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Communicators: The Biker’s Secret Weapon

Monday, July 21st, 2025

A different day’s ride with the RMMRC.

I’m sure some folks in cars reached their destinations with stories of crazy motorcyclists they had seen that day. That day being the day the other RMMRC riders and I made the trip home from Meeker/Craig.

As we headed up Tennessee Pass, toward Leadville, there were a lot of curves, but of the eight of us, seven were linked in on our Cardos. So you come up on some slow traffic and one or two guys are able to pass, but then there’s a blind curve . . . and these crazy bikers kept passing! We had eyes around the bend.

“Keep coming; all clear.” That’s all you need to know until you hear “Traffic coming!” Then you wait while a car or two goes by the other direction and then there’s the “All clear.”

If you don’t understand what is happening you’re certain these guys are nuts.

So let’s get back to the start. Gene and I were the last to arrive at the launch point the day before so we did not have time to get our Cardos linked to the group, but we ended up linked to each other. Just a residual effect from a previous trip, I presume. Come the second morning, however, we all had time and we got everyone linked in one group. This was a first for this group, to have so many on at once.

And it was kind of fun. I like the solitude of being just me in my head while riding as much as anyone but this is a bunch of guys I know well and we could just chat. It was nice. Plus it makes it a lot easier if you need a pit stop.

I’m still not especially familiar with the operation of this thing. The first day I could talk to Gene but I was also getting music and a lot of static. We stopped in Granby for a break and gas and then the music was really coming in loud and clear. What the hey? I started fiddling around with my unit and finally figured out the music Gene was playing was not slopping over to me, this was my own music, some radio station. And all the static I had been hearing was from the radio being set on a frequency where there was no signal. Pretty basic, but if you haven’t read the instruction manual . . .

Then on the second day, leaving Craig, I could only hear the other guys faintly and they couldn’t hear me at all. So I started fiddling with things again, which is pretty hit and miss when you’re riding. But I hit on the right combination and suddenly I was part of the conversation. Nice.

We got down to Wolcott, made the run on I-70 to Meeker, and started up Tennessee Pass. And you already know what happened on that stretch.

It was good, too because we could point things out to each other, such as side roads. As we came past State Bridge I pointed out the Trough Road, which is very good gravel and goes up to Kremmling. Things like that.

I have wondered if I would find the chatter intrusive, because I do like spending time just in my head while riding. But I think I’m going to be just fine with these communicators.

Biker Quote for Today

Some people will tell you that slow is good–but I’m here to tell you that fast is better. I’ve always believed this, in spite of the trouble it’s caused me.

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Where Were We? Oh Yeah, Meeker

Thursday, July 10th, 2025


The Twenty-Mile Road. If you’ve never ridden it you should.

Before all this mess with the crash came up I was in the middle of telling about our overnight ride to Meeker. Let’s rejoin this story.

As you may recall, four guys only went as far as Craig while the other four of us went on to Meeker. Bob, who stayed in Craig, had said the run to Meeker was uninteresting and not worth it. As I said in the previous post, he is wrong. I knew from doing it in 2023 with Nick that the road from Meeker to Craig, especially in the early morning, is enchanting.

This year was no disappointment. Bob is just wrong. We got to Craig then, I got gas, and the other guys were about ready to roll. We headed east on US 40 to Hayden and then took the Twenty-Mile Road from right by the power station down to Oak Creek. What a beautiful ride, and still so green at this point. Some of the guys had never been on it and they were blown away.

Riding CO 131 we cruised south through Toponas and State Bridge to the interstate is Wolcott. We made a short hop on I-70 to Edwards for gas and then another short hop to the Minturn exit. From there we headed up Tennessee Pass to Leadville. Lunch in Leadville.

As we were parking it looked like rain, and indeed it did rain while we were in the restaurant. Just a very light dripping when we came out but we all suited up. The sky still looked threatening. On south to Buena Vista we avoided rain, then turned east on US 285.

We stopped again in Fairplay for gas for some, and after that it became pretty much every man for himself, the rush to the stable. We didn’t hit rain but did have wet pavement, with splashing. Then at Bailey we turned up Crow Hill and it had all been roto-milled, with only a little pavement. Kind of nasty. Then pavement again but now some rain.

I was constantly wiping my visor but after awhile I could not get it clear and I thought I was getting mud kicked up onto it. Then I realized it was fogging on the inside so I cracked it and the fog was gone. But now I was getting spray up under the visor. I alternated opening and closing it.

We were all separated at this point and I was only with Alan and Gene as we came into Conifer and it was raining harder. I bailed there and sat at the King Soopers until it cleared, then headed on again. Just a very short time later I came to dry pavement, suggesting we had been at the front of the storm and if I had kept going I would have been out of it in just another mile or two. No matter, I enjoyed the break and then rode all the way home—after that couple miles—on dry pavement with no rain.

Rush hour traffic was really bad so getting across Hampden took a long time. Then I was home. The next day the RMMRC had its monthly meeting and those of us who had been on the ride who attended agreed all around that it was an exceptionally good trip. We need more of those.

Biker Quote for Today

Melancholy is incompatible with motorcycling.

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Posted in Colorado motorcycle rides, motorcycle clubs, motorcycle touring, Rocky Mountain Motorcycle Riders Club | 1 Comment »

Getting Sick Of The Guys

Thursday, June 5th, 2025

When you have a group of bikers out on a road trip you end up with some group shots.

Do you ever just really want to get away from the guys you’re hanging out with? Like your riding buddies? Like you’ve been on a trip and while you love the trip you’re really looking forward to getting home so you won’t have to be with these guys for awhile?

I keep a journal and I’ve been reading back through it and there have been a number of times when I have remarked that I was really sick of being with the guys. Now, these are my best and closest friends–excluding my very closest friend, my wife–here in town. (I do have really close friends in other towns.) These are the guys I go camping with, play poker with, meet out for coffee. And after a week on the road with them I’m really sick of them.

Here are some remarks from my journal, circa 1992:

So I got really tired of being with XXXX but it wasn’t like last year when I came home with an active dislike for him. Our relationship really is shallow, to the point where we ran out of things to talk about and sat around bars at night not saying a word. This was a good trip but clearly I would rather have been on one bike with a lady friend.

Wow. Yeah, I guess just because you hang out with someone for a lot of years that doesn’t necessarily mean you are close to them. Doesn’t mean they’re not your friends. They are.

My good friend Jungle told me emphatically a few years ago that I need to get some new friends. But that’s the thing. When it’s these guys who you discovered the wonderfulness of motorcycles with, and they like to ride, you kind of go with the guys who like to ride.

Anyway, I know just from memory–I haven’t gotten that far reading my journal–that on most OFMC trips by the time I got home I was really glad to get away from the others. I always presumed they were equally glad to get away from me. It’s a test of any relationship to be together that much. In the early days we always, the three of us, shared one motel room. We were together all day, and all night.

So it was the desire to find some new riding buddies, people interested in riding more often, that led me to join the RMMRC. I do feel like I’m making friends in this group and like I’m a core member of the group. It’s good to have riding buddies. And maybe in 20 years I won’t personally be any closer to any of these new friends than to my old ones, but I will have been on a whole bunch of really good rides. With people I enjoy being with.

Biker Quote for Today

It’s a dangerous game we’re playing here. Walking the tightrope between nirvana and disaster, with no margin for error. But that’s when things really start to get interesting.

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Why I Love Riding Alone

Monday, June 2nd, 2025

At another needed stop in Glenwood Canyon on my way home.

Riding with friends has a lot going for it, not the least being that if you have a problem you have someone to help you out. And I’ve done plenty of riding with friends. But I’ve got to tell you, I really love riding alone. I just love the ability to ride at your own pace, stop when you want, where you want, and change your plans on a whim. (I wonder where this road goes . . . )

This recent RMMRC California trip was a case in point. I started out with five other guys but then got sick. I peeled off from the group on day three, spent that day being sick in my motel room, and then started home alone the next day.

The two days with the group were fine but there were all sorts of compromises to be made. For instance, I’m more of a sedate rider. I like to take it easy. If I’m on the interstate–which we were that first day–I don’t need to go 80. But we did, and I did. No big deal; just not my preference.

So after my sick day I was alone. The first stretch of road I would cover was Utah 72, just 35 miles to I-70. What a sweet road! It started out meandering up through a valley filled with farms and ranches. Everything was green with spring and it was just so pleasant. I was in no hurry, and there was no other traffic so I could go at whatever speed suited me.

The road climbed out of the valley and followed the ridge line northeast into another higher valley, this time only open range and no farms. Then up a good bit more. This area is known as the San Rafael Swell region and it’s beautiful. Why would I want to hurry through this? I didn’t.

Now I was really climbing and it was getting cold. I found myself at the top of Hogan Pass, at just a hair under 9,000 feet, and the view was spectacular. But how many times have I been with a group and rather than stop and enjoy the view we have just blasted on through? Many, many times I can assure you. Not when I’m riding alone though.

After the pass it was all downhill, through more hills and ridges. And then the interstate. Cruising along it wasn’t particularly pleasant. The wind was whipping and I was starting to not feel so great. I knew about a rest area up ahead, however, that I figured would be a nice stop. Once again, with a group you don’t want to make everyone conform to your wishes but on my own I could do anything I wanted–or needed–to do. I stopped. I found a nice smooth boulder and lay down and closed my eyes. After 20 minutes of soaking up the warmth of the sun I was ready to go on.

The rest of my trip home was like this. I left when I was ready. I stopped when I needed to, or wanted to. I ate when and where I wanted.

Motorcyclists always talk about the freedom of being on a bike. But I don’t see it. Not unless you’re riding alone. Back in my old Examiner.com days I did a couple pieces about the Ride For The Wall, an event of mostly military vets remembering MIAs and POWs. I didn’t see any freedom going on there. That was all strictly regimented the way only vets can be. Heck, I got screamed at for trying to enter a gas station differently than their whole group was being channeled and I was not a member of their group.

I’ve also heard a lot about the 1%er clubs and how they have and enforce strict rules about group riding. And I’m not referring to riding in staggered formation. I strongly agree with that concept. That’s just common sense.

So yeah, I like riding with a group at times. But what I really love the most is when I just head out on my own. That’s freedom.

Biker Quote for Today

If you drive a car you’re responsible for your car. If you ride a motorcycle you are responsible for every car around you.

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Sticking Together: How Tightly?

Monday, May 26th, 2025

A group of bikes enters Yellowstone National Park.

We’ve all faced this situation I’m sure: When you’re riding with a group, what extremes do you really need to go to to keep the group together?

In the few days I was with the RMMRC California trip group I had several opportunities to consider this question.

I, for one, am of the school that it really doesn’t matter all that much. If everyone knows where you’re going to wind up at the end of the day what does it matter if someone separates or gets separated from the group? Of course, that assumes the separation is voluntary: you don’t want to lose sight of someone behind you and keep going, only to find out later that they had mechanical trouble and could have used your assistance. I have been that guy who got left behind and I did not appreciate it.

In the old days it was a different story. Before cell phones. Back then, getting separated could be a real problem. But that day is long gone.

But I’m really not even talking about that kind of separation. What I’m talking about here is keeping all bikes in one group with no other vehicles in between. That means passing, for instance. If you have six bikes–which we did–and you go to pass someone it is not a surprise when one or more bikes are not able to get around immediately. Does it really matter? I think not but I’ve seen people make risky passes just to stay with the guy ahead. Why? Why not wait until it’s really safe and then pass?

The flip side of that is the guy in the lead. If you’re going to pass someone, don’t get by, pull in, and then ride sedately. You need to maintain some speed so that you open up space for the guy behind you to pull in ahead of the car you just passed. And then for the guy after him and the guy after him. On this trip I saw both of these things happening.

And yes, sometimes the leader passes but cannot keep putting distance between themselves and the car they passed because there is another car in front of them now. That should be visible to the guy behind and he should respond accordingly. But I didn’t think that was much at issue on this trip. Maybe it was and I just didn’t notice.

Bottom line is, don’t do risky stuff just to keep the bikes together. Problem is, some people seem to do exactly that.

Biker Quote for Today

I ride motorcycles because punching people is frowned upon.

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Adventures In Pairing

Thursday, May 22nd, 2025

My Cardo mounted on my helmet.

It seems to be a general rule that connecting helmet communicators is not easy. Judy and I have owned a couple sets and neither has been something you just do and that’s that. It’s always a matter of relearning how it’s done and then making more than one attempt to do so until you get it right.

In preparation for this recent RMMRC California trip I bought a new communicator, a Cardo, because that’s what all the other guys had and that would enable me to hook in with the group. It was agreed that on departure date we would get together earlier to get me paired in. What could go wrong?

In a group like this someone needs to be the main guy and the main guy here was Alan. Everyone else already was hooked in.

So Alan pulled out his phone, fired up the app, and opened the group. I installed the app on my phone–though that is not supposed to be necessary–and we tried following the steps as spelled out. No dice. We tried again. I shut my phone completely off and then booted up, with hopes that now everything would be fully settled and in order. Still no dice.

Was it a problem with my communicator? It was brand new and had never been used. They do manufacture lemons now and then, where something doesn’t work right out of the box. I tried creating a group myself and paired one of the guys in with me. That worked. So it’s not a problem with my unit.

I can’t remember what else we tried but nothing worked. Fine, we’ll give up for now and then tonight at the motel in Fruita we’ll try again.

So we got to Fruita and we’re sitting around in our rooms with our helmets on. Surely between the bunch of us we can figure this out. The Cardo can link together up to–I think–19 units. We were only trying to get 5 on one link.

Insanity is reputedly doing the same thing over and over expecting different results and we did the insanity thing for a while. There was no way, apparently, that I was ever going to get linked in to this group. OK, let’s take a different approach. Alan, create a new group and then link us all in on that group. Delete the old one.

And you know what? It worked. Finally. It still wasn’t necessarily working great until we figured out that I needed to move my microphone boom closer to my mouth. Once I did that they could hear me and I could hear them. Great. We’re ready to go.

So the next day we took off and now my concern was, was I going to find myself feeling invaded by hearing everything everyone had to say all day? I’m used to the solitude of being in my own head even when in a group of riders. Would I miss that solitude. Sure I could turn the Cardo off but that would defeat the whole purpose of having it.

It was OK. I even did a bit of the talking because I had been all these places we were going through this day and I had information to share.

Then the following morning the Cardo came in handy, too, as I sprawled across my gas tank telling the guys “I can’t do this. I’m really sick.” Dave replied that “Yeah, if it makes you feel any better, you look lousy, too.”

I just hope next time I try to use this thing it goes a lot more smoothly.

Biker Quote for Today

Faster . . . sixty, seventy . . . the engine growls, and the wind is now howling in my face trying to rip me off the back of the bike. But to outrun the demons I keep pushing it into fifth . . . seventy-five, eighty-five, ninety . . . and now I’ve got a white-knuckled grip on the handlebars as they vibrate up my arms and I tuck my head down for speed.

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