Country Roads

You don’t stop riding because you’re getting old, but you get old when you stop riding.

Best Biker Bar In The World (Or How To Have A Devil Of A Good Time)

It's said the caves were once used to shelter fleeing religious refugees...


... and a Nazi weapons factory during World War II.

For my 50th birthday, I rode my motorcycle inside a cave. And no, I'm not prematurely senile.

If that wasn't enough, the cave is so large that it has its own roundabout. Oh, and it's also got a bar, where you can ride your motorcycle right up and order a drink.

Allen Harris, the chief of the Expat Bikers Club, had arranged a trip on April 24 to Pekelne Doly (Hell's Mines), in the Český ráj (Czech Paradise) area, north of Prague, between the hamlets of Svitava and Velenice. I think it was around 90 kilometers or so from Prague. You can see the exact location on Google below:


View Larger Map

It was a gloriously sunny day, but not too hot to make wearing the leathers a chore. We had a fantastic ride through the Czech countryside on winding backroads. You can watch a cool video of the ride, with me and my biking buddies, below. It was filmed and edited by Allen:



We didn't quite know what to expect once we got to the cave. In fact, at first, we passed right by it, since it's not exactly well signposted and sits well up off the road.

The day we visited, it was packed with bikers and bikes of all shapes and sizes. Everyone was as seemingly tickled as we were to have arrived at such a playground.

As Allen says, "This is the holy grail of pubs and all bikers must visit it once to call themselves a biker. This place is addictive and the trip will be repeated many times."

Inside, there are sofas and chairs and even a few mattresses thrown on the floor, if you want to spend the night, I guess. (Or maybe do other things.)

According to this website, the caves were used as shelter by fleeing religious refugees in the 17th century, and then later used for sand mining for a nearby mirror factory. It says the area also housed a Nazi weapons factory.

What's funny, though, is that we're all dressed in leather and sporting tattoos and beards and skull rings and such, and we're in the most amazing biker bar imaginable, but most of us are drinking coffee or soda or nonalcoholic beer, since there's zero tolerance in the Czech Republic for drinking and driving. And even if there wasn't, motorcycle riding in the Czech Republic is dangerous enough without having had a few.

It was a great ride and a wonderful way to spend part of my birthday. Thanks to Allen, Sam, Hayden, and Andy for letting me tag along.


Hayden Murray (left), Sam Graham, Andy Schofield, and I soak up some rays at the outdoor tables. It was just too nice to sit inside.


Allen enjoys a tall, cool half-liter ... of nonalcoholic Birell.


Sam remembers the one that got away.


Bikers can drive inside the cave, which features its own roundabout (above).


The bar, in the distance, surrounded in the cave by comfy sofas and chairs.


My Honda Shadow, getting some serious cave time in.

Whatever Comes Our Way

Allen took a video of our ride using his Contour HD helmet cam.

Homer Simpson: The first meeting of Hell's Satans is called to order.
Ned Flanders: I move to reconsider our club name. Make it something a little less blasphemous. After all, we don't wanna *go* to hell.
Lenny: How 'bout The Devil's Pals.
Ned Flanders: Nuh-no... see...
Moe Szyslak: How about the Christ Punchers?
Ned Flanders: The Chri...! I-I don't think you understand my objections.
Homer Simpson: I'm the president and the decision is mine. We're Hell's Satans. Besides, I already made our club jackets.
Lenny: Ooo, machine wash warm.
Carl: Tumble dry... Oooh lah lah.

As some wise person once said, "It's not the destination, but the journey." And that old adage certainly held true last weekend, when I went on my first group motorcycle ride with some cool dudes from the Czech Expat Bikers Club.

I'd received an e-mail from the club's guru, Allen Harris, back in August. He'd seen a previous blog post I'd done on the ride that Daisy and I took to Český Ráj and wanted to know if I'd be interested in riding together.

He wrote:

"I have 2 cruisers, a Yamaha VX1100 Virago and a VX535 Virago. I have had them for 10 years now and after a period off them due to work I am getting them back on the road. The first job is to get new STK approval which will start next week for the 535 then I will get the 1100 back on the road as well.

"I have been looking out to find someone who might enjoy pottering about the countryside at the weekends, take in the smells, sights and life of the area. It is good that you like to drive at a moderate pace as riding cruisers at speed results in getting very long arms and continual tears rolling down your face.

"I am planning some short trips around the area as soon as the bikes are legal, so if you are interested maybe we could get together one day soon and put a mark on the map."

That sounded right up my alley. My idea of motorcycling paradise is cruising along at 70 kph on a deserted country road.

But what with my mom's injury and recovery, and my trip to the U.S. to take her home, and then the month of September was pretty much consumed by wedding plans, Allen and I never did get to ride together.

But at the end of October, Allen organized a meeting at a Smichov pub for interested riders. I stopped by for a few cold ones (OK, they were Radegast Birells) and met Allen and four or five other expat bikers, all cool guys and all interested in riding together.

The next week, Allen scheduled a ride, which I didn't think I'd be able to make, as we had friends coming over with their new baby for dinner. But then Daisy got sick, and we didn't want to risk making the baby sick, too, so suddenly I was free to ride. I didn't realize this, however, until about 45 minutes before they were all scheduled to meet at the McDonald's on Evropská.

I threw on my riding leathers and raced over. The skies were dark, but it hadn't rained, and it was quite warm (around 14 C or 57 F).

Turns out there were, in addition to myself and Allen, four other bikers, all of whom had not been at the pub meeting the week before. Here are the guys I rode with, and what they ride (photos of the bikes can be founda at the end of this post):

Allen Harris rides a Yamaha XV1100 Virago.

Marcus Pauels rides a European 2008 Harley-Davidson Softail "Rocker C" (1584 cc)

Andy Schofield rides a 1999 Honda CBR900RR Fireblade (918cc)

Karthik Shetty rides a 1999 Honda X11 (1,137 cc)

Stu Schaag rides a 2008 Harley-Davidson Nite Rod Special (1250cc)

And me? I ride a 2002 Honda Shadow 600.

By the way, Stu got his Harley outfitted with a monster after-market exhaust system that really shakes to your core. I recorded a bit on my iPhone. Take a listen:



I sort of assumed that everybody knew everybody else, and that I was the odd man out, but that wasn't the case. We were all just bikers eager to ride with other bikers but who didn't really know anyone to ride with.


Allen (left), me, and Stu at a pit stop at the lovely Ve Stoleti.


Andy (left), Karthik and Marcus across the table at Ve Stoleti.

Someone decided we should ride to Lany, which is the town where what you might call the Czech Camp David is located. There's a chateau there that's long served as the summer residence of Czech presidents. The first president of Czechoslovakia, Thomas Masaryk, is buried in the local cemetery. President Vaclav Havel used his regular "Talks From Lany" radio programs to comment on current events.

Anyway, that sounded like a fine destination, probably a 30-minute trip from Prague through the rolling Czech countryside. In the end, though, the trip took us something like 90 minutes, after the leaders got lost numerous times.

For my taste, we spent way too much time on major highways on that route and not enough time peeling fall leaves off our visors, but it was still a hell of a lot of fun.

Here's a funny bit of audio I recorded of Marcus and Stu discussing where we'd all gone wrong on the roads:



In Lany (where just about everything was closed for the season), we stopped for coffee (I had another nonalcoholic Birell) and then headed down to Beroun, twisting through some genuinely gorgeous autumn-hued countryside.

From Beroun, we headed back toward Prague and stopped again in a really cool restaurant and hotel that Marcus knew called Ve Stoleti in Loděnice. He spoke highly of the food and service, and while I didn't eat, the place had a great vibe and looks like it is spectacular in sunny, warm weather.

Stu and I needed to get home to our wives, so we cut out a few minutes early and headed up the highway. Turns out that that was a smart move. About 10 minutes from home, it started to rain, and rain pretty hard. I managed to make it home before getting too soaked, but the guys who stayed behind had a very wet ride ahead of them once they finished their meals.


Members of the Expat Bikers Club? Or an outtake from "Wild Hogs"? The gang stops in Lany for a break -- (left to right) Andy, Karthik, Stu, me, Allen and Marcus.

Let me just say a few words about riding motorcycles in a group. This is the first time I've ever ridden with even one other rider, and it does have its advantages:

1. You have support if something goes wrong.

2. You have someone to talk to when you stop for a coffee.

3. You can just follow the pack and not worry about where you're going.

4. And I must admit: You really feel like a badass when you're one of a gang of six motorcyclists passing through a town or village. People stop and stare and generally get the hell out of your way. You feel, well, cool. There's no other way to say it.

I had a fantastic time on this ride, which ended up being around 140 kilometers or so. I do have to admit that I'm an enthusiastic motorcycle rider, but I know next to nothing about the geeky aspects of riding -- that is, I don't know that much about bikes, or engine sizes, or horsepower, or the advantages of a twin-cam air-cooled engine.

All the other guys really seem to know their torque from their compression. And truth be told, I really don't care that much. I just want to ride. And that seemed cool with them.

Despite feeling slightly out of place, I had a fantastic time. I made some new friends, saw some beautiful countryside, and experienced that surge of adrenalin that only comes with riding a motorcycle.

When's the next ride, gents?


Karthik's 1999 Honda X11 (1,137 cc)


Stu's 2008 Harley-Davidson Nite Rod Special (1250cc)


Allen's Yamaha XV1100 Virago.


Marcus's 2008 Harley-Davidson Softail "Rocker C" (1584 cc)


Andy's 1999 Honda CBR900RR Fireblade (918cc)


My bike, a 2002 Honda Shadow 600

Checking Out Český Ráj

Daisy, me, and the Honda Shadow 600 outside the Hrubá Skála Chateau. Taken by a passer-by and, sadly, slightly out of focus.

It takes more love to share the saddle than it does to share the bed. -- Unknown

Ever since I got my Czech motorcycle license two years ago, and bought my 2002 Honda Shadow 600, I've had this dream of going on an overnight motorcycle trip with Daisy.

While that may strike you as a perfectly reasonable goal given that 1) I have a motorcycle, and 2) Daisy was entirely agreeable to the idea, somehow I just hadn't been able to get it together.


The Hrubá Skála chateau.

Part of it, I’m sure, was a certain apprehension to committing to such an adventure. I'm a relatively new motorcycle rider, I don't have tons of experience riding with a passenger, Czech drivers are insane and aren't used to motorcycles sharing their highways, and I don't speak the language all that well, should a problem arise.

Uneasy rider, if you will.

But when you've got a blog called Gusto, there's not much chance of backing out of something like this.

I had to go for it.

Which I did. Or I should say we did.

And where did we go?


Daisy looks across to the chateau from one of the many overlooks.

We decided to check out Český Ráj, or Czech Paradise, a justly celebrated region of the Czech Republic that we had somehow, in all our years of living here, never visited. It's famous for its spectacular sandstone rock towers and its Middle Earth-like landscape in the valleys below. The hiking is superb, and I was looking forward to working up a mean thirst.

Plus, Český Ráj is only some 120 kilometers or so from our house in Černý Vůl, at least via the country-road route I chose for this trek -- a quite manageable two-hour ride or so on the motorcycle. (It's more like 90 kilometers on the highways direct from Prague.)


Climbers scaling one of the many spectacular rock towers.


More climbers.

I reserved a "luxe" room at the 14th-century Hrubá Skála Chateau or castle, in Hrubá Skála, a village around 6 kilometers southeast of Turnov, which had been recommended to me by a couple of friends, one of whom got married there. It commands sweeping views of that part of Český Ráj and is surrounded by the aforementioned sandstone monoliths.

So after work on a recent Friday, we went home, threw off our work clothes, dressed in our biking finest, stuffed my Honda saddlebags with the bare essentials (underwear, toiletries, backgammon, a bottle of Bohemia Sekt Brut), slipped on our helmets, and hit the road.


Daisy goes rogue among the sandstone formations.

And you know what? As soon as rubber met road, all my apprehension disappeared, like those big trucks in my rear-view mirror. The sun was shining, the tank was full, the weekend lay ahead, and my baby was behind me.

As someone once said, only a biker knows why a dog sticks his head out of a car window. What a thrill it is to be zipping along winding country roads, leaning this way and that, the wind in your face, the smells of manure and flowers and wheat fields baking in the sun wafting around inside your helmet.

And I still get a kick out of observing that unwritten code of motorcycling (I had to learn it by experience; no one ever tells you these things) -- that is, always waving, nonchalantly, at other motorcyclists passing in the opposite direction. Just an effortless extension and slight turn of the left wrist, or a slowly extended left foot if your hands are otherwise occupied. (And distinctions are definitely made for those riding on whiny Vespas or other type of scooters. They don't deserve waves.)

We meandered from Černý Vůl to Kralupy, up to Velvary, over to Melnik, then connected to Mladá Boleslav, up to Turnov, and then a few more kilometers to our destination -- up the winding, leafy, sun-dappled country road to the spectacularly situated Hrubá Skála.

At Hrubá Skála, I parked the bike, killed the engine, and thought, "We made it!"

How was the hotel? Well, you couldn't ask for a better location, but it's sorely in need of someone to read the staff the proverbial Riot Act. Food at the restaurant was OK but seriously hampered by lackadaisical, albeit friendly, service. We ate outside on the terrace overlooking the valley and saw many couples waiting endlessly to get noticed by the waiters.

Even though we were generally fairly served in comparison, watching other couples be ignored kinda ruins your own meal, you know?

The breakfast "buffet" the next morning was also one of the saddest such displays we've encountered. Bland, unimaginative food, and atrocious attention to items that had run out, like coffee and milk, let alone eggs and bread. Even though we arrived a full hour before breakfast ended, there was little left to choose from except a few slices of cheese and meat and one boiled hot dog.)


Our room.


Another view of our room.


The view from our hotel window.

Our "luxe" room -- No. 122, which set us back around $115 per night) was quite lovely and had its own spacious toilet facilities (a rarity at this hotel, where most of the rooms share baths down the hall). Horrifyingly, however, the jacuzzi bathtub was suffering from a rather large infestation of ants, most of them, interestingly, winged.

After I brought the problem to her attention, the woman at the front desk quickly offered us another room, but it was a standard double and paled in comparison. Housekeeping was gone for the day, so Daisy bravely tackled the vermin with a can of Raid while I sipped a beer on the terrace. (Hey, she volunteered!)

We never saw another ant for the rest of the weekend, and spent the rest of our time hiking, sleeping, eating, and drinking.

We explored all the trails winding around above, below and around the chateau. We gawked at the rock climbers scaling the sandstone towers, and discovered a hushed memorial to fallen Czech climbers hidden deep in the forest. We picked wild blueberries (at least that's what I think they were) in the forest, and drank a few beers and had a snack at a whimsical teahouse nestled within a tiny arboretum not far from the chateau.

We looked (unsuccessfully) for our first geocache near the Adam's Bed rock formation (across from which is an "erotic" sandstone relief of two lovers, which was apparently defaced in more modest times) and drank wine and played backgammon on the chateau's outdoor terrace.

We had a great time.

Despite all that, though, I couldn't wait to get back on the Shadow on Sunday for the ride home. My confidence had been firmly rooted. We took a different route back, this time mostly on highway all the way back to Prague.

We reached a top speed of around 112 kph, which for me, especially with a passenger, is quite fast. There's no windshield on my bike, and you'd be surprised at how hard the wind pounds you in the chest when you're going 90 or 100 kph. Choppers are meant for slow, easy riding, which is why the country roads around here are so perfect. That's my kind of riding.


As we ate dinner on Saturday night, a hot-air balloon drifted over the castle.

Now, we're planning to go back, perhaps to explore the trails around the more touristy Prachovské skály area of Český Ráj. And that's just the thing. Even though the chateau left a lot to be desired in many significant areas, we'd probably stay there again when we revisit this area. It felt rather private and a lot less trampled than what we saw of Prachovské skály as we drove past on the way home.

We'll take Emma back with us next time. Then again, there was a decent looking campground near Prachovské Skály, so we might just go that route, too.


The Middle Earth-like rock formations and valleys surrounding the chateau (above and below).








A charming little teahouse in an arboretum near the chateau. In addition to tea, they served beer and light snacks, as well as homemade tie-died clothing. Very cool.


Enjoying a few beers and some surprisingly tasty couscous at the teahouse.


A memorial to fallen Czech climbers deep in the forest near the chateau.


Someone in this photo needs a haircut.


The twin towers of the 14th-century Trosky Castle overlook the Český Ráj region.


Wine and backgammon on the terrace.


Trying, unsuccessfully (and rather ridiculously), to locate my first geocache near the Adam's Bed rock formation.

Biker Chick

I'm just her driver.

Emma has been wanting a ride on my motorcycle, and who am I to say no?

We have a little road in front of our house that's basically more of a driveway than a road. I thought it wouldn't hurt to take her up and down the road a few times. There are no cars really, and I couldn't get out of first gear.

I made her wear her bicycle helmet, though, just in case.

I think she looks really cool.

Two Wheels Good

Not exactly what you'd call cool. Me and my learner's vest and my Honda CB500.

Only a biker knows why a dog sticks his head out of a car window.
-- Author Unknown

I just obtained my Czech motorcycle driving license, and my first thought after successfully negotiating the difficult slalom course of testing and riding and studying was, if they have to do through all of this to get their licenses, why aren't Czechs better drivers? Why do they transform into insane maniacs once they get behind the wheel?

Even Czechs will admit that Czechs are horrific drivers. Aggressive. Careless. Discourteous.

Ironically, the Czech state system for getting a driver's license is strict and unforgiving, or at least I thought so as I attempted to get a license to ride the most powerful class of motorcycles.

I had a motorcycle when I was a teenager -- a Bridgestone 100 -- which I only rode in the fields and on the trails in the country around our house, never on the roads. I'm not sure what happened to that old thing, and I lost touch with motorcycles once I headed off to college.

I hadn't been on one in 30 years, save for a romp around Santorini on a moped in the late '90s.

I'm 47 now and, like many men my age, as I sense the steady approach of Death, I feel the urge to do those things I've always wanted to do but never got around to doing.

And what better way to hasten the approach of Death than to ride a motorcycle in the Czech Republic, where, I've been reminded many times, the police refer to motorcyclists as "organ donors" and where five cyclists were killed in separate accidents around the country on one horrific day a few months back?

I've personally passed three crashes involving motorcycles in the past month or so in Prague. My gut tells me, however, that the majority of crashes involving motorcycles in this country are the fault of the cyclists themselves.

I see a lot of bikers doing some crazy shit out there.

As someone once said:

Most motorcycle problems are caused by the nut that connects the handlebars to the saddle.

I thought about getting my motorcycle license in the United States, but it seemed too much of a hassle, involving classes and such that would take a lot of time and a lot of money.

But I was also put off from getting my Czech license by rumors I'd heard that, if I failed my motorcycle exam, I would somehow also lose my car driving privileges. (My U.S. license, plus an International Driving Permit, suffice over here).

I was assured that this was not the case by Ondřej Horázný, who runs his own driving school, or "autoskola," on Ondrickova 9 in Prague 3, near Jiřího z Poděbrad. Horázný offers instruction in both English and Russian.


Horázný's humble school near Jiřího z Poděbrad.

I figured I'd spent way too long talking about getting my license. It was time to start doing something about getting my license.

I signed up for my classes in early July. The total cost for the lessons was 13,000 CZK (about $750) and involved something like seven 1.5 hour lessons, most of which were spent on the bike, with an instructor riding on the back. One 45-minute lesson was devoted to the mechanics of the bike.

My instructor was a grizzled guy named Marek, whose English was a bit, shall we say, broken. We spent our lessons doing exactly what I hope not to do when I get a motorcycle of my own -- that is, riding around the crazy streets of downtown Prague -- dodging cars, trams, tram tracks, buses, pedestrians, and negotiating the crazy system of traffic laws, most notably the default "right-of-way" law, which does away with stop signs and traffic lights in many situations in favor of a system in which, if a street is not specifically marked as the main road, drivers must always yield to cars entering from the right, even in a situation where it seems obvious that you should have the right of way because you're on a main street.

If the street you're on isn't marked with a yellow diamond, however, you're not on the main road, and you've got to remember to slow down before every cross street coming from the right.

In the United States, of course, traffic lights or stop signs or yield signs govern almost every intersection, and if you're on a smaller road and entering a busier road, you're expected to give way to the larger road. Basically, you've got the right of way unless you're told that you don't.

Not so in the Czech Republic.

It was great to be back on a motorcycle after 30 years (despite having to ride around wearing a bright green vest sporting a big L on it), and it all did seem to come back to me -- the gear changing, the leaning into turns, the stopping and starting. I did forget to turn off the turn signal quite a few times at the beginning, however.

We were riding a Honda CB 500, equipped with an odd, extra set of handlebars with brakes for the instructor in the rear. Kind of embarrassing, frankly.



I didn't kill anyone, least of all myself, or Marek. The lessons all went pretty well, and served to remind me why motorcycles are so much fun, even if you're just riding around the city. Motorcycles give you the rush that you get on a mountain bike going fast downhill. Except on a motorcycle, you have that feeling all the time.

The lessons successfully completed, it was now time for my state exam, which would consist of a written portion of 25 multiple-choice questions; a driving test with a state magistrate riding on the back of the bike; and a technical test, in which I would be asked two questions about the mechanical functions of the bike.



I was given a copy of the Czech Road Traffic Act, a thick tome full of obscure rules and regulations, all conveniently translated into fractured English for me. It is an intimidating volume.

I was also given an equally thick copy of a booklet containing all of the questions that could potentially be asked on the written exam. That would have been reassuring, except for the fact that there must be 500 questions in there, and there are lots of doozies, such as:

When regulating the traffic by light signals signal with the simultaneous signalling of red and yellow lights "Attention!" means:

a) Warning that operating the traffic with light signals will be finished.
b) The duty to stop the vehicle in front of the light signal device because the signal "Stop" will follow.
c) The duty to prepare for continuous driving.

Or how about these gems:

You are an A1-subcategory driving license holder. Can you ride a motorcycles of 125 cm3?

a) Yes, but motorcycles with output of up to 11 kW.
b) No the cubature was not exceed 50 cm3.
c) Yes and not depending on the engine output.

Sudden front wheel skidding resulting in the fall of a motorcycle can be prevented:

a) By accelerating to increase the output that is transmitted to the rear wheel.
b) By releasing the front brake before banking the motorcycle.
c) by increasing the brake power on the front wheel with the front brake lever.

Study for and taking the test was one of the most stressful things I've ever done.

I studied a lot (including a helpful online version of the test, in English, that the school offers), and showed up at the ungodly hour of 7:15 a.m. at the school, as instructed. Where I sat for the next two hours in a classroom full of other students, waiting to actually take the test. Very frustrating. (Orazny said something about it having to be this way because of the time needed to get all the necessary paperwork organized, but that seems a little much, to be honest.)

I was finally called in to take the test (which I think cost another 850 CZK, or $50) with the help of a translator (1,000 CZK, or $60). I had 30 minutes to answer 25 questions. Anything less than a score of 85% means you failed.

Since each question needed to be translated, it took all of the 30 minutes for me to complete the test, and I ... failed.

Yes, I failed.

I had missed four questions. I was devastated. I was angry. Very angry. With myself, and with the system. I would have to come back and take it again. (As I understand it, you can take it as many times as you can within six months.)

In the meantime, I had to pull myself together to take the technical and driving parts of the exam.

Some 45 minutes later, I was called into a room and sat before a stern-looking state magistrate, who held out a pack of cards, face down. I was to choose one card, on the other side of which would be a technical question about the bike that I would have to answer.

The question I chose had to do with the difference between two-stroke and four-stroke engines. I mumbled something about the fact that the petrol and oil are mixed together in a two-stroke engine, while in a four-stroke engine, they are separated.

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, the magistrate asked me another, something like, "If it's not mixed in, how is the oil in a four-stroke engine distributed throughout the engine?"

I winged it on this one, and said something about the oil pump.

"Excellent," he said, in Czech.

Whew. Dodged a bullet on that one.

I then had to wait around another 2.5 hours for my driving test, since the instructor was busy with some dudes who were trying to get their licenses to drive city buses.

I left for lunch and came back at 1 p.m., only to be told that we couldn't do the driving test since it had started to rain, and the state instructor isn't allowed to ride on a motorcycle driven by a novice in the rain.

I would have to come back the following week.

So ended one of the most stressful days of my life, and I was only one-for-three.

I came back the following week, on a sunny Tuesday, and took my driving test, which I passed easily -- 10 minutes or so of tooling around the streets of Prague. I hardly noticed the guy on the back.

A few days later, I had my rescheduled written exam (an extra 100 CZK, or $6, plus another 1,000 CZK for the translator). Again, I showed up at 7:15 a.m., and again I had to wait until 9 a.m. to actually take the damn thing.

And you know what? I passed, with a score of 92%.

I have never felt so relieved.

I had done it. I felt -- and still do feel -- a real sense of accomplishment.

I've now applied for my license, which should arrive in about two weeks. In the meantime, I'm looking for a motorcycle to buy.

I'm interested in buying a cruiser bike, something like a Honda Shadow, as opposed to a sport bike like the Honda I trained on.


A Honda Shadow.

The good folks at Motorbike Ventures in Prague are giving me some help, as I try to find a bike that's a good fit.

I can't wait to get my motorbike out on some of those rolling country roads that I mountain bike on.

I just hope I can stay clear of all of those crazy Czech drivers who somehow managed to make it through the same grueling process I've just completed.

And I need to see about a sidecar for Daisy.

Oh, want to know the answers to the three test questions above? It's C, A, and B, in that order.