Scrubbing Nipples

 

Today I had a very simple goal: scrub these nipples! My new Micy's are very nice, but I have got to get these nipples scrubbed or I'm not going to be able to stand it one minute longer!

To the uninitiated, the nipples to which I refer are the little...well...nipples...on new tires. You can see them at right. A telltale sign to the Rossi's of the world that you aren't getting into the curves is the appearance of nipples.

So off we went, me and 'Lil Trip, up to Prescott to the best curves that I know of within close proximity, to scrub my nipples.

I was almost giddy with excitement. Such a simple, exciting goal for the day. I had no inhibitions about skipping my run this morning. I could always make that up later. But when you're feelin' right, you just gotta go. I've been looking at those nipples for a couple of days--since I last rode--and I've had this aching feeling that this is something I needed to take care of very soon.

So I left at 6:30. Yep. AM. Had my coffee, fired off a few emails and was on the Black Canyon Freeway fast. (It's easy when you're out of bed at 4:30. Couldn't sleep. Those nipples were calling). Up I went to 74, headed to Wickenburg, then to Nowhere, where the fun begins.

A couple of old-timers admired 'Lil Trip at the gas station. Used to ride their Tiger Cub up the hills, they said. Made it up just fine. They'd never seen a Triumph like mine, and they figured I'd probably never seen one like theirs, but I told them I'd seen pictures. I asked what size the engine was, and they said 250. I told them mine was 675, three cylinder. The triple impressed them, and after thinking for a few seconds, the one fellow asked about the configuration: "two and then one?", he asked. "Inline", I said, and I used my fingers to show him how it was laid out. I don't know if he was impressed that I knew the answer, or about the configuration, or that I used my fingers, but rest assured, he was impressed about something. Said it must be pretty fast, and I said "yeah".

They were worried about me making it up Yarnell Hill, said a motorcycle crashes there every day. I said, "don't worry, he can make it up Yarnell Hill". They both laughed about that and said "just be sure YOU make it up Yarnell Hill". I thanked them as they walked away, and I sure appreciate the possibility that a couple of old fellows got a kick out of me, and maybe thought about a good time or two that they might have had in the past.

Anyway...back to my nipples. I was pretty thankful that the old fellas didn't notice them, but I can assure you, they were on my mind. With (a couple) bathroom breaks and some petrol in the tank, I was ready to scrub these babies!

I minded my MPH through town, but when I got to the curves, there was no slowin' me down. Only little problem I had was that I was cold! Talk about nipples! I looked at the weather, but took off with no undergarments anyway. It would be triple digits when I got back to the valley in a few hours, and I'd appreciate the earlier chill when that happened. It's hard to relax when you're cold, but I did my very best. Relaxation is key, of course, when you're leaning, and flowing, and trying to get yourself over as far as possible. That's the only way you're going to reach those nipples, and I was doing my best.

It was a lot of fun, and I was amazed that I had no cars in front of me as I went up Yarnell Hill (new asphalt that looked a little slick). Nowhere is where it really gets fun, and I still say it's one of the best stretches of twisties within close proximity to Phoenix. Very manageable for a girl with fresh nipples, and challenging to the boys who think they've got what it takes.

I had a nice breakfast in Prescott, and patted myself on the shoulder for finding a different route out of town to avoid some serious road construction I encountered on my way up.

I went right back the way I came, because, well, if it works once, it's probably going to work again. And it did. Not a single car in front of me all the way down to the valley. I was a little fresher after having had some French toast, and I giggled with excitement as I worked the turns. I knew I'd need to lean to scrub these babies, and every time I thought I was getting a little too leaned over in a curve, I just said to myself "nipples nipples nipples", and giggled giddily inside my helmet with glee.

It's actually not a bad cue to tell yourself to use your body to lean the bike in a turn. I started thinking about leaning my nipple toward the ground as I turned, and every time I did it, I laughed a little more. It felt good. I wondered if Rossi ever used the nipple cue when learning to lean his bike, and that made me laugh to myself even more.

In the end, I never even checked to see if my nipples were scrubbed when I got home. I know I felt scrubbed, and that's all that mattered today.

A Day Just For Me

The smell of my scarf as I slipped it over my head this morning brought strong images to mind. Open spaces, speed, freedom, competence. It still held the scent of exhaust from the last time I wore it, and I was amazed what strong images I got from the smell.

So I decided that would be the focus of my ride for today: sensory perception. Anytime my mind drifted to the future or the past, I’d check back in with the here and now and focus on my senses. Yeah, kinda like yoga. Except at 80 mph.

Knowing I’m a little rusty made this an even better idea. Nothing but me, the road, the sun, the wind, and my little Street Triple R, tearing up the desert. Most people would probably find the smell of exhaust on a scarf repulsive, but I love it. Which is why I wash my scarf as little as possible. So with Eau d’ Castrol around my neck and new Micy’s on my wheels, I was off looking for crooked lines and adventure!

May is a great time to ride in Arizona because the desert is in bloom. And the Saguaro’s are the most impressive to me. Heading up to Payson, as I ascended into the high desert, the desert was painted yellow with blooming shrubs and magnificent Saguaro’s towering over the land, each arm topped with a bouquet of white flowers. Not a bad way to keep a girl focused on her senses!

Before climbing much in altitude I saw a few ADV riders parked on the side of the road, having just come off the dirt. My mind wandered to the day that I’d have my own off road bike and where I’d go with it, when a police SUV whizzed past me with lights blazing. Apparently (and fortunately) he wasn’t concerned with my speed, and I wondered where he was off to. See, that’s what I get for thinking! I almost missed a cop car coming up behind me fast with his lights on! I wondered if the ADV riders thought he was after me.

Back in the present moment, I enjoyed passing the cars that couldn’t get up the hill as fast or hold their speed as well as I did. My new Micy’s were rolling into the turns just great. Up ahead I spied the first half-way real turn of the day: tight enough I couldn’t see around it, and loose enough I could see nothing but blue skies beyond.

And that’s when I saw the police SUV again. On the side of the road, with a few guys looking over the side of the cliff, into that blue sky. I slowed down (obviously), and as I cleared the turn enough to see the road ahead, I saw bikes. ‘Lot’s of them, also pulled over, riders standing and sitting on the side of the road. Must have been 30 or 40.

Back to sensory perception, it didn’t take long to know what happened. Someone didn’t make the turn. As I crept by, the other bikers started at me, and as I wondered if I was breaking some kind of code by not stopping, a slow leak of adrenaline oozed into my system making me feel a little sick and light headed. I don’t feel that way when I see a car accident. But something about a motorcycle accident makes me think to myself “See, you have to pay attention. Always”.

He was out having fun just like me. I hope he was wearing good gear. Whatever he did have, I hope it was enough.

A few miles later I saw the ambulance coming down from Payson, but by that time I’d gotten my head screwed back into the present moment, and I was thinking more about my cooling armpits and bleary eyes by then. Earlier I had decided I’d stop at the first gas station in Payson (87 miles in, a pretty long start!), and make a plan from there. Gas, a little break, V-8 and cookies in my tank bag for later, I headed back down the little a little ways to Roosevelt Lake.

Shell stations seem to be a great motorcycling
landmark, and the one on US 60 just outside
Phoenix now has craft been on tap and their
own logo'd growlers!

The day was starting to heat up by then, and I found a great little rest stop to watch the boaters and have a snack. I was slowed briefly by a big pack of Harley’s, but they didn’t hold me up long as they made a quick detour into a gas station with a very, very large parking lot. Plenty of space for them to maneuver, I arrogantly chuckled to myself as I watched them pull in.

Sensory perception the rest of the day included the smell of a wet golf course in the desert, the grip of a brand new pair of gloves, the itch of an earplug that wasn’t quite right, the fright of barely missing a pair of mating hummingbirds, and an adrenaline gush when a blast of wind from nowhere pushed me across my lane. I chuckled again as I remembered the real wind of a dust storm I rode through once.

But back to the present! It was an easy 250 miles, nothing to brag about, but I don’t need to brag. It was a day just for me, and it was awesome.

New Tires!

So Michelin doesn't make the Scorpion any more and I've gone through two sets. So what's a girl to do? I get used to a certain ride and feel, and I've loved my Michelins ever since I got my first set on my old Triumph Spitfire. I like to stick with what works, and my Scorions have kept me on two wheels for a few years now.

I had no choice, though. Tires, like running shoes, disintegrate while hanging out in a warehouse, and I wouldn't trust any of my body parts to old rubber!

There's a lot of info to be had on tires, and finding something new is no easy task. Fortunately I've got a sidekick who likes nothing (and I mean nothing) better than to surf the internet "researching" various motorcycle pieces, parts, models...you get the idea.

So sidekick picked out the new Michelin Road Pilot 4, and my fav peeps at Go Az put them on. I feel like a princess when I go to Go Az, and for any girl looking for a little ego boost, just wheel up to the dealership on your Street Triple and talk bikes with the fellas. You'll get a boost alright.

Anyway...back to my tires. I didn't get to use them much. My day reserved for riding turned out windy and rainy. And I didn't want to get my bike dirty (or ride in the rain before they'd been properly scrubbed). But they'll be there waiting for me and a summer of fun!