Get me outta here!

Man, oh man. I have got a serious case of cabin fever. I'm pretty sure I have a specific form of this ailment, and the only thing that will cure it is a motorcycle ride. And not just a teeny, tiny little putt around the block, either. It's gotta involve some saddle time, luggage, a wheelie or two, twisty roads, and no friggin' snow. I was staring at the US map on the wall just beside my 'puter at work. I realized I was staring - intently - at Colorado and Wyoming. My eye danced across words like Bighorn, Glacier, Yellowstone, Tetons, Flaming Gorge, Rocky Mtn Natl Park, Pike's Peak, and Black Canyon of the Gunnison. Ah, be still my heart.



I know it's still snowing there too. And there's this little problem of 1000 miles of Great Plains between me and all that geological splendor. One thousand miles of absolutely

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roads. No hills to mar the landscape - every mile looks just the same. I've done this trek before. I've crossed the Great Plains via North Dakota, South Dakota, Nebraska, and Kansas. I've launched into or out of them via Minnesota, Iowa, and Missouri. I've reached my destinations in Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, and New Mexico. And, no offense to any flatlanders reading this, but all long, straight roads are good for on a motorcycle is wearing a flat spot in your premium sport tire, which renders it ... interesting ... when the road finally does get twisty again and you want to L E A N that bike over, feathering the edges of the tread. After 1000 straight miles, the profile of the tire is no longer a sweet oval. It now resembles the rim cover on the family sedan: square. And then there's the bike that's calling to me in my dream state; my MZ Baghira. It started life as a porcine dual purpose bike (both off and on road). But MZ thought it would be fun to replace the wheels and tires with street equipment in the spirit of a vaguely popular 1980's racing series, calling it a Street Moto. The more European name for this sort of nutter bike is Super Motard. (OK, I admit it. I'm motarded!) So while this bike is a blast to ride, it didn't scream, "Ride me long distances on straight roads!". But there they are. So, over time, I have gone away from viewing this as a 'motard, and started thinking of it as a poor man's "adventure touring" bike. A go anywhere, do anything bike. And so may I introduce to you my partner in hooliganism, Farouche:



I added some conveniences, and weight, to make him a better partner on adventure. The side cases and top box make life on the road easy as pie, and the PIAA lights on the front vaporize deer while they're still eighty yards out. He's still not a perfect mount for riding across the Great Plains, but in time, all will be improved. But hey! I'm not perfect either, so we make a pair, Farouche and I. We're going to go somewhere. It's just a matter of waiting for all that damned white stuff on the ground to go away, and first chance I get I'll slip the shackles of Corporate America and escape.

FREEDOM. At least for a while.