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Andorra; A True Utopia

Having moved my family from a small Canadian alpine ski community to Flatlands, Europe, it has been a challenge and a responsibility to find an appropriate mountain retreat for the clan.  It had to be some place that had enough variety to challenge the new twin-tipped-donning-Kamikaze-boy, provide a nice view for the more relaxed skiers in the family and have adequate bars, green slopes, instructors and medical facilities to satisfy the needs of our newest clan member, the ski-virgin from South Africa.  And, then there's the budget.  No easy task.

After many hours of feeding search engines with things like "Europe ski hills beginner advanced x-ray beer inexpensive" and "green to black ski runs not in Switzerland" and "cheap flights, good skiing" and coming up with nothing, I saw Andorra sneaking into the ranks.

Now, I had heard the name Andorra before but I thought it was some made up place for a movie or something like Bregna or Dinotopia or Narnia or the name of the Agnes Moorehead character on Bewitched.  No.  Real location; a country, no less.  It can be easily found on Google Maps if you just type in the name and then zoom and zoom and zoom in some more.

To save energy; it is a very small country in the Pyrenees wedged between France and Spain.

Proof:

Really exists.

Fantastic place!  Tax-free, friendly people, good food and wine, mild weather, ski instructors who will respond on a moment's notice and friendly doctors with X-ray machines right at the ski hill.

We stayed at a bed and breakfast in the ski town of Pas de la Casa called Hotel Les Truites; an amazing little family run place where the owner cooks fresh cut bacon and bread over the open fireplace in the lobby's corner for breakfast each morning.  He also let us keep our car parked in their loading zone for days which kept us from parking where this guy did:

We will stay there again.

Prior to the ski adventure, the Offspring both taunted the Amazing Man with ski horror stories; death, dismemberment, insanity, the usual, but they also reassured him that they both went on to great skiing/snowboarding adventures despite the fact that they were each taken out by ski patrol in their early days.  Just not nice and most certainly the main reason that he insisted on skiing out like a war hero holding onto his subluxed shoulder.  Nothing a huge bandage, sling, Advil and red wine couldn't deal with.

Special thanks to the great Dr. Escoda from the Centre Medic Pas de la Casa.  Good guy.

In other great adventures in Andorra:  THE TOBOTRONC!!  Imagine riding on a go-cart seat attached to rollercoaster rails flying down La Rabassa mountain side for over 5km having total control over your own destiny with a single levered hand-brake.  Taryn went last of the four of us and I was becoming a bit concerned when she seemed to be taking a little longer than I expected.  Her only comment to us on her arrival was that the signs at the sharper corners that said to apply brakes were NOT meant as a mere suggestion.

Me, "They were in some language that I didn't understand, obviously."

Her, "Pictures?"

Well...

It's been a long time since I have seen my family get off a ride and run to the back of the line to do it again.  Amazing.

Other great finds in Andorra:  amazing stone architecture, windy roads, very long tunnels and a motorcycle museum cleverly hidden beneath a church parking lot.

What more could you want?

Parallel Universes

I received a phone call from the service dude at the bike shop today.  My motorbike is in for its annual spa day.  He told me that he was working on my bike and he had found a problem with the "front crank system".

Shawn (aka Service Dude):  "The front crank system is shot and needs to be replaced."

Me:  "Can you explain that one to me a little more?"

Shaun:  "Well, the rider would have noticed it for sure.  It would have been rattling all over the place.  The bolt that secures the front wheel to the fork was really loose and the steel shaft almost destroyed the aluminium sheath that it sits in."

Me:  "Well, I'm the rider and I haven't noticed anything.  Is this something that should have been caught on a regular service inspection?"

Shawn:  "You are the rider?"

Me:  "Yes."  I get that a lot; big bike.

Shawn:  "You should have caught this on a regular pre-ride check.  You know, ABC's.... air pressure, brakes, chains and make sure everything's tight?"

Me:  "Yes, I do all that.  Didn't notice anything.  How much to replace it?"

Shawn:  "$79.95"

Me:  "Seriously?  No brainer.  Fix it."

Shawn:  "Really?  I've tightened it up and it will be fine until it loosens off again.  Then you'll have to replace it for sure."

Me:  "Well, we don't need shit loosening off when I'm going 100 km/hr down the highway now do we.  Hellooooo.... lawsuit"

Shawn:  "Haha... 100... that's funny.  Well, I'll switch this thing out and you can pick it up tomorrow."

Me:  "Thanks.  Did the new faring come in?"

Shawn:  "Faring?  There's nothing wrong with it."

Me:  "You didn't notice the huge crack?  Are you sure you have the right bike?  2001 Suzuki Bandit?"

Shawn:  "Hmmmm.  This is Shawn from Gerrick's Cycle.....  I'm working on a Norco Bigfoot Mountain Bike.... Sound familiar?"

Pause, silence, my eyes gazed up and to the right.  I slowly lowered my hand that I had firmly placed on my hip (me being all self-righteous on the phone).  I felt a little dizzy as the blood rushed from my brain to my cheeks (wasn't being well utilized in the brain section anyway).

Shawn was talking about my son's mountain bike that I had also dropped off for a pre-season work up.

The salt in the wound?  Taryn-the-seventeen-year-old-girl was sitting across the table, witness to the entire conversation including my moment of realization, and the pathetic me as I stammered through the various excuses including English as a second language, growing up with fetal alcohol syndrome, my shoes were too tight that day, the usual.

That's right, meet the Sheepish me.

"2007 Kootenay Toy Run" or "When Taryn Got Voted Off The Island"

Taryn-the-16-year-old girl started to ride a motorcycle this year.  I had the most amazing visions of spontaneous road trips; me and the boy on my Bandit and Taryn on her Exciter, laughing, bonding and taking whichever mountain road called to us.  With Iggy Pop's Wild Child screaming in my head, I would be the envy of mothers of teenagers everywhere.

And then, I would rub the back of my neck to ease the pain as my head snapped back to reality.

She does like her bike and she does enjoy riding it and she does allow me to escort her (as required by Law) to her friends' homes and then come back and get her later.

On Sunday, Taryn and I had the pleasure of participating in the 2007 West Kootenay Toy Run, 20th Anniversary, along with over 650 other riders, and enjoyed the beautiful weather, gorgeous scenery and the opportunity to give a little back to the community.

Those were my thoughts anyway.... Taryn wanted to win the trophy for the Youngest Rider thereby effectively beating out Char-the-bitch-who-slept-with-her-(now-Ex)-boyfriend.  Char, being younger, would have won had she attended.  But, of course, she didn't show because Taryn is 110 pounds of pure intimidation.  I almost blew coffee out of my nose.

Kootenay Toy Run Route Map

So, we rode as close to the end as possible considering that there were easily a hundred riders who also wanted to relax in the back.  In front of her, I watched her in my review mirror and helped her pace a little.  Approaching Nelson, the first stop, she took a corner a little faster than she's comfortable with; apparent  by the wobbling and very close proximity to the curb.  On reviewing the game plan in consultation with the chase car and a couple of the marshals, we decided that she would ride right at the back with Mrs. Santa Claus, directly in front of the chase car, marshals and me in front of her.

Well, then she was a little too relaxed.  A substantial gap formed between our small group of five and the 650 others.  Mrs. Claus was not impressed.  She was to be closing the parade (Santa was in the front) and, because of the ginormous gap that Taryn created, the spectators along the route were folding up there lawn chairs rather than pouring their gratitude upon her in the form of enthusiastic waves.

Taryn screwed up Mrs. Claus' whole day.

Though Taryn had the huge red glowing "L" on her back, to warn others that she is learning and that everyone should really give her a little space, Mrs. Claus (who traditionally represents children's joy, charity, glitter and snowflakes) was pulling up beside her and yelling at her to speed up and to catch up with the others.  She was traveling at the posted speed limit; it's not like she was going 5 km/hr.

When we reached the second stop, Taryn and I decided that we would drop back behind the group all together and ride at her own pace.  We approached the chase car / marshal group and thanked them for their support and informed them that we would leave a few minutes behind and see them at the next stop.

The chase car driver replied, "That's good, because we actually had already taken a vote and decided the same thing."

Wow.  OK.  Concerned that at any second my Tourette's-like behaviour was going to surface and I would Kung-Fu all over their asses, I smiled and walked away.

We walked in silence for a moment.

Taryn then mused, "So, the socially correct thing for them to say would have been; ' What?  You want to drop back?  Are you sure?  You're doing so well but we support your decision.' Right?"

You mean, rather than kick you in the stomach?  Sure.

We enjoyed the rest of our day:  Taryn won a trophy for Youngest Rider and over $7000 was raised to provide Christmas gifts to under-privileged children.

And, the best part (okay, besides the whole charity thing),Taryn's motorcycle instructor, who loves Taryn like a puppy, knows the executive of this event.  Mrs. Claus will not be with us next year; at least not this year's version.

So, am I allowed to be a little gleeful that I got Mrs. Claus fired?

I'm Practically a Boy!

I rode my beautiful Suzuki Bandit motorcycle home from work this morning with a smile on my face and a song in my heart MP3 Player, as always.  I came into the house; The Ex is visiting and somewhat awake.  I grabbed my mini-mechanic kit and turned to go back outside where my soulmate was parked in the driveway feeling a little unwell.

The Ex queried my intentions.  I explained that Bandit was not responding well on the hairpin turns that I enjoy between home and work.  It felt as though the front tire was turning in too far.  Poor description, I'm sure, but he rides a motorbike as well so, he should get it.  I was speaking the language of the rider; I was talking about feelings.  Something that I was apparently unable to do while I was married (little aside, over it).  So, I was going to check the tire pressure.  Simple mind = simple solution.

The Ex reminded me that he rode his brand new bike last season off the lot with low tire pressure and, didn't catch it until the first (5000 km) servicing and, therefore, had to replace both of his tires.  Low tire pressure is not as easy to detect as "a feeling".

Front tire pressure should be 42 psi:  mine was 28.5 psi.

Seriously, how could I have possibly not smiled.

It had to be said:  "Hmmm, maybe if you would have let me ride your bike I could have saved you about $700 in new tires.  I am at one with the bike, you know."

Medusa

Summer is here!!

My sweet little Bandit is out, insured and serviced!  Beautiful day made better by a sweet little jaunt on the curvy roads of the mountains  Hair blowing in the wind..... shit.

Note to self.... remember to braid hair to avoid matted tendrils.  That's an hour of my life I will never get back.

Driving; My Favourite Sport

"Turn signals will give away your next move.  A confident driver avoids using them."

Love it!