Solo Moto bike test

There are a couple of moto related things I have been meaning to write about. It wasn’t so much procrastination that stopped me, but more that I already posted some pictures on Facebook, so posting them here would seem like my life is so boring that I need to post them twice. Or maybe it would seem like I don’t have anything else to write about. Based on my sporadic posts lately, that would seem to be the case.

But it isn’t!

I am just trying to decide if I should start an entirely different blog with another theme. Or maybe choose one theme for this blog and stick with it.  Because lately my blog posting goes something like this: I sit down to write with an idea in my head. I type a paragraph or two. I start to wonder how what I am writing fits in with my current blog. I realize what I am writing doesn’t fit at all, that it would seem more out of place than half the many themes already on this blog. I save the draft and get up and do something else.

But one thing that this blog always revolved around in motorcycling and, more to the point, my experiences in Spain (and the rest of Europe) in the moto world. So, without further ado, here is some moto content.

I did a comparative test between the new BMW 1000 and the new CBR 1000 for Solo Moto magazine last November. I wrote a 600 word article that was included within the 7 page article, and, much to my surprise, my photo was on the cover. Remind me next time to wear a clear visor….

We did the comparative test at Castelloli, which you may remember was where I rode supermoto for the first time. It’s about 30 minutes outside of the city of Barcelona. I showed up at the offices of the magazine at 8:30am , the designated meeting time. This being Spain, I should have known this was merely an implied suggestion that 9am would be an acceptable time to arrive. I do believe I was the first person in the building that morning.

Around 10am, I piled into a van with the photographer and a journalist to head to the track. We would meet the test ride organizer and other rider there. Around 10:15 we stop at a roadside station for…breakfast. Which is usually quite small, as it’s normal to have two breakfasts like this per day, once before you leave home, and another at work: coffee and a brioche or tiny bocadillo (bread with  jamon or cheese or egg tortilla). The breakfast break is a regular daily work break. I have had Spanish teachers ask me how long the break for breakfast is in the US. Then they usually ask me what is so funny.

We arrive at the track. As it was November, it was cold and the track was green and damp. But not to worry, the first order of the day was the cover shoot, where we followed the van as close as possible, with its back doors held open with tie downs and the photographer strapped down so as not to topple onto the pavement as he leaned out over the track.  We had to ride close enough so that the van doors blocked any view of the track. A little uncomfortable, but we were going pretty slow so not it was nothing to pucker your butt.

Then we got to ride two laps of the track, while they chose a corner for some riding shots. Then another corner, then another. I switched between the CBR and the BMW with the other rider and journalist, Albert, back and forth a few times. Then they took some photos of me standing with both bikes.

Then the main part of the test began: the anti-lock brake system (ABS) comparison. We accelerated at speeds of 60, 120 then 180k per hour up to two cones, grabbed the front brake as hard as we could (in my case, as hard as my brain would allow) until we stopped. Finally, we did a shorter distance, lower speed similar test on concrete using both brakes to get some photos of the tire marks.

The track was only rented until 2pm, so naturally, at 2:30, we were finished. I didn’t get to ride the entire track again unfortunately, but from what I was able to ride….wow.

Here are my impressions that were published (in Spanish) as an inset article. Please try to stay awake, I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself if your face smashes into your keyboard as you fall asleep:

BMW S1000RR

The last BMW I rode must have been a GS 650 about 6 years ago, therefore climbing aboard the BMW S1000RR was a very pleasant surprise. Despite being an in line four cylinder 1000cc machine, it felt very narrow. The ridged chassis planted the bike in the corners, and while the stock fork settings were at first a bit stiff for me, after a few easy suspension adjustments I was quite comfortable on the bike. In truth, the BMW chassis geometry was so agile and quick to steer that it felt closer to a 600 than a 1000cc bike. But the engine reminded me that this was no 600 – the speed of this engine and the power at the top end of the revs was awe inspiring.

A slipper clutch enabled fifth-to-second-gear downshifts (I never did get to sixth gear) with no rear tire chatter on a cold track.

The brakes were surprisingly good, some of the best stock brakes I have felt, however, as I had never ridden an ABS-equipped motorcycle, the unique feeling of the ABS took a bit of getting used to.

Honda CBR 1000

I am far more experienced with Hondas in general and CBR’s in particular, so after a ride on the BMW, the CBR felt like a comfortable, though less exciting, old friend. Hondas are great all around bikes but I have always found them lacking in the personality department, and in comparison to the strong aggressive engine and agility of the BMW, it seemed even more mild. That is not to say that the CBR 1000 is a slow bike, because it is not, but the power delivery is so smooth and linear, its speed almost creeps up on you. In fact, everything on the Honda is delivered smoothly: the engagement of the slipper clutch, the engine braking and the power delivery. The chassis is flexible which adds to the feeling of smoothness, though it tends to feel less planted while cornering.

The Honda’s brakes provided a decent feel, but to me, lacked initial bite. This could be due to the fact that the C-ABS bikes have several more centimeters of braking lines and parts, which might cause the slightly mushy, less reactive braking sensation I felt.

Braking Comparison

Our tests consisted of a series of progressively faster approaches (60, 120, then 180kmph) to a set of cones, where I was to stop as fast and as hard as I felt my skills would allow once I passed between them. I was to let the anti-lock braking systems take over until I came to a complete stop.

Without more than a few laps to get used to not only the brakes, but new bikes and a new track, I suppose it wasn’t quite enough to fully get my brain to trust the ABS. Though I tried, I never could never quite hand over complete control to the ABS technology. I found myself automatically letting up off the brakes after the ABS kicked in, at around the point a wheel lockup would naturally occur or shortly thereafter.

Upon seeing me do this with each run through the cones, one might conclude that letting off the brakes was intentional. While I am a fairly independent person, and thus usually rely on my own abilities to get myself out of trouble, this phenomenon was entirely automatic. In fact, it was so automatic that I had a very hard time not letting off the brakes.

Part of this was due to muscle memory – with a locked wheel, any disturbance, no matter how small, can be disastrous. Most riders have learned that the correct procedure after the front wheel has locked is to release the brakes enough to get the wheels spinning again, and then re-apply them. But the other part of this was that the first hard braking with ABS is a strange sensation indeed.

After braking hard, the ABS on the BMW feels about the same as if you manually eased off the brakes and then reapplied them, only faster: The suspension unloads, bringing the front of the BMW up. Then the system is back on the brakes, compressing the suspension again and moving your weight forward, until the bike finds traction. The BMW continues this fast back and forth motion several times per second. In addition, the ABS causes the lever to pulsate back into your hand. This was distracting at first, though I can see where it could be a positive point in that it gives you direct feedback that the ABS has engaged.

The C-ABS on the Honda, when engaged, was far less obvious than the ABS system of the BMW. There was no pulsing at the lever, and it had otherwise normal feedback from both the hand brake and the foot brake. What I did notice however, was enhanced traction and handling when applying the brake in compromised traction environments. During our hard-braking trials that would have other bikes sliding back and forth, the CBR system kept the bike totally composed. With the addition of just a slight amount of rear brake, the chassis settles and it feels as though the entire bike has lowered itself 5 or 10 mm, front and rear.

For the last test, we compared how the braking systems would react when encountering a poor braking surface, such as you might find on a typical street ride. We went on to attempt to stop as quickly as possible on slippery concrete, leaving the ABS to manage the poor traction of the surface. This is where the braking systems were the most evident, and when they finally started to inspire confidence in me. And this is where the Honda’s C-ABS really shined. Instead of sliding, the Honda felt like it just sat down and slowed to a stop. While it did not stop as fast as the BMW, it felt more in control and effortlessly remained in a completely straight line when it should have been sliding all over the place.

I finished the day feeling curious as to how these brakes would function on water or gravel covered surfaces, and in fact I am looking forward to my next encounter with either of these braking systems.

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I have a couple more moto topics to post about, though I cannot promise they will be more interesting than the above post. But they will be related to Spain, motorcycles, and my expat perspective of the whole enchilada. (I might throw in some more pictures of food too. I can’t help myself)

Yoga Pisses Me Off

Yoga is tedious.  Nearly every pose is an uncomfortable, muscle straining embarrassment that I want to be over with. And don’t even get me started on the weird, dirty hippy culture surrounding yoga in Western civilization. Yet I attend every Saturday in the Parc de la Ciudadella. The sessions are run by a lovely friend of mine from Bulgaria, whose simple Spanish is well pronounced and clear, unlike the locals who speak as if they had a mouthful of food. When I find myself squeezing my eyes shut tight, trying to force my center of gravity lower so as not to topple over, I can shift my focus outside myself and listen to the sounds of morning in the Parc – the company of little green Monk parrots chattering and squawking in the trees, people jogging, dogs trotting by. This all makes the session bearable and go by faster. But I still hate almost every second of it.

Near the end of the session, when we go into my favorite pose, the corpse pose (which is basically laying there on your back), I can look at the sky through the trees and wait my turn for my yoga teacher friend to get to me and gently touch my forehead with her thumbs and hold them there a minute. I think these last 30 seconds are the real reason I withstand an hour and half of sweating uncomfortably while not visibly exerting oneself. Something about her two thumbs pressing into my head centers and relaxes me so completely it makes my mind go completely blank for just a moment. It’s like, total tranquility and clarity, for just a second. I need this. Then all at once, a flurry of thoughts erupt in my head and the moment is over. And this is what pisses me off.

I wish I had some more moments like this, need more moments like this. My head is an absolute whirlwind of ideas and unfocused energy, now that I am not working. And it’s only been a week. And it’s not like I am doing nothing, either. I don’t want a vacation. I hate being idle. I am taking 3 hours of Spanish a day, plus another I study another 2 hours at least per day. I am going to networking meetings and events, arranging visits with friends and acquaintances old and new (mostly because I’m lonely), bicycling every day, researching business ideas, and, even though I said I wouldn’t do it for a couple of months, doing some job hunting.

I wanted this to be a break where I could study Spanish and consider some new directions in my life, maybe even write something, in a relaxed but focused manner. But I am so distracted and, I don’t know, anxious? that this post required a stack of chocolate chip cookies just to get me through. And every attempted post between the last published and this one has required some sort of chocolate flavored distraction to keep me in my chair. (Note: Cookies of the choco chip variety are not easy to find here in Spain. These particularly delicious cookies, in fact, were purchased from an international market, were made in Germany, and are aptly named “American cookies”. I must admit, while most German foods mimicking our culinary American delights are a far cry from the real McCoy, these are a pretty decent attempt.)

I hate not having a purpose, even a shitty one like contributing to a job that I don’t necessarily love. Having time and endless possibilities makes my hands sweat and heart pound and makes need sugar. I am overwhelmed with how big a life everyone has the potential to create, and I am consumed with dread that although given every opportunity, I may never achieve greatness. I am not embarrassed to want greatness, but I am scared to admit that I want it, because of the possibility I may fail to attain it.

Therefore, I will do the only thing that gives me relief from the self doubt and anxiety swimming around in my head these days, the only thing that relieves me of the noise in my head. I will flounder my way through ridiculous yoga sessions in the park. And I will hate almost every second.

Moving On, Part IV: A Wrench in the Gears

I had planned to make Part IV of this thrilling saga you’ve been reading to be about purchasing a new place. I spent a lot of time looking right before I left California, in between furiously packing, selling and giving away everything I owned. I figured if I could find a place before I left, I would be ready to move right in when I returned to California for the winter. I even made two offers on places, though I didn’t follow through with either of them. One because I came to my senses that it was actually more than I could afford, and the other I determined was just too small. Which, as it tuns out, was a good thing.

Two days after leaving California, I was in Rhode Island to visit my brother for a couple of days, en route to Barcelona. I was working  at the bar which serves as the kitchen in his house. He lives in a former bar- but before you go thinking he is a total degenerate, he owns the entire building plus a few more in Newport. He just has a high tolerance for unconventional living situations. And questionable levels of cleanliness. Which is why I ended up cleaning his bathroom the night I arrived. But my brother is a story for another time. So there I was, working away next to the empty beer taps, sweating  to get an assignment completed a little bit early, when I got the call. That “I hate to deliver the news…but we don’t have any more work for you” call. Suddenly, finishing that task early was not so important. In fact, that assignment got turned in three days late.

I probably should have seen this coming, but I didn’t, or maybe I didn’t want to. When you work on a project basis, even when you are a full time employee, this is a call you get sometimes. I was given an option to keep my employee status without pay, like I did for nearly all of 2009, which might let me pick up work here and there, and likely guarantee me time on the next project. But I chose the layoff. Yes, in this job market, I’m probably crazy. But I’m hoping that my friend JJ’s psychic email skills are accurate when she says she senses a fulfilling opportunity will present itself to me randomly and easily. Though I’m not sure what that is going to be.

For the moment, I’m OK. I don’t know where to start, but panic hasn’t set in yet. My self doubt is at a manageable level, only requiring a few handfuls of chocolate chips to maintain my calm as I write this.

Could this wrench be a fortunate thing?

Moving on…

So dudes, I have good news. And bad news. Let’s start with the bad news, shall we?

I am leaving Spain already. It will be six months to the day that I have been here when I leave on April 20th. I am sad about this, as I have made some good friends here and finally have some invitations to go riding offroad, a solution for owning a scooter, and I found the most amazing flat. I mean, this was a one in a million place. Spare room for visitors (unheard of). My own bathroom. Storage. Nice furniture, big kitchen with a dishwasher (!!!) Many, many windows. Balcony that wrapped around half the flat. great neighborhood close to everything but far from the kind of mayhem I live near right now. All utilities included.  2 Responsible, nice flatmates. Cleaning service. And sweet jesus in a car seat, a fishtank in the entryway. I like the fish and the animals and what-not.  I nearly put down a deposit, but I am glad I didn’t and I’ll tell you why in a minute.

Even better than the flat, I have some new friends with free storage for a bike. And transportation to the track. Oh, and also? My last company I worked for in California told me I would be put on a new US Navy project, and could work from Spain.  Which meant I could buy a supermoto or bike for the track or…anything.  I know, right? So why the hell am I leaving?

The good news part: In a week I move to the North East of Italy to work in a moto racing company, my dream job, the reason for which I moved to Europe. My going away celebration starts now people. I’ll take my cake with espresso ice cream, and a gin chaser.

Jerez GP Zero, Sunday

This post is titled Sunday because Saturday I woke up late and was feeling terrible (drinking sometimes does that). It wasn’t until the middle of the afternoon I even got out of the hotel, and then I didn’t feel like spending money on a taxi to go to the track.

I know that sounds ridiculous, I had access, I was in Jerez and paying to be there, but it was the GP teams first day of testing and the people I wanted to speak with would be incredibly busy so I wouldn’t even contact them until later. So I walked around town a bit and enjoyed the nice weather and sent text messages to a few people I was meant to find at the tests, asking them if I could stop by the next day. I recieved gracious and positive responses.

Church in the center of the old part of Jerez. Why it's lit up all heavenly I don't know, I'm sure many evil things happened in it's name

Rossi's other ride

In the evening I went to a tiny traditional bar for dinner. Southern Spain has really. really. good. food.  And amazing wine. While I was standing at the bar, some silent procession went by outside in preparation for the Semana Santa. It’s essentially a week (and then some), where they parade giant effigies of bible scenes and figures through the streets and get very emotional, sing spontaneously with lots of Southern Spanish clapping and flair, usually accompanied with crying, and generally flail about at the feet of “their” Maria -each town has their own statue thing of the virgin Mary and the details about how it looks seem to be something people are proud of and identify with, as if they were acutally different goddesses to pray to.

Semana Santa procession at midnight. How those kids resisted torching everything sight with their giant candles I don't know.

Sunday I headed to the track in the late morning.  I was absolutely shocked at how many people there were there to watch testing. There were no jumbotrons, but there was an announcer. And the stands were totally full.

In the afternoon some ominous clouds appeared on the horizon. A mass exodus of people who rode motorcycles there followed (and there were a lot of them).

Parked bikes as far as the eye can see. Note rainclouds in the sky.

The rain and wind came quickly. The temperature dropped around 10 degrees (Celsius) and all the bikes went in the garages while it poured rain. I hung out in the womens lavatories with my hands under the hot air blower. A woman with a radio show in Madrid joined me under the dryer for around an hour.  Bikes ventured onto the track a bit later, and Casey Stoner won a BMW. (I’m sure he had been saving for one for months.)

I stopped by the garages I needed to and received word that someone was looking for me, that they likely had a job in the Redbull Rookies Cup for me. I nearly ran over there, and met with Jose whom I had exchanged maybe one or two emails with, introducing myself as a friend of Eduard (whom I met on the return flight from Italy). He told me he had emailed me and did not know I was at the track, so was very happy when I introduced myself in person. And he did have a job for me as an assistant with the Rookies Cup, for the year. He just needed to OK it with the rider and the bosses (Note the foreshadowing in this last phrase…).

I don’t think I need to tell you that I was excited. This would mean working at 6 European GPs for the year, an opportunity that in nearly April was very rare indeed.  So I agreed to talk more about it on the phone.  Meanwhile, I found Anscari Nadal, who was there to help out the US Rookies cup rider Benny Solis (whose dad I raced with a couple of times), and who eventually gave me a ride to my hotel.

When I spoke with Jose later, he asked if I could stay longer and come to the track on Monday to help him out with the Rookies tests. I walked around thinking about what this whole thing could mean, and went for dinner at another bar (the total was 3 Euros for some amazing fish, patatas fritas, bread and tea). Dudes, did I mention I love the food here? Well I also love the prices.

Monday morning I got up early and as I was getting ready to head to the track, Jose called and told me…there would be no job after all.  “They” didn’t want to pay, and a rider’s father was going to attend the races to work instead. I had already told a few people that I had a job offer from the Rookies Cup, as I do have a hard time keeping quiet about things, hence, this blog. (It took me a little while to figure out who “they” were, but when I had dinner with Jose later to cry on his shoulder, he told me who, and now it all makes sense. I cannot divulge here though, sorry!)

Remember my friend Gerard’s tires? Well I picked them up and checked them as my baggage on my flight back to Barcelona Monday. I wish I had gotten a few photos of this. Then I saw Gerard and his crew in the airport, looking quite the worse for wear. They had stayed out until 6 in the morning, after several very long days and not much sleep each night. I wish I had gotten some photos of these guys as well, and I am positive they are glad that I did not.

It didn’t hit me until the next day back in Barcelona how disappointed I was. A job in the GPs in my hand for 14 hours and now nothing. I needed to move out of my flat soon, I needed some kind of job to keep me in Spain longer while I worked on an employment position in racing, I was running out of money, I couldn’t sell bikes at home because the titles have been lost in the post,  I still hadn’t heard from Alpinestars about a second interview, and to top it off, it was raining when I returned to Barcelona. It was a depressing week, but there were many good things about the weekend as well (and more than just the food).

I met a lot of good people and I was reminded that anything can happen. Things can change overnight, and often do when you keep trying (more foreshadowing here, people…) I also have a new friend here in the form of Jose, who has worked in the US with the AMA and with the Spanish championship and the GPs, and is interested in helping me out. Awesome. He makes a kit for the new 450 single racers and is invloved in all kinds of racing (His company is . He also drives a pickup truck in Barcelona. Dude has some serious street cred.