It's not just the journey, it's who you're with.

I belong to a motorcycle group.  Not one of those stereotype clubs, but a group of people who like riding bikes, who like fundraising for worthwhile causes, and who like hanging out together.  About three or so years ago I had backed way off from participating in most of the activities due in part to my husband’s PTSD, and in part to my own health issues I was dealing with.  Then about two years ago I got a call from one of my club-mates who was now the president of our chapter.  He told me that a lot of things had changed, and he needed me. 

So I went.  A lot of things had changed!  Over half our membership had dropped away, some of them to form a new club, and others just gone.  To my chagrin, I saw that some of the remaining members were ones I wished had left:  one being a trouble-making know-it-all, and another being a back-stabbing asshole.  I know this because it was my back that got stabbed.  I saw fairly quickly why the president needed me.  It was obvious that he was ‘alone’ after the departure of a number of established members.  He needed someone on his side and I was it.  Despite his being president, I witnessed overt hostility and disrespect towards him.  As the months rolled on, he told me he was calling it quits after the next elections.  He was sick of the fighting.  I convinced him to stay and told him that if he ran for president again, I would run for vice-president and that side-by-side we would rebuild. 

My husband, also a member, had started coming out again at my request, in an effort to bolster our numbers.  It was obviously a situation where we needed all the help we could get.  For example, years before I had been secretary to the club.  I regularly used my laptop to take minutes.  Being in that line of work, I’m well versed in minute-taking and in using a computer to do so.  On one occasion our secretary called to ask if I could take minutes since she wasn't sure she would be there.  As I started recording the minutes of the meeting, the vice-president insisted that his wife would take the minutes (by hand).  I responded that I had been asked by the secretary to fill in for her, but then the back-stabbing member spoke out saying that he didn’t want anything to end up on the internet. 

WHAT?  Has this guy been living under a rock?  I mean, I successfully managed to be secretary for a whole year without once posting our minutes on the internet.  Not only that but, as I now pointed out, minutes are a record of the proceedings, not a word-by-word recital of the meeting.  Finally, I just closed my laptop and gave in.  It wasn’t worth the argument.  A month later this guy ran for president, the vice-president ran again for vice-president, and both their wives ran for treasurer.  They were running against our sitting president, me for VP, and my own husband for treasurer.  So they both got voted in, but as I pointed out, neither of their wives were technically allowed to sit as treasurer since we prohibit spouses from both being able to access the bank.  My husband got the position of treasurer based on my one vote.  A few weeks later the new president called and insisted that my husband couldn’t be treasurer.  Since my hubby didn’t really want the job, it was easier to just give in. 

The trouble-making know-it-all was appointed as our sergeant-at-arms.  Meetings became a tedious exercise in accomplishing nothing.  I didn’t want to hang out with these people at all.  I was made to feel very unwelcome in a club that I had helped to build for 16 years to that point.  But I still went to the meetings and put in my time working on our fundraisers as I didn’t want to give the back-stabbing asshole any reason to oust me, as he had tried unsuccessfully to do years before. 

Time passed and I contacted my former president, wanting to know why he hadn't come out to any meetings.  Lo and behold he had not been informed of any meetings.  Interestingly, when the secretary sent notice of meetings, she somehow forgot him.  He told me he was ready to go with the other group that splintered off.  

As time moved forward it became painfully obvious that my chapter was disintegrating.  Our president called a special meeting wherein he claimed that several women had approached him to say that our vice-president was grabbing their asses and making them uncomfortable.  So, led by the president and the trouble-making know-it-all, the local group voted to remove that individual as a member.  This left a vacancy on our executive table, but before it could be filled…our president has been a tenant on the property of the VP.  The VP decided to terminate the tenancy and ordered the president to vacate the land immediately.  So while there was some personal arguing, posturing, fighting, going on (whatever word you want to use), the trouble-making know-it-all informed the group by text that as his president and vice-president are having some dissension, he will be taking over the group.  Well didn’t I laugh over that one!  Even if both left, the next in line would be the treasurer, followed by the secretary.  He has no real authority – it’s all in his head. 

The end result of the in-fighting is that both the VP and the trouble-making know-it-all are asked to leave the chapter.  Now the president needs a VP and a secretary.  He asked me to sit in on a meeting as secretary, which I agreed to do for one meeting only and that I would be using my laptop.  At that meeting, he asked me to take the VP position.  I can only imagine how that must have tasted coming out of his mouth considering how he tried so hard to get rid of me after stabbing me in the back a few years before. 

Meanwhile, our former president has had coffee with me many times to shoot the shit.  He has his ear very close to the ground.  He tells me that although planning is underway among the remaining, rapidly dwindling, members for our annual fundraising ride, all other chapters will boycott the event and word is out generally to stay away.  I told him I still had to go through the motions.  I helped plan an event for 100 people knowing full well that there would be less than ten people there, including me, my husband, my son, the president and his wife.  It was a sad event, with only two outsiders attending.

The week following that event, I met with the president.  I suggested that he take it as a sign and walk away from the club.  His refusal was selfish – he wanted to finish out his year as president and then step back into being just a member.  Oddly enough, he did empty his car into mine.  He had brought all the club possessions – beer, plastic cutlery, paper plates, cash box, briefcase with minutes, etc.  All of it.  He passed it and the keys over to me saying that he was scheduled for some emergency surgery and wanted me to have all of this in case it didn’t go well.  Now I’m not a doctor, not even close, but I know that emergency surgery by its very nature is not “scheduled”.   

At this point I decided to take matters into my own hands.  I called a meeting of the members (without him), and even had the former president attend.  At this meeting I gained the support of the members to ask our sitting president to leave.  As I was currently the appointed vice-president, I moved into the president’s chair.  My first act as president was to ask members if they knew anyone that would be interested in joining our group.  We soon had some old members coming back and new ones interested in coming aboard.  Hallelujah!

At our elections this past September, the club voted unanimously to elect me as president for this year.  I’m pleased to say that other members stepped up to the plate for the other executive roles.  I also told them that my clear mandate was to increase our membership, but to do so with quality members.  We want people that we’d like to hang out with.  I further said that any drama would be dealt with immediately and decisively.  We will not fall into the trap of letting someone in just because they represent another number.  We will be discriminating.  One last thing I said was that they had just elected a tyranny.  I don’t plan to make unilateral decisions, but I won’t committee things to death either.  There will be discussion followed by decisions. 

Now that I’ve been the president for six months or so, I’ve come to ask myself, “What was I thinking?”  Not because I don’t want to lead the group back to greatness, but because as president I am expected to (1) attend every meeting, and (2) make appearances at other chapters’ events.  Whatever happens, I’m sure I’ve got a good group with me on the journey. 

Motorcycle Madness and the V-Star Afghan

A few months back I wrote about the Yamaha V-Star afghan I was making.  Friends of mine ride a V-Star and wanted a personalized afghan.  After doing everything I could think of to get out of doing it without coming right out and turning them down, I created the graph.  It looked pretty good, if I do say so myself. 

I started the actual crochet work in June and picked away at it through an incredibly hot and humid summer. 

While working on the blanket took up my free time, I was also busy at work and being a member of a bike club, I spent time at meetings and riding in general. 

For the last few years there have been some ongoing problems with my bike.  Of course part of the problem is that it’s a 41 year old bike, but only part of the problem.  About three years ago I had the misfortune to run out of gas on one of our group rides.  Another rider happened to have a gallon in his saddlebag and helpfully dumped it into my tank.  We rode to the nearest gas station and I filled my bike, offering to replenish the biker’s spare tank as well.  I can pinpoint this moment as the start of my problems.  As I was filling my tank at the gas station, this biker was telling me he’d been carrying that spare gas for months now and he was glad to finally use it. 

EEK!!!  Months?  After sitting for months the gas would have gone punky.  Sure enough it caused problems with my bike.  For a variety of reasons I didn’t ride much that year and not at all the next season.  This season I convinced my husband to put the carbs from his bike onto mine since he wasn’t riding anyway.  It was like having a new bike.  I rode as much as I could. 

One day I was riding home from work, and as I turned onto the road that would take me to my road, I released the clutch and a bolt or something popped off the clutch and my cable came free.  Uh oh.  Since the engine was still engaged, I kept going, making sure not to go too fast.  As I approached my road, I decided to make the turn and then let the bike stall.  Our area is very hilly and I did not know how I would have managed on our dirt road if I were going downhill and a deer jumped out or something.  I called my husband and he came to my rescue.  He’s been riding for 50 years so it was a fairly simple thing for us to bump start the bike and get him rolling.  I followed in his car.  He speed shifted the bike and got it home and into our driveway.  He fixed me up with a new clutch cable and I was roadworthy once again. 

Last month I was heading out on the bike to attend a biker club meeting.  My husband and our young son left a few minutes before me heading out to the dump.  I hopped on the bike and started to the highway, but never got there.  About five kilometres from home I heard a noise and the bike started sputtering.  I figured I was getting low on gas and quickly turned on the reserve.  It didn’t help.  The bike kept sputtering and finally just stalled.  I coasted to the side of the road and hopped off the bike.  I looked down and gas was spewing from one of the carbs.  Yikes! 

I quickly turned off the gas and stepped away from the bike to assess the situation.  Knowing that my family were still on their way to the dump, I pulled out my cell phone and left a message at home.  Despite this being modern times and that we live rurally, I am the only one with a cell phone between the two of us.  So I estimated I’d have about a half hour wait.  I called my club and told them I wouldn’t be there.  I didn’t want to leave my antique bike on the side of the road and walk home.  I also didn’t want to walk 5 kilometres in biking boots. 

Fortunately my phone had a full charge so I opened my reading app and started reading a book while I waited.  And waited.  And waited.  After the first hour and a half, I tried calling again.  Then after two hours I called again.  Finally, after almost three hours, I got my son on the phone.  He told me they’d just gotten in.  He went outside to tell my husband I was on the phone.  I briefly told him what the problem was and a few minutes later he showed up with a new plug and some gas for me.  It turns out that he and my son were on their way back from the dump when the truck ran out of gas!  When I went with him to retrieve it, I measured how far they’d walked.  Our 11-year-old son walked 5 kilometres before just pooping out.  My husband left him with our dog sitting on a big rock near the road.  He jogged the rest of the way home – a further two kilometres – to get the car and pick them up.  They had just all gotten home when I called.  I figured it was meant to be that I not be on the road that day. 

With fall now upon us, I was able to devote more time to working on the afghan.  Cooler evenings meant that I was not roasting under the blanket as it lay on my lap while I worked.  I finished it a few days before Halloween and finally got to hand it over to my friends on Halloween when they came to the club party.  They were thrilled.  She cried.  It’s all good.  

Of Motorcycles and Crochet

Back in mid to late 2000, I decided to learn to crochet.  I wanted to be able to make things for my future children.  A lefty friend of my mother gave me a few basic lessons and off I went.  I made wreaths, blankets, a sweater, doilies...anything that struck my fancy.  As will happen with enough practise, I got better.  My skills improved and I took on more challenging patterns.  Eventually I started modifying patterns slightly to suit myself. 

In late summer of 2002 my husband decided to teach me to ride a motorcycle.  We’d been doubling up on his Norton Commando for a few years at that point, but now he wanted to get me a bike of my own.  I wasn’t sure what I should ride, but my husband found a really neat 3-year-old Harley Davidson for me that had only 3000 km on it. I signed up for the motorcycle rider’s course but had months until it started.  So, I had a few lessons from my husband on how to ride and we were off.  We rode everywhere.  It didn’t take me long to find a motorcycle group that operates like a service club and join. 

Over the next ten years or so I spent a lot of time riding or hanging out with my club members.  We fundraised lots of money for local charities and had a lot of fun, meeting a lot of other bikers while doing it.  I also spent a lot of time crocheting various things for my son, friends and family. 

Early last year I had a brainwave.  Why didn’t I combine my two passions?  I proposed to the club that I would make an afghan throw with the Harley logo on it and donate it to the club.  They could sell raffle tickets on it and raise some funds for our favourite charity.  The club members were keen so now I really had my work cut out for me. 

First, I had to source out a pattern.  I was sure I’d be able to find one somewhere.  Somewhere?  Anywhere?  It didn’t exist.  No such thing had been created.  Then I discovered, by following various links, that someone had in fact created an afghan pattern.  I contacted the designer and she offered her pattern to me, which I gratefully accepted.  Unfortunately, when I looked at the pattern, I realized that several things just didn’t work for me in the design.  Now understand that I’m not criticizing the pattern, just saying that it didn’t work for me.  One big thing that pattern did do for me is it inspired me!  I decided to try my hand at making my own graph.  So, I studied the Harley logo and made my design.  I then decided to make flames like the style we’ve all seen on so many bikes.  These were tricky, but I figured it out.  The whole pattern design was a huge learning process for me.  I’m sure there are many easier ways to create a graph, but I stuck to the tried-and-true pencil and paper method. 

Now that I had a pattern, I had to get the yarn.  That part was fairly easy, but I also needed something to use as a backing fabric as I figured it would save me having to carefully hide the yarn ends on the reverse of the afghan.  What a stroke of luck to find an orange fleece that exactly matched the orange in the logo!  Next I had to figure out the mechanics of how to actually crochet the thing. 

First I tried making my row and then turning the chain to proceed back and forth.  While this worked well using only black, once I started into the colours of the pattern, I quickly realize this would not work at all for the effect I wanted.  Next I tried an afghan hook and doing the afghan (or Tunisian) stitch.  I didn’t have an afghan hook long enough.  With 200 stitches on the hook, it was jammed so tight I couldn’t really work it.  I looked for a hook with a long extension, but had no luck.  I decided to make one and while I did succeed, in a limited sort of way, once again I discovered that it worked great for black only, but once into the pattern I didn’t care for the effect.  By now I was used to cutting my yarn and starting over.  The fourth time turned out to be the charm.  I made my foundation chain.  I left long tails at start and finish and cut the yarn.  Back to the beginning, I made my first row.  I left long tails and cut the yarn.  Back to the start and repeat.  At last, I achieved the look I wanted! 

Working around my busy work schedule, I managed to get the throw done in time for the club’s annual summer party, which is usually attended by about 700 people.  One of my friends took custody of the blanket and showed it off as she sold books of raffle tickets....and in fact, she sold out all the tickets.  I was very excited that the club successfully sold all its tickets and made so much from the blanket.  When I made the draw, I was very pleased to see that a member from another chapter had won it.  His wife was thrilled and kept it around her shoulders much of the rest of the party as it was fairly chilly that summer. 

A few weeks later, she approached me about making another afghan for them.  They wanted this one to be personalized and to have the Yamaha V-Star logo on it.  While they loved the Harley afghan, they ride a V-Star.  After all the work I’d had to do on the Harley one, I told her I needed to think about it.  A month after that I said I was still thinking.  In the meantime, I’d been all over the Internet trying to find a V-Star pattern, or at least a V-Star logo in a usable size.  Once again it wasn’t meant to be.  I still hadn’t actually decided to do it, though, and in fact was disinclined to do so.  The next month she asked me again.  I told her I couldn’t even think about starting until late the following spring.  She didn’t mind that.  I told her it would be prohibitively expensive.  She asked how much and I quoted the price for materials, plus an extra amount to stitch it up.  I figured that would put her off.  Imagine my surprise when she agreed and I suddenly found myself creating my second graphgan. 

So now I have two motorcycle logo graphs that I’ve created.  I thought to upload them to Ravelry, but they rejected the upload because of the copyright matter.  I can’t say I blame them.  At any rate, here are my pictures.  The Harley blanket is finished, but the V-Star is still a work in progress.  I’ll update the post with final pictures as it’s done.   Enjoy!

 

Harley afghan completed summer 2014

V-Star afghan design - crocheting currently in progress