Traveling and living mostly off my BMW GS1250 for the past six years has really taught me how to live in a minimalistic way, but travel with enough to be comfortable. It is a rarity that I need anything more than what I have. My organizational skills are honed to the point that I know where everything I own is at all times. Everything has a specific place and keeping items consistent with their location is key to organization. I can get out of my tent at 2:00 a.m. and know not only which pannier any given item is located, but the exact location within that pannier. It’s an art form that I take pride in. So you can imagine if things are flipped upside down and I am pushed into a new packing routine how it would take time to readjust my mindset to a new format.
This is exactly the place I have found myself in now. Beginning January 10th I am converting from a motorcyclist to a backpacker as I begin a trip to Oceania for an unknown period of time. Auckland, New Zealand will be my starting point and a 50 Litre Osprey Backpack will become my new home. Relearning organizational skills as a backpacker will include a learning curve, albeit a fast one. With a little bit of discipline my organization as a backpacker will become just as honed as my previous life was on the motorcycle.
Although this seems minimalistic it will be summer in the southern hemisphere so going light on clothing was an easy decision to make. I am sure if I am missing anything it will be easier to pick it up along the way rather than carry the weight and bulk of unneeded items. Being new to backpacking I am fully open to criticism and suggestions on anything I am missing or have over packed. Let me know your feedback and items that you cannot live without that should be added to this list.
I recently purchased a copy of Elspeth Beard’s Lone Rider, the story of a woman riding her BMW around the world in the early 1980s. To give you the bottom line up front: You need to buy and read this book. It’s that good.
I first became a fan of around the world motorcycle stories back in the early 1990s when I read Dave Barr’s Riding the Edge (another excellent read). I think I’ve read all or nearly all of the books in this genre, and I’ve written reviews on several (I’ll provide a set of links at the end of this blog). Some are these books are outstanding, others are truly terrible, and most are somewhere in between. Lone Rider firmly belongs in the outstanding category.
Picture this: A young British woman in her early 20s decides to ride her 600cc BMW around the world, and with no sponsors and nothing in the way of a support network, she does so. By herself. On some of the worst roads, most hostile regions, and least friendly environments on the planet. On a street bike, for which she fashioned her own panniers and top case. This was before you could buy a ready-made ADV bike.
It took Ms. Beard a couple of years to complete the journey, partly because she had to stop and work to fund the trip. I was captivated by her story, appalled by the way she was treated in a couple of places, and saddened by what I would describe as a surprise discovery decades after the ride ended.
Lone Rider is well written and well organized. The chapters are about the right length (I read one or two chapters each night before lights out), the photos are good, and the writing is superior. Prior to reading Lone Rider, I always thought I wanted to visit and photograph India; the book disabused me of that notion. I never had any desire to own a BMW motorcycle; the book convinced me that I had that one right.
At 336 pages, Lone Rider is substantive and I found it hard to put down. It really is a masterpiece of motoliterature. If you’re looking for your next good motorcycle book, Lone Rider is it. Trust me on this one.
When is the perfect time to ride Sonora, Mexico? Any chance you get!
Fresh off a ride in Ecuador, I was itching to hop back on my Triumph Tiger GT Pro 900, fondly named Tippi, when my pal Destini (an ace adventure rider) suggested we hit up a rider’s event in Banamichi, Mexico. I did not hesitate for a second. Hell yeah, I’m in!
The first stop on our adventure was a pre-trip visit to Destini’s home in Bisbee, Arizona, an old mining town. Tombstone, a nearby a wine district, and plenty of riding were nearby to keep us busy. Our plan included riding to Agua Prieta, a quick ride from Bisbee, to sort out the next day’s border crossing. With our paperwork ready, we were back on the road aiming for the best tacos in Bisbee!
After enjoying a delicious meal of epic tacos, we gathered in front of the impressive motorcycle shrine at Destini’s (and her husband Jim’s) Moto Chapel. We officially christened Tippi by adding her name to the tank. The Moto Chapel, a vision brought to life by Jim, never fails to catch the attention of visitors. It is a small garage with a pitched roof, complete with air conditioning and even a bathroom. It’s a true paradise for gearheads and motorcycle enthusiasts alike.
On the road again, with Destini leading the charge on her GS 800 named Gracie, we breezed towards the border. Or should I say, Destini and Gracie breezed through, leaving Tippi and me oblivious to the inspection signal, which led to a comical episode of me doing my best to charm the officers while trying to avoid a bureaucratic whirlwind between the US and Mexico. With a little acting (okay, a touch of exaggerated age and frailty), we were back on the road and free as the wind.
We savored every moment— zooming down the desert open roads of Mexico’s Highway 17, enjoying the breathtaking mountain vistas and sweet tight twisties along Sonora Highway 89. That is, until we faced a water crossing. Destini, cool as ever, told me to keep my eyes up and just go for it. Turns out it was a breeze, but then she casually dropped a story about moss and a rider wipeout on a previous ride! Thanks for the heads-up, Destini…you did well telling me afterward!
Our destination was Banamichi, a charming town steeped in Opata indigenous culture and Spanish colonial history. Banamichi was a bustling trading hub, attracting merchants from far and wide. We strolled through its charming streets, greeted by well-preserved adobe houses adorned with vibrant colors and traditional architectural elements. The town’s rich cultural is evident in its festivals, art exhibitions, and handicrafts that highlight its residents’ talent and creativity.
We settled in at the Los Arcos Hotel, hosted by Tom and his lovely wife Linda. Their hospitality matched the hotel’s enchanting courtyard and old-world charm. The weekend whisked by in a blur of exhilarating rider tales, mingling with the aroma of delectable food and more than a few Mexican beers to ease the heat. The morning included a tour by the mayor, including the town square’s church.
Lunch that day included a visit to a small local ranchero for Bacanora tasting. Bacanora is akin to Mezcal, a beverage to enjoy while being careful about how much you are willing to partake! The tasting and lunch were a leisurely affair. We savored the flavors of this year’s Bacanora harvest while enjoying a laid-back lunch with regional dishes that appeared abundantly and effortlessly.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, evenings were a symphony of vibrant hues, margaritas, and captivating rhythms of Folklorico dance. Each of the dancers’s steps told a story—a mesmerizing tribute to Sonora’s rich cultural tapestry.
And as the second night ended, my mind buzzed with the tales of fellow riders and the warmth of the Bacanora nestled in my belly. The air hummed with laughter and camaraderie, each story adding another layer of adventure to the weekend’s memories.
Sunday morning heralded a poignant end to our short escapade—a bike blessing conducted by a local priest. It felt like a closing ceremony, encapsulating the spirit of our epic weekend. As we bid farewell to fellow riders, we reluctantly rode out of Banamichi. Its charms lingered, a reminder of the joy found exploring quaint towns. It was a weekend filled with epic riding, new friendships, and a gentle nudge to continue seeking such delightful adventures.
This year I decided to expand my hobbies while traveling across the United States by motorcycle. I enjoyed camping and riding but felt with the long summer days I needed something to do once I arrived in camp (other than drink beer around a beautiful campfire, which will still happen no matter how many hobbies I take up). Fishing seemed to be a perfect way to spend early evenings once my campsite was set up. I was going to become a successful motorcycle fisherman.
OK, well the successful part ended rather quickly. I started off just crushing it and catching fish almost every time I went camping. I was fishing lakes around Arizona and thought that once I was in California it would only improve. It didn’t. In fact, I didn’t catch a single fish from July to the end of August. In my own defense, I was fishing rivers where most were fly fishing and not using lures or worms. But still, to be skunked day after day for a few months was demoralizing, especially one day when fishing in Lassen National Park. There was a couple next to me, literally right next to me, using the exact same power bait and reeling in bass after bass. As soon as he landed a fish his wife would clean and cook them on the spot. Meanwhile, I wasn’t even getting a bite. I may have cried that night in my tent a little (or a lot). I kept a positive outlook, as I was just starting my trip and had so many states to visit that my luck would surely turn around.
My luck did not turn around. It got to where the fish were mocking me jumping all around my lures. Even when I changed from power bait to spinners to gummy worms every 30 minutes or so, it just wasn’t happening. This is where my friend said to me “That’s why they call it fishing, not catching.” Ugh. I clearly need better friends.
As my travels (and my fishing drought) continued, I camped and fished in 14 states without a bite (AZ, CA, OR, WA, ID, MN, PA, NY, VT, NH, ME, NJ, VA and MD). Talk about a drought. This was awful. I think what made it worse was my BMW GS1200 was so loaded down that I had the pole visible on the bike held by ROK Straps which invited people to come up and talk with me about my fishing success and comment “oh, you will definitely catch something here…I’ve never been skunked there.” Well, I didn’t and I was skunked. Repeatedly.
On November 1st my BMW was stolen. The steering column was cracked open like a lobster and it was pushed into an alley where the thieves pried open my panniers and took only a few items. One of them happened to be my trusty $40 Walmart collapsible fishing pole. This was the ultimate insult to wrap up an unsuccessful fishing year.
Not being one to give up, the first thing I bought after the BMW was recovered was another fishing pole. Over the winter months my plans are to start watching YouTube videos and reading how to improve my chances on the waters I travel along next spring throughout this great country. 2024 is my year to catch fish!
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.
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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Okay, so having served in the United States Army I am always aware of my surroundings, my gear, and most importantly physical security of these items. This is even more true nowadays as a fulltime traveler on my motorcycle. This involves not leaving sensitive items on the motorcycle overnight and parking it near me (usually line of sight) or in a garage. These habits have kept my gear safe over the past six years of traveling, not just in the United States but across the globe.
Upon waking up in Baltimore on November 2nd and looking out the window from my bedside I instantly was shocked to see that my BMW GS1250 was not in the parking spot where I had left it the day prior. My heart sank. Not only was the bike gone but so was a lot of my gear. Non-sensitive items thankfully were inside my friend’s house where I was staying. I combed the parking spot to see if I could find any pieces from the bike or any type of clue as to what happened. There was nothing. The bike was just gone.
I was devastated to say the least. The GS1250 still had its temporary tags on it; that’s how new it was. What hurt me even more was the panniers with dozens of stickers identifying where I had traveled. They were gone along with some sentimental items from the Army that were kept locked in them.
Within five minutes of calling the Baltimore police, three officers showed up, took the report, and fully understood my pain. They issued an alert for the missing motorcycle, which was my home.
It only took two hours and my phone rang. They had found the BMW two blocks away. I quickly ran down to meet the officer and was anxious to view what was left of the bike (if anything) and my gear. The bike had a few thousand dollars in damage, mostly from whoever took it snapping the steering lock to push it into this dark alley. Amazingly, most of my gear was intact, but the panniers were destroyed from the thieves prying them open with a crowbar (I’m assuming). Some of the gear was still hanging off the panniers and some of it was thrown all over the alley. Fortunately, my losses only included my raingear, air mattress, tool kit, and my fishing pole. I asked the officer to alert the Coast Guard as obviously the thieves were going to blow up the air mattress and go fishing in Chesapeake Bay. Even in times of darkness I find humor to lighten the mood, if for nothing else but my own sanity.
So the police found my bike, but it wouldn’t start due to the steering lock being destroyed. That began a painful day of finding a local BMW dealer, calling a tow truck, and beginning the paperwork for the insurance claim. I was still extremely distraught and depressed over the whole incident, and rightfully so. Over the years my mindset has changed from the “woe is me” negative thinking to a more positive one of “maybe this is meant to be and had the bike not been taken I possibly could have been injured or killed in a wreck that day.” It sounds cheesy, but I do believe this. Having a positive outlook helps take a bit of the pain away, even if momentarily.
Luckily for me I have incredible friends pretty much all over the world. The decision to rent a car was a no brainer. It would be a fun way to kill a couple of weeks and Kia Kamp while the bike was being repaired. I could continue the “Mike Huber friends and family tour.” This would not only occupy my time but reassure me that even though I was going through a difficult time, being surrounded by beautiful friends would provide the inspiration and confidence to move forward. This is not to say that a few times a day I don’t feel an emptiness in my gut. Having traveled so much of the world and especially doing so by motorcycle where I am so exposed has provided much more good than bad throughout the years. If you get off your couch and go live sometimes bad things happen, but more often than not you meet wonderful people and build relationships with new friends for life.
Lessons Learned
Sadly, this isn’t the first time I had a motorcycle stolen. I had a brand new Suzuki GSXR750 stolen when I was in college at Boston University. That moto was never recovered, but I immediately bought a caliper lock for my next motorcycle. This provided comfort, but it would not stop three or four big guys from simply picking the bike up and throwing it in the back of a truck. I stopped using the caliper lock when I bought my first BMW GS (in hindsight, this was not a good move). I didn’t think stolen BMWs were in as much demand as the Japanese motos.
There are motion alarms, airtags, and a ton of other security devices out there that I am sure I will be writing about in the near future. For now the bike is back and the panniers have a clean canvas to start over and begin adding new stickers. My travels will continue after a brief hiatus as we await BMW parts from the Motherland.
Having recently turned 50 and even though I feel it has been a super intense and successful ride (I’m still alive, so I guess that’s a barometer for success), I felt myself falling into a rut. I was unfulfilled in my job and things were just…blah. A close friend of mine made this analogy: When things tend to go flat for me I come in the room and flip the table over and the game board and pieces go flying everywhere. Well, it was time to flip the table again, and to do it with authority.
My job had been a great vehicle in my life for college, certifications, and traveling the world, but it seemed to have broken down on a desolate desert road with radiator fluid spewing all over the cactus that surrounded it. My management and the leaders above me were spectacular, but I was stuck and having been there for 21 years, I felt it was time to move on. My boss, after laying others off, didn’t look too well as he prepared me for the news over a video call. I wanted to volunteer for the layoff and simply said, “Sir, this will be the easiest call you have all day.” I had a Cuban cigar and a glass of whiskey ready when I heard the numbers. I instantly knew I had made the right decision when I felt a massive weight lift off me.
What to do with my life now was the next question. It didn’t take me long to realize I should blast out on the bike to figure it out. While riding through Joshua Tree National Park I reflected on my time in Peru. I took a trip up the Amazon and at a friend’s suggestion I tried this mystical hallucinogenic drink called ayahuasca under the guidance of a Peruvian shaman. It was an intense experience (to say the least) and it was a solid restart of my entire system. I felt as though it was time for this sacred drink again.
After a 3-month ride to British Columbia (nothing is ever a direct route for me) and experiencing some failures with the motorcycle, I arrived at my friend’s retreat. Ayahuasca isn’t a pleasant experience for me. It is a lot of work. You face your true inner self, even if you don’t want to. This can be painful and ugly. It is intense. In my life, there are two things that scared me: Exiting an aircraft in flight and drinking ayahuasca. Everything else is manageable.
I was beyond nervous so I thought prior to arriving I would throw a few casts out to kill an hour or two. My first cast I caught a beautiful bass.
The preparation for these ceremonies was not something to be taken lightly. This includes a very strict diet of no processed food or alcohol, and meats limited to chicken, turkey, or fish. The bass was a perfect meal to share with my new friends.
I arrived on my semi-trusty BMW GS1200 (the semi part is an0ther story) and pitched my tent where I would sleep after the ceremonies. There were 11 others that would be drinking along with 2 practitioners overseeing the ceremony. It would take place at 20:00 (that’s 8:00 p.m.) in a yurt on a beautiful piece of land next to a large river. It was the perfect setting and time for me to be in this place.
I was beyond scared to drink this medicine again, but I knew it would provide the life guidance I wanted. Having taken ayahuasca in Peru, I felt confident and familiar with the effects; however, I didn’t expect the impact it would have on me this time.
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The International Association of Chiefs of Police…it’s an organization most folks have never heard of, but it’s been around for 130 years. My good buddy Mike is a member and he invited me along as his guest to the 2023 IACP convention (Mike and I have known each other since the 7th grade, and that means we’ve been friends for more than 60 years). It’s the third or fourth time I’ve attended the IACP show, and it’s always great. The IACP convention was in San Diego this year, and any time I have an opportunity to visit that beautiful town, I’m in. Susie and I rolled south in the Subie; Mike had already flown in. All kinds of companies have exhibits at the IACP convention, and many federal and state law enforcement agencies have displays. The United States Secret Service was there and they had one of the presidential limos on display. The photo at the top of this blog is yours truly reflected in the presidential limo’s deep black paint.
So who exhibits at the IACP? All kinds of government organizations and all kinds of businesses. Many of the exhibitors were software companies (including Microsoft) specializing in data base and other police applications. There were several outfits advertising armor plating for people, automobiles, war wagons, and more.
Body armor in your choice of colors. I’d wear it, but it would make me look fat.Impressive. Bullet proof glass may become an optional accessory for civilians here in the Peoples Republik of Kalifornia.Another bullet proof barrier supplier. Check out the photos below.Here’s another bulletproof barrier company, with several of the cartridges its material can stop displayed.A close-up photo of one of the cartridges.The above door interior. None of the bullets made it through.
As you might expect, gun companies also display at the IACP convention. The ones I saw this year included Glock (with the largest display), SIG Sauer, Beretta, and a few different AR manufacturers. Surprisingly, Smith and Wesson wasn’t there (if they were, I missed them), nor was Colt (not many police departments carry Colt handguns these days).
Glock’s booth at the IACP convention. These guys had a lot of visitors. Glocks are popular and they are relatively inexpensive.
The Beretta and SIG booths were quiet. There was a lot of activity at the Glock exhibit. I spent some time at the Glock booth talking to one of their reps, and he was informative when I asked about using cast bullets in a Glock. I’d previously heard that Glock advises against using cast bullets in their pistols, and I asked if that was true. Glocks have barrels with polygonal rifling, and as such, there are no lands and grooves (there are just raised and lowered areas that twist along the barrel’s length). The Glock rep explained to me that they do indeed recommend not using cast bullets, as the lead has nowhere to go when it accumulates in the bore. When the barrels experiencing leading, it constricts the bore, and this raises pressures higher than what would be experienced in a conventionally-rifled pistol barrel. He said if you clean the barrel often enough (so that leading does not accumulate), shooting cast lead bullets would probably be okay, but how many shots can be fired before this becomes a problem is too dicey a proposition for Glock to provide a number. I also asked about copper plated (as opposed to jacketed) bullets, and the Glock rep told me that they advise against using those as well. To me, it’s not a big deal, as I don’t own a Glock, I always clean my guns, and virtually every firearm manufacturer advises against shooting reloaded ammo anyway. Eh, what do they know? The only time I ever shoot factory (i.e., non-reloaded) ammo in my handguns is when I have to requalify for my concealed carry permit.
Glock pistols. I don’t follow Glock, so I don’t know what their different models are. The red and the blue guns are training guns.SIG Sauer’s 226 X-5. This is an impressive handgun.
I saw the new SIG target model (the 226 X5) and I fell in love with it. Unfortunately, the X5 is not available to us here in the Peoples Republik of Kalifornia (it’s not on the California Department of Justice roster of approved handguns). The SIG X5 is expensive at $2219, but I’d buy one in a heartbeat if it was sold here. It fits like my hand like a glove and the trigger is superb. The grips are nice, too. The X5 has all steel construction, so it’s heavier than the standard 226 (which has an aluminum frame). I sure wish it was available here. On the plus side, SIG’s M18 is now available in California. It’s the Army’s new sidearm. It has a striker firing mechanism (there’s no hammer), so the trigger pull is not what I would call good (as is the case, in my opinion, with all striker-fired handguns). The M18 is about $700 and I am tempted. I like SIG handguns.
There were taser manufacturers and firearms training simulator manufacturers at IACP, too. The photos below show a taser virtual reality simulator. You wear a headset that covers your eyes and hold a taser gun. I think the company was Axon. They had about 20 stations for people to try it. The rep explained that you have to fire twice…once in a noncritical area and then again in another non-critical area. When you do that on the simulated bad guy in the virtual reality headset, the bad guy goes down. Sometimes you have to fire more than two times because your suspected felon doesn’t cooperate and keel over immediately. You get about 15 runs against assorted bad guys, and I toasted every one of them. Then there’s an officer needs assistance call where you roll up on a police officer having difficulty subduing a bad guy. I fried that bad guy, too. It was fun.
Virtual reality and a taser. It was awesome.Me, in my VR world.
Another company, Sim Lab, had a target gallery with moving silhouette targets and your choice of either a SIG or a Glock (I went with the SIG). I did pretty good on that one, too, and after I had toasted their bad guys the Sim Lab rep said I was a good shot. That made this IACP convention one of the best ever for me.
The Sim Lab setup. I opted for the SIG M18. I may get a real M18 one of these days.
After I shot the Sim Lab course, the rep asked if I wanted a video. Hey, does a man in the desert want water? Does a California resident want gas prices below $5 a gallon. “You bet,” I answered, and I fired the course again. It was fun. (Pro Tip: The video looks better if you expand it to full screen.)
There were a couple of first aid equipment manufacturers at IACP 2023, and the exhibits were surprisingly lifelike. And gruesome. You couldn’t walk by their exhibits without looking (and taking a photo or two).
This young lady is having a bad day. She lost a leg, she lost a hand, and someone slit her throat.
There were several vehicles on display. One was the Riverside County Sheriff’s command center. It was awesome. There were also armored vehicles. They were really cool. And there were police motorcycles.
The Riverside County Sheriff’s Mobile Command Post. It is impressive.An armored vehicle with a battering ram. Check out the gun port on the right door.Good buddy Mike peeking through the gunport.
Harley and BMW were the only two police motorcycle suppliers in attendance (which is probably fitting, as they are the only two gasoline-powered motorcycle manufacturers selling to US police departments). Mike and I both sat on the Harley. Its weight (840 pounds) could only be described as oppressive. I guess I’ve grown weaker in my old age. I could barely get the thing off the side stand. I’ve owned a couple of Harley full dressers. No more, though. For a lot of reasons, my Harley days are in the rearview mirror.
Mike on the police Harley. We both agreed: It’s a porker.
The Kawasaki KZ1000P, an iconic police motor if ever there was one, went out of production at least 20 years ago. But there was a pristine one on display. It was in a booth advertising communications equipment, and that company used it to showcase the early police comm equipment they used to manufacture. The Kawasaki (although it was 20 years old) was immaculate, as it should be. The odometer showed only 5 miles. Mike and I were both impressed. I would like to own this bike.
Yours truly with the no-longer-manufactured KZ1000P Kawasaki.The real deal, with just 5.3 miles on the odometer.
There was a company displaying an artistic Lucite arrangement lit up. It was interesting. I can’t remember who the company was, so I guessed it bombed as an advertisement, but it was cool. In the photo below, it shows Federal Signal. I’m not sure what they do. But if I ever needed a Lucite car bit of artwork, they would be my guys.
A Lucite car.
The United States Secret Service had what was probably the most interesting exhibit. It was one of the President’s Chevy Suburbans, complete with the presidential insignia and flag. I sat in the rear seat. There were real Secret Service agents there and they were nice guys. We joked with them a bit about taking care of Old Joe, because we sure didn’t want Kamala in the White House. They tried not to laugh, but I sensed strong agreement.
Hail to the Chief! The window glass on this SUV is at least an inch thick.
Boston Dynamics was there with a couple of their robotic dogs. You might have heard of Boston Dynamics. They were featured on 60 Minutes (the television show) a couple of years ago. The robotic dogs were cool. There was a real police dog there, too. It was not sure what to make of the robots.
One of the exhibits had a large table full of counterfeit $100 bill bundles. This was another cool exhibit that I have no idea what they were selling. But it was cool and it made for a couple of cool photos.
Money money money. I’m not sure what these guys were selling.Thumbing through a stack of hundred dollar bills.
One of the great things about these kinds of conventions are the goodies. Many of the exhibitors had bags (mine was from Blauer), and nearly all the booths had goodies. I was a grownup playing trick or treat, and I didn’t even need to wear a costume. Ordinarily, I don’t pick up much in the way of goodies at trade shows, but I have four grandchildren now and I was scooping it all up for them. At least that’s my story, and I’m sticking with it. I will tell you I won’t need to buy another pen for probably another 50 years.
The goodies bag. It was heavy by the end of the day. The grandkids will be pleased.
Mike and I had a super time wandering around in the IACP convention. So much so, in fact, that we reached the end of the day without eating lunch (and for me, that’s unusual). That was okay, because it made us look forward to dinner as we left the convention. As always, the dining in San Diego was superior. Whenever Sue and I visit another city, we don’t go to the touristy restaurants; we always search for the local favorites (and Sue does a stellar job in finding these). Valero’s got the nod our first night in town; it’s a small, family run Italian restaurant, and it was excellent. I had eggplant parmigiana, Sue had angel hair pasta with pesto sauce and mushrooms, and Mike had the pasta puttanesco. I’d never heard of that last one and when Mike translated the name to English I didn’t believe him initially, but he was right. I’ll have to try that one on our next visit. And there will be a next visit. Valero’s was outstanding.
Eggplant parmigiana that tasted as good as it looks.Angel hair with pesto sauce and mushrooms. It was awesome, too.Pasta puttanesca. It’s on the list for the next visit. Mike enjoyed it.
Our second night in town brought us to the Havana Grill, a Cuban restaurant not far from Old Town San Diego. It, too, was a local favorite and it was excellent.
Picadillo, which is beef seasoned with onions, peppers, garlic, olives, and raisins. I had it for dinner and it was fantastic.
So there you have it: A great visit with good buddy Mike, a super time at the International Association of Chiefs of Police Convention, and a great couple of days in San Diego.
Wow, did I get lucky with this…a coffee and motorcycle spot just a few miles from home. It used to be that I had to ride all the way up Angeles Crest Highway to Newcomb’s so I could hang out at a motorcycle destination where like-minded people stopped for something to eat and to admire other motorcycles. Then Newcomb’s closed, a victim of the down economy and the pandemic. There was another cool spot Gresh and I spent an evening at in Chongqing, but the chances of me riding the Enfield across the Pacific to get there are slim. And then, I noticed Rev’d Up Coffee and Classics in Claremont. Claremont is the next town over from where I live. I’d seen Rev’d Up before, but I figured it was just another Gen X or Millennial (or whatever they’re calling themselves these day) Starbucks refugee trying to cash in on the coffee craze with a little moto mystique thrown in as sort of an artificial sweetener. Boy, was I ever wrong; there’s nothing artificial about Rev’d Up or its owner.
Steve Solis, motorcyclist and Rev’d Up proprietor, taking a break from Bike Night cooking duties.
Steve Solis is the guy who owns and runs Rev’d Up. He’s a good guy, a lifelong area resident, and a rider. Steve’s personal ride, a Sportster, is usually parked inside the restaurant seating area during normal business hours, but he brings it outside during bike night.
Steve’s personal ride – a Harley Sportster with an extended front end and apehangers.
The theme of Rev’d Up is bikes, classic cars, and hot rods. Steve has a couple of vintage bikes on display in the restaurant windows, and there are cool moto things throughout the dining and coffee sipping area.
A Honda Dream on display in one of the Rev’d Up windows.Another vintage Honda on display at Rev’d Up.Older motorcycle helmets. I wore one of the Peter Fonda Captain America helmets in the ’70s.
In keeping with the Rev’d Up theme, the menus are displayed on car hoods suspended from the ceiling. One is from a Camaro, the other is from a Datsun.
The breakfast and lunch menu. On Bike Nights, Steve is out front making Philadelphia cheesesteak sandwiches. They sure smelled good.The coffee and other specialty drink menu. I have to try the Easy Rider.
I asked Steve what the best kept secret was. His answer? The Easy Rider espresso. He said it was his favorite drink. Next time I’ll try it.
The best part of any of these gatherings is always wandering around in the parking lot, taking in the bikes, and talking to the riders. There’s no set theme regarding the bikes. Harleys, choppers, Ducatis, KTMs, BMWs, Triumphs, and more. They were all there.
Check out the SU carb and the velocity stack on this Shovelhead chopper. Where does the rider’s leg go?The Harley Panhead engine, one of the two best-looking Harley engines ever made. The other one is the EVO motor. Those Panhead valve covers are impressive.A full view of the Panhead chopper.Bike night is not all about choppers. The colors on this helmet and motorcycle stood out.Another classic and beautiful motorcycle. The 748 was a later version of Ducati’s 916. They look good.There are no better colors for a classic BMW boxer twin than gloss black with white pinstripes.As we were leaving, this Triumph pulled into the parking lot. All marques are welcome at Rev’d Up. It’s a cool place.
Rev’d Up Coffee and Classics is located at 212 West Foothill Boulevard (that’s Route 66) in Claremont, California. It’s definitely worth a stop, and I’d say it’s a worthwhile place to take a ride. Maybe I’ll see you there. Look for the orange Enfield in the parking lot; if it’s there, I will be, too.
OK, well the successful part ended rather quickly. I started off just crushing it and catching fish almost every time I went camping. I was fishing lakes around Arizona and thought that once I was in California it would only improve. It didn’t. In fact, I didn’t catch a single fish from July to the end of August. In my own defense, I was fishing rivers where most were fly fishing and not using lures or worms. But still, to be skunked day after day for a few months was demoralizing, especially one day when fishing in Lassen National Park. There was a couple next to me, literally right next to me, using the exact same power bait and reeling in bass after bass. As soon as he landed a fish his wife would clean and cook them on the spot. Meanwhile, I wasn’t even getting a bite. I may have cried that night in my tent a little (or a lot). I kept a positive outlook, as I was just starting my trip and had so many states to visit that my luck would surely turn around.
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.
