OK, I admit up front that this article is not just about a motorcycle ride. But since, the part that is about a motorcycle has to do with a sportbike and a ride in Spain, I knew there was no way "El Jefe" could turn down the article. It is a little dated, but I wanted to finish with the Grand Tour articles first.

My trip to Spain started on the 3rd of July with a short cab ride to ORF, a short flight to Phillie, and a 7-hour flight to BCN (Barcelona). My wife met me at the airport (it was the 4th of July) and it was off to Sant Antoni de Calonge. This seaside town is located about halfway between Barcelona and the French border.

Bikes, Boards, and Bubbles

September 6^th, 2006

muse@bikerenews.com

While it's mostly a resort town, the main groups of visitors are weekenders from Barcelona. Of course, there are a healthy number of families from Holland, Germany, and France. The nice thing about Sant Antoni is that the town attracts more of a family crowd. The younger crowds gather at beach resorts a little further south (Playa de Aro or Lloret del Mar).

The first couple of days were spent relaxing, allowing my internal clock to adjust to the new time zone, and the slower pace of leisure. One of the reasons I like to go to Sant Antoni is the long paseo (boardwalk) that runs the length of Sant Antoni and over to the next seaside town, Palamos. I actually find myself wanting to go for walks. There is nothing like starting the day with a café con leche and a pastry, followed by a long walk along the beach, and a late morning swim in the MED.

The first adventure that my wife and I decided to participate in was a little scuba diving. We had both been certified several years ago, but had decided to recertify during the spring to get ready for our vacation. The folks at Dive Quarters in Virginia Beach helped us brush up on our skills, and got us back on the road to safe diving.

During the 3 weeks, we were able to get in three 60 foot dives, three beach dives (including a night dive), and we rented a small zodiac and found a secluded cove where we dove, swam and had a picnic. During these dives, we introduced our kids, my sister-in-law (Cristina), and nephew (Hector) to the fun of scuba diving. I think my nephew was sorrier to see the scuba gear leave than he was to see his "tio" leave.

In between the dives, we frequented the beach and decided to rent windsurfing boards. Windsurfing is my wife's favorite sport. In fact, when I meet her in 1985 she was teaching windsurfing in Palamos. Despite having a wife who can walk a board like a cat on a ledge, I am still a sloppy beginner. I was able to sail away from the beach, head in a general direction, and work my way back to the starting point, but it wasn't pretty. Some people may call me a windsurfing "Poser", but I like to think of myself as an enthusiastic beginner who is "Coordination Challenged." (If I could only dance like Rich, I'd be happy.)

Finally in the third week, I was able to hook up with my brother-in-law, Carlos, and borrow his Honda CBR 900. Now I had tried his bike back in 2004, and had walk away (thank goodness) with a new found respect for the power and responsiveness of sportbikes. On this trip, we wanted to make the ride a family outing. My wife loaded the kids into the rental car and we headed for l'Estartit, another beach resort further north. We figured that we would ride to the coast, walk around, have some refreshments and make the trip back to Sant Antoni via a town called la Bisbal d'Emporda, which is noted for its ceramics.

Well the only problem with this idea was that someone had forgot to send me the memo telling me that Europe no longer takes its vacation in August. It became apparent that there were a large number of Europeans that like to vacation in July. When the traffic wasn't flowing at just under the speed limit of 80 k/m (approx. 50 mph), it was stopped. I soon remembered that at slow speeds or stopped in traffic, I felt like I was doing handstands on the handlebars. It wasn't long before my waists were sore from the pressure. The 95-degree heat didn't help either.

Fortunately, my pace car was able to find a couple of stretches of road that weren't blocked by traffic. This allowed me to fall back and play catch up. It was during these short sprints that I was quickly reminded how quick Carlos' bike was. It was only a matter of seconds before I went from 30 mph up to 90 mph. While I have ridden my cruiser at this speed, it has never seen the day it could jump from slow to overdrive in a matter of seconds. The amazing thing to me is that it was like the bike was just getting warmed up at this speed. Due to traffic, I wasn't able to find a long enough stretch of road to find out what sixth gear had to offer, but I'm sure that I would have run out of backside courage before that "old" sportbike ('93 Honda CBR 900) ran out of power.

There are a couple of motorcycle related topics that come to mind from my trip to Spain. First, "Lane Splitting" has gotten worse. In Barcelona, it was not usual to be on a three lane highway with motorcycles and scooters lane splitting both side of the car. Aside from the havoc this plays on a driver's nerves, it is amazing to see these bikes missing side mirrors by inches. It's like watching a MotoGP race with cars on the track.

The second observation is that Cruisers are making a dent in the Spanish market. Don't get me wrong, Sportbikes, Standards, Dirt Bikes, and Scooters are the mainstay of the Spanish motorcycle market. However, there was a noticeable increase in the number of Cruisers (or as the Spanish call them "Custom Bikes"). This also includes the full dresser Harleys and Gold Wings. I was told by a Spanish Electra Glide amigo that the Barcelona Harley Dealer is the larger distributor in Europe. Of course, a secondary observation was that most of the Cruiser riders looked a little like me, on the other side of middle age with a little frosting on top.

One of the neat (yes I said neat) things was a Moto Guzzi Hispania that was on display in the shop of a local art dealer. Given my limited Spanish, I could only figure out that he had received the bike when he was 14 years old. He had a Salvador Dali look about him and I could tell he must have been a character. The Moto Guzzi, while an Italian creation, was licensed for manufacturing in Spain in 1949. The early 1950s saw the growth of the bike to a full sized 65cc motorcycle. The Moto Guzzi Hispania in the window showed the care and pride of a long-time friend.

Now here comes the part that may cause El Jefe to fire me. On the day before I was scheduled to leave Spain I met a friend of my sister-in-law. His name was Juan. What drew my attention to Juan immediately was that he rode up on a Ducati. After the usual Hola and Como estas, we got down to more important topics. I told him all about Biker eNews, my purple companion, and about the trip I'd made over the 4th of July. He gave me a guided tour of his bike, told me how he liked the seating position of his bike over the laying down position on my brother-in-law, Carlos' bike, and gave me some recommendations about local rides. Here's the capper, he asked if I would like to take his bike for a ride the next day.

Darn, I was now faced with a dilemma. My wife and I had decided to take the kids to Barcelona for a little cultural tour of the Spain's second largest city. To ride a Ducati in Spain or take a 12 and 15 year old to Barcelona in 95-degree heat, what should I do? You're wrong; I graciously turned down his offer, but left the door open for cashing in on my next trip to Spain. Sorry Jefe.

Well the bottom-line is that I went to Spain, and between the bikes, boards, and bubbles, I had a great time. My only regret is that we can only manage to get back every other year. One day I will break the bonds of responsibility and open a branch office of Biker eNews on the Costa Brava.

Hasta Pronto

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