I think the post is a good read and draws useful parallels for a few aspects of motorcycling and startups.

I’ve been riding motorcycles for over 40 years both on and off road and on six continents through most of 43 countries.

I’ve personally started about a half dozen businesses (depending on how you count them) and been part of starting dozens more.

You could say this topic resonates with me.

I’d add the following to the author’s list:

1. In loose conditions, loosen your grip, let the bars wander a little and increase your speed to plane over the surface, otherwise you a) get exhausted / arm pump and b) sucked into the surface and will die duck walking at crawling speed. Biz version: You must maintain a rate of progress and advancement that keeps you above the minutia of your market and your business, otherwise you will exhaust your available resources long before you reach your goal.
2. Don’t commit to a blind line until you can see the exit. When you can see the exit and are off the apex, roll on the power. (street riding survival) Biz version: Don’t blindly commit to a strategy or tactic until you think through and/or can see where it will lead. When you can see the goal is achievable via the strategy or tactic, apply available resources.
3. It doesn’t take much talent to go fast in a straight line. Biz version: A rapidly expanding bubble or fast growing market makes everyone look like a business genius. Be realistic about how much of your success is due to external factors. Be ready for the inevitable downturn of the business cycle.
4. Wait for the rider ahead to clear the obstacle before you make your run or they will often become part of what you must overcome. Biz version: If a competitor is creating a train wreck in the market, then you’ll need to expend resources to climb over their wreckage (this is particularly applicable to massive flame outs or failures in your market segment when you need capital to expand; you will be fighting PR comparisons to your competitors’ failures for years).
5. MSF instructors crash a lot. Biz version: Overconfidence leads to failure. Stay humble.
6. Watch out for the four wheelers. Biz version: Your advantage as a startup is speed and nimbleness. You win by leveraging your advantages, you lose by being a fixed, immobile target for a massive competitor.
7. Commit to a line, but be ready to change it. Biz version: You’ll never get anywhere if you don’t commit to a strategy and get moving. You’ll almost never get there in the way you thought you would, so be ready to adjust along the way.
8. It’s not about the bike. It’s about the experiences. Biz version: Building and polishing the perfect business plan, business model, team or collection of technical tools and equipment is all meaningless. It’s what you do with those resources that counts.
9. It’s not the crash, it’s the sudden stop at the end. Biz version: Having a business fail or exiting a business before you’re ready isn’t the painful part, it’s what happens next that hurts.
10. Just put me back on my bike. Biz version: You will make mistakes. You will fail. It’s not the mistakes or failures that matter, it’s picking up the bike, getting back on and going again that matters.

While Scott is out wandering the world, we are left to more pedestrian, plebeian pursuits.

Devoid of exotic destinations, we must settle for the typical, the mundane, the merely domestic.

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That’s not to say it is without its simple pleasures.

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And charming character.

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And elegant beauty.

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But out here, where things are simple, and a reminder of a by-gone era,

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there is accommodation that is yurt size, but sans yurt smells.

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The lunch views are good,

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and there is more on the menu than fermented mare’s milk.

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But, even out here, when things go bad,

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you can still find a little piece of heaven in the customer lounge.

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* * * * *

“Scott” refers to our friend, Scott Brady, who is currently participating in a Europe to Mongolia rally.

I wrote this for Scott, the publisher, and our other friends at Overland Journal magazine. Everybody there except Scott is like us, stuck here stateside, while Scott enjoys the fermented mare’s milk and boundless skies of Mongolia while sleeping off the last stage of the rally in a yurt.

I think Scott will like this composition, since he was recently featured in a story in Forbes and the arrangement here implies he owns one of the world’s leading companies.

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* * * * *

Tire replacement, a little bit of heaven and the best customer lounge I’ve ever seen, anywhere, courtesy of Big Sky BMW, Missoula, MT.

http://www.bigskymotorsports.com/

* * * * *

Post Script:

Sport bike riders and road racers will look at this photo and wonder, “How did that tire get scrubbed all the way to the absolute edge like that? Don’t they ride two-up with big camera bags and a bunch of luggage?”

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And the answer is, yes, we do.

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* * * * *

Click here to view as a PDF: http://www.hackneys.com/docs/oneforoj.pdf

(requires Adobe Acrobat reader 7 or higher)

At times, the pragmatic aspects are overwhelming in their breadth, requiring an entire life to be reconstructed and assembled out of sometimes moving parts. But those challenges pale in comparison to the psychological and spiritual hurdles of integrating back into a culture and its norms and expectations.

At times like these, humans seek refuge in comforting spaces, where some things are still the same, a space with a soft, soothing salve of consistency.

They seek a place where grandpa’s tools are still on the shelf. 
 

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And his old steam traction engine tool box still holds pride of place, along with its words of wisdom.

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What man, especially a still-mentally-off-the-grid man, cannot receive solace and guidance in those words?

And what could be more centering, more grounding, than the old familiar reference works?

 
But while some things are familiar, some things are the same—but different.

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I turned my back for five or six years and they went and eliminated one of man’s most treasured rituals, the search for the WD-40 straw.

Even more disorienting is the lack of a garage radio.

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Music, video, shopping, online reference, and more, all from this? In my garage? Is it possible to do anything without a computer anymore?

 It certainly is not possible to find your way around without one. And therein lay a very important symbolic act in the course of re-entry.

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There was nothing more poignant than the simple act of changing the GPS software from metric to statute. While eminently pragmatic, nothing could be more emblematic of the psychological trauma of reentry. It was the physical manifestation of leaving a tribe of six billion people who measure and weigh everything by simple powers of 10 and voluntarily drinking the Kool-Aid of teaspoons, feet and quarts. Welcome back to America, the land of innovation and progress, where every school kid knows that there are 43,560 square feet per acre, 256 tablespoons per gallon, 1,760 yards per mile and that one bushel equals 1.24445608 cubic feet or four pecks or 74.4734238 pints.

But all was not ironic and regressive.

There was the ritual flagging of the pannier box. And since one box was completely full of places we’d ridden,

 
that meant I had to continue filling out the other box.

It was interesting to contrast the two boxes. One filled with lots of countries we’d ridden in a couple of years and the other with just a few countries that we’d spent two years exploring. This contrast is a reflection of things we learned along the way and put into practice with a change in our approach to travel: see less but see more.

And to see more, I needed to mount the GPS from the Fuso on the bike, along with its promise of adventures yet to come.

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But what adventures would those be? How could we keep the flame of exploring the world alive, while temporarily tethered here in the U.S.?
 
To do that, we sought out a place that was at once entirely familiar and almost foreign; a place so steeped in quirkiness it can be challenging to sort out the animate from the inanimate.

A place where there’s almost always live music,

 
a place where love lasts forever, or at least for the weekend, 
 

 
and a place where, as everybody who’s anybody knows:

But what purpose could take us there, could pull us from our reverie in the overwhelming, stifling and sometimes suffocating easiness of American life back out into the relative unknown?

Nothing more than to visit some old friends.

 
Some rare.

 
Some familiar.

And some less so.

 
 
The ride and the event were a small step, a baby step, along the path of coming back into this culture, of reconnecting to the grid. It was a stop at a familiar shrine, a touchstone of constancy, a reassuring marker on this flowing river of change.

It was a place of old things made in the old ways.

But sometimes, when you’re searching for a way to reconnect, the old ways are the best ways.

*****      *****      *****      *****      *****      *****      *****      *****    

Click here for information on the event: http://www.harvestclassic.org/

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What that translates into is an office that inevitably evolves into stacks of material covering every horizontal surface.

To my wife’s and others amazement, I can locate the correct strata of any desired document, object or material to within a few millimeters in very short time spans, from minutes to seconds. However, in her, ummm, organized perspective, this occasional rapid retrieval speed does in no way make up for her forced long-term exposure to my infinite layer cake of stuff. Consequently, she limits her exposure to my office to brief forays; her bravery accompanied by pursed lips and squinted eyes, all in an effort to avoid catching a bad case of disorganizitis.

However, pack-rattedness does come with some upsides. Among them, the discovery of hidden treasures whenever the strata are moved from one location to another. During this process, like an archeological dig, the layers yield their secrets and surprises.

On this occasion, a dig through six years of strata produced the following fragments from former expeditions.

2003, Botswana, border customs receipt

This brought back a lot of memories of Africa and Botswana, starting with our high speed get-off in a mud hole and ending with a mind-altering visit to the Okavango Delta.

All through South Africa, our local guides kept reminding us that “real Africa starts at the border.”

They were right.

The border crossing featured a huge bound journal entry book, covered in dust, crammed so thick with pages that it looked like the journal must date back to the late 1800s. Each vehicle’s identifying numbers were painstakingly entered into this book.

It was here that I learned a valuable lesson from Helge Pedersen: write your VIN, motor number and license plate number on the back, inside cover of your passport. It’s a huge time saver at 3rd world borders.

Once across the border, indeed, real Africa began.

2003, Namibia, Twyfelfontein Country Lodge receipts

This was the place where we went out on a long, hot three hour hike, only to arrive at a destination completely different than we thought we were headed to. When we asked our guide about the petroglyphs we expected to see, he replied, “Oh, that is the other hike. There are no petroglyphs on this hike.” Our companion, Bud Robinson, a champion cross country runner, proceeded to run back to the hotel and arrange for a driver to take us to the petroglyphs. Once there, we paid the lady overseeing the site to allow us to stay after closing, then gave her a ride home. It turned out to be a great experience, and like many great experiences underway, it all started with things getting off-plan.

2004, Turkey, Speeding Ticket

I collected this while cruising down a back road in Turkey. The police are obligated to put out a warning sign of impending radar speed traps ahead, but I blithely blew past the sign with nary a notice or care. A few kilometers later I was waved over by a very excited man in a spiffy uniform.

While he chattered away in Turkish, I smiled and nodded. Finally giving up in frustration, he turned to Steph and proceeded to communicate with her, the more linguistically talented of the two of us. In a combination of his few words of English, writing vigorously on a notepad in very large numbers, and emphatic, red-tinged-with-purple facial expressions, he said I had been going too fast.

The way Steph now relates the tale, it went something like “60 kilometers per hour, OK. 120 kilometers per hour, NOT OK!”

Meanwhile, while she was getting dressed down, I was investigating the combination radar / photo printer unit in the police car, which had obligingly driven down to our location from its hiding place. I was having a great time smiling, drawing in the dirt, making guy noises, all the usual, when I noticed Steph, still trapped with the Red Faced Officer, was not having such a good time.

Just about then we figured out that we needed to pay the ticket on the spot, in cash. We don’t know if it was a glorified contribution to the Policeman’s New Year’s Party Fund or not, but at least we got this receipt.

2004, Jordan, Itinerary

This is what happens when you overland—things change. If you always put flexibility at the top of your list, then you have a good time. Otherwise, if you cling stubbornly to rigid schedules, you will be frustrated and ultimately, unhappy.

In this case, we needed to completely flip our anticipated travel plans for a trip down to Petra, Jordan, and back. As it turned out, we later modified this schedule again when we discovered just how unhappy a place Jordan was in those days.

2004, Bhutan, Border Visa Receipt

Bhutan is a little known, small Buddhist country located high in the Himalayas. When we visited, they were only allowing about 2,000 tourists a year, and of those, only a handful by motorcycle.

Often ranked as the most pure, untouched remaining culture in the world, the people, customs, and traditions of Bhutan are extraordinary.

Wherever we went, from remote mountain villages to the small cities, we consistently met remarkable people and had equally remarkable experiences.

2004, Japan, BMW business card

Japan was a super trip, one we remember fondly, and the country remains one of the very few places we would return to prior to seeing more countries we have yet to experience.

Along the way in Japan we were consistently treated with something close to awe, being foreigners on our own motorcycle.

We had fantastic experiences with the people of Japan, especially those in the small rural villages, some of whom had never before seen an American in the flesh.

2004, China, Forbidden City Starbucks receipt

This receipt tells a lot about China in 2004. While the rural areas looked frozen in the post-revolution communal era, the developed cities along the coast were overrun with capitalism’s global brands.

This receipt is from a Starbucks located within the Forbidden City, the former palace of the Chinese Emperors. In the days of the emperor, a commoner would be killed merely for stepping through the gates of the Forbidden City. Today, you can sip a triple-shot, skinny vanilla latte while you wander the stones of the vast courtyards and palaces.

 
Currency and Coins

I also found some currency and coins. We diligently collected stamps, coins and currency of all denominations in each country we visited, which we gave to our nephew for his collections. These are some of the extras.

Full rez version here: http://www.hackneys.com/travel/photos/2003-southafrica-currency.jpg

Full rez version here: http://www.hackneys.com/travel/photos/2003-namibia-currency.jpg

Full rez version here: http://www.hackneys.com/travel/photos/2004-syria-currency.jpg

Full rez version here: http://www.hackneys.com/travel/photos/2004-chinese-currency.jpg

Full rez version here: http://www.hackneys.com/travel/photos/coins.jpg
All photos and images Copyright (c), 2003-2009, Douglas Hackney, all rights reserved.

Such as unpacking all the motorcycle stuff that’s been stored in various locations around the U.S.A. for the last few years.

While there were plenty of Christmas morning moments for me, one of my favorites was this container:

This container held tank bags used in a variety of trips earlier this decade.

Some trips were local, such as this one, a wonderful day ride around SoCal following a hand drawn map. As any rider will tell you, any trip that uses a hand drawn map is almost always a good one.

The next tank bag map pouch also brought back a lot of great memories. It  contained coins from Japan and a  Nazar (nazar boncuğu) from Turkey, which is an amulet used to ward off the “evil eye.” We’ve found them to be very effective in our travels. We’ve gone through quite a few, and they always seem to break or disappear when we run up against bad situations. Coincidence? You can be the judge. We consider them ablative materials in the traveler’s battle with bad juju.

The last one held a map and a dried flower from China. I thought I’d forgotten most of that China trip, but the sight of the flower triggered memories of Steph picking that flower, along with many more great experiences on that trip.

It was wonderful to spend a few minutes reliving those trips, and thinking about the food, places and people we discovered along the way.

Those memories kept me going as I finished that little organization project.

The end result was the first time most of our riding gear has been in one place in over four years.

But even though it is nice to get all of our stuff organized in one place, I’m already thinking about pulling one of those containers down and putting it to use:

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Intended use for the model: 

Document the general parameters, priorities and specific requirements for a proposed Overland Expedition Vehicle (OEV).

 

The model is intended to improve communication between potential OEV owners and their dreams, fabricators, subcontractors and manufacturers.

In practical use it can help potential OEV owners identity disparities between their stated priorities / requirements and the characteristics of available platforms / vehicles.

Used together with the OEV Total Cost of Ownership (TCO) model a potential OEV owner can have a much better idea of the type of vehicle they require and what the total ownership experience will cost. 

To use the model:
   1. Download the model spreadsheet to your computer
   2. Open the model in XL
   3. Perform a File:Save As operation and change the name of the model to preserve the original version
   4. Enter your data into any cell that is colored green
   5. Perform periodical File:Save As operations as you load the model. It is a good idea to increment the file name as you progress, i.e. myOEV-criteria 01, myOEV-criteria 02, myOEV-criteria 03, etc.
   6. Save the final version of the model

To Print:
   7. Select File:Print

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One of the little known upsides of foreign travel is exposure to obscure movies subtitled in the local language.

Small, lightweight and portable, it combines EPIRB type emergency beacon functions with a general purpose GPS locator tracker and simple “I’m OK” message functions.

It looks like it would be great for hikers, skiers, climbers, mountain bikers, off-road motorcyclists, near-shore sailors and overlanders. Another potential market is paranoid “bubble child” parents letting their progeny out of their eyesight for the first time.

Coverage limitations – no coverage in the following areas:
- Far southern South America
- Sub Saharan Africa
- Indian subcontinent
- Ocean passages. (Some coverage in the North Atlantic)

Cost: $170
Basic Annual Plan: $99
Additional Tracking Plan: $49 (send and save location, track via Google Maps)
Additional global extraction / rescue plan: $7.95 initial, $150 thereafter

Available online and at REI and Cabellas.

Company web site: http://www.findmespot.com/default.aspx

We’ve already got a couple of EPIRBs and we’re just pulling out, so I don’t think we’ll have time to implement these.

While at the Evergreen Aviation Museum in McMinville, Oregon (highly recommended) I noticed this small gasoline engine on display.

It combined several of my lifelong interests: aviation, historical aircraft, motorcycling, historical motorcycles and something from my youth, Heathkit.

When I was nine my dad, at the behest of and only as a result of the constant cajoling of my mom, and I assembled a Heathkit AM radio. That project was where I learned how to solder, what a resistor and a transistor were, and how, if you followed the directions carefully, you could make just about anything from a Heathkit.

And typical of a Heathkit, that AM radio had the best reception of any radio I’ve ever been around. From its perch on top of my night stand I carefully turned the analog tuning dial in as tiny increments as my small hands could muster. Late at night, as the rest of the neighborhood slumbered, I wandered the airwaves, seeking out frequencies from far away. While WHO, “1040 on your AM dial, The 50,000 watt clear channel voice of Iowa; Coast to coast, border to border, and then some,” being only 50 miles away, came in loud and clear, the far away stations from Cincinnati, Little Rock and even Pittsburgh would drift in and out as they bounced their way to me off of the ionosphere.

Directly below me in the basement was my paper mache model of Cape Canaveral and the projected Apollo mission landing craft touchdown area of the moon. They were connected by an overhead string so the various Revell plastic models of the mission components could fly back and forth. Thus, using the astounding power of young boy rocket sounds, each step of the mission was played out hundreds of times with my best friend, Tom Jones. My Tom Swift books and that diorama were as close as I could get to space, except for my radio, where the magical sounds and voices came floating through the ether, bouncing off the lower edge of space itself. Each scratchy, static filled song, each wavering announcer’s baritone voice, each late west coast baseball game carried with it a tiny bit of space travel. My Heathkit AM radio was my connection with the cosmos.

Those many late nights scanning the AM dial, searching for far away places, fed directly into my lifelong search for discovery, exploration and adventure.

And there, on a sunny day in September, it all came flooding back. Who would have ever guessed that long before he made radios, Edward Heath was making airplanes. And using motorcycle engines for power.

Another circle closed.