Where no Fiat has gone before

Through work, I had the wonderful opportunity to go to Gluecon 2015.  It is an amazing conference, attended by technology superstars like Adrian Cockroft.  The focus this year was on devops, APIs, microservices, and containers.  More thoughts on the tech in a later post.

My colleague Brandon and I got to Denver in the middle of the afternoon.  He had never been to this part of the country, while I worked for a Denver-based company for about 6 years.  We took this opportunity to go up into the mountains and do some hiking.

Arriving at the Enterprise desk, I was thrilled to be able to select a Fiat 500 - much more interesting than the Hyundai Elantra.   

It is an impossibly tiny car, reminding me of the Civic Si I was fortunate enough to drive in late high school.  As an aside, I loved that little car, it had such a great engine/transmission, and looked something like this:

This was a great little car

Classic Italian driving position, arms way out, steering wheel angled up.  Single instrument pod design.

Nothing says "I don't care about my job" more than the no smoking sticker in this picture

Remarkably thick B pillars.  Nice little engineering touches - rear wiper is on a delay by default, but goes active when you shift into reverse.  2 USB ports (1 is charge only) and a 12V plug.

Plenty of headroom!

We hopped in and headed west on I-70, winding our way up into the mountains.  An uncharacteristically thick cloud cover and rain came down as the powerless little car struggled up the mountains, feeling increasingly anemic with each foot of altitude gained.

Pounding along at 6,000 rpm, barely maintaining speed

That said, things got pretty, very quickly.

We popped off of I-70 and took 6 up over Loveland Pass, where it was snowing.  Nice, fresh, wet, beautiful snow.

The little Fiat that could!

We drove down the other side on 6, watching the skiers and snowboarders enjoying some late May slope time at Arapahoe Basin.

We were surprised to see some camouflaged prototypes running around, probably getting their high altitude testing done.  Not sure what the SUVs were, but we definitely saw some Ford Fusions prowling Route 9 near Breckenridge.

We saw some unbelievable scenery, as the rain cleared off and the sun smiled upon us:

A Colorado native friend of mine pointed us to some great hiking spots, so we proceeded to try and find them.  This should have been slightly foreboding:

Undeterred, we gunned the little Fiat up the mountain like a rally car.  The traction control was going crazy as we slipped our way up the hill...

...until it would go no further:

The problem was the traction control - we couldn't figure out how to turn it off.  Looked all over the place for the button, hunted through the manual.  Made multiple runs at the hill, and I just kept thinking, "wheelspin, I need wheelspin!"

Finally, Brandon found the button - it was right next to the gear selector!  From the driver's seat, it's obscured by the giant shift knob.  Hooray!  Let's charge ahead!

Lots of mud and snow spray ensued as we bounded our way up the track, until it became clear that our Fiat could no longer do a rally snowplow impersonation:

A beached Fiat 500 in the mountains of Colorado

So, after pelting the car with some snowballs...

...we reversed down the mountain, since there was no way for us to turn around.

We tried a few other spots, and got to a place of unbelievable beauty.

Boldly going where no Fiat has gone before

Yes, that is a snow cloud descending

Beautifully flocked trees

We thought we would go hiking past the gate in the background, but the snow was too deep for sneakers:

"foot deep" in snow

Brandon looks pretty happy

Scandinavian Flick?  Rally Turns?  No....

We headed off towards dinner, stopping in Breckenridge to get some Rocky Mountain Chocolate for our respective families.  Shopping done, we headed off towards a tasty dinner at the Mint in Silverthorne.

In no particular hurry, we enjoyed a couple more breathtaking vistas:

Clouds below the mountaintop

Sunny on the left, snowing on the right

After drinking in the scenery like the terrain-starved midwesterners we are, we arrived at the Mint.  One of my favorite places, simply old school:

I bet the decor hasn't changed in 50 years.

We order steaks and giant Fat Tires, and celebrated our amazing fortune at having lived what felt like a month inside of just a handful of hours.

All in all, a great little mountain jaunt before getting down to one of the most stimulating tech conferences in recent memory!

Cayenne Diesel

Living with a Cayenne

The Porsche Cayenne.  The vehicle that made "purists" howl and shriek.  More on that later.

Introduced over 10 years ago, what is it like to live with one on a daily basis?  I got that opportunity over the past couple of days, so allow me to reflect.

First off, let's be specific about the Cayenne I'm talking about - the Diesel.  A paltry 240 hp is offset by an ocean of turbo torque, 410 lb-ft that makes the vehicle feel downright sprightly around town.  Yes, it runs out of breath at high rpm, but as long as you stay in the ocean of torque, it feels plenty quick.

Believe me - it makes all the difference

A couple of things really stand out about this vehicle:

Efficiency

Seriously?  33.5 mpg?

I think the above picture speaks for itself.  On a run from my house to Chicago, I averaged an amazing 33.5 mpg.  That is a very healthy number in the context of efficiency.  It definitely gets better mileage than our van or our sedan.  Heck, there are times when my motorcycle doesn't get 33.5 mpg!

Part of that comes from the diesel engine, part of it comes from the 8-speed transmission.  The entire time, the powertrain was unobtrusive.  It hummed quietly along, whisking us through the night.  The only thing that screamed diesel was the "515 miles to empty" readout in the instrument cluster.

Off boost in first gear, you feel the weight of the Cayenne.  Once speed rises and the boost comes up, there are plenty of ratios in the transmission to keep you in the fat part of the torque curve.

OK, I've been holding back...but here goes:
<rant>
I've been saying this for years: when on when will a manufacturer offer a diesel minivan in the United States?  Please!  With 4 kids, I need a minivan, and given the way I use mine, it is the perfect platform for a diesel.  Lots of grunt low in the rev range, sufficient power for the highway, and great efficiency.  None of the negatives of yesteryear - minimal waiting for glow plugs, no fumes wafting through the cabin, no cloud of blue smoke when accelerating.  Please Honda, I love my Odyssey, and I would love it even more with a diesel.
</rant>

Headlights

The Sun

Simply unbelievable.  This specific Cayenne was equipped with adaptive headlights.  This means that when the road curves and you turn the steering wheel to follow it, the headlights swivel to illuminate where you want to go (the road) instead of where you don't (the ditch, a tree, someone's yard).  Brilliant, even, dark-defying light is all you get.  It even had a setting to auto-engage high beams.  Very useful on the interstate, as soon as oncoming traffic passed, the vehicle would engage the high beams to push the night even further back.

Very good feature.  Great safety feature.  I have a thing for big brakes and bright headlights.  The adaptive lights check the bright headlight box in a big way.

Comfort

The seats in the Cayenne are all-day comfortable.  If I had to be in New York for dinner, I wouldn't hesitate to strap into the Cayenne and just head out.  Very comfortable and adjustable, with both heating and cooling.  Remember the sweaty t-shirt-stuck-to-your-back-on-a-hot-day scenario?  That is but a memory when you spin up the seat coolers.  Regardless of temperature (in the 40s and rainy to 70s and humid), the Cayenne keeps its occupants quite comfy.

Features

This is where the engineering brilliance really shines through.  The display, so crisp and legible!  The screen to the right of the tach is particularly great, with a thumbwheel on the right steering wheel spoke to scroll through vehicle stats, navigation, audio, phone, and probably some things I'm forgetting.

Note the green Hold light

The Hold feature - it seems like such a trivial thing, but it's fascinating how quickly you get used to it.  When stopped at a light, simply press on the brake pedal as though you were setting a parking brake.  The word Hold appears in green in the speedometer, meaning you can take your foot off the brake.  The Cayenne will patiently hold the vehicle in place until you touch the gas, at which point you are on your way.

Speaking of the speedometer, that's also where the headlight/auto-bright light indicator lights are.  And quite honestly, that's the only thing I used that dash space for.  Thank goodness there is a speedometer in the tach, because I never used the analog speedo.

The ease of integration with my iPhone (Bluetooth or USB, take your pick)!  The intuitiveness of the controls on the steering wheel!  Yes, there is somewhat an ocean of buttons on the center console, but those are mainly fire-and-forget items.  The one you are most likely to use is temperature control, which is an easy toggle in close proximity to the steering wheel.

Lots of buttons, but temperature and fan speed are easily accessible

You know what the kids really like?  The ENORMOUS sunroof that stretches the length of the passenger compartment.  It is wonderful, and great for stargazing at night.

So many little details, so well executed.  Truly an impressive piece of engineering that I appreciated more as time went by.

In Closing...

The Cayenne Diesel is a brilliantly engineered and executed vehicle.  Perfect for a road warrior or a family of 5, it goes about its job with quiet efficiency.  Sprightly but not fast.  I didn't test this part, but I bet it's a beastie when towing (rated for 7,710 pounds).  If I had to be in New York for dinner, I would hop in the Cayenne and never look back.  It makes eating miles so supremely easy, and it handles better than any SUV I've ever driven (barring Cayenne S/GTS/Turbo).


The Turbo is a bootful of fun.  Plenty powerful, amazing handling.  But in the States, with our low speed limits and traffic, the thinking-man's Cayenne of choice is the Diesel:  Efficient, smooth, capable, comfortable, and wonderful to use.

That said, it doesn't inspire joy in me the way my now 22-year-old 911 does.  It is something I'd want to use, but not fuss over.  You know, treat it as a normal car.

My 911 is taught, tight, and raw.  I'm reminded of one of my favorite Jalopnik articles I've read recently:

Here is what it’s like to drive modern day automobiles: 

Output = Input x 3^34 x 3e / 2 + 778 / 5xr +2 * 32^74.45 

If the nerdy formula doesn’t make sense to you, basically what I’m saying is that if you’re the input (you know...with the steering, braking, accelerating and such), the computer takes whatever you provide, does stuff with it like figuring out what the car should do in terms of applying power to the wheels, how the engine should run etc., and spits out some behavior on the roads that you will actually find tolerable or even pleasing. 

In most modern day cars, enough tweaks are made to where no matter how crazy of a maneuver you intend to execute, the car can generally take your insanity and turn into a relatively manageable output. 

With the 1971 Porsche: 

Output = Input

That sums it up so nicely.  The Cayenne is an amazing vehicle.  It is incredibly well-engineered, and the details come through everywhere you look, sit, and touch.  It drives better than any SUV has a right to.  And yet, in its quest to be such a phenomenally good car, it sacrifices driver engagement.  I just hope that those fortunate enough to own one of these things appreciates what a fundamentally good vehicle it is.

That said, I feel remarkably fortunate to have choices in life.  I can load the entire family and most of our house into our minivan (the only thing mini about it is the name), use a great sedan in the winter, explore North America on a phenomenal motorcycle, and when an early Sunday morning drive is in order, fire up the loud, raw, sonorous, alive beastie that is my 911 and enjoy *driving* it.

Oh yes, and to the "purists" - the Cayenne is unbelievable.  So is the Panamera.  As is the Boxster, and the Cayman, and the 911.  Building such incredibly useable vehicles allows Porsche to make truly exceptional ones, like the GT4, GT3, GT RS, and 918.

Progress is unavoidable.  Porsche will continue to push the edge of performance and increase usability.  As a company, they are proving that improved performance doesn't have to come at the expense of improved fuel efficiency.

That said, my fervent hope is that there will always be a high-revving, naturally aspirated choice somewhere in the lineup!

Physics Day

I had the opportunity to take my two oldest kids to Physics Day at 6 Flags in Gurnee, IL, just north of Chicago.  What a great time!

We had our own Physics Day on the drive there, as we folded ourselves into the 911.  A road trip in a sports car with my kids has always been on my bucket list, and we checked that off in a big way!  Super fun.

Before the 6 Flags adventure, we continued Physics Day with a little cat and mouse with my brother in a pair of Porsche Cayenne Turbos.  Impressive beasts, those Turbos.  Loads of power, and just so well engineered!

Physics Day itself was really fun.  It was a follow-the-child kind of day, riding bumper cars and rollercoasters.  Late in the day, my brother put $20 up to anyone who would try the X-Flight.  My oldest took him up on the offer, and made the easiest $20 of his life.  After the ride ended, he said that that was the most terrifying start to the most exhilarating experience of his life!

The rollercoaster bug bit my oldest hard!  He proceeded to ride Batman four times in a row, from the first row.  He is now a rollercoaster junky!

We ended the day with a fantastic meal at Smoke Daddy.  I was so proud of my kids!  Despite the exhaustion associated with staying up until midnight and riding rides all day, they were so polite and wonderful at the restaurant.  They were just stunningly wonderful, and enjoyed the dinner conversation.  Ribs, pulled pork, brisket, and burgers - what a meal on which to end an amazing day!

Due to a series of events, I ended up taking a Cayenne Diesel home.  For detailed thoughts on that vehicle, check out my next post.

Blowing out the cobwebs

New Year's Eve, 2014.  Such a gorgeous, sunny day in the South Bend area.  I feel like we've had more sun in the last two days than in the last two months.

Chilly, but sunny.  Nice.  Kids were at a friend's house.  Wife was about to take a nap.  "Why don't you go for a drive," she suggested.  One of the many reasons why I married her!

Go for a drive indeed.  I went out and pulled the cover off the 911, fired it up, and unhooked the trickle charger while listening to the unmistakeable sound of that air-cooled flat six coming up to temperature.  Cars are meant to be driven.  I believe leaving them idle for too long is just not a good thing.  Mechanical things need to be used for their intended purpose!

No need for a jacket, the heat would be pumping soon enough.

I only had about an hour, so I decided on a short jaunt up Red Bud Trail:

Traffic was light, the roads clear.  I ensured the engine had ample opportunity to consume lots of cold, refreshing air.  I swear it feels faster in the cold, even though it's not a Turbo.  Yes, yes, just my imagination.

Induction roar, the sound of a naturally aspirated engine being wound out - who needs a stereo?

There is just something about how alive the car feels.  The steering is so good, transmitting surface textures up the rack and into my fingertips.  As I wind along the river, I recall a drive out to see my Mom in Iowa a while back.  Again, it was a cold winter day.  It had snowed, but the roads were good.  I decided to drive the 911.

In the days before constant smartphone weather alerts, it started to snow as I approached the Mississippi River.  Really started to snow.  And I'm driving along, in the dead of night, on summer tires, in my 911.  I was a little nervous, but strangely enough, filled with a sense of exhilaration.  The steering, the steering!  I could feel the front tires hunting for grip.  Gingerly, gingerly with the throttle - a breath too much and the tail would slide to the right.

I thought about stopping, but figured that pulling off the highway would only result in unplowed streets and getting stranded.

Crawling along at 15-20 mph, getting passed by tractor-trailers, I crossed the mighty Mississippi and was getting pretty tired.  I was pretty tightly wound, exhausted from the incredibly high degree of focus required to just stay on the road.  I decided to pull off at a rest stop and get some sleep.

Putting slowly into the rest area, I parked so I wouldn't be reversing uphill.  I walked into the rest stop, looked at the weather, and talked to some truckers.  Folks were saying that the roads were looking good to the north, and that the freak snow dumping was centered around the Mississippi.  Figuring I'd give the crews time to clean out the stretch to Iowa City, I lay down for a restless nap.

After maybe 30 minutes, I got up, went back to the car, and continued the journey home.  Gingerly, gingerly with the throttle.  Feel those tires hunting for grip.  Carefully, carefully, carefully.

Sure enough, the snow abated.  Heading northwest, the roads opened up.  I made the rest of the journey home in the dark on mostly clean roads.

The next day, I got to appreciate aerodynamics in a new way, looking at how filthy the car was:

I had a great visit, then turned around and headed for home the next day:

Note the snow crusted around the foglights and the wheel wells.  Not to worry, upon returning home I immediately scoured the car free from its accumulated road grime.

Driving a 911 on summer tires in the snow is a very, very, very bad idea.  Don't ever do it.  But if you ever happen to be caught out, it can be like writing a dissertation on car control.  Gently caress all the inputs.  Feel what is happening.  The exquisite delicacy of reduced traction can make for such a wonderful learning opportunity.  Very, very different than learning on a race track.

Of course, with winter tires, 911s are virtually unstoppable - here's a shot of my brother's old 997 S during a Chicago winter.  Yes, he had snow tires:

Anyway, my New Year's Eve drive was blissfully free from inclement weather.  Just cold, clear roads, the deliciously mechanical symphony of that flat six, and corners uncoiling in front of me.  What a way to end a year!

A Baked Apple

I was happily working along last week when much to my chagrin, my trusty Macbook Pro just kind of froze.  "No big deal," I thought to myself, and went to reboot it.  It didn't come back.

Arrrgh!

I tried everything, resetting the PRAM, muttering under my breath, but to no avail.  To make a long story short, the technicians who ultimately got their hands on it said that Apple wanted $700 to fix it because the logic board was no good.

Double arrrgh!

So, I was talking to my local Mac expert colleague, and he turned me onto the idea of baking the logic board.  Reflow the logic board.  "Search for it, it's a thing.  People bake their logic boards."

Really?  Could this be?  A quick Google search found an entire collection of links like this.  There were enough hits that made it seem like a thing indeed, and the description as to why baking the board works.  Apparently the key is to get the solder warm enough to melt slightly and fill in the microfractures, thereby reestablishing connectivity.  Fair enough.

How far wrong could this go?

Another colleague lent me the appropriate tools, and I set off to bake the board.  Disassembly wasn't too difficult, thanks to these instructions on ifixit.  It was a fun thing to do, and my son was a great help.

Once the board was out, I cleaned the CPU and GPU thoroughly, scraping off the old thermal paste.  Then, I took employed some 91% alcohol and Q-tips to finish the job.  Pretty soon, the back of the CPU and GPU looked like mirrors.  The heat sinks looked like fresh copper.  Great.

I took a baking tray, covered it in foil, and made little foil balls for the logic board to rest on.   I ended up baking the thing three times (don't ask) for 7.5 minutes each at 375 Fahrenheit:

Each time I took out of the oven, the logic board looked like this:

After letting the logic board cool overnight, I reversed the ifixit instructions, careful to use fresh Arctic Silver 5 thermal paste:

I then screwed the machine back together.  Taking a deep breath, with my skeptical family around me, the moment of truth had arrived.  I pressed the power button, and much to my delight:

No idea how long it will last, but it's great to have a hot spare!

Prior to today, I didn't personally know a single person who had tried this.  Now I do.

Oh yes, and don't try this at home - it will most certainly void any form of warranty you may have...

It's official - Bun Burner Gold!

For those of you following along at home, you'll note that I attempted a Bun Burner Gold this past August.  The start of that adventure I wrote up here.

After waiting patiently for months for the Iron Butt Association to certify my ride, I was thrilled to come home today and find a package addressed to me from the IBA.

After spending 10 minutes carefully opening the heavily-taped package, I happily read:

Looks like I have a new bike project for the winter - swapping out the license plate backing for this!!!

Although it was a long wait, it was totally worth it.  I appreciate the diligence the IBA puts into certifying rides.

The most interesting thing from my perspective is odometer error.  The IBA mileage came in at 1562.  Plenty of cushion over the 1500.  My odometer came in at 1580 or so.  Just goes to show you, map carefully, run GPS if you can, and always presume you're going to have to ride farther than your motorcycle thinks.

Happy winter to all!

As the season closes

Earlier this fall, I had the pleasure of being a judge at Irish Hacks, an AT&T-sponsored hackathon.  While there, I rekindled a conversation with a student I had met in the fall of 2013.  In the time since we met, he spent his summer doing a tour with the Navy based out of Pearl Harbor, then interned at Apple.  While in California, he was bitten by the motorcycle bug.  As you can imagine, I was pretty thrilled.  We had much to discuss.

He ended up buying an early 80s vintage BMW K100RS.  It's a fine motorcycle.  I came very close to purchasing one a little over a decade ago, but just couldn't bring myself to do it.  For the type of riding I was doing at the time, it was overkill - too much bike for just putting around.  Of course, one could make the same argument today...do I really need an FJR for an 8-mile roundtrip commute?  And the occasional trip?  Yes, it is overkill, but I digress...

Anyway, this guy rode up the west coast, through Idaho, and learned what motorcycling is all about when he experienced a flat near Rapid City, SD.  A couple took him in, put him up for the night, took him out to dinner, and showed him around the Black Hills while his bike was getting fixed up.  If the riding hook wasn't set firmly before, that experience certainly clinched it.

Anyway, at the hackathon, we agreed we had to go riding together before the snow arrived.  With the weekends winding down, I dropped him a note and we agreed to go for an early morning ride on Saturday, up to Allegan, MI, across the dam, and do a little loop I'd read about.

Saturday dawned chilly, gray, and threatening rain.  Knowing that the wind is relentless, I layered up - riding socks, long johns, long-sleeved t-shirt, woolen turtleneck, ankle to throat thinsulate liner, and my high-viz exterior shell.  I threw a balaclava, extra pair of gloves, microfiber, and spray bottle into the top box, and motored off to I our meeting place.

I ran into one of my current students while waiting.  He introduced me to his girlfriend and the three of us had a nice chat.  They were off to Milwaukee for the weekend, and I wished them well.

Pretty soon, I heard a wonderful mechanical sound, and up rode my riding partner for the day:

Wasting little time, we saddled up and headed northeast.  It was about 41 degrees and heavily overcast, with a bit of occasional drizzle.  We stopped so he could tank up just outside of Granger, and then we motored off into the unwelcoming morning.

Keeping up a sprightly pace, the weather soon grew a bit more unfriendly.  The temperature dropped to 39 and the pitter-patter turned into a steady drizzle.  We stayed off the main highways, exploring some delicious roads which would be much more entertaining if had not been raining.  Particularly fun was cresting a hill with a long, straight drop as we approached Decater from the south.

As we rolled into town, I realized I hadn't turned on my spot tracker.  Curses!  I missed tracks from the first part of our ride!  Rats.

Ah well, no big deal.  Jogging east and west, we continued our trip to Allegan.  The rain picked up and it was pretty chilly out.  I cranked up the grip heaters to Maximum Melt and continued to lead the way.  There was a bit more traffic on 40 north, which the Yamaha and the BMW had no issue putting quickly into the mirror.

We stopped to talk and thaw at a convenience store in Allegan.  I was feeling quite comfortable, except for my feet.  I didn't layer up the feet, thinking they would be OK.  The cold just seeped in.  The rest of my body was in great shape.  The balaclava stayed in the trunk.

That said, my riding partner was starting to feel the cold.  Without heated grips, the cold and rain were working their way in.  We talked for a while and agreed that instead of taking the loop to Lake Michigan and back, we would head west to Lake Michigan, then south back towards South Bend.

As we were cleaning up our shields, getting ready to head out, a guy going into the store said, "That's right, don't see any other riders out today!  You BMW boys are tough!"  I laughed to myself - people constantly confuse the FJR for a BMW.  I suppose the roundel is so visible on the K100RS, and so few people recognize the tuning fork logo.  Anyway, it is true - we didn't see any other motorcycles on our ride.

Back out into the rain, and we found ourselves crossing the Allegan Dam within 10 minutes.  It's a neat little dam, complete with power station:

Even more impressive than the dam was the collection of fishermen.  They were fishing from shore, from boats, and from the river in hip waders.  Steelhead is what they were looking for.  We didn't see any strikes while we were there, but then again, we didn't tarry for too long.

We hiked across the road and around the power plant to get a look at Lake Allegan:

Good-sized lake.  Of course, all the foliage was gone - I bet it would've been flat gorgeous two or three weeks earlier.  As it was, it looked desolate and wintry.  Foreboding, even.

Since we were stopped, I took a couple gratuitous bike shots:

A ride to match the plate frame!

Allegan Dam Road was a fun bit of blacktop.  Again, I can't wait to return in drier weather to explore the corners at a greater lean angle!

We zipped towards the lake, then headed south.  Soon, we entered the town of South Haven, and I decided to show him Gingerman Raceway.  Such a fun track!  We doubled back north, then took the 6 mile jog east to the track.  It was deserted, of course, but we could get in and check it out from the flag station at the start/finish line.  I gave him an audio tour of the track, pointing out the turns, elevation changes, and camber.  Though tempting to skirt the barriers and take a lap, we restrained ourselves.  Also, it was pretty clear that my riding partner was getting cold.  He didn't take off his gloves for pictures at our stop, and I knew that we better make tracks and get some warm liquid into our bodies.

In the paddock at Gingerman!

We headed west and picked up 196 south to 31.  At least the rain had stopped!  It was still pretty chilly out, temperature holding steady at 43.

We popped off 31 to pick up Red Bud Trail.  Such a pretty piece of road.  Again, we couldn't fully appreciate it as it was sopping wet, but still a pretty ride.  We even passed our second track of the day - the motocross track just north of Buchanan.

Speaking of Buchanan, we stopped at the corner of Red Bud Trail and Front Street, at which point I mentioned the Coward Café.  It didn't take a lot of arm-twisting to agree to a stop.

We rolled around the corner, powered off, and stepped inside.  The warm, welcoming smells were a delight to our cold and damp bodies.  When it came time to order, we were faced with a dilemma - their signature cinnamon rolls (which are insanely good), or waiting for the fresh chocolate croissants which were still in the oven.  We opted to not wait, ordering a pair of those amazing rolls and a pour-over to go with it:

We sat at talked and talked and talked.  Talked about family, friends, life, careers, motorcycles, places to go, places to explore.  I really enjoyed myself.  We explored the appeal of motorcycling, the feeling of simply being alive.  Our ride had taken about 4 hours, and yet we both felt we had been gone for days.

My perspective is that every moment on a motorcycle makes you feel alive.  Every sense is heightened as you become a fundamental part of the environment around you.  Every temperature variation, the smells, the sounds, the rain, the unrelenting wind - it makes you live every moment spent on that machine.  Because you are keenly aware of each moment, it elongate the sense of time.  A wonderful sensation I never tire of.

We talked so long that as if by magic, and sensing our torment during the ordering process, we were presented with a piping hot chocolate croissant to split:

Yes!  It.  Was.  Incredibly tasty!  Still warm from the oven, the chocolate exploding in molten lava with every bite.  Good grief it was delicious.

Eventually, we decided to get on with our respective weekends.  We rode south, I bid him farewell on 933, and headed for home.  Pulling up in front of the house, I took a couple shots of the filthy Feejer:

Love the muck-encrusted pipes

After thawing out in a long, hot shower, I fired up Spotwalla to generate our final route.  Due to cold, rain, and forgetfulness, I didn't mark any of the sightseeing/gas stops on the route.

Here's the spot trace itself - all told, it was about a 180 mile loop.

I decided to treat the FJR to a wash, getting rid of all the muck gathered over the past month of commuting in the rain and Saturday's adventure.  Clean and dry, I was getting really, really hungry for dinner.  I had picked up some steaks at Whole Foods the night before, and tonight seemed as good a time as any to devour them:

I decided to try a new method of preparation.  Reading Cooks Illustrated, I tried the bake/sear method.  Cooks has written articles over time debunking the "sear it first to lock in the juices" myth.  Basically, it doesn't matter - bake/sear or sear/bake, the residual amount of moisture is the same.

I fired up the oven on convect at 250 degrees, then began preparing the accompanying mushrooms.  After salting and peppering the steaks, I put them on wire racks in a rimmed backing sheet and slid them in the oven for 20 minutes.  As the mushrooms sautéed, the house started to smell remarkably good.

At the 15 minute mark, I lit up a big skillet with grapeseed oil until it started to smoke.  At the 20 minute mark, I took the internal temperature of the strips.  They measured 100-101 degrees.

Pulling them out of the oven, I place them in the smoking skillet for 1.5 minutes per side, flipping with a pair of tongs.  At the three minute mark, I took transferred the steaks to cooling racks and tented them with aluminum foil.  Setting a timer for 10 minutes, I opened a bottle of pinot noir and put a water-filled skillet on to boil.  The timer wound down to 5 minutes, at which point I dropped in the asparagus.

5 minutes later, dinner was ready!  I drained the asparagus and drizzled the spears with olive oil, finishing them off with a little salt, pepper, and grated parmiggiano reggiano.

I couldn't have been more pleased with the way it came out.  Next time we do steaks, I'll probably go with the bake/sear method again:

To top off the meal, my wife had brought back eclairs from Chicago that we used to have 10+ years ago.  Hadn't had them in years.  They were still delicious:

All in all, a wonderful, wonderful day.  Good roads, good conversation, inclement weather, good meal, great family - life is very, very good.