WetLeather Motorcycle Rider Information

In 1991 I sold my Harley stock (purchased with the money I received when I sold the '79 R65), traded in my K100RT, and bought a new R100GS.

This picture was taken in Ludlow, VT on one of the NEDoD Leaf Peeper tours in the fall of '92 or '93. Deb is wearing her old BMW full leathers (since gone to a new home). I'm in one of several one piece Aerostich Roadcrafters I've owned.

McMeniman's Grand Lodge, Forest Grove, Oregon. Feb 16, 2008

More content to follow!

Bob "You probably know me as copcycle" OBS guy, the jazz bandleader's 13MB .mp3 Audio recording of the ceremony

Copcycle Bob's photos: http://www.rosecityhotclub.com/photos-group-53.html

Last summer (2007) I took a big loop trip to pick up checkpoints on the RCMC Grand Tour. I traveled to Vancouver Is, across BC to Golden, up the Icefields Parkway to the Glacier Visitor Center, down through Montana and Wyoming and back through Idaho and Oregon.

This was taken along the road back to Portland from eastern Oregon. Might have been near the "mountain finder" that's along Rt 206 (possibly??). If anyone knows drop me a line and I'll update this post.

That snow covered peak is always the first sign of home after a long trip.

My sole sidecar driving experience occurred at the BMW MOA National Rally in York, PA back in 1989. The guy who was importing Flex-it sidecars (or maybe making them; I can't recall) brought a K100LT rig to the rally and let people take it out for a parking lot spin.

It was one of the oddest riding experiences I've ever had. The thing felt like it weighed a zillion pounds and the bike handled with very high handlebar inputs. But it did lean and the bike did turn.

These are probably collectable now.

As a child, I was for lack of better descriptive terms, precocious. I was also the youngest of four, then the youngest of seven after my mother re-married.

Being the littlest put me in a unique place. I never got in trouble. Oh, sure, trouble happened aplenty. But I wasn’t ever the one blamed for it. Not even when the blame really should have been mine to bear.

My phone rang this evening, my brother David on the other end of the line. This is unusual in a couple of ways. First, I rarely get phone calls from anyone. Second, I’ve only talked to my brother twice in the last ten years. In his typically strange way of cutting to the chase, David told me he was calling to tell me what a great visit he’d had when he and his wife Kay came through Eugene two months ago. “Ok” I say, while wondering what the real purpose for the call was, “Thanks, we had a nice visit too.” Then he dropped the bombshell, “Uncle ‘Benny’ died today.”