Mopeds, Scooters and Motorcycle Safety Awareness

There was a recent article in the Nashua Telegraph about a 72 year old man trying to navigate the streets of the city on his moped. http://www.nashuatelegraph.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080922/NEWS01/309229920

After reading this story, I could see many stories behind the story that point to so many contemporary issues of our times. Some of these stories are more sobering than the surface story will tell you. In the article 72 year old Bob Lavoie is trying to save on gas while commuting to his TWO jobs by riding his new scooter which tops out at 30 MPH. Bob still has a mortgage to pay and despite being 72, retirement is out of the question. First sobering comment about our times? There is no such thing as retirement.

The second observation is that Bob is staying off the “rolls.” He is an independent man, taking care of his own affairs, earning a living as best he can and keeping himself and his wife from the poor house. It points to his self respect and pride at being a contributing member of society. I have a great respect for him on this point.

The story of course is about the scooter slowing down commuter traffic, the people who are irritated, and even how some pull along side and make disparaging remarks. Some of these remarks are made while he is actually traveling in a 30 mph speed zone. The article explains that because the scooter is classified as a moped, it cannot travel on the highways. Bob is knowledgeable about the rules of the road and obeys them at all times. He has even discovered some flaws in the placement of road signs that thwart his daily commute. All legitimate observations, which despite trying to have them corrected was told he would have to foot the bill to have a sign moved.

There has been a tremendous growth in small engine two wheeled transportation as a direct result of escalating gas prices. Some of these people have not had adequate training in navigating our roadways on two wheels. This poses a danger to them as well as cagers. While the hazards are real, the spotlight it brings to motorcycling may well benefit those of us whose choice of transportation is based on our love of motorcycling.

How will it benefit motorcyclist? If the general public becomes more aware of the two wheeled travelers that share the road, are exposed to the dangers that threaten them and us, we may find more travelers who use caution and are more observant while driving. Exposure through public media is also helpful. Bob put himself “out there” to expose a glaring concern that we should all pay attention too. Also, this past season, I have seen across the country, media campaigns to educate the public on motorcycle awareness. These are steps in the right direction but more needs to be done.

On my daily commute I often find myself along side an older gentleman riding a 1975 Honda CB125S.

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This photo is exactly what this bike looks like. It appears to be in great shape, and the rider flows along the stop and go corridor I travel without apparent trouble. His attire however is another matter. Mister 125S does not wear any protective riding gear. He is dressed in street shoes, twill slacks, windbreaker, and a helmet the same vintage as his bike.

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How do I know this helmet is from 1975? My husband has one he keeps as a memento and I recognized immediately. In New Hampshire motorcycle helmets are not required by law. However, since Mister 125S is wearing one, I can assume he would like the protection it brings. If this is so, he should toss the 1975 helmet in the trash bin. Helmets should be replaced every three to five years, and for a variety of other reasons. Check out the MSF link for more information about helmet safety. http://www.msf-usa.org/downloads/helmet_CSI.pdf.

Those of us who take motorcycling seriously need to be less timid about approaching these newbies. We often think we should mind our own business. I say this is our business. There are polite ways to strike up a conversation, and find opportunities to slip in concerns about safety, helpful hints about gear, or even suggest a motorcycle safety course. Don’t forget to compliment them on conserving energy and share your own enthusiasm for motorcycling. Like Bob Lavoie, they could be the next spokesperson for motorcycle safety awareness.

A Lady Always Wears Lipstick

This weekend I was privileged to be part of a small group of riders heading to some New England peaks that have been on my wish list this season. (see post http://patnwilton.blogspot.com/2008/05/mount-equinox.html for more information about the highest peaks in New England.) The two peaks that Jade and I climbed were Ludlow Mt (Okemo) (VT) 3343 ft, and Ascutney (VT) 3150 ft. However, I will blog about these two peaks in a subsequent post.

We met our small group at the arranged start point early enough to have a few moments of chit-chat before departing. Much to my surprise and pleasure, there was another woman rider taking part in the adventure. We have not seen each other much this season due to one thing or another and we passed the time as riders do, checking out our rides, and talking about the season. She paused in her dialog to say “that shade of lipstick looks good on you.” or something to that effect. I was lost for words! My silly reply was something like “oh, I haven’t chewed it off yet?”

Why was I so taken aback by the observation about my lipstick? I’m not sure but with that statement my mind went instantly to a moment long since lost in the mire of time. I am a young girl standing beside my mother as she brushes her hair. My head barely reaches her bent elbow. We both stand in front of the bedroom mirror. She finishes with the hair, and proceeds to apply lipstick. “I thought you were just going to the corner store?” I asked puzzled. “Why are you putting on lipstick?” “A lady always wears lipstick when she goes out in public.” She said to me. “It doesn’t matter if she is just going the corner store, she should always look presentable.” she added further.

I never forgot the comment about looking presentable even if going to the corner store, and since the age of sixteen when permitted to wear lipstick; I have faithfully applied it before leaving the house in the morning. It may not last the day, and I never reapply, but still, I have a sense of self respect at wearing my lipstick out the door.

When I began riding, my lips suffered the torture of becoming dry and cracked. Wind therapy may be good for the soul, but its murder on tender exposed flesh. I remembered that Mother sometimes had a blister on her lip. She successfully found a line of medicated lipstick she could wear. It served a dual purpose of maintaining her dignity as a lady and offering medical attention. I too needed a good option, and discovered a line of moisturizing lipstick that took care of my own dignity and served to keep my lips from getting chapped on the bike. Is it strange to see a person dressed in textile riding gear wearing lipstick? I didn’t think so. In my mind the moisture-wear lipstick is as essential to my riding as the elbow pads and kneepads in my jacket and pants.

With the lipstick comment I find myself re-examining how others see me. Do they also question the mascara I wear while riding? This option has little to do with vanity as one might expect. Last season, after suffering a scratch cornea from debris under the contact lens, I found the perfect mascara for riding. It doesn’t flake or run, but has just the right consistency to allow dust to stick, and keep it from my eyes.

Mascara isn’t the only practical application for makeup that I use while riding. After watching the flesh on the backs of my hands dry and pucker from too much sun exposure I wondered what could possibly be happening to my face? I have since purchased a decent pair of summer riding gloves. However, no amount of lotion seems to help restore the now damaged flesh of my hands. That is not something I want for my face.

With the thought of leather for skin, I found a great facial moisturizer with SPF protection. Now before leaving the house I apply the SPF facial cream to protect against the wind and sun, mascara to keep the dust from getting under the contact lenses, and moisture-wear lipstick to take care of the lips. What about the blush you say? Oh? Well, maybe there is a wee bit of vanity happening after all.

Pat Gets Domestic

We are experiencing a bumper crop of berries this year. Andy and I can’t keep up with the harvest. The blackberries are coming in fast and furiously. One morning I walk down one side of the row of bushes and pick more berries than we can ever consume. I divided them into two large bowls. Andy takes one to his place of employment, I take the other.

The blackberries are a big hit. “Wow, look at the size of these!” one person exclaims as he shovels a Styrofoam cup full for himself. “Do you know how much these cost in the market?” another quizzes me, as he scoops spoons full into his cereal bowl. Next come the reciting of favorite blackberry recipes, as one after the other, each person retells the enjoyment of its consumption.

Now, over the past five years or so, I have systematically been “scraping things off my plate.” (This analogy is perfect since we are talking food here.) One of the items that I have removed is the expectation that I will carry the domestic load. I have been very successful with this and the chores at home are now shared equally and equitably. However, in order to achieve this retraining of ones family, a person needs to go to extremes. Listening to my co-workers makes me think that it is time for a rebalancing. (OK, so what really crossed my mind was this: “I guess it wouldn’t kill me to make a pie once in a while.”)

That evening, as I arrive home Andy is making supper. He does so on the days I go to the gym. (Part of the household restructure plan.) I open the fridge door and put in the store bought pie crust I intend to use later. “What are you putting in the fridge?” he asks. “A pie crust. I’m going to make a berry pie latter.” I say. Andy chuckles and says “good luck with that.” I‘m confused, but shrug it off and go about my business.

We enjoy a great evening meal; I shower, start a load of wash, and then begin the making of the pie. Andy is watching some show on television when he hears the banging around in the kitchen. “What are you doing in there?” he questions me. “I’m making a pie!” I say exasperated. Gee, didn’t I just tell him that a few hours ago? There is dead silence from the living room. Suddenly, I feel an arm around my waist. I look up. Andy is looking down at what I’m doing. “You ARE making a pie!” he says with eyes wide in surprise.” I thought you were joking earlier,” he says.

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Now it is the pie that is a big hit. What happens to me next, I can’t explain. Come Saturday, Andy decides it time to harvest all the apples on the tree. He picks two, 5 gallon buckets of apples. He leaves them by the porch. I look at the apples and suddenly they are transforming into apple crisp. (I know! I don’t understand what’s happening to me either!) The next thing I know, I’m roasting a chicken and inviting a friend to join us.

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Andy finishes off the last of the pie and apple crisp, the latter with an enormous scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. “It feels like the holidays!” he says. Is that a skip in his walk? I could get some mileage out of this if I were a different kind of person. I realize now, in hindsight, that what first appeared to be expectations others heaped on my shoulders, was really a result of my own doing at not expressing boundaries and limits. It is not our families that burden us; it is what we do to ourselves. (Moms and wives are especially vulnerable.) After all, if someone took care of all your needs without you asking, wouldn’t you let them? Reclaiming your autonomy is not as difficult as it seems. Finding the right balance might be another.

I’m checking out this recipe for kibbee* my friend Steve gave me yesterday. I think I will try it. Not today or tomorrow mind you, but eventually. After all, the scale of expectations is tipping nicely in my favor. I need to maintain the right balance after all.

(Kibbee: A Lebanese dish. Write me for the recipe.)