What would I look like as a blocky green man in an uncomfortable position
This Motorcycle Ergonomics web app gives you the greatest gift a web app can: the ability to imagine oneself as a square-ish, green person. It then allows you to place this simulacrum on a variety of bikes from a pretty extensive list of manufacturers.
In theory this should take the guess work out of picking a new bike. It quantifies the ergonomics of a machine while giving you a visual representation of the position the rider would adopt.
In reality though, it's more a trivia fact machine. I sincerely hope I am not breaking new ground here when I say that bikes are visceral objects, meant to be touched and felt. The numbers provided are just that; numbers. Sure, they may quantify your degree of comfort (or the opposite) but ultimately we're all still gonna buy the bikes we want, regardless of how comfortable they may or may not be.
This app is a brilliant idea and one that has been executed with thoroughness and aplomb. But, if you're anything like me, you'll just wind up using it to torture the green man.
I had no idea that Mustang week was a thing. Later on I may even learn more about it, but for now, this video is all I need. The fun kicks off at 3:18 when one car leaving the show gets ambushed by the inevitable cop presence that any significant auto events attracts.
The REAL fun starts at 3:35 when too much horsepower and too little control meet with the predictable "ploughing into oncoming traffic"-y consequences.
Man, Mustang Week looks awesome and now I have to wait a whole 'nother year. Dang times.
You think I'm joking, but this is still better throttle control than I have.
Last Sunday I was lucky to finally cash in the gift voucher I had for one six hour lesson at a nearby dirt bike riding school. As the title suggests, I had long heard the advice that dirt riders make better road riders. As a kinda sucky road rider this naturally interested me.
The day got started at mid morning and after the required faffing around with gear and some introductions we got started on some actual course content. What followed was twenty minutes of torturous throttle control exercises with a 90cc Yamaha bike in which I learned that I have zero throttle control. Honestly, none. What so ever.
What followed was a battery of exercises that frankly made me question what I had been doing all this time. I was aware that dirt bikes constituted a different discipline of riding, but my definition of "different discipline" was significantly less radical than the reality. With no apparent idea of how to start, stop, balance on or turn a motorcycle I never the less plunged onward with the day, comforting myself with the illusion that, maybe, each time I tried I was sucking incrementally less.
I am completely sold on dirt bikes though. They are light, agile and very easy to maneuver. In contrast, my road bike feels stiff and generally uncooperative. Also, I cannot overstate how plush, comfortable and generally squishy-soft the suspension was. Not that that in anyway ablated the effect of the seat itself, which seemed to be upholstered in the skin of some kind of highly acidic, sandpaper crocodile. After two hours of "sliding" across the seat for cornering purposes, "sore" is only the beginning of the sensation I was feeling.
Sliding is a ball too, a gentle rain the night before had made the ground nice and soft. As such, my classmates and I took to it with gusto, sliding around with the gleeful abandon only people who won't have to repair either their bikes or the turf can muster.
All of this was facilitated by the fantastic instruction of the trainer. His emphasis on technique was outstandingly informative and each exercise built toward greater confidence on the bike and your own limits as a rider.
The crucial moment for me came at the end of the day. To end the day the class embarks on a short trail ride, including a descent of one very steep hill. When I say "steep hill" I mean that were I forced to traverse the incline on foot rappelling would have been my preferred option. "Fear of heights be damned" I thought to myself as I rode over the edge. For the first three quarters I was doing very well though, naturally. right up until the moment I thought to myself "I'm doing very well". With the bottom in sight I locked the rear brake and learned more about how willing I am to contort myself to remain upright in the following 90 seconds than I ever have before. When forced to choose between flapping about like a fool to stay up or using my face to slide down some rocks, I choose foolish flapping every time. What sensible gentleman would choose otherwise?
I'm a quick learner.
I never once "got the hang of it" and the sensation of perpetually being on the verge of disaster is exhilarating to say the least. It was, however, a hugely valuable experience for me and one that has vastly improved my ability as a road rider.
For me, this is a confirmed myth. Just five hours training has made all the difference to my riding and I'm already planning ways of affording to go back. If you are a road rider and you do think you could be better then you need to get out there and get dirty.
I'm fairly upfront about being an Australian. As such, it should come as no surprise to you that I've never been to the Outback. It's the same thing as British people not really calling each other "guv'nah". I've been to the Steakhouse, but I've never actually been to the Outback Outback. Recently, however, my partner of two years took a job in Bourke. I drove out to help her move and settle in, but had to come back quickly for a job interview. What follows is an hour-by-hour break down of the journey home.
Hour 1:
I woke at 6:00am. It's a brisk 4 degrees Celsius in the morning. The sun isn't up yet. I'm wearing two jumpers, a hoodie and a leather jacket. Still cold. I turn the car on to warm up and the drivers side headlight immediately blows. It's an omen that the whole day will blow too. I depart at 6:43am. I am carrying food supplies. Four bananas and a sack of tuna snacks, Vegemite snacks, LCM bars and two Red Bulls. Despite the cold I wind down all four windows and turn up Edguy's Ministry of Saints. For one brief and glorious moment I imagine that I am both the fastest and loudest thing this side of the Outback.
Hour 2: The Mitchell Highway is straight. Straight. Really straight. Quiet too. Ahead of me two cars stop in the middle of the road. One driver gets out to talk to another. I stop and ask if they need help, but it's a father and daughter stopping to chat. They are nice people, but they are also like R.M Williams mannequins brought to life. I press on to Nyngan. At some point I stop to take that photo. I stopped at that same place on the way in. As you can see the sun is barely up. The same people are sitting in the same chairs in front of the same pub behind me, one day later. I respect their commitment to the country lifestyle.
Hour 3:
I blow through Narromine on the way to Dubbo. The road starts to develops curves. I am initially cautious as I want to preserve my stamina for the trip. The traffic around becomes more numerous, but they stick to 80kmph in the 100kmph. I realize that though I want to preserve my strength, I want to preserve it at the speed limit. I start overtaking people.
Hour 4:
I reach Dubbo and decide to stop for half an hour for food and a bathroom break. I head back out onto the road. I knock back my first Red Bull and a banana. The potent mix of nutrients and additives they supply reinvigorates me. I launch a potassium and caffeine fueled assault on the highway. People are still being cautious on the roads due to the double demerit point weekend. I overtake a number of people on the road. The number is "All of them"
Hour 7: Having overtaken every moving thing on the highway I still feel confident enough to blow through a few smaller towns without stopping. It takes a to find parking in Orange and when I do it's outside the visitors centre. My bag of food is still full so I do my best to make a dent in it. My efforts are hampered by the haunted park I've chosen to sit in. A voice issues from a nearby statue reads me poetry about how people like me aren't tough enough to survive in the bush and I fully agree. The voice, however, does not care that the roads are clogged with slow moving holiday traffic. The kind of traffic that panic brakes on approach to every corner, that tailgates on the straights and habitually drifts into oncoming traffic. For seven hours I have felt besieged by never ending flood of incompetence. I have so long left to travel. I flip the statue off and head out. I am immediately almost involved in a crash when a small Honda rolls through a Stop sign. I remember that you can't drop your guard, even for a moment. I feel like Jet Li at the end of The One
Hour 8: I was still feeling confident that I would make it back before nightfall so I forgo the pilgrimage to the Bathurst Repco. Besides, I have no idea if they are open on the long weekend and I would have to buy the tools necessary to replace the headlight itself as I stupidly left those at home. My optimism seems so shallow and false now. I stop in Lithgow for a half hour nap. The weather has closed in the skies have traded blue for gunmetal grey and a surly drizzle has started. I could feel myself trending downwards and was forced to throttle back on the enthusiasm in my driving. I down the second Red Bull and leave Lithgow. Traffic is much heavier and aggressive now. There are warnings for congestion at Blackheath. How bad can it be though?
Hour 9/10: It's bad. Traffic is at a standstill at the top of Mount Victoria. The rains begin in earnest making a bad situation worse. Caravaners are to blame, that much is obvious, seeing the tailback in the right hand lane they plow their awful offroader tow cars with their awful caravans up the left lane, only to be forced back into the right. They cut off right hand lane traffic, slowing it to a crawl as the right hand has to brake to let them in. I settle back and try to rest while we crawl along.
Hour 11:
The enormity of what I am trying to do hits me. The creeping along isn't hard but it is relentless. I run out of water in the car and cannot bring myself to pull over knowing how long the tail back is. The traffic finally starts moving at Blackheath but I am ruined. I pull over for food and water which help ablate the light headedness.
Hour 12:
I feel perpetually flushed. It's like making a 24 hour flight but worse. This is the level of physical degradation you would experience after a 48 hour flight. I know two things; I do not want to take the M4 turn off. I do want to take another turn off. I don't know if it is the Picton turn off or not. I start to feel worried after I pass the Light Horse Interchange, a landmark I not pass on the way out. Exhaustion gives birth to melodrama. I believe that deciding not to continue is as good as death. In hindsight, giving up would have been far wiser and it's incredible that pushing on did not result in death.
Hour 13:
I take a somewhat circuitous route of the major city, hitting every stop light on the way. The final stretch is almost painless and I feel unbelievably thankful that it is. Traffic is non-existent. I arrive home in a daze. Somewhere distantly I realize that I am now very far from someone very important to me and it is only my physically dilapidated state that spares me from the full sensation of the sadness and anger that brings. I decide that I do not like country Australia. As I fall asleep it feels like I am falling in a spa bath.
From the 1st of July riders in New South Wales will be legally permitted to ride between slow moving traffic. Concurrent with the approach of this date the State Government has launched a variety of awareness raising campaigns to ensure that other motorists are not taken by surprise by the sudden change in rider behaviour.
I'm worried that it may have been too effective. I'm worried that maybe there are now "average motorists" who will paying particular attention to riders on the 1st.
Let me explain.
What is most interesting about the new laws is the creation of the offence "lane splitting". The NSW government has created a legal distinction between the two acts. Filtering is a motorcyclist moving at or below 30kmph through stationary traffic. Splitting is moving down the centreline above 30kmph or when traffic is moving regularly.
This distinction is important.
Why we filter is also important. Accidents in which another vehicle is at fault are overwhelming the cause of injury and death for riders. Essentially, rear ending a stationary motorcycle at lights or a sign is a great way for drivers to top up the accident and injury statistics for riders. It's why we filter, to move out of harms way. Two drivers involved in a rear ender will both more than likely walk away, it just means they both need to put their phones for long enough to swap information.
The move to legalize filtering was announced on February 26th 2014. Check out this piece from NineMSN which ran on the 18th of that month. A rider films himself doing something frankly ridiculous and is then rightfully arrested and charged.
It's quite a change in language, isn't it? Sure the first one labels the video a "reckless sprint through busy traffic" but even that can just be considered an overly emotive description of events. It's that use of the word "cheating" that sticks with me. It's a distinct and stark value judgement about the behaviour of the second rider.
I've seen riding like this in Europe and I will admit that I am foggy on the legality of filtering/splitting down the centre of a two way street. Context would be deeply appreciated and valuable concerning whether or not the second rider really was "cheating" according to the law of the land. It is fascinating to me though that the tone of articles changes between these two dates. I'd heard that sensationalist dross sites like NineMSN only exist to magnify and feedback the already established opinions of their readers and it feels like this might be a case study in that phenomena.
The Victorian State Government has been considering filtering laws as well but in the end they rejected the proposal. Even while considering the proposed changes opposition to the introduction of filtering was piercing/shrieking/hysterical.
When the NSW Police Force put this image the flood gates opened and was inundated with the impotent outrage of the "average motorist". Comments ranged from anger to fear that riders could now "weave", as though we're all entirely unpredictable, through traffic. That we would damage cars as we passed, that we would be jumping the queue at traffic lights. Some even seemed to struggle with the concept of what a motorcycle was, or fail to understand that we too pay all the licencing, registration and insurance fees that cars do.
And then there was this guy.
The elders always warned me. They told me to "ride like they're all out to kill you." I think they might have been a little naive.
Motorcyclists may be pleased that we can finally enjoy the safety of filtering legally but with the vitriol being directed at us please remember to filter legally and safely. On the road, keep your eyes peeled for anyone with an axe to grind with riders filtering. Off the road we can support SMIDSY (which may be about to become a lot more important) and always ride well.
Already stereotypes are being smashed. An Alfa!? In the COUNTRY?!
"It's not a car moite, it's an Alfa Romeo" intones the suitably impressed farmer in the new Cummins+Partners ad for Alfa after he watches a woman reduce her entire mate selection criteria to a car.
Honestly, at this point can we not just abandon all pretense and go with the full RedPill "Alfa as fuck"?
The campaign has two major problems: Firstly, its' essential message is one that the Alfisti know by heart. Secondly, it's preaching to the converted in the dumbest possible way.
Beginning with the latter; unless my watch, phone, computer and Adventure Time calender are all faulty we're well and truly into 2014. Yet the best figurative hypodermic needle this ad agency can come up with to jam into viewers the notion that they should rush out and buy this car is "if you do, women will like you?"
Please.
We're all now living in a world where 22 year old virgins produce lengthy tracts vowing revenge on the women who've reject them despite how nice of a car they drive. At this point anyone basing an ad campaign (for a hatchback of all things!) on the toxic notion that a mans' social capital is derived from the things he owns and that women have a duty to respond "appropriately" (give attention/affection which is owed to men once they pass a certain arbitrary threshold of social capital) is either a marketing exec from the fifties who owes one of his mates $50 because that time machine totally did work or is someone who is taking the whole "retro is cool when used ironically" thing way too far.
More than that; it's that if you're an Alfisti, chances are you're gonna charge out and buy the Giuletta anyway. That's kinda the point of Alfa ownership. You don't need to be told that women will like you because the dyed in the wool enthusiasts are gonna have one regardless of who does or does not find them more attractive as a result. As an expansion on that point; I know plenty of women Alfisti who have/want Giulettas. These ads sure as hell ain't advertising to most them.
So who exactly are they adverting too? With the message "It's not a car, its an Alfa Romeo" it's certainly not the mainstream car buyer. They're all lined up 'round the block to point out that "yeah, it is a car."
You know it's bad when even Batman is pissed.
That said, it's been a long time in Australia since you could buy an Alfa for the equivalent of $27,000. I am an Alfisti and I'd love to see more Alfas on Australian roads. But there must be a better way of getting the word out than this. Please Alfa Australia. Do better.
Of all the parts of your pride and joy to get damaged, paint is always the first to go. Done professionally they cost some money. If you've got the money to spend and are really that concerned about final finish, then paying for resprays is the way to go. If you're like me and enjoy spending a morning stuffing around with a job like this, then I've put together my How To guide to repairing a 2pak paint job on the cheap.
For starters lemme disavow any notions immediately. This is not how to do it perfectly. This is the quick and dirty method. This is the "good enough no one notices the repair" repair. More fastidious home repairers would get very cross at this method, but I'm not looking to win concourses, just have a bike that looks like someone cares about it.
For the purposes of this, I've just been doing some surface rust in the tank of my bike. This is really easy and comparably cheap to do at home, literally anyone with the following equipment can do this themselves and save some money on panel beating/ spray painting.
The tools I used for this repair were: A small square of #120 sandpaper (like 20 cents I guess, I cut it out of meter length that was worth $2.50), a can of colour-match-by-eye 2pak pearlescent white($32), a can of matching 2pak clear coat ($32 (you may not need this if you're working in solid colours)), some brown paper ($2 a roll), dedicated wax and grease remover (>$20) and general purpose thinners (>$20) a small paintbrush I found and lots of masking tape. So as long as you've got about $150, two spare hours and a sunny day, this is completely achievable.
Before you get started, take a bit of the car/bike/scooter your gonna repair to a professional auto paints supplier. Even if they won't do an "official" colour match (and they probably won't if it's a bike/scooter), they are more than happy to give you the colour swatch booklets and let you make your own decision as long as you promise not to hold them responsible for how well the colour matches the original.
I didn't actually get a photo of the bit I ended up working on, but here's the "before" shot of another repair to the same tank I made: Just a bit of rust bubbling up from the seams. I chemically sealed the tank so repairing this rust is just about aesthetics and stopping it spreading.
To start with, I ripped in with the #120, I also used a small razor blade to chip off the big bits of rusted paint. Once all the big stuff was gone, I used the #120 to bring the worst affected areas back to bright, shiney metal and feather the sanding out into areas of unaffected paint. It looks like this:
It looks ugly now, coz the rust is smeared into the paint, that's solved by the next step:
Wiping the area over with a dedicated wax and grease remover cleans other contaminants from the surface, it's imperative that you don't touch the area now with your fingers, lest it all go really wrong. Once the area is clean, it should look like this:
Now comes the fun part, grab the base coat spray can (in my case the pearlescent white) shake it up and spray it into the lid.
You might have to spray a few times times to collect enough liquid paint to brush paint on. It's worth noting that 2pak fumes do cause drowsiness and giddyness if you inhale them. So hold your breath while spraying (no seriously use a face mask). Once you've got the paint collected, use the brush to dab it on. It's important to load the brush up a fair bit and do this in the shade and the cool. Too much light/heat too soon and too little paint on the brush will cause the paint to tack off too quickly and leave ugly brush marks in the new coat. It'll look something like this when you're done:
At this stage it's important to distribute the paint as evenly as possible too. In the dips (where you can see bright metal) is where you want to position the most paint, then get lighter out to the edges. Once you're happy with the first coat, leave it for 5-10 minutes. This is the time consuming part, waiting for the paint to tack off to apply the next coat, but by doing this, you're achieving the maximum amount of adhesion on each successive layer of paint, without having to worry about using a proper primer. 2pak is self-leveling as well, so you'll notice the paint getting smoother between coats.
The easiest way to waste time between coats is cleaning the brush, if the paint is allowed to tack in the bristles it makes smooth applications of the 2nd and 3rd coats even harder. Swishing it around in a jar of thinners and then water washing it gets and good and clean for the next coat.
After ten minutes I went back and applied the second coat. This is what it looked like, I tried to load the brush even more and use smaller strokes to smooth out the finish even further. To waste the ten minutes between this coat and the next, I got stuck into the tank with the brown paper and masking tape. There are no prizes for neatness, but aerosol sprays can turn corners, so anything that isn't covered by paper is gonna get hit by overspray.
This was my final brush coat. Again, trying to be even smoother with the brush. Now is the part you get to actually use a spray can as a spray can. Once again, leave the project for ten minutes to tack off.
If you're like me and haven't been using a facemask, then overspray will have gotten you good and dizzy by now, so a little trip into direct sunlight does you the world of good. I find it helps to stand away from my intended target and have a few short test sprays to get a feel for distance and pattern of dispersion of the spray can. When you're ready, give your repaired section two or three quick but steady swipes with the can.
The first thing to notice is the how the self-leveling effect goes into the overdrive here. If you were even relatively smooth in the first three coats, the spray coat will even out quite nicely any small inconsistencies. If you are worried about big inconsistencies, before the spray coat, use the wax and grease remover on a rag to smooth down the paint. Hopefully you've got enough on there to be able to spare it. This is the trick, balancing getting enough paint, with getting it smooth enough to look acceptable. It's not a huge disaster if you get it wrong, a rag soaked in thinners with clean the paint off and let you start all over again. It's annoying, but worth it if you're that worried about the finished look.
After the spray coat is done, leave it in the sun for half an hour to tack off again.
Now you're on the home stretch. Invert and spray to clean the first can, then take the second can (the clear coat) and give the repaired area the same quick but steady two or three swipes that you used with the base coat. Then leave it for ten minutes. Repeat this process two more times (for a total of three) and it should look a bit like this:
Now leave it for another half an hour in the sun to dry. If you're incompetent like me and have neglected to use a face mask, you may very well be feeling very woozy by now, so go get some fresh air.
You're all but done now. Pull the paper off to see how well it's blended with the original paint. If it's not great, you can sand it back and try again. If you're really anal about it, you'll notice that there are hard lines in the new surface where it abruptly stops. These are cause by the tape you used. To get rid of them, use a rag soaked in thinners and gently rub from just inside the edge of the new paint, out onto the old surface. This will break down the hard edges and feather them out, to make the repair less noticeable. Remember though, if that thinners gets on your nice new repair proper, it WILL strip the paint. So be super careful
Here's the before and after:
Before:
After:
Totally worth it, right?
Now you're ready to refit that part to whatever machine you pulled it off (if you pulled a part off, you don't have to, the point of this process is you can use it on panels/ parts that are still on the vehicle.) Now take the rest of the day off. Leave the paint to cure and harden over night and the next morning hit it with a polish and groomer/swirl remover (you don't have to, but this will help blend the finish in and it can be done one the "what-ever-it-is" is replaced on it's vehicle).
In my case, this is the finished product:
It's not the best looking, but once the tank is on you'd be hard pressed to spot it without actively looking for it.
