Category: Back In The Day

This just in: Janus Announces Origin Line!

By Joe Berk

This just came in:  A press release from Janus Motorcycles!   Janus has a special place in my heart.  I rode with those guys in Baja on Janus Motorcycles and I visited the plant (and wrote about their new 450 in Motorcycle Classics magazine) a year or so ago.  They’re good folks and they make great motorcycles.  The latest Janus press release follows.

Happy New Year!

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: Janus Motorcycles announces new “Origins” line with lower entry price

We are pleased to announce the launch of a new edition of both the 250 and 450 Janus models: the Janus “Origin” model line. The basic idea of the “Origin” line is to provide a blank slate version of our existing models paired down to the essence of what defines each model. This serves to provide both a more affordable option AND the opportunity to build your own Janus just as you would like. To this end, we have removed all but the most vital elements of each model.

For example, the Halcyon 250 Origin edition includes everything that you need to be initiated into the Janus experience: a beautiful handmade motorcycle ready to ride, but without many of the options and upgrades that have always been standard on our production models such as fender pinstripe, air box graphics, and number plate (Origin edition Halcyons come with fenders pr-drilled and capped should you wish to add a number plate), a limited palette of available options for primary color, a single gold option for pinstriping, a standard seat, limited leather color options, a 1-year warranty, and no polished options.

By reducing the number of features and options, this helps us to hold appropriate stock and streamline production efficiency all of which allows us to offer the Origin line at a significantly lower entry price. Should you wish to add additional options or upgrades, these are all available for an additional cost. Add-ons will be shipped separately with instructions for installation by the customer. Get in on the Janus rambling experience and add almost any of our upgrades or extended warranties down the road! Book racks, fishtail exhausts, saddlebags, or headlight visors also make great birthday or Christmas gifts!

The details
Get the Halcyon 250 Origin for a $6995 base price. That includes choice of two colors, gold tank pinstripe, and 1 year warranty. Build one here.

Get the Gryffin 250 Origin for a $7495 base price. That includes choice of two colors, gold tank pinstripe, and 1 year warranty. Build one here.

Get the Halcyon 450 Origin for a $13,495 base price. That includes choice of two colors, gold tank pinstripe, simplified feather graphic/emblem, and 1 year warranty. Build one here.

How? 
So much of what we do is hands on. By giving you control over how much of that “hands on” you start with on your bike, we can help reduce the upfront price for these packages.

The value of our main model lines and their THOUSANDS of configurations, handcrafted quality, industry-leading warranties, and show-stopping looks doesn’t change. If you still want to “choose everything” it’s still the best value to go with the fully-customizable standard build up front (you can do the math on the website).

Background

At Janus, we pride ourselves on our design, hand-craftsmanship, and hyper-local supply chain—all things that also contribute to the higher cost of our models compared to the mass-produced offerings from the mainstream motorcycle industry. Especially over the past three years material costs, and inflation have meant that our prices have had to climb to stay abreast of our costs. Our goal with the Origin line is to find a way to offer an introductory option to the Janus experience with the potential to add options and upgrades over time.

One of the highest costs we face is also one of our greatest benefits: the numerous and complex menu of potential finishes and upgrades. By reducing these and standardizing the process, we have been able to find just the right balance that allows us to offer the Origin line. We chose to offer a “line” of existing models because, although paired down, the Halcyon “Origin” is still completely a Halcyon. What it lacks in options and upgrades, it makes up for in potential! We have never offered a “kit” bike, but this might be the closest we will ever come…

We chose the name Origin for its associations with just this idea of potential and beginnings (a big theme here with Janus the god who presides over them!) and because it conveys the idea that these are not so much different from the stock models in nature as in degree.

Please contact us with any questions you may have about the new Janus “Origin” line, what is or is not included, and how you can build it out over time!

Richard discusses the Origin line:

Thanks,

Grant

Grant Longenbaugh

President
Janus Motorcycles

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My First Motorcycle Arrest

By Mike Huber

Instead of one of my usual blogs on motorcycles, I felt it was time to highlight some of my motorcycling shortcomings. Many of us when starting this magnificent hobby have had a few blunders along the way and, well, some of us have had more significant blunders than others.  Being who I am, it seems when I do anything it is extreme.  Over my 28 years of motorcycling, it is pretty obvious that riding is no different.

I was a young U.S. Army Specialist serving in the 82nd Airborne Division.  One of my best friends was about to go through a rough divorce at the same time that I felt the call to obtain my first motorcycle.  He let me practice on his bike and use it for the test if I purchased it from him.  Facing an imminent divorce allowed for an extremely generous discount (he needed divorce and beer money), and being flat broke, this was what led me to make the purchase.  The bike was a bright yellow Honda Magna 750 that had more than enough power (probably too much) for a first motorcycle.

The deal was pretty much done.  I passed my written test and was ready to take my driver’s exam.  I’m not sure if I was nervous or inexperienced (or both), but as soon as I started the test maneuvering around cones, I knew I was making a ton of mistakes.  The Honda Magna was heavy and not the best choice for a new rider taking the motorcycle license test.  Amazingly, though, I passed the exam.  I later learned my friend had been chatting up the evaluator while I was testing to distract him.  Regarding a successful test output, my friend had as much skin in the game as I did.   After passing the test, I paid him $3500 in cash that I obtained by somehow qualifying for a personal loan.  I became the proud owner of a 1995 Honda Magna 750!

It didn’t take me long to realize I was invincible on the Magna, even though I had no riding skills.  I was a 22-year-old unstoppable 82nd Airborne Paratrooper with a fast motorcycle.  What could go wrong?

Pretty much everything could go wrong.  Almost every evening when leaving Ft. Bragg there would be lights flashing in my rearview mirrors.  It couldn’t be for me as I was way too far ahead of them.  This, of course, was because I was going over 100 miles per hour.  Everything was distant in my rearview mirrors at that speed.  From what others had told me, the MPs were not allowed to leave post and had to call any pursuits into the local Fayetteville police.  By the time that happened and an officer would be dispatched, I was long gone and most likely home on my couch watching TV and having a beer.

This cat and mouse game went on for months.  Not daily, but usually one or two times every week.  I didn’t care as it was nothing but entertainment for me.  These near run-ins with the law helped my ego, but did not improve my riding skills one bit.  Until one day when the birds came home to roost.

Sitting at a light on Ft Bragg, I decided to teach myself how to split lanes.  Not noticing an MP (a Military Police officer) nearby, and noticing even less the car driver next to signaling the MP.  Instantly the lights flipped on and I heard the “whoop whoop” of a siren.  This happened at the moment the light turned green.  All traffic stopped to allow the MP to move forward but he couldn’t as everyone had frozen (except for me, of course). Clicking down into first gear and blasting off like a Shillelagh missile, I was out of there.  Knowing the MP would be able to catch up quickly (I was in the heart of Ft. Bragg), there was no running to the safety of the post border.  After a quick couple turns, I realized it was probably best to pull over.

It was no surprise that the MP was not too happy.  As he was listing my charges, I asked him if I could go inside my battalion headquarters to let my team know I would be late returning from lunch.  The MP agreed, and I entered the headquarters building and proudly announced “Hey, Sarge, I am gonna need a little longer lunch today.”

My sergeant asked why, and the MP promptly and quite loudly said, “His ass is coming with me to the station!”  As I rode to the MP processing station and received my charges, it hit me: It was my wedding anniversary.  Since my CQ (Charge of Quarters) shift was 24 hours, I hadn’t called my wife.   While the arresting officer was rambling to everyone in the station about my reckless driving, I thought this would be a good time to call her.  I asked and was granted permission to make a phone call.  I called my wife and wished her a happy anniversary.  She was quite pleased that I somehow found the time to call during my busy day.  The call was going great until my wife asked where I was.

“Ummm, jail,” I said.  “I am in jail.”

My wife was instantly very mad at me.  Prior to that she had been happy.  I’ll never understand women.

Once released from jail, I was not punished, other than receiving a written letter stating that I had embarrassed the battalion and the 82nd Airborne Division:

The letter was quite stern.  I could not ride a motorcycle on Ft. Bragg until I successfully completed a motorcycle training class.  The safety class was sorely needed, as my riding skills were horrendous (to say the least).  The one hope I had was that upon completing the training class my new riding skills would be used for good and not evil.  Sadly, there would be a Part 2, a Part 3, and even possibly a Part 4 to my maturing as a motorcyclist. For the time being, however, I was allowed back on post and I didn’t receive any military judicial punishment, and that was something to be thankful for.

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Bangkok Part 7: Thai moto taxis

By Joe Berk

I mentioned Thai motorcycle taxis in an earlier blog, and on the way back from Wat Arun today, Sue and I grabbed a few photos just outside our hotel of young ladies riding moto taxis sidesaddle to points unknown (points unknown to me; they knew where they were going).   It’s an interesting take on Thai life in the big city.  I’d seen this moto taxi business in China 30 years ago, but not anymore.   In China today, you just don’t see motorcycles in the big cities.  And you sure don’t see anything like this in America.

The photography challenges were interesting.  I couldn’t get close to the bikes (it was a wide and busy avenue in downtown Bangkok), the bikes were moving, and the lens didn’t have a lot of reach (it was the 18-55mm Nikon kit lens, an inexpensive lens not nearly as sharp as Nikon’s pricier offerings).  I cranked the D3300 camera’s ISO up to 800 (even though I was shooting  during the day) to get the shutter speed up (to freeze the action), and then I relied on Photoshop to do the rest (the rest being cropping, adjusting the levels and the curves, adjusting for shadows, adjusting vibrance and saturation, and finally after sizing the photo to the sizes you see here, adding a touch of sharpness.  I think they came out well.  Consider this photo from the above collection:

Here’s the original photo it came from before all the above adjustments:

If I had a bigger lens (say, a 300mm), I would have had a larger and sharper original photo, but as Donald Rumsfeld liked to say, you go to war with the Army you have.  I had my 18-55mm lens with me.  And I have Photoshop on my laptop.

I shot all of the photos above and a bunch more in the space of maybe five minutes (Bangkok’s Asok Street is a very busy street), and then I spent maybe another hour selecting the ones I wanted to use in this blog and Photoshopping them.  You can have a lot of fun with a camera in Bangkok.

Regarding the safety implications of what you see above, what can I say?  The riders had helmets.  The passengers?  Not so much.  We weren’t not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

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Digital Nomad: The Seattle Years

By Mike Huber

I wasn’t thrilled the first few months in Seattle after having moved from Victoria.  The timing of my move didn’t help since it was at the end of summer when the sun almost totally gives way to the gloomy gray clouds.  It wasn’t so much that it rained there but you absolutely could feel less energy around you due to a serious lack of vitamin D in everyone’s system. Nonetheless, I was here and had signed a one-year lease in a high rise in the Seattle neighborhood of Belltown, so I had to make the best of it.

It didn’t take too long to feel closed in living in the city.  Seattle isn’t a big city but what was missing is the nature that had engulfed and spoken to me over the past year.  My “office,” which I went in maybe once every few weeks to meet the team for coffee or happy hour, was in Bellevue.  I am usually not one to badmouth areas, but instead I like to look at the positive side and its attributes. In Bellevue I couldn’t find any.  It was a suburban plastic city with nothing but cookie cutter restaurants and bars.  It was like the Truman show, but with a “keep up with the Jones” mentality.  Everyone had expensive cars and would even move parking spaces to flaunt the material items they had become slaves to.  When asking them what they did on the weekend it usually entailed going to Costco and dinner at a Chili’s or Cheesecake Factory to wrap up a day at the mall.

Thankfully, I rode my Ducati Monster M1100 out from Maine.  This became the best way to leave the beaten path and explore the state of Washington, and boy did I explore it.  It was a quick learning curve to find incredible roads and remote camping areas that most people not only didn’t dare to explore (there were no Chili’s out on the Olympic Peninsula).  This was fine with me.

Once again, every weekend was like a vacation for me as I explored Washington.  When I went into the office my peers would gather to hear about where I went over the weekend and what I had experienced.  There were numerous challenging hikes, remote beach camping on the Olympic Peninsula, motorcycle rides through the Cascades, numerous volcanos, and countless treasures I discovered by talking to fellow hikers and riders.  I was starting to love Washington.  The diversity inspired me to explore the region and it was a rare weekend when I stayed in Seattle.

It didn’t take long before I got over the fear of city life, built a circle of great friends, and became fully acclimated to living in Belltown.  The weekends involved traveling through the state or up to Vancouver, BC and weekdays I spent in coffee shops and bars with my new friends. Life became pretty routine (which was odd for me), but it was enjoyable.

One of the cooler things I loved about Seattle is how dog friendly of a city it is.  For years they had a dog that rode the city bus with a bus pass to the local dog park.  Also, dogs are not only allowed in most bars but actually sit at the bar and the bartender provides a water dish and treats for them.  I have been in bars where at times there are more dogs than people.  This just added to my feelings for this city.

Although after almost three years living in the Seattle area and exploring most of its secrets, there were a few moments that told me it was time to return to my nomadic lifestyle.  One was during a Seattle Seahawks playoff game.  It was on TV and I went out on my tiny balcony to get some air, I looked around at all the high-rise apartments next to me and EVERY television was on the same channel watching the same thing. It was a scene out of George Orwell’s 1984.  It freaked me out and that was one of the seeds nudging me to move on.  The other was the gray skies. I was beginning to become depressed from lack of vitamin D and no matter how many supplements I took I could feel I was sinking into a depressive abyss. My parents, always ones to come up with creative solutions (that’s where I get it from) sent me a mood light for Christmas. It didn’t help.

That one final Seattle winter only provided the city with 20 hours of sun from mid-October until May.  I decided to take action.  I threw the mood light in the trash and devised a plan to leave Seattle and spend a month in Montana.  Little did I know that this decision would morph into a series of life changing events.

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Mount Rainier

By Mike Huber

Mount Rainier, just a two-hour drive south of Seattle, was something I became obsessed with while living in the Pacific Northwest.  I loved looking at that volcano.  Mount Rainier often wasn’t visible during the winter months due to the cloud cover, but when it was visible it was a sight to be seen, especially at sunset.  The entire volcano would glow orange, almost as if it was a 14,000-foot candle. It was magical.

To summit this peak, one has to be extremely skilled as a mountaineer or have a guide due to the multiple avalanches. This was something I had to experience up close, but I didn’t have the climbing talent.  I would have to find another way to experience this.

The following August I began training by spending two months climbing numerous peaks in Washington until my body felt solid enough for an attempt to climb to Mount Rainier’s base camp, Camp Muir.  I drove to the base of Mount Rainier in Paradise, Washington, and slept in the back of my car that night.  That gave me a better chance of snagging a camp permit for Camp Muir in the morning.  This mountain base camp was mostly for those who dared to summit this volcano, and it was nothing more than a hostel at 10,000 feet.  It was a small wooden shed with two levels of plywood that held 12 hikers.

The hike up to the camp was a smoker.  I left at 7:00 a.m. and didn’t reach Camp Muir until 14:00.  It was like climbing up a black diamond ski slope.  I didn’t have crampons and my pack was quite heavy as I had loaded it with a lot of water (a rookie mistake).   Once arriving at the camp and securing a spot in the shed, I spent the rest of the day talking with those that would be summiting in the early hours the following morning.  They summit at night to avoid warmer periods of the day when avalanches were more prevalent.

The hikers all woke around 2:00 a.m. to begin the summit.  Even though the temperatures were low I decided to get up and see them all leave. This provided the opportunity to view all the stars as well as the entire Milky Way spread across an otherwise dark night sky. As the hikers made their way I could hear the loud cracking of avalanches in the distance.  Camp Muir was angled so it was well protected, but that loud thunderous sound sure got the hairs on the back of my neck up.

In the morning as the sun came up I could see 270 degrees around me, and volcanoes were visible in every direction.  It was a site to behold as I finished my breakfast (the remainder of a crushed Subway sandwich).  It was time to begin my descent. The coolest part of this hike was going back down.  I brought a large black garbage bag with me on this hike.  The reason being is as you descend there are luges carved throughout the path down the mountain.  This allowed the opportunity to glissade, sometimes picking up an unreal amount of speed to the point where I would use my legs as brakes to ensure I didn’t get too out of control.

Once returning to a much lower elevation the snow began to disappear and it was time to pack the garbage bag up and hike the remaining 2 miles down.  Not having slept much the night prior due to the higher elevation I was looking forward to hitting a breakfast place in Paradise to refuel as the crushed Subway sandwich gave way to hunger.  I could tell I was close to the base as the people I ran across were less and less in shape or prepared and once I saw a family wearing crocs I knew my breakfast had to be within a ¼ mile or less.

As I entered the café, I got a coffee and a breakfast sandwich.  I felt fulfilled because I was able to experience the hike even without summiting.  The hike to Camp Muir was still challenging and I knew it would leave me sore for the next few days.  It would also provide memories that have lasted.  Every time I see Mount Rainier in the Pacific Northwest, I am able to relive my experience and appreciate that magnificent mountain in a more personal way.

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Digital Nomad: Returning to the USA

By Mike Huber

I had been living and working on the beautiful rain forest island town of Victoria, British Columbia, but I had noticed the past couple of times returning from my work trips to Seattle that the Canadian Immigration people started to take notice of me and were more than aware that the stories I was feeding them weren’t true (they could see my entry/exit dates and they did NOT track with what I was telling them).   During one of the last times I crossed the border I was pulled aside.  They ran my Massachusetts driver’s license and the agent quickly stated “You’re a long way from home, son.”  To which I provided my normal reply by pointing at my backpack:  No, sir. My home is right there.  He didn’t find it funny (they never do).  He returned my IDs and had me move through Customs without further issue.

It was definitely time to return to the United States.  It didn’t take too long over the next week to pack up, deflate the leaky air mattress I had been sleeping on for 8 months, and place the Good Will furniture on the corner (the furniture and I shared the same situation; we were both looking for our next home). Loading everything into the car was the final step before getting on the Tsawwassen Ferry, which would bring me to Vancouver.  It was a short and uneventful 3-hour drive to my new residence in Seattle, Washington.

Victoria was one of the very few places that made me cry when I left.  I had a beautiful eight months living there and felt so fortunate that I was not only able to experience this island and the great people who live there, but that I was able to stay for so long.  It is one of the few places I have lived that I proudly called my home.

I was back in the United States after a year and a half.  It was time to get an actual apartment and furniture that wasn’t from Good Will.  Belltown in Seattle seemed to be a no brainer as far as a location.  There were tons of bars and restaurants, it was next to the Olympic Sculpture Park, and the Victoria Clipper was right there (if I felt the urge to jump back to Victoria on the high-speed catamaran).  Maybe the coolest part of Belltown was that my apartment was in the shadow of the Space Needle, which is one of my favorite buildings.

The one big lesson I learned in my vagabond, digital nomad travels is it is much easier to get back on the wheel than it is to exit it. Getting an apartment and having my furniture sent from Boston was easy.  Leaving the wheel required a ton of planning and preparation.  It took months to downsize, find a storage for my vehicles, rent my condo, etc.  The tasks seemed to never end when I prepared to leave the wheel, and as I completed each task I found myself constantly questioning my decision as I counted down to Day 0.

I was now a Seattle resident.  Over the past 18 months I left from the start of I-90 near Fenway Park to the end of the same road at Safeco Field.  It would have only been a three-thousand-mile trip on I-90, but I took the longest route possible by meandering through five countries.  I was anxious to meet new friends and see how being back on the wheel would treat me, and more importantly, how I would adjust to this old lifestyle I had left 18 months ago.

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Season of Change: Part 4

By Mike Huber

I awoke in my tent still buzzing from the previous night’s ceremony. A frequent side effect from ayahuasca is not being able to sleep that well, but even with little sleep I was ready and excited to face the day with a renewed feeling of positive energy.  I had not only made it through the ceremony but came out the other side feeling a confidence and happiness that I hadn’t felt in years.

Even though I had this elated feeling I was still cautious not to be too upbeat.  I had a final ceremony that evening to go through and I was certain there were still a few things I had yet to process.  Hopefully, this evening would be where I would find the purpose that I originally sought, a star to steer by to light a path, even if it was just a few nearly dead chem lights to point the direction.  Just something.

I passed the day by talking with the others and listening to their experiences and getting to know everyone a little better.  As the day wore on, I began to feel uneasy again as to what that night’s experience would be.  With the ceremony starting at 19:30, the two hours leading up to it I spent in solace and went fishing to pass the time (I had two solid bites but didn’t set the hook so off they went).

Upon entering the yurt I sat on my mat and awaited to be called.  Since this was the third ceremony and I felt as though I had resolved a lot of what I had come here for I chose a smaller dose.  I wanted to be semi-coherent this night so that I could work with the plant, build a relationship, and have her assist me in bringing my purpose into the light.

As I returned to the mat with my cup of medicine, I sat looking deep into the cup for several minutes asking for guidance before I drank the bitter tasting plant medicine.  It didn’t take too long before the muscular black panther appeared and strutted up the mat to be face-to-face with me again.  As I sat eye-to-eye with this magnificent beast, I noticed behind it was the entire universe filled with an infinite amount of lavender colored geometric fractal patterns. I felt so uplifted and began to repeat “what is my purpose?” It was at this time the panther left and the universe melted into a dark scary funhouse as I began to violently purge into my trusty bucket that was kept at my side.  All the while the facilitators were singing and their icaros were resonating through my entire body.  It was beyond overwhelming.  Every sense in my body was heightened as I was blasted with emotion from every direction.

One of my proudest accomplishments is being a paratrooper in the 82nd Airborne Division, but on prior occasions taking ayahuasca my prior Army service never entered my hallucinations.  As the madness of the funhouse carried on, I looked up through the ceiling and could see an enormous 82nd Airborne insignia light up the entire universe.  I once again was in a dark place and began asking why was I seeing this insignia.  Did the plant have a problem with soldiers?  Paratroopers?  Every time I asked my surroundings just became darker and darker.  Every so often it would uplift me for a moment and I would ask about the insignia.  Each time I was thrust back into the funhouse of Hell.  Obviously, I was asking the wrong questions (I learned this after the third or fourth time purging and visiting these dark places).

I am a slow learner. I managed to refocus for a moment and it hit me.  It was almost as if the plant was screaming at me and punishing me for not coming to the obvious conclusion of these signs.  I had asked for purpose during that ceremony and that was it.  The medicine was showing me what my purpose was.  It is to help my fellow veterans in some capacity (this was the conclusion I reached). This was what I had asked for, but I had been too overwhelmed by the hallucinations to focus and obtain that answer.

It’s been three months since I attended the ayahuasca ceremonies. While I am still very mindful of what lessons the plant medicine has taught me, life (as it tends to do) has had me distracted and I find myself backsliding into old habits and losing focus on my new purpose.  I am now alert enough to realize this and I have the discipline to push myself back on track.  As I continue my path forward I am thankful for having the resolve to attend and learn from this beautiful plant medicine.  It is not a magic bullet, but if you follow through on the lessons this plant teaches you there is no doubt you will be a better person.

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Bangkok Part 6: Bangkok bikes

By Joe Berk

So what’s today’s blog all about?   I promised I would tell you a bit about the different kinds of motorcycles and motor scooters in Bangkok, and this is that story.

Scooters, Cubs, motorcycles…they are everywhere. Every traffic light is the start of a drag race to the next light by all the bikes.

Bikes dominate Bangkok’s urban landscape.  I know that sounds like a catchy thing to say (snappy writing, perhaps), but it wasn’t intended to be literary lavishness.  It’s just the way it is.  Two-wheeled transportation is everywhere.  In traffic, the bikes filter by on the left and on the right.  In front of any business or in any parking area, there are hundreds of bikes.  And at every stop light, dozens of bikes filter to the head of the line.  The excitement builds as the countdown stop light nears green (they tell you how many seconds until the light changes over here), and in the last few seconds before the red goes away, a zillion motorcycle engines start revving.  The word “glorious” seems appropriate.

Filter to the front of the line, start revving as the lights nears turning green. The pink autos are taxis (taxis are either pink or metallic green in Bangkok).

There are few big bikes in Bangkok.  Oh, you’ll see one now and then, but they are a rarity.  Over here anything over 200cc or 250cc is just wasted displacement.   I’ve been to Bangkok several times and of the tens of thousands of motorcycles I’ve seen (and those are not exaggerated figures), there were exactly two big bikes.  One was a Harley Sportster and the other was a Triumph Bonneville.  There’s just no need for more displacement.

A lone Triumph Bonneville, tucked away in a Bangkok parking spot.
A Ninja.   Honda, Kawasaki, and Yamaha are popular over here.  Surprisingly, I didn’t see too many Suzuki motorcycles.  We did see more than a few Suzuki automobiles, though.

One moto thing that’s noticeable right away are the orange vests.   When you see a rider with an orange vest, that means they are using their bike as a taxi.  They give short rides (the folks here tell me typically under 2 kilometers).  The riders have to wear the government-sanctioned orange vests and a helmet; passengers don’t wear any safety gear.   A lot of the female passengers wear skirts and ride side-saddle (I’ll show more of that in the next blog).  I’d say roughly 10 percent of all the bikes are being used as taxis.  Most of the drivers are men, but you do see women riders occasionally.

Thai taxi men, and one woman.
A mototaxi, a rider, and a food delivery bike.

Surprisingly, it’s rare to see more than two people on a bike.   You do see it, but not like I have seen in China or Colombia (I once grabbed a photo in Colombia of a motorcycle carrying six people).

A Thai Freightliner.

Bikes are working vehicles over here.   I mentioned the taxi thing; it’s also very common to see bikes weighed down with all kinds of freight.

There are scooters (you know, the things that are styled like Vespas), step-through motorcycles (like the old Honda Cub), small sport bikes (small displacement CBR or Ninja type bikes), plain old motorcycles, and (surprisingly) a lot of Grom-styled bikes.

Another rare sighting…a Vespa in Bangkok. Most of the scooters are of Chinese origin. But this Vespa?  If you’re thinking it’s from Italy, you’d probably be wrong.  Zongshen (in China) produces these for Vespa.
Here’s a guy on one that looks a little like a Ducati.   I’m pretty sure these are made in China, as Gresh and I also saw them for sale on our ride across China.  If you were wondering, the clutches don’t rattle on these.

When I was last in Bangkok 6 or 7 years ago, I saw a few Kawasaki motorcycles that looked a little like the Honda Grom.   Today, the Grom style is very popular in Thailand, with motorcycles of this style from several manufacturers.

I’ll close this blog with a three photos of a bike I spotted yesterday that I thought was pretty cool.  It’s a CG-clone-based motorcycle, and its owner has a sense of humor.

A little Beemer. Well, a Beemer wannabe. Unlike modern Beemers, this one has a rational seat height.
I wonder if the Cafe Racer decals are factory original, or if the owner added them.
It looks good. I like it.

We are enjoying our last full day in Bangkok.   We’re up early tomorrow for the flight back to California.  It’s been grand.  We’re staying in the top floor of a 5-star hotel in downtown Bangkok (the Pullman Grand Sukhumvit) and we’re living in the lap of luxury.  The room is awesome, there’s a pool and a gym, there’s a free tuk tuk ride wherever we want to go, there’s free booze and breakfasts and dinners, and it’s costing less than what a Holiday Inn might cost in the United States.   We’re going for a dinner cruise up the Chao Phraya River tonight with our good friends Kevin and Nan, and we’re going to hit another one of the temples later today.   We took a grand long boat ride on the Chao Phraya yesterday and it was awesome.

There’s one more in this series of Bangkok blogs, and it will feature a set of photos showing Thai women passengers on moto taxis.  Stay tuned.  I think you’ll like it.

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Break-Up Bikes (my journey to a Yamaha TW 200)

By Bobbie Surber

Can we talk about an important matter that has been on my mind?

Do women who ride motorcycles handle breakups differently compared to women who don’t rider?

It’s a thought that tickles the imagination of everyone at some point, right? Well, maybe not everyone, but hey, this is my little tale, so here we go. Picture this: it was summer, I had just experienced a breakup that left my heart in pieces, and an opportunity for a soul-searching solo ride presented itself. In that moment of contemplation, I assessed my true desires in life, and you know what came to mind? Dirt and sand riding. Yeah, I’m talking about that exhilarating feeling of kicking up dust and cruising through sandy terrain. Don’t get me wrong, my beloved Triumph Tiger 900 (affectionately named Tippi) will always hold the top spot in my heart. But hey, a girl needs a little something on the side, a petite and playful companion for short rides. You catch my drift, right? I know some of you guys can relate! Ha!

Fast forward through the summer months and as August approached a dear friend (who also happens to be an extraordinary adventure rider) reached out to me. By then, I had been on my solo riding journey for over two months, feeling both physically drained and financially pinched. And then, like a shining beacon, my friend, let’s call her Destini, introduced me to the elusive TW 200—the side cheating bike of my dreams. This unicorn of a motorcycle was up for sale in Southern California, and armed with a few snapshots and a contact number, I was ready to make my move.

Now, you won’t believe the audacity I had, claiming to be financially constrained but wasting no time in contacting Eric, the seller. He was enjoying a leisurely dinner with friends on a perfect summer evening when I burst into his life with overwhelming excitement. I must have been yapping like a caffeinated squirrel, leaving him wondering if I was either on some mind-altering substance or going through a manic phase. But can you blame me? I had set my heart on that bike! It wasn’t just a want—it was a dire post-breakup remedy! A 2015 Yamaha TW 200 with a mere 800 miles on it listed for only $4000. Surprise, surprise, Eric turned out to be a gem of a person and agreed to a small Venmo deposit to secure the deal.

Now, here’s where the plot thickens. I was miles away in the Olympic peninsula of Washington while the prized possession awaited me in sunny southern California. One could say I needed a trusty sidekick, and luckily, a kind friend volunteered to inspect and purchase the bike on my behalf.

Before I knew it I was the proud owner of a TW 200. Come September, picture me cruising through the neighborhood on a splendid Sunday afternoon, giggling like a mischievous child. That little bike felt so lightweight and petite.  Its chunky rear tire was the only contrasting feature. And would you believe it? My shattered heart seemed to magically mend, thanks to a mere $4000 and the promise of thrilling rides in Baja and my enchanting town of Sedona, conquering as much dirt as possible! Love was in the air once again, and my mind was filled with visions of the adventures that lay ahead.

And thus, my riding comrades, this is the tale of how I acquired my very own break-up bike!

The Yamaha TW 200 is a unique dual-sport motorcycle known for its distinctive features and versatility. Here are some key details about the Yamaha TW 200:

    • Engine. It’s powered by a 196cc, single-cylinder, air-cooled four-stroke engine, designed for reliability and easy maintenance.
    • Fat Tires. One of its most recognizable features is its oversized tires—both front and rear are unusually wide for a motorcycle of its size. The fat tires, with dimensions of 130/80-18 rear and 130/80-18 front, contribute to its off-road capabilities and stability on various terrains.
    • Low Seat Height. The TW 200 boasts a low seat height, making it accessible and comfortable for riders of varying heights and skill levels. This characteristic also aids in maneuverability, especially off-road.
    • Suspension. It’s equipped with long-travel telescopic front forks and a rear mono-shock suspension, providing decent travel for off-road adventures while maintaining comfort on the road.
    • Utility and Design. Its design combines elements of a traditional dirt bike and a street motorcycle. It features a high-mounted exhaust, a large, round headlight, a rear rack for cargo, and a simple, utilitarian appearance.
    • Availability. While production and availability may vary by region and year, the TW 200 has gained popularity for its unique design and capabilities, which contributes to its demand in the used market.

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Season of Change: Part 3

By Mike Huber

I returned to my mat/astral spaceship with a full dose of ayahuasca in a cup that I was about to drink.  This would be my 12th time consuming this magical potion from the jungles of South America.  As I sat staring into the cup that would soon bring me into another world I was as scared as I had ever been in my life, especially having just had one of the most frightening journeys of my life the night prior. Looking into the cup of dark molasses-colored and textured fluid I set my intentions and fearfully drank what was a little over an ounce, but it would prove to be more than enough to benefit me.

Similar to the prior evening I sat back to let the medicine absorb into my body.  There was nothing for me to do but let the medicine perform its work now.  Once the singing of the icaros began I could feel another entity coming towards me, but it wasn’t the panther from the previous night.  It was a War of the Worlds type of jellyfish with tentacles.  I was relaxed since in previous ceremonies this was the hallucination I was used to.  One of the tentacles came down and at the end of it was the pattern of the inside of the ayahuasca vine but I could tell it was an eye scoping me out.  Yet again I was eye to eye with a new entity introducing itself to me.  What was constantly on my mind was if this entity would disappear and return me to the Hell I was in the previous night.

Pretty much as soon as the hopes of not returning to that Hell faded, yup, you guessed it I returned to the exact same Hell as the previous night.  Damn it!  It was for a shorter period of time though (or so I thought as time is relative in the spirit world).  There were no voices or guidance this time, though, so I wasn’t quite sure of the lesson I was being taught (but I did vomit ferociously for quite some time). Once that began to wind down my name was called and I moved to the facilitator that would sing to me face to face.  I was instantly uplifted and felt just pure happiness.  A happiness and peace with myself that I hadn’t felt for years. I was comfortable within my own skin and felt as though I had been reborn and given a new chance to experience life through this new lens that I hadn’t had previously.

That evening I went back into the room to have tea with others and was no longer huddled in the corner.  I participated in the conversations while also checking in on others to ensure none of them felt as I did the previous night. It was one of the best experiences I had to date with this medicine, but I still had one more night to go through, so I was cautious not to become overly comfortable. It was time to rest, eat, hydrate and get my head together for tomorrow night’s final ceremony.

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