and with luck get in a few more side trips until I sell the bike. After that the commute will still be on 2 wheels, -a bicycle that is. Hopefully I will find a way to get another motorcycle sooner rather than later.

We went to Silver Creek Falls State Park in Oregon. Not more than 30 miles from our driveway in Salem put us right in the middle of a temperate rain forest and the campground we would be staying in.

The weather held up, it was nice and sunny and it didn't rain until after we had everything packed up and were leaving for home.

The park holds 9,000 acres of forest, meadows and a steep basaltic canyon holding 10 waterfalls, all connected by an 8.7 mile National Recreation Trail.

My son and I with my Sportster in the foreground and North Falls in the background.

Looking at the falls had the effect of washing away motorcycle problems from my mind and to see something bigger, something timeless. The cycle of water, which in the grand scheme of things makes one man's small troubles seem insignificant and temporary.

"Roughing It Easy"

The campground we stayed in was completely full. Filled with a lot of fancy RVs of all sorts, tents being in the minority. This particular RV caught my eye. No it wasn't the $300.000? price tag, it was the satellite dish, custom painted with a nature scene.

I've been practicing being non-judgemental lately which is really against my nature and a hard lesson to learn. So with that in mind, I'm not going to hold judgment on my fellow campers, especially if I don't know their story. The couple staying in the rig with the satellite dish had to be quite well to do. For all I know they may have funded an orphanage in Cameroon or helped feed and shelter children digging through the trash heaps of Mexico City looking for leftover food. Maybe they own a company and treat their employees well and give them good medical insurance and a living wage. Maybe they used some of their apparently plentiful supply of money for altruistic purposes -before having their satellite dish custom painted. -Maybe. Not for me to judge.

Still, it strikes me as a funny way of experiencing nature. I wondered as I walked past their self-contained resort on wheels, appointed with every known luxury and convenience known to man, if they were sitting inside making good use of that satellite dish. With 472 channels, hopefully they found a good nature program to watch.

South Falls

South Falls is a big one by any standard. Silver Creek plummets 177 feet down before landing in the pool below. This picture just shows the lower portion of the awe inspiring waterfall. In 1928 a Pacific Northwest legendary hero and daredevil named Al Faussett went over the falls in a homemade contraption of canvas and tire tubes. He survived with only a few broken ribs, a broken wrist and both ankles sprained. Others that have gone over, not so lucky.

A view from behind South Falls

A ponderous trail leads down into the canyon and around the side passing behind the falls. For the feint hearted and vertigo prone the railings are small comfort, being the only thing between oneself and sudden death, serious hurt, or at the very least embarrassment having to be rescued by means of rope and basket.

Mia Familia

This is a shot of my family perching on the side of the cliff behind South Falls. From the left my daughter turning 9 this week, my wife, my 10 year old daughter and 14 year old son. This 2 night camping trip is the highlight of their summer. God bless them for being patient with my inability to give them more.

And so was this to be Liberty's last ride? Perhaps. How long will it be once it's sold before I can get another bike? Questions that don't stray too far from my mind. I wax and wane between optimism and pessimism. Time will tell...

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Motorcycle Ride -The Oregon Coast, Barns, Bridges & Biscuits

I was really fortunate to be able to take my motorcycle last week on a business (camping) trip out to the Oregon Coast and stayed 2 nights.

I traveled from Salem on Highways 22 and 18 to Lincoln City on the coast, a distance of about 50 miles and then South down U.S. Route 101 to Newport, a ride of only about 83 miles from home. I feel fortunate to be living where I do because I have an amazing backyard.

My bike "Liberty" overlooking the Pacific Ocean at Depoe Bay, Oregon

Depoe bay is where the fishing trip sequence was shot in the 1975 film One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest starring Jack Nicholson. The 6 acre harbor is the smallest in the world according to the Guinness Book of World Records.

Yaquina Bay Bridge as seen from where I was camping at South Beach State Park

The Yaquina Bay Bridge just South of Newport on U.S. Hwy. 101 was built in 1936. It must have been difficult getting around on the rugged Oregon Coast before the bridges were built.

"The World's Best Biscuits & Gravy"

On the last day I packed up and left camp early and hungry. Finding good biscuits & gravy in this world is a rarity indeed. The breakfast at the "end of the rainbow" is "The Pines Restaurant" in Newport off Highway 101. They had the best ever. Perfectly done biscuits with sausage patties, scrambled eggs and gravy on top. Oh Man!

Drift Creek Covered Bridge

On my way back home I made a stop off Highway 18 at Rose Lodge to see the Drift Creek Covered Bridge. Oregon has the largest collection of covered bridges in the west and one of the biggest in the nation. They were built around here from the 1850s up until the 1950s. 50 remain from an estimated peak of 450. Drift Creek is the oldest one left which was built in 1914. They were built because the roofs protected the huge truss timbers from the damp Western Oregon climate. A covered wooden bridge could last upwards of 80 years whereas an unprotected one could be expected to last only 9.

"This Old Barn"

Next stop was Ft. Yamhill, a new Oregon State Heritage Area. It's open to the public but still under construction and being excavated near Grand Ronde off Highway 22. The fort was built in 1856 and was abandoned in 1866. Its purpose: to ensure the Indians and white settlers didn't get into each others hair. The fort was built adjacent to the newly created Grand Ronde Indian Reservation on a strategic hilltop overlooking an encampment.

Which really must have sucked for the Indians at the time.

Being prevented from roaming their own land freely and having to live in one place couldn't have been a whole lot of fun.

Their revenge? A large and hugely profitable tribal casino just down the road a piece.

Small in stature, big in ambition, young Lt. Phil Sheridan reportedly used to sit in the mornings and look out for couriers bringing him a much anticipated call to action in the Civil War raging back east. Lt. Sheridan got his orders and in 1861 he left Ft. Yamhill. By war's end he had become a hero and a 4 star General.

I took a picture of this barn because first of all it was a good subject to photograph and secondly I was thinking of Lt. Sheridan, he fixed his gaze in the same direction some 148 years ago. I have a theory as well, about the barn that is.

This barn is obviously very old. It wasn't standing during the days the fort was occupied. There would have been an Indian village or encampment there. Most of the buildings at the Ft. are gone. Only the Blockhouse (moved to Dayton) and an officers house remain. What happened to all the other buildings? I think locals may have tore them down and carted off the wood to build their own structures, like maybe this old barn...

Living where I do in the central part of the Willamette Valley of Western Oregon puts me within an hour or so ride to seemingly endless curiosities. As I said before, I have an amazing backyard. I've been living around here most of my life and have seen all the main attractions, it's the small and lesser known wonders I now seek out. Like where to find a great breakfast, or places to ponder history and my place in it...

Tomorrow I'm going camping again. This time to Silver Creek Falls. One of the most scenic places anywhere. It's a common tourist stop, my assignment: Find the uncommon, stuff that won't be found on a brochure.

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Dreaming of Jupiter
In 1974 Ted Simon travels "round the world' on his Triumph Tiger 100 and then writes the bestseller Jupiter's Travels. In 2001 he does it again, this time on a BMW GS and he's 70. The world and his perspective have changed and he writes about it in a sequel: Dreaming of Jupiter: In Search of the World--Thirty Years On This is your chance to get a copy through this amazon link:

Motorcycling, Escapism and the "Oregon Country Fair" Part 1

(Kano shows that he's not the only "hippie freak" left on the planet. In fact the 1960s style counter-culture appears to be alive and well in Oregon. Because of a 5 photo limitation per post, the story will be completed with 2 posts.)

It’s been a busy month for me. On Sunday, July 13th was a motorcycle ride from Salem out to the “Oregon Country Fair” near Eugene, Oregon. We got front row parking in “Hog Heaven” right near the gate. Lucky thing too, it was a hot day! The mercury was showing 98 degrees by late afternoon.

I put on my best "I'm glad to get this damn jacket off" look.

Mike’s Buell Ulysses was in the shop so he rode a borrowed (thanks Dale) Vulcan 900, and I was putting the spurs to “Liberty” a Sportster.

This friendly couple was more than happy to get their picture taken. Fairgoers are part of the entertainment. Many dress up (or dress down) for the occasion and don’t mind the attention.

"Who's that weird looking guy pointing the camera at us?"


The fair has been going on every July since 1969 attracting some 50,000 people over the course of the 3 day event. Old hippies love the freedom to “do their own thing” and a new generation has taken to “the fair” too, a la cell phone. For lots of folks cell phones are a convenience not to be done without. For me anyway, they are just a modern "ball & chain" and a distraction from fully experiencing the world right in front of my own eyes.

"Can you hear me now?"

"Can you hear me now?"

When’s the last time you could find good Mexican food out in the middle of the woods? The booths, stages and exhibits are located along meandering trails and small clearings in the 260 wooded acres of the fair site.

"Who's up for chalupas?"

The atmosphere is hard to describe but I’ll try: San Francisco circa. 1967, A Carnival or Circus, A Pre-Historic European Village, Rio, New Orleans, The Wild West, Eugene. It’s not any of those but all of those in one magical place. But even with all the fun and festivities going on it's hard to miss the feeling of being in a very special place, an ancient and sacred oak grove. And there's an appeal to the experience, something primal...

Part 2 is the next post down, so read on!

More pics and words about my day at the Oregon Country Fair will be coming shortly to the email boxes of subscribers to Motorcycle & Scooter Talk at Kano’s Coffee House. Click the link below to sign up. It just takes a second and it’s free!

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One of my previous pics and posts about the Oregon Country Fair

Another previous post on the Oregon Country Fair

Motorcycling, Escapism and the "Oregon Country Fair" Part 2

Here is the conclusion to the previous post:

...And you don’t know what you’re going to see around the next turn in the path. It could be a banjo player, a sword swallower, or -a tree man.

"A tree saddened by the doings of man."

Being there is like being transported into an alternate reality, kind of like Disneyland I guess. A place to escape the routine, social norms and entrenchment of the lives we lead most days. The fair is a place for folks to be their natural selves and to experience the freedom of expression without fear of the sometimes quick judgment of main stream society.

"Hipsters and Hoopsters"


"A fierce looking Spiritual Warrior."


"Goodbye and Come Again"

This was the third time that I had been to the fair and I’m going to make a habit of showing up every year from now on. I'm not one for donning a costume or strolling around wearing nothing more than a loincloth, but still these are my kind of people and this is my kind of place. Maybe I just need to loosen up a bit...

More pics and words about my day at the Oregon Country Fair will be coming shortly to the email boxes of subscribers to Motorcycle & Scooter Talk at Kano’s Coffee House. Click the link below to sign up. It just takes a second and it’s free!

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One of my previous pics and posts about the Oregon Country Fair

Another previous post on the Oregon Country Fair

Heavy-Duty Hydraulic Motorcycle and ATV Lift Jack - 1500 LB Capacity

A Father & Son Motorcycle Ride 13,000 Years in the Making

I said to my 14 year old son Jason, "Your mom and the girls are going to church this morning and you and I are hitting the road on the motorcycle."

"So where we going dad?" "To check out a rock over by McMinnville, it'll be a nice ride out there."

My son looking unimpressed and a little less than eager asked "are we going to get a pop or anything?"

Sunday mornings are usually reserved for going to church. My church preference though is the road, the woods, the beach and today it would be to see a "glacial erratic rock."

We waved goodbye to my wife and my 2 girls as they rolled out of the driveway. I felt a little guilty because they soon would be sitting on a wooden church pew and I would be in the familiar saddle of my bike named "Liberty".

Jason reluctantly climbed aboard the bike and we were off. Later we arrived at "Glacial Erratic State Park" a forgotten little wayside with just a small sign marking the entrance to the parking area just off Highway 18 in Yamhill County.

At the trail head was a graffiti sprayed historical marker describing the rock waiting for us at the top of the hill. I read about the glacial erratic as Jason walked ahead.

I caught up with him and we hiked up the short trail and soon we were standing near a large rock overlooking the surrounding scenery of rolling hills, farmland and vineyards.

Jason looked at the rock for a second and said "we rode all the way out here just to see this?"

He cracked open his can of Dr. Pepper and took a long sip.

"Yep" I said, "and this is no ordinary rock, this here is a glacial erratic. If you would have stopped long enough to read the sign then you would know all about it."

He rolled his eyes, took another sip of pop and put on his best disinterested look as I explained:

"This rock came all the way down here from up in Canada during the Missoula flood about 13 thousand years ago at the end of the last ice age. There was a glacier blocking the flow of a river so there was a huge lake. The ice dam burst and a wall of water hundreds of feet high flowed down the Columbia River carrying huge chunks of ice along with it. Embedded in the ice were big rocks like this one".

"And?" He said. (It may have been my imagination or maybe he really was interested in hearing the rest I don't know)

"And this wall of water carrying huge chunks of ice flowed down through Montana and Idaho and into Washington and Oregon along the Columbia River and about where Portland is now some of the water came down the Willamette Valley."

"So" he said. At this point I didn't care if he was really interested or not. I wanted to finish the story so that maybe he would remember it and appreciate the experience we had together sometime in the future.

"So a big chunk of ice settled at the top of this hill and melted, leaving this here rock. End of story."

Shrugging his shoulders he said "cool" and headed back down the trail at a quick pace. He was probably eager to get back home as soon as possible so he could resume the video game he was playing earlier.

I stood there for some time taking it all in. I looked at the view from up there and touched the rock with my hand, noticing someone had spray painted "You Suck!" on the side of it.

I imagined the almost unimaginable pre-historic scene; the wall of water surging over the hilltops around me carrying chunks of ice bigger than a house.

My mind moved from pre-history to recent history. About the time I was Jason's age my dad brought me to see the rock. I was thinking that back then I probably looked just as bored as my son did.

This time was different though. Getting older seems to have the effect of giving me a broader perspective. I appreciate things more and I certainly appreciate my dad more now than I did then, when he was still alive. It's too easy to take people for granted.

Maybe because my finished journey isn't all that distant anymore and things like the rock, people, the world, are savored and taken in more slowly so as to be fully valued.

I was glad I brought Jason up there despite his disinterest. Because, I thought, maybe he would someday return, if only in memory, and he would look at the rock and understand it.

Maybe he would even bring his own family to show them. Maybe generation after generation would come and keep coming, until the time that the rock becomes dust...

Cars sped by on the highway below. Busy, unconscious, and in a hurry to get wherever they were going.

Long ago the rock arrived at its destination but it's purpose was not finished. It had waited silently for this moment 13,000 years in the making.

I was in church that day alright. I felt the presence of my dad on that hill and smiled knowing he would be happy that I was passing along the experience to my own son. I touched the rock and it touched me and it felt like the hand of God.

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More information on the "Glacial Erratic" along with GPS coordinates.

Motorcycling Out To The "Oregon Country Fair"

The first time I went to the "Oregon Country Fair" was back in the early 1990s. My wife and I literally stumbled upon it on our way back from a weekend at the beach.

Even though the fair has been happening every July since 1969 and somewhere around 50,000 people attend, we hadn't heard of it! Sometimes it's hard to see the forest for the trees. A cool thing like that and practically right in our own backyard!

This is no country fair like you'd think a country fair to be though. There aren't any cattle barns or farm implement displays, just a nostalgic re-visit of the free spirited 1960s on 280 wooded acres about 15 miles west of Eugene.

This year the fair will be the weekend of July 11-13 and I'll be firing up my motorcycle and once again I'll ride out to the country and back in time to 1969.

Read what Kano says about the fair and see more pics over at Kano's Further! Boomer News & Counter-Culture Views

The Oregon Country Fair Website

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Baby Boomers Motorcycle Rally Coming Soon Near Portland, Oregon

There's nothing like a Pacific Northwest summer to have some fun. The place to be on July 18-19, 2008 is Vancouver, Washington which is just across the Columbia River from Portland, Oregon. Some great motorcycle rides can be had within a few hours of Vancouver as well, The Columbia River Gorge, Mt. St. Helens, and the pacific coast beaches to name just a few.

Downtown Vancouver will host "The Baby Boomers Bikers Rally" (everyone welcome of course) and in nearby Esther Short Park will be the "Hot July Nights" event featuring two nights of concerts with the likes of Peter Frampton, Norman Sylvester, Johnny Limbo & The Lugnuts and The Beach Boys.

For more info check out the Baby Boomers Bikers Rally webpage and the Hot July Nights webpage.

Frampton Comes Alive (DVD-Audio Surround Sound)

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A Ducati Motorcycle Odyssey

I just finished reading Riding with Rilke, subtitled Reflections on Motorcycles and Books by Ted Bishop. This was a very good read, I couldn't put the book down once I got started.

The author is a University Professor from Alberta, Canada. He wrote the book while recovering from a near fatal crash on his girlfriend's BMW. It covers his motorcycle odyssey from Edmonton, Canada down to Austin, Texas, riding his beloved Ducati Monster.

He writes about his experiences and reflections along the way through the American West from the unique perspective of an academic researcher, professor, writer, and Ducati enthusiast wearing a bug splattered leather jacket.

Riding with Rilke took me along for the journey; from the back room archives of a library and out into the light of the open road. I'm glad I discovered the book and will no doubt be reading it again.
Motorcycle and Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House

Amazon Link: Riding with Rilke: Reflections on Motorcycles and Books

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Winter Motorcycle Touring Tips - How to Save on Motels & Airfare

Here at Kano's Coffee House were all into saving money whenever the opportunity arises. So for the like minded tight wad riders out there, I've come up with some ways to do motorcycle traveling on the cheap.

Winter is nigh upon us and unless you're traveling through the southern hemisphere, the Caribbean, Florida, Hawaii, or ski resort areas, you're in off-season country. That means some big savings on Hotel and Motel rates. The off-season is typically less expensive to rent a room but there's also an opportunity to save even more dough.

When you arrive in whatever town you plan on staying for the night, ask the front desk clerk if there are any vacancies and the cost of a room. Then offer to pay a little more than half of the quoted price.

For example, if the clerk gives you a $120.00 quote, offer to pay $65.00 or $70.00. No need to feel bad about asking either. Often rooms go vacant during the off-season, especially in a non-tourist town in the middle of the week. It's a win-win situation! But if they decline your offer or their counter-offer isn't good enough, be prepared to fire up your motorcycle and ride on to another place.

This tactic doesn't always work but its well worth the try and could save you a lot of money, especially on longer trips. "Mom and Pop" places can be more likely to accept your offer over a chain establishment simply because the chain clerks sometimes could care less if they rented a room or not.

Also, if you're doing a fly and ride there's a way to save money on airline fares as well. Get a quote from the likely suspects such as Travelocity or Expedia and then get a quote directly from the discount airlines such as Virgin Atlantic, Horizon/Alaska Air, Frontier, and Jet Blue. The popular travel agencies sometimes don't include those discount airlines in their searches. Big bucks can be saved by booking directly with the airlines and especially when it's done at least 14 days in advance.

So there you have it, ways to save a lot of dough on Motels and Airlines. Winter motorcycle touring has one last advantage, the price of gas. Except for right around the Holidays, gas is generally cheaper during the winter months. Ride safe and have fun!
Kano's Coffee House

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Alaska by Motorcycle Books

Looking for your next motorcycle adventure? Here's a couple of books that will keep you entertained and provide all the information you need to start planning your ride up to wild and scenic Alaska.

Alaska by Motorcycle: How to Motorcycle To Alaska by Gregory Frazier is essential reading for anyone considering an Alaskan adventure by motorcycle. The knowledge and experience the author has gained on his many trips up north will help you avoid the mistakes that could make for expensive delays. The book covers topics such as which bikes are best for the trip and how to deal with bears.

The Milepost: Alaska. This book is updated annually so you can be sure to have all the latest information on the details you will need for an Alaskan adventure by motorcycle. Though not specific to motorcycle travel, this book contains tons of useful information such as mile-by-mile logs of the Alaska Highway, listings of accommodations, plus schedules and fares for ferry services.
Motorcycle and Scooter Talk at Kano's Coffee House

Coming Soon! Here's some of the posts coming up; find out "what kind of biker you really are", a "quick reference guide to the 2008 most economical motorcycles", and "winter motorcycle riding". Don't miss any of this, subscribe to Motorcycle and Scooter Talk and have it delivered on a reader or by e-mail and it's free.

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Amazon Book Links:
Alaska by Motorcycle: How to Motorcycle to Alaska
The Milepost 2007 (Milepost)