I was about to consume ayahuasca for the 11th time in my life.
The twelve of us gathered in the yurt around 19:30. Having previously participated in ten ceremonies, the process felt natural and comfortable. That’s not to say that I wasn’t scared, but I was familiar with this beautiful plant. Most importantly I trusted the plant and the people overseeing my consumption of it.
In the past, the first night for me was not that painful and was more of a “getting to know you” feeling. Normally it was a very pleasant experience. I would see a lot of colors and just the entire universe would unfold in front of me. The second night is when the effects of this medicine would become serious and step up intensely.
This would not be the case tonight. Within 30 minutes of setting my intentions, consuming the brew, and the singing of beautiful icaros (native Peruvian songs) by the facilitators, I began to feel the effects. About this time is when the hallucinations began along with an uneasiness in my stomach. One of the side effects of drinking this medicine is that purging, or vomiting, is a frequent occurrence.
What I am about to describe is my ayahuasca journey. Full disclosure: A lot of it won’t make any sense, but it is the outcome that I want to highlight. The hallucinations first came as a beautiful black panther crawling up my mat to sit in front of me. It was so close and real that I could feel the vibrations of it purring as we sat face to face for some time just staring at each other. I thought this was a new form of an introduction. The muscular black panther disappeared after a short time and at the instance of his departure I was instantly thrust into a hellish scene with a red sky and fire everywhere. The only structures visible were totem poles made of fire, and they were screaming at me. I then began to violently throw up into a bucket (which I had placed exactly where I could find it in the dark). This went on for…well, until I was finished reliving every mistake I had ever made in my life. Every time I’d been rude to someone. Every time I had put someone down. Every time I had doubted myself. Every time. Once that was over, I felt like one does when awakening from a bad dream, still having that feeling the dream was real. It was that feeling, but it was multiplied a thousand times.
After the ceremony the host came by and checked in with us all. I was still pretty shaken. I was putting the evening back together to try to ground myself.
Upon formal closure of the ceremony a group of us went inside the house to have tea and discuss our individual experiences. I sat quietly in the corner of the room listening to everyone’s stories. They were all beautiful and gentle. I was still reliving the hell I was shown. It would be a night of very little sleep for me.
The next day I was DONE. I was ready to leave and not stay for another ceremony. The day began with me crying inside my tent and really not much else. I talked with my friend who ran the retreat sharing my feelings about leaving. For me, even thinking I would quit is unheard of. I am a paratrooper and we do not quit! But that first night was so painful it was hard to imagine another two evenings like it. My friend shook it off as part of the growing experience. I knew he wasn’t wrong.
The next night not only did I attend ceremony, but I requested a 20% higher dose. As I drank it I said aloud “Run towards the sounds of guns” and tapped one of the practitioners and said “Hey, please look out for me I may need some help tonight.” He promptly replied, “I’ve got you!”
I returned to my mat to set my intentions for that evening and waited to see what this next ceremony would bring.
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We were flying low and slow, like vatos do, heading north from Mountainair, New Mexico. The Mud Chuckers, one on a Buell 1000, one on a Kawasaki Vulcan 750 and me on the 1974 Yamaha RD350. It had been a few years since the last Motorado event and we decided to ride up as a group. Covid and inertia combined to equal a 4-year gap since the last Motorado event. Last year in 2022 we held an unofficial Motorado rump-meet at the traditional location. About 15 old bikes showed up and no one drank beer because the pub was closed. There was a swap meet going on and we drew some interested lookie-loos. It was better than nothing for sure and I was prepared to go do it again this year but the real Motorado got on the pipe.
Saturday’s weather was warm and sunny and none of us felt in the mood to go very fast so we burbled along at 50 miles per hour enjoying the beautiful, two-lane New Mexico scenery. Traffic was typically light. Three cars passed us. At this stately pace the old two-cycle, twin cylinder Yamaha RD350 progressed 58 miles for each gallon of gas. That number would be a lot more impressive except the ancient, 1950’s era Sportster motor powering Mike’s Buell did 68 miles per gallon. Long stoke, four stroke, no poke, no joke.
A Vulcan 750, an RD350, and a Buell.
The unofficial, official motel for Motorado 2023 was the Sunset Motel in Moriarity, New Mexico. The Sunset is laid back and low slung just like us. You don’t get breakfast at the Sunset but you do get a monster homemade muffin, which is almost the same thing. After getting settled in our rooms we rode off to get dinner at Shorty’s BBQ joint.
Shorty’s has the best BBQ brisket in Moriarity but the place is always in kind of an identity crisis. The first time I ate at Shorty’s the walls were covered with Jesus stuff, bible quotes and crosses. A few years later I stopped by and the entire restaurant was a shrine to Donald Trump. The Mud Chucker’s are about as far from liberal as you can get, but are also not too fond of The Donald so I feared the worse going in, but the décor had changed again. Now the place was Jesus-lite® without a single reference to our 45th President and a marked reduction in Christian symbolism. You get to experience Shorty’s political and spiritual evolution through the walls of his establishment and eat a great brisket sandwich to boot.
Late September in New Mexico is prime motorcycle riding season. The mornings are cool, gradually warming to hot afternoons. Elevation changes and drifting clouds create a seesawing temperature landscape. The Mud Chuckers were moving slowly on Sunday morning and I’m of that certain age where I no longer care whether I arrive anywhere at any particular time, so we managed to pull out of the motel around 11 a.m. From the Sunset, it’s a straightish shot up Highway 41, through Galisteo to Highway 285 and then north a few miles to the Motorado.
There was a good crowd at the 2023 Motorado. It looked to me as though they had not lost any attendance despite the 4-year layoff. All brands of old bikes were represented and several shops had booths selling whatever it is they sold. I hit the Motorado T-shirt booth first but they weren’t set up to take credit cards and I had a limited amount of cash on hand. Once again it was no T-shirt for me. This whole T-shirt thing is out of control.
One of my dream bikes, a Kawasaki Avenger 350. These disc valve two strokes were pretty fast back then and still fast today.High pipes on a Norton P-11. This is pre-isolastic mounting so you get to feel every vibration the parallel twin puts out.Every Motorado I see a bike I never knew existed. Here’s a Taurus diesel that looks a lot like Royal Enfield running gear strapped to a diesel engine.This over restored but still beautiful Ariel Square Four was a stunner. I hung around to hear it run but got tired of waiting.The oldest bike at the event, a 1906 Fairy opposed twin. Not sure of the horsepower but they made 2-1/2 to 8 horsepower models. I bet the 8 was a real screamer.This bike is the great grand-daddy to the RD350. Two generations behind the RD it’s still a sweet looking bike.
After a few passes we had seen pretty much all the bikes in the show and the swap meet. The Chuckers and I took the long way home on the Turquoise Trail through Madrid, New Mexico and got back to the Sunset motel at Sunset. Moriarity rolls up the sidewalks on Sunday night and all the regular places were closed so we retreated to a 24-7 truck stop that had the worse spaghetti ever made, and then we called it a night. It’s tough eating night-spaghetti.
The morning ride from Moriarity was brisk bordering on cold and our rag-tag group made the 200-mile rode low and at our now standard slowpoke speed. I’m very happy the Motorado is back in business and barring another world-stopping pandemic I hope they stage many more years of vintage shows. As long they hold the meet I’ll be riding an old bike up to Santa Fe to check out the hardware. I’ll see you there next year. Swing by the Sunset Motel and we can ride the last 50 miles together.
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So at 66½ years old my health is not what it used to be. I’ve sold all my “nice” bikes and now ride two scooters, a 1985 Honda CH150 Elite around town and I just bought a 2008 Suzuki Burgman 400 for distance travel.
I had a hip replacement 2 years ago. That’s working really good now. Bone spurs on lower back made it very painful swinging a leg over to get on and off a regular motorcycle, plus just riding on a bike all day was not fun anymore with the dagger like pain in my neck and back, which I’ve had for years. I could just roll with it in younger days. I can’t do that anymore. I’ve had immense fun going on motorcycle camping trips in the Pacific Northwest, Canada, Baja, several National Parks, and more places with the two Joes (Gresh and Berk). All great memories.
A few months ago, a friend had a scooter he wanted to sell. The price was something I couldn’t walk away from. My friend told me $100 and you can come get it. The short story was it was stolen years ago, recovered, and then sat outside for years. The people that stole it tried to paint it black over the nice original red color. Being left out in the weather resulted in a lot of rust, and it gummed up every control that needed to be able to move. Leafcutter bees made homes in every nook and cranny. Under the plastic I found hordes of dead bugs and cobwebs. The brakes were not working due to the bugs and water had entered the drums and rusted them.
I figured if I could get it running without too much effort it would be worth tackling the other issues. I took the carb apart and cleaned it by soaking it in ultra sonic cleaner, and I poked little wires through the jets that were plugged solid with old gas. I added a new air cleaner and battery. To my surprise, it started and idled okay. Then I replaced the old tires with new ones, oiled the cables, took the switches apart and blew out the dead critters, and lubed them. The fuel tank looked like it came off the Exxon Valdez. It was all rusty inside. So I rinsed it several times and got chunks of rust to come out as well as the gas that had turned to turpentine. Just to make sure, I installed two inline fuel filters on the gas line. I also added a new fuel vacuum petcock. Basically, I just gave it the tender loving care it needed from years of neglect. Five hundred bucks later, I rode it around and got all the lights working. I next took the constant velocity transmission apart and cleaned it, lubed it, installed a new belt, and Bob’s your Uncle. It’s a fun little scoot that gets up to 55 mph.
After riding the scooter around I noticed my back wasn’t hurting like it used to. I think the sitting position and not having to spread my legs apart like on a regular motorcycle relieved the pain. Or maybe it was the potholes my city is famous for pounding on my spine that did the trick. I’m hoping the the scooter will carry me into my goldener years and I can keep riding.
I’m now familiar with the term “Rat Rod.” I named my scooter “Tetanus Shot.” Every time I look at it, I feel like I need a tetanus shot. So does everyone else, especially the Harley guys I park next to at our coffee shop. I park next to them on purpose.
With the comfort and fun of riding Tetanus Shot around, I figured that if I could sell my 2009 BMW F650GS (a great bike) and my little Chinese 400 thumper road bike, I would have the money to buy a maxi scooter. After the customary searching and reading all about the big boy scooters, I decided that a Suzuki Burgman 400 would be a good long distance scooter. I found one an hour away with 5200 miles. It was a 2008. I rode it and thought it would do all this old geezer needed. $3600 later, I rode it home.
It didn’t take long to get familiar with the Suzuki’s handling and power, which surprised me when I left the seller’s gravel driveway and the rear end broke loose from too much throttle on the gravel lane.
Accessories I installed to make comfier included heated grips, a 3D-printed throttle lock, a rear trunk for added storage, a cell phone holder, a GPS mount, and handlebar shields to keep bugs and stones from hitting my hands and cold weather riding. I added wiring for my heated jacket, a wind screen extension, and a Roto-Pak mount on the trunk for extended gas range. I took the rider’s seat back rest and made it taller to support my back better.
A few weeks ago, I wanted to take one more 4-5 day trip before the weather turned wet and cold. I loaded clothes, tools, extra gas, and the various other assorted things I take on bike trips, and pointed the Burgy towards Seattle.
1250 miles later I can say I really enjoyed riding the big Suzuki scooter. I had no problem running 75 to 80mph on Interstate 5 through Seattle’s rush hour traffic. Vibration was very minimal. Wind protection was good. I noticed the large wind screen would really wobble at speed and when cross winds hit it. The seating position was very comfortable and I could move and stretch my legs more than on a motorcycle.
One thing not as good as my motorcycles was not being able to stand up while going down the road to stretch my legs and cool the nether regions when it was hot. I could do it, but it was a very different sensation than a motorcycle.
My back was pain free while riding all day. My back would hurt and remind me after I stopped, but it is what it is .
My Suzuki’s fuel consumption was 55-65 mpg, which surprised me because at 70 mph the engine was turning around 7000 rpm. The Burgy’s 3.4-gallon fuel tank provides a 150 to 180 mile range, which is just right for a needed rest. My 1-gallon Roto-Pak for extended range was emptied several times.
The route was Walla Walla to Yakima, over Snoqualmie Pass into Seattle. I rode up Interstate 5 to Burlington to visit my best customer. Then it was north to Bellingham to see the Grizzly Machine tool store. Then we turned down to Seattle. I spent a night with a friend. I rode down Interstate 5 to Kelso, crossed the Columbia River, I next headed west to Astoria, and then it was down Oregon 101 to Lincoln City for the night. The next day I rode down to Newport, east to Albany, Oregon, then up Interstate 5 to the Columbia River Gorge, where I spent the night in a motel in Cascade Locks, Washington. In the morning I ran east on Highway 14 to Mary Hill Stonehedge, then over to Goldendale for lunch, then east to Bickleton and the Tri-Cities, and then back home to Walla Walla. I enjoyed riding the Burgy. The scooter did everything I expected it to do. I’m hoping for many rides into the sunset on this scooter.
After being self-annoyed for 34+ years, I finally got my “walking papers.” I am shutting down my machine shop and plastic injection molding business. My best customer sent all the work I used to do for them to China and the shop I’ve rented since 1995 is up for sale, so I’m scooting on out of here.
Today was another exciting day, and we visited another one of Bangkok’s best kept secrets. Sue and I took a tuk tuk ride to the train station and we made our way on Bangkok’s elevated inner city railway system to our destination du jour: The Jim Thompson House and Museum, located inside the city along a remote canal. Tucked away, you might say. And that’s entirely appropriate. Read on and you’ll understand why.
Thai transport, tuk tuk style.The view from the passenger compartment.Getting around on Bangkok’s elevated railway was surprisingly easy. And that’s Mo Chit.Waiting for our ride.Inside the train.
The destination of our tuk tuk and train travel was the aforementioned Jim Thompson House and Museum. You might wonder: Who was Jim Thompson?
Jim Thompson, before he disappeared in the jungle forever.
Okay, here goes, and when I’m done giving you the Reader’s Digest version of this amazing tale, you tell me if isn’t something that might be the story line of the next Indiana Jones or James Bond adventure.
Jim Thompson was a young east coast guy born into wealth who went to Princeton University and became an architect. He joined the Army just prior to World War II, he jumped out of airplanes while he was in the Army (I like this guy already), and he ended up in the Office of Strategic Services during the war (the OSS was the forerunner of the CIA). Toward the end of the war, Thompson was stationed in Thailand where he found interesting and previously unknown (unknown outside of Thailand, that is) artisans doing amazing things with silk. To make a long story a little less long, Thompson is the man who made Thai silk famous. Seriously. He designed silk clothing for royalty, elites all over the world, and folks in Hollywood (including the costumes used in the movie, The King and I).
Along the way and with his background as an architect, Mr. Thompson starting collecting classic Thai teak homes and Asian artifacts (like I said above, the guy had money). He built a compound comprised of six teak homes he moved from ancient Thai cities to Bangkok, and there he built a compound that he made his home. The big photo at the top of this blog is part of it. It’s in Bangkok now, but when Thompson built it, it was well outside the city. Bangkok expanded around it.
Then, to make this story even more interesting, in 1967 Jim Thompson disappeared in the Malaysian jungle without a trace. I know, it sounds like a story line from a movie or one of those adventure novels you buy in an airport bookstore, but folks, no one can make up stuff this good. A former US Army paratrooper/OSS officer/CIA agent turned wealthy silk magnate, complete with an ancient Thai compound on a canal in Bangkok who goes missing deep in the jungles of Malaysia. What was it? A tiger attack? An assassination when former enemies finally caught up with him? Or something else? No one knows. At least, no one who’s talking.
With that as the backdrop, here are a few more photos of the Jim Thompson House and Museum.
One of the exterior shots. The really good stuff was inside. I thought about trying to sneak a few photos, but then I remembered Thompson’s background and thought better of it.Our guide, in an area where photos were allowed.Hallway artifacts.More stuff outside.One last photo inside the Jim Thompson compound.
This was an amazing visit. I would have liked to have taken more photos of the inside of the home and the amazing ancient Thai artifacts it held, but as I mentioned above, no photography was allowed inside. You’ll just have to take my word for it. This is one amazing place and one amazing story. If you ever find yourself in Bangkok, seek out the Jim Thompson House and Museum. Most people have never heard of it. It’s one of the more fascinating places I’ve ever visited.
I took one more photo that day as Sue and I walked back to the train station. It was a convex mirror at a tight street intersection, you know, the kind that lets drivers approaching from either way see what’s around the corner. It called out for a selfie, and we answered that call.
Trust me on this: If you ever find yourself in Bangkok, the Jim Thompson House is a place that has to be on your “must see” list.
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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.
It was to be a busy day in Thailand starting with a long ride south out of Bangkok to the famous floating market, an awesome shrimp lunch after that visit, then back to Bangkok, and then dinner at a fabulous Italian restaurant with a couple of good friends (I know people everywhere). Imagine that: Italian food in Bangkok (and it was good, too).
About the floating market near Bangkok: I’d first sort of heard of it way back in the early 1970s when I saw a James Bond movie and its chase scenes with those narrow Thai boats. The Bond flick was The Man With The Golden Gun (if you’re reading this blog, my guess is you’ve seen all the Bond movies). The movie showed the boats in Bangkok, not the floating market, but it planted a seed 50 years ago and I when I heard about the floating market on this visit, I wanted to see it. Here’s that scene I remembered showing James Bond doing his secret agent stuff (with an appearance by Sheriff J.W. Pepper, ably played by the late Clifton James) on Bangkok’s waterways:
The floating market is about 100 miles south of Bangkok. The concept is that there are shops on the canals in the delta where the Chao Phraya River meets the sea. The idea is you are on these long narrow boats and you float along, visiting shops. In some places the vendors paddle out to visit you. Every turn in the floating market was a photo op, and for me, the photo ops were the best part of our visit. I took close to 400 photos in the space of a couple of hours. All were with my D3300 Nikon and its 18-55mm kit lens. That combo is a stellar travel photography approach. The 18-55mm lens is not as sharp as a good prime lens, but it does a good job and it is versatile.
A typical scene in the floating market. It was very tranquil. In some places, it was also very crowded.A happy coconut vendor.Need a python? I have one. You can read about it here.One of the long boat captains.Imitation, the sincerest form of flattery. Here, this young lady is imitating me photographing her.Mango. It looked good.Some folks make amazing photo subjects.Some animals do, too. If you’re wondering what this guy is…it’s a pygmy slow loris, rare primates that live in bamboo forests in Southeast Asia. They look friendly.
On the way back to Bangkok, our driver took us to a nondescript restaurant that didn’t look like much from the outside, but our driver knew where the good spots were. We had shrimp fried rice for lunch, and it was delicious. The freshness, the aroma, the taste…it was marvelous. It was easily the best shrimp plate I’d ever had, and I’ve had some good ones. I’m not supposed to eat rice and I’m not supposed to eat shrimp, but I’m glad I broke the rules for this meal.
A hidden gem…a Thai shrimp plate. I knew when I was enjoying it I’d probably never find this restaurant again. Maybe that added to the experience.
We returned to downtown Bangkok and I wandered around grabbing a few more photos. I promised something related to motorcycles in every Bangkok blog. Promises made; promises kept:
The Bangkok Moto GP. It’s at the head of every traffic line at every traffic stop.
Our plans for that evening included having dinner with our good friends Kevin and Nan at Rosseno’s Italian Cucina. It was another five-star dining experience, a world-class Italian restaurant in the middle of downtown Bangkok. It was only a couple of blocks from our hotel, so Sue and I walked there.
Rosseno’s Italian Cucina. It was superb. I had lasagna.From left to right, it’s Nan, Kevin, Susie, and me.
During dinner, it started raining. After dinner it was pouring. It does that a lot in Bangkok. Kevin and Nan had arrived on one of Kevin’s motorcycles. I would have been concerned about the rain, but as folks who live in Bangkok, Kevin and Nan were not. To them it was no big deal.
Nan put on her rain gear (Kevin did not) and they rode off into Bangkok traffic.
Bangkok is one of the world’s great cities. It’s about the size of New York, and like most major cities in the world, it pretty much has everything you can imagine (including great Italian food).
Tomorrow’s adventure is going to be another Bangkok hidden treasure: The Jim Thompson house. Stay tuned. You’ll enjoy it.
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Another day, another Bangkok blog, and another famous Thai locale…Soi Cowboy. Soi means street in Thai, so Soi Cowboy is Cowboy Street. It played a role in the movie Hangover II. It’s amazing how many famous spots there are in this amazing town. The guys in orange vests you see in the big photo above are motorcycle taxi dudes. They take folks (mostly women) around Bangkok on the back of their bikes carving paths through traffic as if it wasn’t there. It’s an amazing thing to see.
Soi Cowboy is a street that is pretty dead during the day. When the sun sets, though, Soi Cowboy comes alive. There are street vendors selling food from their carts. The clubs come to life. And the B-girls start doing their thing. As an older married guy, it all seems pretty silly. Sue was mortified. But it is what it is, and I’m going to show you just a little bit of it here.
One of the many food carts on the street in front of the clubs on Soi Cowboy.Another food cart. I had the Nikon on its “auto ISO” setting, which basically means it runs the ISO up as high as it thinks it needs to be to get a good shot. Some of these photos were at ISO 12,800.More Thai food. I didn’t work up enough courage to try eating off these street vendors, but I’ll bet the food was good.
The clubs are bars with entertainment. Most of the entertainers are young Thai women. Most of the entertainees are older western guys. It’s pretty sad, actually, and I imagine it’s a pretty rough life for the girls.
A snap shot in front of one of the clubs.Another club shot.
As always, motorcycles and motor scooters were everywhere.
Bikes lined up just off Soi Cowboy last night.And finally, a look down Asoke (that’s the street name) from a pedestrian overpass.
So that’s it for this post from Thailand. Watch for scenes from the floating market tomorrow.
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In October of 2017, Susie and I visited Bangkok. I had a gig in Singapore and we opted to swing by Thailand on the way home. It was an awesome visit and I had a lot of fun taking pictures of Bangkok motorcycles, Thai women, a few Thai guys, food, and more. I thought I would rerun that series (with a few updates) for you here on the ExNotes blog. In as many of these posts as I can, I’ll tell you about the motorcycling scene in Bangkok, too.
Our first morning in Thailand! Sue and I were up with the sun and we walked around the block to get a few photos after a great breakfast in the Grand Pullman Hotel.
Sunrise in Bangkok. When it comes to smog, Bangkok is what California used to be.
The evening before was fun. We arrived at the hotel late at night, and because we had opted to stay on the executive floor, the hotel staff rolled out the red carpet for us. When we went to the check in counter and told the staff our names, they whisked us up to the top floor, brought us into the executive lounge, poured us each a glass of wine, put several kinds of appetizers in front of us, and seated on us on a comfortable sofa. Two young Thais basically interviewed Sue and me, they disappeared for a moment, and then they reappeared with our room keys. It was a pretty cool experience, and it was unlike any hotel check-in we’ve ever had.
That morning we walked around a bit taking in one of the world’s busiest streets in one of the world’s most exotic cities. The number of motorcycles on every street had our attention immediately. Something we had not seen before anywhere else in the world were the motorcycle and motorscooter taxis. People used motorcycles and scooters for taxi duty, as you will see in a few of the photos below.
A Thai motorcycle taxi rider waiting for a fare. Motorcycles are commonly used as taxis in Thailand.Another Thai taxi, this time a rider on a scooter. The orange vests signify that these bikes are for hire. You have to be a daring person, I think, to hail a ride on the back of the Thai two-wheeler.A Thai family on a scooter. And a few other scooters, all waiting at a traffic light on Sukhumvit Road, the main road through Bangkok.The ubiquitous Honda CG clone engine. These power motorcycles made all over Asia. They are probably one of the more reliable engines ever made.ATGATT: All the gear, all the time. Well, some of the gear. Maybe some of the time. Can you imagine what the emergency ward in any Bangkok hospital must look like?Street food, Bangkok style. Thai food was surprisingly good. But we weren’t risk takers…we only ate in restaurants.
The fun was just beginning. I’ve been pretty lucky all of my life and my work has carried me to some pretty exotic locales. I’ve seen a lot of the world and most of it has been on someone else’s dime. That’s what this Thailand adventure was. A client brought me to Singapore to teach a failure analysis course to a group of their defense ministry engineers (I wrote a book about failure analysis a couple of decades ago and it’s been providing adventures like this ever since). The heavy lift on this trip was the airfare to Singapore (which the client covered); swinging by Bangkok and stopping off there on the way home only cost a bit more. It’s a great way to travel. I had my trusty Nikon D3300 with me (I love that camera), and I put it to good use on this trip.
I think I’m going to run this Bangkok series every day starting today and for the next six days to maintain the story’s continuity (there will be seven Bangkok posts in total). If it’s too much, hey, just check back in when it’s convenient for you.
I guess a good way to start a blog is to grab the reader’s attention, and I can do that here: How many people do you know who ride a Panther?
A few weeks ago I wrote a blog about Nick Adams, an interesting man, fellow motojournalist, and author. Nick is about the same age as me and he enjoys exploring the world on his different motorcycles. In other words, he is our kind of guy.
Nick Adams and his trusty Moto Guzzi.
In my prior blog about Mr. Adams, I mentioned that I planned to purchase one of his books. I did, and a few days after ordering Adventures on Borrowed Time, it arrived.
Adventures on Borrowed Timeis well written and well organized. It’s 191 pages long and it has lots of pictures. Nick’s writing style is conversational and easy to follow (it feels more like listening to a good friend’s stories than reading). The first chapter is about Nick’s ’72 Guzzi Eldorado (the one you see in the photos above). The following chapters take you through Canada, mostly on gravel roads, in good weather and bad. There are instances in which Nick’s Guzzi didn’t feel like starting, and Nick takes us through the steps he took to coax the old V-twin back to life. There are parts where Nick switches to his ’86 Suzuki Cavalcade (Suzuki’s attempt to cash in the Gold Wing craze), that monster of a bike’s surprisingly good handling, and the repairs Nick made to it. Parts of Adventures on Borrowed Timedescribe exploring Canada on Nick’s 650cc Suzuki Burgman scooter. And then, returning to my attention grabber at the start of this blog, Adventures on Borrowed Timedescribes Nick riding Canada on his 62-year-old Panther.
Never heard of the Panther? Don’t feel bad. The Panther is a 600cc single English bike made from 1900 to 1968, and most folks have never heard of it. They are fairly primitive, I think. I say “I think” because I’ve never even seen a Panther. And here’s Nick, describing what it’s like to take major trips through Canada on one. A long-distance moto adventure ride through the Canadian wilderness on a 62-year-old British motorcycle…what could go wrong?
The writing is superb, the photos are great, and the character development all make Adventures on Borrowed Timea book you need to read (the characters being Nick, his wife, the people he meets, and the bikes). You can purchase your copy of Adventures on Borrowed Timehere. Trust me on this: You’ll enjoy it. You can thank me later.
Here at ExNotes, we cover a lot of topics: Motorcycles, motorcycle touring, product reviews, concrete, guns, reloading, and more. And coffee. The thought occurs to me we’ve written a lot about coffee, from the primo Batdorf and Bronson beans provided by good buddy Ren to just about everything else. About now, you might be wondering: Where is this blog going?
Well, I was recently in Tokyo. I gave a class in Singapore and Sue and I thought as long as we had invested the 20+ hours to get there, we might as well stop in Japan on the way home (neither of us had ever visited Japan before). I’ll post a blog or two about the land of the rising sun in the coming days, but for now I wanted to talk about making coffee in our Tokyo hotel room. On these Asian trips, I’m usually up by 2:00 or 3:00 a.m. (there’s a 16 hour time difference between Japan and LA, and my biological clock doesn’t handle it well). They don’t serve coffee in the hotel lobbies over here, so you either make coffee in your hotel room or you don’t have coffee. For me, not having coffee has never been an option.
If you’ve read Riding China, you know that Gresh and I became experts at making coffee at places in China so remote they had to pipe in water and air. Our coffee was always prepared using instant Nescafe, which is almost a crime against nature for folks who enjoy a good cuppa Joe. Nescafe reminds me of that old engineering saying: Halitosis is better than no breath at all. But when it comes to making coffee in a hotel room, the Japanese had a better idea. It took me a while to dope it out and I finally had to read the instructions to do so. When I did, I realized: Clever people, these Japanese are. Take a look.
The water heater for making coffee. I thought the coffee bag would to into the white gizmo below the lid. I was trying to find a way to open it up. When I spotted the Phillips head screws securing it to the lid and I thought I needed a screwdriver, I realized I was on the wrong track. There are no English instructions anywhere on this pot.The bag of coffee. How the hell does it fit into the coffee pot?Ah, the flip side. No instructions in English, but there are pictures. I panicked initially when I couldn’t find the holding fixture the pictures show.Could it be? A cardboard fixture built into the coffee bag?Ah, these people are very, very clever. You heat the water in the pot, mount the coffee bag with its included cardboard mounting fixture in your cup, and pour the hot water over the coffee.It’s genius. Pure genius.And it was a damn fine cup of coffee, too!
Gresh and I sure could have used this when we rode across China. Next time, I guess, if I can find a place to buy these coffee bags. And you know what? As soon as I wrote that last line, I remembered: Amazon is your friend. I did a search on drip bag coffee, and wow, here they are!
I couldn’t let a story about coffee get by without a commercial or two…the first one being for our book, A Cup O’ Joes. Have you picked up a copy yet?
And the second commercial…how about Riding China, from which you can learn all about how two die-hard coffee drinkers struggled across the Gobi Desert, the Tibetan Plateau, and more in China, the land where people don’t drink coffee?
